Record Number of Photos so it Must Have Been Good

Morocco to Canaries Passage Day 3

15:22 POS 32 33.30 N 9 55.46 W, TWS 10.4, SOG 5.0, AWA 178

The best wind-dance song on The Beatles Blue album is Hey Jude. The last 4 minutes or so have repeating sing-a-long Na-na-nas. You can throw your voice over the sea, and it won’t come back until there are at least 12 knots from behind. So we sang and danced to this song. Then we waited on the reward for our effort. It came as the sun sank into the horizon – 17.5 knots on Gerty’s stern, predicted to stay with us for the next three days. It’s going to be smooth sailing over a sapphire ocean under a periwinkle sky.

It’s been two and a half weeks since our last hike on mainland European soil, and our sail out of the Mediterranean was tough. Our ship’s log is riddled with sail changes, squalls, and evil currents that relentlessly pushed against us, but I only remember the fish. Tuna are running this time of year, and Michael caught three. 

Alas, we made it through the Gibraltar Strait, and Tangier was a welcoming site.

Morocco is the dreamy, exotic place I most wanted to go to when we decided to cross the Atlantic a year and a half ago, and we made it here. I thought it would be the ancient medinas, the Berber mountain villages, the call to prayer, or the spice markets selling saffron as if it were as commonplace as sugar that would make it a magical place for us. I didn’t think it would be engine trouble that would make our memories stick but it was.

We were driving from Fes to Marrakech when the French indicator light came on – Moteur cassé (engine broken) it flashed. The fume smell we noticed earlier wasn’t coming from the smoggy air on the perimeter of Casablanca. It was coming from our car! We pulled into the nearest petrol station, and an attendant came over to assess the smoking situation under the hood. Then, not one but two customers, Sayed and Nasrine, took time out of their day to help us. After Nasrine spoke to our rental car agency in Arabic, they decided we should keep driving toward Marrakesh. At the same time, Nasrine and Sayed would follow us in each of their cars, ensuring that we made it there safely. We were dumbstruck by the kindness of these strangers.

Quickly the diesel gauge went from full to empty, and we pulled into the next Petrol station. This time, four people came over to help us. Nasrine apologized because she had to take her mother (sitting in her car this entire time) to an appointment. Then Sayed and two attendants helped us push the car out of harm’s way. Ultimately, we left it at the second station, and Sayed drove us to Marrakech. We were told the car would be fixed and delivered to our Riad (hotel) the next day. Neither money, nor English was exchanged throughout these events. The car was delivered, and we were amazed.

How could it be? In our experience, Moroccans help first and work out the details later. There’s a circle of trust and reliance that is unlike any other, and kindness is the culture. Everything beautiful and interesting about this place: The Rif Mountains, The Blue City (Chefchaouen), Fes, Marrakesh, Tangier, the Medersas, the Tannery, The Medinas, the food, the mosques, the souks, the dyers, the food, the camels, the bi-lingual-geometric road signs, and the never-ending offer of mint tea pales in comparison to the nature of the people we met and their way of doing things. 

There’s more! Only in Tangier can you go to a hardware store that doesn’t sell what you need and have the salesperson walk you halfway to the store that does to make sure you don’t get lost. Without the locals to help us find a bearing puller, Michael might still be in the chain locker trying to dislodge the windlass gypsy! It was seriously stuck, but he wrenched it free just in time for another silver pot of sweet mint tea.

All I can think to say is, “come.” Come to Morocco and see the towers of pomegranates being sold on the side of the road. Come here to be mesmerized by the intricate tiles and eat breakfast on a riad’s terrace. Come, and you will not be disappointed because it’s everything you dreamed it would be.

Last remarks

• Thank you, Kenza, for being my bestie at work for eight years and painting a picture of Morocco that I could see long before we got here.
• Thank you, Nicholas, for sharing your kites with us, the sailors on the L dock for keeping us company, and the fast food snail truck for keeping it real.