I was alarmed by the chaos of the Tangier bus station. Hawkers stood outside ticket booths, aggressively hollering destinations. I wasn’t sure how to pronounce the city I wanted to go to, Chefchaouen, so I stood in the middle of the ruckus and waited for someone to notice me. It didn’t take long, maybe 45 seconds or so. And soon I was in the window … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Getting Used to the Hustle
“A journey is a person in itself.” – John Steinbeck, Travels With Charley Moroccan men look tough. And though I know this is a ridiculous generalization, fact is I wrote it in my journal. In Tangier I had landed in a place quite unlike anywhere I’ve ever been. I was out of place, high-strung and mysteriously frustrated. But mostly I was confused by the face … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: From Fear to Vulnerability
Before I left for Morocco, my buddy Scotty and I chatted at length about Tangier’s influence on literature and art. Famous Beat writers such as Burroughs, Bowles, Ginsberg, Kerouac and Corso all either visited or resided in Tangier in the late 50s and early 60s. Bowles’ famous work on Tangier’s dark side, Let It Come Down, attracted Burroughs to North Africa – and when Kerouac … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Tangier’s Literary Scene
At some point in my early life, someone told me that the Prudential Insurance brand logo was modeled after the Rock of Gibraltar. Probably my dad. Of course I believed him. Yet last month as scoped intently over a windless and glassy Mediterranean for the jutting monolith, the ferry from Algeciras (Spain) nearly passed the infamous landmark. Had I not overheard a man point it … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Ferry to Africa
For the past few days my body has made it clear that I’m stressed-out. Yesterday I started developing a canker sore and this morning I woke up with a sore jaw, likely caused by grinding teeth. Whenever I sit down my foot shakes. And I’m also a little constipated. Just like a bad poker player, I’m totally predictable. I can’t hold back my tells. In … Continue reading A Month in Morocco: Problems Simplifying
When I was a kid my grandma worked at our family bakery in San Francisco. Every Christmas she’d send me a jelly jar filled with foreign coins she had rescued from the till. I’d study my encyclopedia and geek out on the strange countries stamped in colorful metals of various shapes. Some depicted kings and queens, revolutionaries and dictators. Others showed fantastic animals, images of … Continue reading Have Coin, Will Travel
Tom Griffen 
You must be logged in to post a comment.