Our private tour guide collected us from the port with an enthusiasm. As we left the port, I spotted something interesting: Morocco’s traffic stop signs read in Arabic script, rather than using the English “STOP” typical in so many other places, which I thought was pretty cool.

Where Two Oceans Meet

Cap Spartel, located approximately 14 kilometres west of Tangier, juts out 326 metres above sea level, a promontory that marks not only the meeting point of the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean, but also the northwestern edge of the African continent. The lighthouse standing sentinel on this rocky point was constructed by Sultan Muhammad IV in 1864, making it one of Morocco’s oldest lighthouses.

Near the lighthouse, a simple sign warned us not to feed the wild boars. The warning carried more historical weight than might first appear. The Barbary wild boar subspecies (Sus scrofa algira) inhabits the forested regions of North Africa, from Morocco through Algeria and Tunisia. An ironic thing is that Islam is the largest religion in Morocco, and they don’t eat pork, so whenever a boar is caught, they may be exported for sale elsewhere.

First Time Riding A Camel

Next, our guide arranged a camel ride on the beach as part of the day’s itinerary. While none of us explicitly asked for it, the camel ride was included in the tour package. The experience proved physically uncomfortable in ways I hadn’t anticipated. The animals had no traditional saddles, leaving my legs to dangle awkwardly while the camel’s gait sent jolts through my body with each step. At one point, the camel began walking the wrong way, and the handler slapped it on the head to correct its behaviour. This moment made me think about how these camels might not be treated well, and how we should avoid supporting such tourist activities next time.

The ride lasted approximately twenty minutes, though it felt considerably longer. The animal moved in jerky, unpredictable motions that kept me gripping tightly to avoid slipping sideways. When the time came to dismount, the camel lowered its head first, extending its front legs flat against the sand before tucking in its rear legs – a movement that made me feel as though we might flip forward over the animal’s neck. The whole experience left me tired despite sitting and with mixed feelings about the ethics of animal treatment in these settings.​

A Cave Made of Legends

The Hercules Caves hold a peculiar place between geology, mythology, and human labour. According to Greek legend, Hercules himself rested within these caves during the eleventh of his twelve labours, and some stories claim that he split the rock to create the Strait of Gibraltar. The cave’s opening to the sea has been carved into the unmistakable silhouette of the African continent, a feature believed to have been shaped by the Phoenicians in ancient times.

Yet the full story of the caves involves human hands as much as it does myth. Berber people quarried stone from the cave walls to craft millstones, and evidence of Neolithic occupation has been discovered within.

Obligatory Arranged Shopping Trip

Our guide’s next destinations were shopping stops, presented with an assurance that we weren’t obligated to purchase anything. Yet the dynamic felt awkward nonetheless. First came a rug shop, where a sales representative explained that hand-made rugs represented an investment, increasing in value over time with use. The pitch was not aggressive, but persistent. We remained sceptical – not only did we lack knowledge to evaluate what makes a rug worthy of its asking price, but the traditional designs on display clashed entirely with our home’s existing décor. It’s also not financially responsible to make a decision on a four-digit purchase within 15 minutes. We left empty-handed. The next destination though, a spice shop, proved more appealing.

The air hung with the mingled aromas of cumin, cinnamon, turmeric, and dozens of other powders and seeds. The vendor offered argan oil, a product for which Morocco is renowned. Argan trees grow nowhere else on Earth, thriving only in the arid and semi-arid regions of southwestern Morocco. We did end up selecting a few spice mixes and bottles of Argan oil to take home.

The Medina and Its Contradictions

Our guide seemed to possess a social network spanning the entire city. As we navigated the historical medina – that dense quarter of narrow alleyways where markets had operated for centuries – people would recognize him, calling out greetings. He’d pause to chat with shopkeepers and acquaintances, his connections evident in every interaction. The medina itself, however, told a different story about time and commerce. Once the true market of Tangier, it remains a marketplace physically, with shops lining the maze of streets. Yet the merchandise had largely shifted: where artisans once crafted goods by hand, now seems less likely.

The architecture retained its character – whitewashed walls, narrow passages designed for foot traffic, the occasional glimpse of a private courtyard, but the economic reality had transformed entirely. Another observation is that, despite French being an official language of Morocco, I heard it seldomly spoken. People spoke to each other in Arabic, and then English to the tourists. I didn’t even need to speak French at all, despite being comfortable enough in it to navigate around.

Meal Expectations Unfulfilled

Our guide led us to a Moroccan restaurant that catered entirely to cruise ship passengers and tourists, which assured us of safety in food hygiene, but a sign that the food wouldn’t be very good. As we sat down, we scanned the dining room and observed an absolute absence of locals. The meal opened with bread and mezze – a selection of eggplant, peppers, and tomatoes prepared simply but flavourfully. The first course confounded us: a puff pastry topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon arrived before the main dishes. This, we learned, was pastilla, a Moroccan speciality. Pastilla represents the sweet-savory fusion at the heart of Moroccan cuisine. It contained some meat wrapped in dough, but curiously topped with powdered sugar and cinnamon, creating a flavour profile we associated with dessert.

