by Darlene Mokrycki

Created on: January 30, 2008   Last Updated: October 31, 2008

Tangiers has a mystique about it that has remained unrivaled in more than forty years of traveling off the "beaten path." From the hydrofoil ride across the Straits of Gibraltar to our landing in Tangiers, excitement and anticipation filled us.

Traveling with a two-year-old and an old friend was interesting enough, but being greeted by a people of a different race and culture, whose language we did not speak, whose clothing was unfamiliar, and whose customs and food were totally unfamiliar filled me with wonderment. As we stepped off the craft we were swarmed by various street vendors and hawkers, one carrying a three-toed sloth who would pose for pictures with tourists. Another was trying to sell crudely made instruments that resembled banjos made from a box turtle shell covered with animal hide.

Several inhabitants dressed like Franciscan monks clothed in brown wool garments with corded belts tied around the waist swooped around us, and one handsome fellow so clad scooped my son from his umbrella stroller picked him up and played with him. I was a bit disconcerted by this, but he and his "brothers" were amicable, and carried my son over his shoulder through the streets as we walked to our hotel.

Tangiers was a bit shabby and had an aura of mystery at least to travelers unfamiliar with the culture and customs. In an alleyway buzzing with activity, women wearing veils and men long robes, I lifted my camera to take a snapshot, and suddenly the street was empty of inhabitants. Later I was told that these people believe that if you take an image of them you capture their soul.

We went back in time as we wandered through the Kasbah finally entering a shop where beautiful Persian rugs were sold. Rugs, each a work of art in its own right, padded the walls high up to the ceiling and draping down to the floor, covered all visible wall and floor space in the room. They were piled calf deep on the floors and cushioned the area with plushness. Each piece came from a nearby province and portrayed a story by the craftsman-storyteller who had hand tied thousands of knots to form his awesome creation. We bargained with the shopkeeper and finally purchased a small area rug for $100.00.

Shortly,the tour bus picked us up to whisk us off to another destination and as we boarded, peddlers frantically offered their wares for sale tugging on our clothing to gain our attention. They followed the bus some distance selling what they could through the windows. They were enamored by things American, and I was able to trade a pair of cheap wrap-around sunglasses for a satiny caftan.

This was a whirlwind visit, packed with adventure and mystery, that offered us a way experience life from the viewpoint of another people in another time.

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