North Morocco; a day-trip to Spain

Almost two weeks the Moroccons have me on a visit. You start getting
used with being in Morocco. No longer the tiniest little things remind
me of being in Morocco, and the chaotic chaos starts to become normal.
Nothing will shock me anymore, and I am prepared to see the most
unexpected. The perfect example I had yesterday. Everything together.
On a simple terras in Chefchaouen belonging to a bar, I was waiting
for my night bus to arrive but I was 2 hours too early at the bus
station, so I ended at this terrase with a mint tea only as sweet as
you can get your tea in Morocco. While sitting their reading a copy of
the latest Economist zipping my supersweet mint tea, one thing after
the other happened. It was not a main road I was sitting at, though an
important one to connect different areas.
First thing that happened, a car drove past, steep up-hill when I
heard the loud noise of a wizzle. I checked what was there and at the
same time the car breaked, and the driver let himself roll back down a
few meters, just as a police man appeared from the corner together
with someone. The police man went to the car which in meanwhile
stopped in front of the police officer. What appeared, the police
demanded the driver to bring the 3rd person to a particular location.
The driver complained and tried to refuge. But what can you do against
a police man. So the 3rd person opened thr car door and got into the
back.
Still with this memory fresh in my head I heard some cows mooing,
while we were in the middle of the city. It was already getting a
little dark and when I spotted the cows, I saw the three big boys
walking randomly in between the houses and flats searching for some
grass! Can you imagine going to work the next day and you find a big
cow eating your favorite plants! Anyway the cows kept quietly and
relaxed going their way and so did I continue reading.
Not even one minute later I heard an undefinable sound repeating
irregular. It became louder, and later I heard scratches inbetween the
low base sound. I coulden't find a clarification for the sound, but
that was no longer needed, because I saw an about 18 years old guy
walking down the hill pulling a tight rope with on the other end an
angry and old sheep that didn't want to go down the hill. The sheep
kept pulling back, screaming behhhhhh!!!!! And the guy was pulling
that hard that the sheep lost grib on the road and so he skidded dow
the hills a few centimeters after each angry BEHHHHH!
Well ok, also fine. I mean we are in Morocco!
The next moment two boys not older then 10 years old came running down
the hill dragging two mules with them. They were pulling the mules all
over the place because at the same time they aere playing football
with a stone and their straight forward kick wasn't too good yet, so
they dragged the mules crom left to right in the middle of the streets
to kick the stone along down the hill as if they were sailong a boat
against the wind.
Also a lot of vans passed by with a huge load on the roof sometimes
they put so much things on top of the van, that their freight is
actually higher than the van self making it a 6meters high vehicle!
It's doomed to fall over.

So, at some point you are getting used to all of this, and non of it
still surprices you. Yesterday I decided to pay a visit to Spain for a
dag? You might be thinking; 'he? You are in Morocco, how can you just
go to Spain for a day?' Well just like that, just hob over the border.
I was in the north east of Morocco, in Nador, along the south of the
mediteranean sea. Just north of Nador, there is still a small city
called Melilla which is part of Spain. It's left from the history when
Spain had their colonies still set out in Morocco. After independence
of Morocco, Melilla and also Ceuta more to the west closer to Tanger,
remained Spanish.
In order to visit Melilla you can either cross the med. sea on a 5
hour ferry or enter via land from Nador, which I did. First a taxi to
the borer. When I arrived there was a lot going on. The border
crossing was in the middle of an urban area surrounded by houses. As
always and everywere in Morocco a lot of people, cars and taxies all
over the place. I filled out the little paper to leave the country,
showed my passport, received a stamp and walked to the Spanish border.
Time to queue up! Everybody seemed to want to go to 'Europe' (read:
only Moroccans).
I was waved-in kindly and I arrived in Spain....I thought. Because
just as I left the Spanish border, a guy in uniform ran out of his
little office demanding me to come with him, into a different office.
I had to show what was insidw my bag and my pockets. I thought
'luckily I have only my small backpack with me otherwise I would take
a very long time u packing and repacking all my things'.
He was checking me for drugs. In Morocco, especially the north, a lot
of hash is being grown. And offered! In meanwhile I must have been
offered hash for about a hundred times! If you only nod at a young guy
he's already getting on his feet to sell you hash. Of course each of
then has the best quality and they talk like you cannot refuse this
offer. Some of them really give you a hard time to get rid of them and
even complete ignorance while keep on walking doesn't always work. One
guy, without giving him any glance(thats already enough to announe you
are interested to buy) even standed next to me for 5 minutes waiting
for me to come off the phone only to offer me hash! He followed me all
the eay to the other side of the square. Good news for solo-travelers,
it's not borring at all! You will not be alone any moment in Morocco
:)

Anyway I was allowed into Spain and a bus was just there waiting to
bring me to town. Well arranged and good quality transport is what I
experienced! Everything looked good and clean again! People not
bothering you any more, people talking Spanish, modern cars and
shops as we are used in Europe. And beer! I really left Africa and I
was in Spain! And I was just 200 meters away, from Morocco! It was a
funny experience.
Arrived in the centre at Plaza de España, it was timd to find a little
bar to get some great tapas. Hm it felt good to back in Spain. I start
to like this country more and more.
With the belly full of tapas I headed for the north east part near the
port where the old fortress is located. Nice little streets within the
big walls if defence. From the east and north side you have a
beautiful view over the sea, clearly blue. The rest of the day I spent
walking around in the city, survived the desertanous hours of siesta
with no-one on thr streets, and found that the population of Melilla
is 50% Spanish, concentrated in the south of the city and 50%
Moroccan, all together in the north part.

On my way back to Morocco with only Moroccans sharing the same bus to
the Aforos, I arrived back at the border, showed my passport to the
Spanish border and arrived between the two contries again with about
200meters to cover. While walking here I realised that this is the
probably the most chaotic border crossing I have been. With only
Moroccans literally hanging out and it was as if they spent their day
in nobodies country in between the two borders and to be honnest I was
surprised not to find any touts selling you any thing, no people
offereing you hash or peanuts or hotels or the paper to enter Morocco.
But still people were jus there hanging out as if they were at the
main square. Yes indeed, I was arriving back in Morocco. I didnt
expect to see such a huge contrast between two places grown stuck to
eachother. The government does it all and the money even more because
Melilla did not seem to be a city without money with all the buildings
well kept and maintained and the old history well restorated.
A day of fun throuh the border in the tip of Morocco, to get used to
the western culture and climate before flying to Barcalona the next
day. That means Europe for the next month and I cannot wait to arrive
in Turkey to be offered so much crap by the touts again....