The main course consisted of chicken skewers with couscous, alongside beef stew and chicken stew (likely from a tagine, the traditional conical cooking vessel that permeates Moroccan cuisine). However, the dishes lacked adequate seasoning. The meat was tender enough, but without sufficient salt to draw out the spices’ potential, the meal felt somewhat muted.

The mint tea that concluded the meal redeemed the experience somewhat – hot, refreshing, infused with fresh mint leaves that had clearly come from somewhere nearby.

Returning Across the Strait

The ferry crossing back to Tarifa marked a transition from Morocco to Spain, from the medina’s complexity to European order.

Once we’d settled into our accommodation in Tarifa, we ventured to the hotel’s restaurant for seafood paella – a dish brimming with the flavours that a proper stock can provide, the broth enriched by the essence of shrimp, mussels, and fish. After a day navigating tours, negotiations, and sensory overload, the simple pleasure of excellent seafood felt like a proper ending, though ironically not a Moroccan meal.

Our time in Tangier offered cool highlights – the lighthouse, the legendary caves, and the medina’s winding streets. But the day also presented contradictions that made it memorable in unexpected ways. The camel ride proved far more uncomfortable than expected. The shopping stops tested our patience and skepticism. The restaurant catered so entirely to tourists that locals seemed relegated to a different Tangier altogether. Yet we’d glimpsed not merely the postcard version of a destination, but some of the friction inherent in modern tourism – the tension between preservation and commerce, between authentic space and commercialized experience.

You can view the photo album here

We spent the morning at the Cours Selaya market in the old town. Several websites described it as a combination of a flower market and flea market, and maybe we were in the wrong place or something, but we only saw the flea market. I’m not sure what people find enticing about a flea market because to me it’s as if the stuff that people are selling at the market is old antiques they’ve kept in their basement for decades. Occasionally, there were vendors selling art, but it was mostly antiques.

The vegetation here is very Mediterranean. It’s not temperate at all. There are palm trees everywhere, olive trees, and green spiny heat resistance shrubs.

For lunch, we visited a local Michelin star restaurant, L’eau de Vie. I’d say it was good, but not Michelin star good…

Later in the day, we visited the Marc Chagall Museum. Marc Chagall was an artist who live in Nice for some time. I’m not huge on art, but visited the museum upon the insistence of my travel partner. While the work was beautiful, it was difficult for me to appreciate it in more depth due to my lack of literacy in the fine arts. On top of that, the main theme of the art in the museum seemed to be scenes from the bible, which I’m not too familiar with either.

We spent the rest of the day walking around the city seeing other landmarks like the Hotel Negresco, and the Saint Nicholas Cathedral. The Hotel Negresco is considered a landmark in the city and appears on many postcards. It’s essentially a really fancy hotel with its own private beach for its guests. The interesting part of the Saint Nicholas Cathedral is that it’s Russian Orthodox. This raises the question of why there’s a Russian Orthodox cathedral so far away from Russia. By the end of the 19th century, there was a sizable Russian diaspora living in Nice, partly owing to the good relations built up by the Russian nobility. Another cool fact is that the cathedral belongs to the Russian Federation.

An unfortunate consequence of all the time spent outside resulted in many mosquito bites. I was honestly surprised and how relentless they were considering it was the middle of the day. I’ve only remembered them showing up at dusk.

Eventually we made it back to Place Garibaldi, the main city square in Nice. The great thing about European cities is the massive public spaces that are pedestrian only. It reduces the amount of car exhaust so much and gives ample space for restaurant patios. It’s nice to just sit at the patio and enjoy the colour scenery all around, from the colours of the buildings, the windows, the balconies, or just simply people watch.

We ended the day with a fantastic lobster dinner. It was even topped up with a flambé of Jack Daniel’s. It’s not the best whiskey in the world, but a flambé is cool, especially on a lobster. I wish I could remember what the sauce was made of…

That’s it for day 2 of our trip! Our packed itinerary only allowed us to have a short two day stay in Nice. Tomorrow we head elsewhere!

More photos of Nice here

There are even drag queens! I thought that was a thing that people went to Bangkok for.

I finally found deep fried insects!! It seems kind of strange to buy food from vendors where their food appear to have been just sitting out in the open for hours in the burning heat, but that seems to be the norm here.

Would you like some rubber poop?

When the rainstorm hit, the shopkeepers were fully prepared. We weren’t. I walked around drenched wearing a T-shirt and shorts.

But I don’t think they were prepared for the wind…

My buddy’s YouTube video gives a pretty good tour of the street markets too. Check it out!

Otherwise, that’s it for street markets in Chiang Mai.
See all the photos here