On the Road to Morocco

No camels, no kitschy sand-dune Hollywood sets, no Dorothy Lamour shrouded in veils singing a siren song, and, alas, no Bob Hope and Bing Crosby leading us to fabled Karameesh. But like Bob and Bing (and Webster's dictionary), we're Morocco bound.

We ferried from Algeciras, Spain, skimming past the monolithic Rock of Gibraltar, and arrived in Tangier, Morocco in just over an hour. What a cultural difference an hour makes! Spanish is replaced by undulating Arabic on road signs and billboards, and shorts and t-shirts are replaced by long and flowing djellabahs. Starbucks is nowhere in sight, but roadside juice stands run by women in colorful, wide-brimmed hats spring into view at every curve. And in the fields, round wheels of hay are replaced by hay stacked in neat square packages. It's a whole new exciting world.

On the Straits of Gibraltar
















The Road to Hotel Club Le Mirage

An Afternoon Stroll













Street Signs

Hotel Club Le Mirage