Monday, February 28, 2005

Arriving ^v^

If you ever come to Tangier, the best way is through Gibraltar. Gibraltar is England’s military territory in the southern tip of Spain. The Strait of Gibraltar is approximately 8 miles wide at its narrowest point and seperates the European continent from Africa. Gibraltar is a funny place. I flew from New York to London, I spent two days in London where the Imperial War Museum has no mention of Imperialism but has an impressive display of antique weaponry painted in bright lego colors. And of course there’s the tate and more Cy Twombly to add to the Whitney’s show, which was you must see if you are anywhere near New York right now.
From London I took the tube to Heathrow and "deplaned" at the airport in Gibraltar from London and I spent about twenty minutes there.
Admiral Nelson, of Trafalgar Square fame (the man at the top of the column) died in the Battle of Trafalgar and washed up on the shores of Gibraltar. They pickled him in brandy and sent him back to the Mother Isle of Britain. I walked across the British/Spanish border with all my luggage, flashed my passport and we were in Spanish border town of La Línea de la Concepción. From there we took a bus to Algeciras. From Algeciras I took a two hour ferry ride across the narrow strait (etroit detroit). The first views of Morocco paints it as green and rolling as Ireland. Dreamlike because of the salt-splattered windows of the ferryboat. A mile off-shore of Tangier I spotted a camel galloping on the beach. Maya didn't believe me, though I could see it kicking up sand under its knobby, gnarled legs. I have good eyes. When we got off, there were three resting along the beach near the port.

We got off at the port and were helped by many plain-clothed foot-traffic directors-megalomaniacs or real employees of the port, we'll never know. Luckily, we were being met by Yto and Sean to take us to our new home. One young man asked us what hotel we were staying at and when we said we were reticent, and then finally said "we're staying with friends" he became defensive and spewed a long sentence about how he's not a terrorist and why do we stereotype and he is a policeman at the port and only trying to help. We gently explained that we would not tell any stranger what hotel we were staying at and it never crossed our mind that he would come to the hotel to blow us up. Simply, the overexageration and indiscriminate nature of the "war on terror" seems to have caused a whole race to see themselves as terrorists. What a mess.


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