Day 14: Tanger, Morocco. Lucho and I are sailing down the coast of Morocco. Lucho is from Uruguay and joined us in Gibraltar a few days ago. Toño and Joaco are back in Barcelona. Toño left the ship in Motril, Joaco in Tanger. We were back and forth on whether we should make port in Morocco or not. I had heard rumours that the customs clearance can be a hassle, and most boats crossing the ocean make for the Canaries as soon as they reach the Gibraltar Strait.
Eventually, we decided to stop, explore, and confirm that yes, indeed, customs in Morocco is a hassle. In retrospect, sailing into the port of Tanger with the pride flag waving was perhaps not the best idea, but we did not want to be wusses nor bigots, and thus the flag remained hoisted, as it always is.
Well... We made our statement, but it was not popular among the Moroccan border police: outrage, but also muffled laughter among the port staff, as the chief officer sermoned us while we were docking. We weren’t put in jail, however, and the officers’ angry faces softened after some reassurance that we meant no disrespect—ah, and once the Moroccan flag had been hoisted where the pride flag had once been.
Wild! It must have been intense there for a moment.