As it has always been, and as it shall forever be, I am dammed late with updating. But I’m here again and that’s something, ain’t it? As usual, much has happened, and trying to write it all down while getting across the emotions, smells, and vibe of it all will… Probably not work, but I’ll try.
Way back in Spain, after a week or perhaps a few more days (as is always the case with the boat), we set off for the Canary Islands. We weren’t so sad to leave Gibraltar, a very modern and not overly pretty place for transients on their ways North, South, East, and West. I did however get to see my first monkeys on the day I climbed to the top of the lonely Hill in Gibraltar (mainly to see the big guns). The only native monkeys in Europe.
It took us six days to reach the canary Islands, the journey surprisingly having few problems and calm seas. We were all waiting for a catastrophe, but it was quite nice on the large rolling waves of our first Atlantic leg of the trip. As we neared the islands, a few of us were getting closer to the moment where we would have to make up our minds about leaving the ship.
On arrival we were greeted by the jagged Northern edge of Tenerife, one of the bigger Islands of the Canaries. Over the next week we worked like dogs, tearing up deck caulking, painting, sanding, all that lovely stuff. Most of us couldn’t bring up the energy to explore after work, which was part of the problem for me. I wanted to explore, to experience the culture and the island. Myself and Adam, the Englishman mulled over leaving and venturing on to Morocco. Weighing the pros and cons of this, the scales seemed to weigh heavily on leaving… But while the boat did have many issues, we were a part of the crew, and attached to all the imperfections.
One night we decided to flip the Canadian silver dollar my dad had given me before I left home. The canoe side of the coin was obviously “stay with the boat.” we both got the canoe. So we decided to stay, and that kept is quiet for a couple of days… But problems mounted, and our gut instincts were wrenching us in the opposite direction.
Our last full day was spent with most of us underlings renting a little car and zipping around the island, going from the hot shorelines into the fairly cool and moist rainforests of the Northern mountains, then down to the hulking Volcano of the South. A lovely way to spend time with our brotherly friends.
The last day was busy, us two packing our bags and the other crew packing the boat up for the crossing. While we would miss most of the crew, Adam and I were looking forward to the change. As the boat headed out of port we felt renewed and free. We were finally going to be exploring again, seeing many more new things and running into all sorts of strangeness… We haven’t been disappointed.
We arrived at the airport, our flight booked, to find out we had to have an exit ticket for Morocco or else we couldn’t go. So with only ten minutes of free wifi we rushed to get a ferry ticket out. Somehow we accomplished that, got on the plane, and off we went!
On arrival, the Moroccan customs found us strange, wearing ties with regular ripped and dirty clothes, while having no concrete place to stay and a strange story of how and why we were there. They lost Adams bag (it went to Ghana), and they bloody well lost my walking stick I had travelled with since mount Olympus almost a year ago! We then had to pay 20 euros for a cab to the city, as we couldn’t sleep outside due to “bandits,” apparently. We arrived in the sleeping city of agadir, exhausted, finding a tiny hotel in some backstreet to call our home for the night.
We had arrived in Morocco with a strange taste in our mouths. The first few hours had already been of less-than-grand luck. Every day since has had its strangeness, both good and bad.
I’m sitting here at a hostel in rabat, with not enough time to write the last two weeks of our adventure. But I’m working on it. I might even have it done within a week! Wouldn’t that be spectacular!? Oh yes.
Until next time..