Bus Ride to Morocco - Part 1

Bus ride to Morocco

The bus ride to Morocco begins with a ferry ride from Almeria, Spain. The ferry leaves in the evening and takes all night traveling to Melilla, Spain on the north coast of Morocco. Melilla is a small city, one of two areas on the North coast of Morocco still under Spanish control.

The ferry was a small ship with very basic rooms; probably 30-40 years old. We boarded about 10 pm, settled in and slept on bunks in the room.

Early in the morning, we arrived in Melilla and entered the quiet. Everyone was still asleep at 7 am. We walked to the deserted city square and found a basic breakfast of bread and coffee. This was a our first major trip out of Barcelona. We felt like a family of explorers, each person carrying and their basic needs for a week-long trip to a new country.

After breakfast, we found the bus for the Moroccan sister city of Nador. The bus deposited us at the border 45 minutes later and we walked to the crossing. The crossing was a narrow road, choked down by traffic barriers and fencing.

The Moroccan guard station was mobbed by people trying to get the right passport stamp to enter the country. The process was very slow and poorly organized. Many crowded the window, trying to force their way forward or at least hold their place.

We waited for an hour to get our turn. We had to fill out the government paperwork, pay our tax, and then received our passport stamp. Off to Morocco.

Passing from Melilla to Nador was like going from Park Avenue to Harlem in one step. I felt like Peter Sellers in Being There, walking out of his life in a cozy brownstone into the surrounding slums. The streets were poorly paved and a mess with trash. All the buildings needed paint. We wanted some more breakfast, but were not interested in anything available. We settled for some bottled soft drinks from an first floor, open-air bar.

We drew everyone's attention because we were a classic American family, traveling with six and eleven year olds and stood out against the local population. There were a few other foreigners who were younger individuals and couples, more like the vagabond students on summer vacation.

We made our way to the transportation hub, looking for a way to Fez. There were three options. My preference was the train since it had been so reliable and convenient in Spain. However, everyone discouraged us from the train. Next were the “grand taxis” and then a slow bus. The grand taxis are a little better vehicle and commonly take people longer distances. All the taxis were Mercedes sedans. It was completely possible to hire one for the trip to Fez, which is 5-6 hours away.

Since we were in Morocco, it was a given that we would have to negotiate the fare for the trip. I was even looking forward to this as part of the game. There was no shortage of taxis available. Everyone was eager to take us, and our money. A crowd of drivers gathered around us to find out our request. I explained our plan to go to Fez. The answer came back as $1000 dollars. I knew we would have to negotiate, but $1000 was out of the question. I was planning on $100 as fair and willing to go to $200 and be taken advantage of.

With $1000 as a starting point, I didn't even want to play the game. We decided to investigate the bus. The bus station was run down and more crowded. We made our way to buy tickets and found a bus to Fez. The trip would take longer, but the price was more reasonable. For $12, we all had tickets on the next bus.

On the way to the bus, we pushed our way through the crowd. Nearby an argument rose above the clamor. Two men shouted at each other in Arabic. It got louder, each man escalating and escalating. With little warning, it became a physical fight. One man punched out several times and the other went down, more stunned than hurt, perhaps not feeling through an alcohol haze. The crowd wasn't very interested and quickly moved on. We boarded the bus and tried to settle in for a long ride.