A taxi ride from Tangier train station in a very big, very beige, very old tank of a Mercedes. took me through the bland, repetitive, high-rise nouvelle city and into the old medina town.
My mouth actually fell open as we drove through the arched gateway into the old medina, the streets now become alleys and shrink to narrow cobbled passages... Too narrow for the big old Mercedes taxi, but he didn't seem concerned at all and powered on.
Grey clouds did nothing to dampen my excitement as I stood on the rooftop of the riad overlooking the old town, beach and coastline. Waves crashed and once again the deep musical call to prayer resounded across the city.
White washed walls, black iron work and sweet mint tea served on the rooftop terrace.
Children called out in French, playing and running below me in the narrow maze of the ancient world.
This was bloody exotic, this now felt like Morocco.
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