Tangiers to Cadiz

After eight weeks in Morocco immediately after 9/11 he leaped onto a ferry across the Mediterranean from Tangiers to Algeciras.

He met a strawberry blond American widow from a lonely hearts club tour group.

“I have many questions for you,” Jean said as seagulls played in blue wind.

“Yes. That’s the answer to the first one. The one where you ask me if I am happy?”

“How did you know?”

“It’s obvious isn’t it. It’s the first question an American away from home for the first time in her life, and returning from a day trip to Tangiers to her four star Costa del Sol hotel after being assulted by poor unemployed people begging her to buy something - anything - would ask a traveler. You’re either sitting in deep meditation or you’re moving.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.”

“What’s question number two?”

“Where are you going?”

“Cadiz. The oldest city in Europe. Going to sit down and write. We’ve been hunting and gathering material. Doing my work.”

“Wow, that’s exciting. I’m lucky to get a letter written. Takes me forever and then I just lose my train of thought.”

“Instead of the train maybe you should consider walking. Take bus #11. It’s a magic bus.”

“Really? What’s bus #11 mean?”

“It means use your legs, it means walk, slow down, engage your senses. It’s how poor people get around in Morocco. How poor people anywhere get somewhere.”

“How romantic.”

“Depends on your perspective and interpretation. Poverty is not romantic. It’s a daily struggle. Yes, by slowing down you observe everything in minute detail, befriend strangers, be anonymous. Like a wandering ghost or a memory. It’s the perfect way to explore your nature, test your spirit, contemplate your imaginary reflection in windows and live with pure intention.”

“Just by walking? What happens if I get attacked?”

“You worry too much. Worry is interest on a bill that will never come due. Your ego loves the circus of sensory entertainment. People suffer chronic health problems because they think to much about past failures and future fears. Try just sitting. Maybe you need to slow down, unless you love the fast lane? Most people don’t intend to harm you. Learn how to yell ‘FIRE’ in multiple languages if you need help.”

“Funny. Fire eh, never thought of that before.”

“Sure, people scatter and you escape.”

Passing Gibraltar they entered a harbor as Jean poured her endless book of questions into his ears about life as a nomad, how it worked, how one survives on the road.

They said goodbye and he didn’t have the heart to tell her about the pain, suffering and joy she’d experience on her journey. He knew she’d find out for herself because they were all in transit.

One door opens and one door closes but the hallways can be a bitch.