Algeciras, I’m Sorry I Doubted You (Part II of II)

You were every bit as scummy as I had hoped.

Just when I thought you’d gone off and gotten soft on me, you threw a nice little 1AM curveball to keep me on my toes. And while I blame myself for not knowing where the ferry was going to drop me off, and for buying a ticket that brought me into port at 1AM, I blame you for telling me it was Tangier, when in reality I was something like 60km away from the city (to my readers: there is another port 2km away from the city, which is where I legitimately believed I was until the next morning). I should thank you though, for at least sending me to a port with amiable lodging. Welcome boys and girls, to the Tangier Med Ferry Terminal ‘Youth Hostel’.

She may not be your traditional hostelling service, but all of the standard amenities are included:

- Beds¹

- Low rates²

- Free Wifi³

- Free storage lockers⁴

- A bathroom ensuite⁵

- A common area – great for meeting other guests⁶

- An early check-out is available⁷

- Rooms with scenic views⁸

¹ Bedding not included. Please bring your own sheets, pillows, and mattress. Only available sleeping surfaces are wooden benches and tile flooring.

² Lodging is free, but you may be robbed by other guests in your sleep.

3 Not functional, as there is a known ‘problem’ that is currently unsolved. No explanation into said problem can/will be given. 

⁴ Assuming you have a lock, please lock all belongings to your person. There are no actual lockers.

⁵ Also shared with the rest of the ferry terminal. Please clean up after yourself, because no one else will/has for a very long time.

⁶ Other guests are homeless and stay on a regular basis.

⁷ Early check-out required. Café opens at 5AM, at which point the hostel closes. You will be woken up by morning staff via French and Arabic yelling and/or poking.

⁸ Only one view is available—of the oil storage tanks

Maybe I should just start from the top, instead of at a weirdly promotional midpoint. As stated in my last blog posting, I was mildly disappointed with the sketchiness/sleaziness of the Algeciras boarder crossing. This, once again, is the port city in Spain where the ferry to Tangier, Morocco, leaves from.

Excuse me, where the ferries to Tangier leave from. Yes, there are several ferries to Tangier, which do not all go to the same port. One of these ports, the “new port” as it was later explained to me by a very kind taxi driver, is roughly 60km away from the “old port”, which is actually in Tangier. I did not know there were two ports, and as I set foot onto African soil for the first time in my life, I legitimately thought I was in Tangier—at the “new port”, the only port which I knew existed. Overall, it’s a very strange feeling to not know where you are, when you actually think you do. That said, please take my word for it, as I don’t recommend getting into the situation yourself.

Right—do as I say, not as I do. Please jot that down, as it will be on the test later.

Admittedly, I shouldn’t have gotten onto a Ferry that made me arrive in a completely unknown place at 1AM, but it was two hours delayed. For that, I blame Algeciras. But anyway, as I disembarked from the mighty VRONSKIY LIMASSOL (home of the “Neptune Trucker Bar”, just in case you ever want to take a date there), I quickly found myself completely alone watching all of the other passengers drive away on an Italian-Moroccan tour bus. It was about this point that I wished I spoke French, Arabic, or Spanish. Any one of those would have been infinitively more useful than what I had instead, which were the sleep-deprived hand signals (I’d gotten up that morning at 5:30 to start queuing for the Alhambra) that I used with the crew unloading the ship.

Moving right along…

Eventually I got my point across, because I was put onto a bus, completely alone, driving on a road between huge oil tanks away from the unloading ships. This eventually arrived at the port’s passenger terminal (not the center of Tangier, like I had so desperately hoped I was heading as I rode along in the dark), where the driver yelled something at me and made me get off.

Now, I’d done my homework because I hadn’t wanted to get ripped off by the cabdrivers at the terminal, so I knew that it would cost me about 30 Dirhams (roughly 3 Euros) to get a ride into town. The first cabdriver I spoke to told me it was 300 Dirhams, non-negotiable. So did the second. And, because apparently I’m not one to take a Moroccan cabdriver’s word for something, so did the officer at customers.

…Confusion sets in…

Believe me, I tried to haggle this price down, but I ran into two very significant obstacles: (1) that I was the only person looking for a ride into town at 1AM and every taxi driver knew that I had no other means of transportation available to me (outside of walking), and (2) that it really was a fixed rate. As I haggled away unsuccessfully, one cabdriver finally told me I had two viable options (he also offered a third option—to stay the night at his house—which I politely declined): pay 300 Dirhams for a ride into Tangier (he kept insisting it was 60km away) that night, or sleep at the ferry terminal and catch the 20 Dirham bus in the morning. While haggling, I told him that I would stay at the terminal, looking for something (anything) to bargain with. He called me bluff immediately—I think he was tired of arguing with someone who didn’t know where he was—and happily led me away inside the terminal, up to the café area, which was in the process of closing.

While walking up the staircase, the cabdriver asked me if I wanted AC or not. For a moment, I thought he meant that there were hotel rooms upstairs, and told him that I preferred non-AC (they’re generally cheaper).

He nodded in agreement, and led me to a bench far away from the air-conditioning vent. Great.

Strangely enough, when the cabdriver (I never did get his name, but he was surprisingly helpful and I wish I had thanked him; at the time I was just focused on figuring out where I was though) explained to the café worker that I would be staying the night, there was no argument. He just nodded, took away the cushion that was on the bench (which he also did to every other cushioned area in the café), and let me be. Apparently (as I learned later when other ‘guests’ arrived), this was a normal, nightly thing.

Once again everyone, welcome to the Tangier Med Ferry Terminal ‘Youth Hostel’. It’s free, and dorm beds are available.

In case you’re wondering, it was a very cold, uncomfortable night’s sleep. At 5AM I woke up (was woken up), and waited for the 20 Dirham bus. I took that into town—it took 45 minutes to get there, they weren’t lying to me about the distance—and caught the first long-distance bus to Chefchaouen I could. To put it bluntly, I got the hell out of Tangier as quickly as possible.

I’m still alive though, so that’s cool.

JHW