Over the weekend, our group faced a minor issue: our passport stamps that we received when we entered the country were only good for 80 days, and thus wouldn’t last for the remainder of the trip. To resolve this, we had to leave the country and return to get a new stamp that would be good for another round and clear us until the end of the program. So, we embarked on a weekend trip to Ceuta, which is a city that is technically/geographically still in Morocco but is owned by the Spanish and thus counted as Spain.
To break up the long drive north, we stopped at one of my favorite cities on the way: Chefchaouen! Even though it was a short stay, I was happy to have the chance to briefly revisit the beautiful blue city. This time, we also got to make a pit stop and hike up to some waterfalls a short drive away from the city called the Cascades D’Akfour. It felt really nice to stretch our legs and soak up some Vitamin D, and especially to dip our feet into the cold water on a sunny day!
Then, it was onto the next destination: Tetouan, a city that serves as one of the two major ports of Morocco on the Mediterranean sea, only a few miles south of the Strait of Gibraltar. We didn’t get to spend much time exploring the city at all, since we arrived later than expected. But, luckily, we arrived at the perfect hour for me to spend some time walking on the beach at sunset, collecting seashells and admiring the Mediterranean. Our hotel was right on the beach and it was very swanky, which was a refreshing little getaway – complete with comfy beds.
The view from our hotel room’s balcony
Ceuta is also a hot spot for people from Sub-Saharan Africa who are trying to immigrate illegally to Europe (since it is so close to Spain). Many people try to cross the border by climbing the high walls and fences, because Spain has a law granted them some immunity on the other side: they can’t be deported once they make it over. Yet, interestingly, Spain and Morocco have an agreement that allows Spain to immediately deport any Moroccans who make it into the country illegally.Before going to Ceuta, we had a lecture from a renowned professor about smuggling and illegal immigration in the north of Morocco. Ceuta is a hub for the smuggling of contraband goods – many poor Moroccan women carry cheap goods (such as CDs, blankets, beauty products, electronics, etc.) from Ceuta across the border to stores in Morocco to try to make a living. Although this is technically illegal, the police turn a blind eye to it and the women break the law to try to put food on their table. This is an incredibly grueling job, as they are only allowed to take what they can carry on their backs and carry as much as they possibly can to make the most money. They usually only make about $5 for each trip, making the trip back and forth sometimes as often as three times a day. To make matters worse, they often suffer from harassment and abuse from both the Moroccan and Spanish police. Sometimes the authorities randomly close the border to the women for weeks at a time, depriving these women from their income and thus sometimes subjecting them to domestic abuse. This is a complex issue as well as a double-sided one: on the negative side, this is an informal economy – the products aren’t taxed and so the government doesn’t gain from it. However, on the positive side, it benefits women and their families and allows them to earn some money when they have no other options.
After hearing this lecture, we weren’t quite sure what to expect from Ceuta. On Saturday morning, we hopped on our buses and headed for the border. We had to switch into a Spanish bus right before reaching it. When we got there, we faced huge lines of cars waiting to go through the gates and tons of Moroccan and Spanish police. Our trip leader had to gather all of our passports and spoke with the authorities for a pretty extensive amount of time in French about our situation. An officer boarded our bus and looked at all our passports and faces individually. But, after waiting for a little while, we apparently got the all clear and were ready to go. We drove through successfully and entered “Spain.”
We weren’t allowed to take any photos, so we took a “border crossing selfie” instead.
“Spain” ?!
Our time in Ceuta was incredibly bizarre – in the course of about 20 feet, it seemed that we had entered into a completely different world. I was expecting a shabbier, smaller town, but instead, Ceuta was a beautiful city that really looked and felt European. Apparently 80% of the Ceuta population is still Moroccan, but this was not very visibly evident, at least in the portion of the city we were in. We were quickly confronted with issues we hadn’t even been thinking about: for one thing, the only accepted currently was Euros (of which I had none), our Moroccan cell phones no longer worked, and the predominate language was Spanish. Although I took two years of Spanish in college, I quickly realized the extent to which all the Darija I’ve been learning has pushed all the Spanish out of my brain. When we went to a cafe for tapas, I forgot how to say “please” in Spanish for a solid two minutes. Many of us found ourselves automatically saying words in Darija such as “afak” and “shukran” (please and thank you) as a gut reaction. In fact, it made me realize how much Darija I really have learned, because on many occasions I wanted to say things to shopowners that I knew how to say in Darija but had forgotten how to say in Spanish.
The city felt like a weird Spanish-Morocco purgatory, halfway between the two cultures (my friend Julie dubbed it “Sporocco”). While many people around us were speaking Spanish, wearing shorts, and eating tapas, there were also glimpses of Morocco everywhere, such as shops filled with Moroccan souvenirs – and also, of course, we still hadn’t technically left the country. Nevertheless, it was fun to indulge in a few Western pleasures I hadn’t even fully realized I missed: I reveled in the double stuffed Oreos and Salt & Vinegar Pringles I found at a corner store, as well as walking around late at night without feeling uncomfortable. It was our friend Alexa’s birthday that day, so we celebrated by going out to eat at a fun restaurant.
The next morning, after marveling at the various pork products served at the hotel’s breakfast buffet, it was time to pack up and go “back” to Morocco. Not surprisingly, it seemed to be much easier to cross the border going the other way. We made it through without any issue, now all of us sporting new stamps on our passports that will last until the end of our trip. Overall, it was kind of a bizarre experience, and a glimpse into how weird it will be to travel around in Europe after the program and to return to the United States. I have the feeling that the “reverse culture shock” is definitely gonna hit pretty hard! Nevertheless, it was a fun weekend and a nice little getaway from our daily life in Fes.