I was in Tangier last weekend. I had an important meeting in Fairmontwith its privileged views. I am telling you about my adventure from the beginning, because it is the details that best describe the distance that still exists between this Moorish port and ours. My partner and I left from Coststhe land defended by Guzman the Good. We enter quietly into Strait of Gibraltar early in the morning, enjoying the fascinating spectacle of nature.
As soon as we arrived, in a fairly clear environment, we faced customs control. Previously, we had to fill out an exhaustive questionnaire, in which they asked us from the foot number to the zodiac sign (Andalusian exaggeration, allowed because the author is a native author). I was attending an important call at that time, it was my companion who filled in my information, so I was unaware of the information I had provided to the authorities.
When I handed the piece of paper to the Moroccan policeman, he looked at me with a very strange face that made me shudder. Very serious, threatening, he asked me: “What newspaper do you work for?” Suddenly, the sky turned gray, disturbing music, all the alarms on, ambient terror, sweat on my forehead, feeling of having five policemen behind me ready to handcuff me, anguish, despair, panic, my voice could not get out of my body.
My companion honored his bullfighter’s “tipín” and took out his cape: he was agile, brilliant, spontaneous, frank and charming. Everything went well, we were able to enter Morocco.
We took a walk in the medina. We exchanged a few euros for dirhams to act like tourists, buying some handcrafted fancies, those that are imported by the wonderful Spanish stores and sold five times more expensive. It was getting late, so, illuminated by the fascinating light of the sea and the blue of its sky, we walked in search of a taxi. The feeling of adventure did not leave me. That tangerine blue, with touches of the thousand and one nights, accentuated the contrast between my summer clothes, fresh and light, and the hijabs which flooded the streets.
Cats everywhere, steep streets, twisted between them, exotic smells created an ideal landscape to encourage any bandit. I admit that I sometimes felt a certain fear, alleviated by my company. Finally we arrived on an avenue, where there were hundreds of light blue cars, like the atmosphere, they were taxis. We stopped one and got in. After showing him the way to the Fairmont, he started driving without traffic lights, without air conditioning, almost without order or stability, this trip was like a return to Europe in the seventies. However, the scene was charming thanks to the backdrop. We arrive at our destination: three euros for a ride of almost half an hour, exciting!
My duties at the Fairmont went well. Once the service was over, we had to return to Spain, so to the port and face a mass of Muslims at the border. My arms in the air, my generous cleavage, my loose hair, my painted eyelashes, my lip gloss contrasted with all the females around me. Showing my good mood, I whispered to my companion while pointing to the one closest to me: “She’s shy and I’m not”, a nod to the summer success of the Colombian singer. Karol G..
He barely had time to understand the joke before it was our turn. Spanish customs, in the lands of Cadiz: “As I saw them from afar, I knew they were Sevillians. Come in.” We looked at each other surprised. And the questionnaire? And the disturbing cliffhanger? Without further ado, we went straight to drink a nice cold beer and take a bath to remove the Moorish shine. It made me want to do striptease to take revenge But, if I have never done it, I will not do it with a “half-old age”, so I limited myself to shouting out loud: Long live Spain!, diving into its clean and wonderful waters.
