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

Rábida: Brackish Lagoons and Flamingos

Our morning began before breakfast with a nature walk on Rábida Island, known for its deep red volcanic sands and its brackish lagoon. The lagoon is home to a small population of American flamingos, one of the Galápagos “Big 15” species. Our guides told us the odds of seeing them were low, so we considered ourselves fortunate to catch several wading gracefully in the shallows.

Among them was a juvenile with distinctive blue legs – a telltale sign of its age. We also got a good look at their black-tipped wings, which I never even knew existed. Flamingos, surprisingly strong fliers, most likely reached the Galápagos from mainland South America. One interesting fact the guides pointed out was how what looks like their knees are actually their ankles. They get their pink colour from their diet.

As we circled the lagoon, we passed a dead seal partially buried in the sand. It wasn’t clear what caused its death, but we didn’t speculate, but it was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of nature.

We returned to the ship for breakfast after our walk. One of the passengers had a health scare that morning; he collapsed on the ground as we were observing the flamingos due to low blood sugar. Thankfully, he recovered quickly. He was lucky that it didn’t happen when we were on more rugged terrain.

Glass-Bottom Boat Ride

After breakfast, we boarded a glass-bottom boat to observe marine life without getting wet. While it sounded ideal in theory, the reality proved less comfortable. The rocking of the boat while staring down made it easy to feel seasick.

Still, we managed to spot a vague silhouette of a shark, and a massive school of fish.

A sea turtle also came to say hi to us

Bartolomé: Snorkelling and Penguins

After lunch, we visited Bartolomé Island, a small but geologically striking islet famous for its towering volcanic spire, known as Pinnacle Rock. We began with a snorkelling session around the base of it.

After several days in the water, I started feeling more at ease, whereas before I never felt comfortable in the water, and this made the session much more enjoyable. We started to swim around the rock. The underwater scenery was rich with life: bright schools of fish, the occasional shark.

As I swam around the rock, I was busy looking around in the water, until I was suddenly startled by a sea lion sleeping near the surface. At first I panicked, but the sea lion paid us no mind. As it swam away, other snorkelers followed it.

Eventually we made it around the rock, and spotted some Galápagos penguins – another member of the “Big 15.” They stayed onshore this time, and we observed them resting on the rocks. It would have been school to swim in the water with them, but they didn’t jump in.

Later we found out that one snorkeller returned with rashes after being unknowingly stung by jellyfish (apparently from a few days ago, but didn’t the rashes didn’t appear immediately). None of us had realized jellyfish were in the water.

Volcanic Landscapes and Iconic Views

Later in the day, we hiked to the summit of Bartolomé to take in its famous view – the one often featured in postcards of the Galápagos. The trail was constructed with a special local hardwood known for its resistance to salt and corrosion. The path included many stairs, which made some hesitate, but was no problem for me. Funny thing is that the guide was panting harder than I was.

As we walked up, the black lava fields and stark, dry terrain stood in contrast to the more vegetated islands. Bartolomé is relatively barren, and is considered a geologically young island, having emerged from volcanic activity only a few hundred thousand years ago. Unlike older islands that have had time to accumulate soil and vegetation, Bartolomé’s surface is still largely exposed lava, ash, and tuff. Because it hasn’t developed significant plant cover or topsoil, its ecosystem remains in an early stage of ecological succession, providing a glimpse into what the earliest phases of island formation look like in the Galápagos.

Lava tubes scar the landscape – formed when the outer crust of a lava flow solidifies while the molten core continues to move. When the lava drains away, it leaves behind hollow tunnels. The ropey textures we saw on the ground were from lava flows, which cool into smooth, undulating surfaces.

The summit offers a sweeping view of Pinnacle Rock and the surrounding islets. From this vantage point, we could also see the contrast between the barren lava terrain of Bartolomé and the greener neighbouring islands like Santiago. The turquoise waters outlined the curves of the coastline, and we could spot sea birds gliding in the air currents.

After the hike, we took a short boat ride along the shoreline and spotted several more Galápagos penguins perched on the rocks. These curious birds seemed unfazed by our presence, occasionally flapping their wings or hopping between stones. We got to see a closer view compared to snorkeling.

Evening Science and Stargazing

Those who had opted out of the climb spent time with the ship’s naturalists collecting seawater samples. After dinner, they showed us the samples under a microscope. Even in just 3 mL of seawater, we saw fish eggs, miniscule shrimp-like creatures, and other microorganisms. Then I wondered how many of them I ingested from accidentally drinking the seawater while snorkeling.

Later that night, the skies cleared and we joined the guides on the top deck for a stargazing session. Thanks to our equatorial position, we could see both northern and southern constellations. The guide used a powerful laser pointer to trace the outlines of Scorpio, Libra, the Southern Cross, and even Ursa Major. They pointed out bright stars and planets like Antares, Alpha Centauri, and Beta Centauri. The clarity of the sky, with minimal light pollution, made the session feel so much richer than at a planetarium. This day was so much more than just wildlife. It combined also geology, and scientific curiosity.

See the photo albums to explore more of Rábida and Bartolomé.