Tangier, Time Will Tell

Yesterday we celebrated our ninth wedding anniversary and it seemed fitting to do so by the sea, and even the Atlantic, the same ocean along whose shores (albeit Maine shores 3000 miles away) we were wed. Of course, unlike the coast of Maine, Tangier is a place where you have the incredible experience of standing in one continent (Africa) looking out at another (Europe), so close you could imagine a quick paddle across the Straits of Gibraltar to touch it. It’s where an ocean and a sea – the Atlantic and Mediterranean – share a coast and commingle. It’s a place where the exhausting light of Africa is softened to a warm brilliance. And for a girl from Maine, the sad call of the seagulls at sunset is a welcome sound indeed.



Apart from our desire to see Tangier, our trip was motivated by an opportunity for Samuel to visit the set of the new Bourne movie for a day, which has been shooting in Tangier for several weeks. When we arrived, the film’s presence in Tangier was everywhere: Equipment trucks lined the Grand Socco. Men on headsets with laminated “Crew” badges numbered more than veiled women in the streets. And strung like Christmas lights from the rooftops of the Rue d’Italie, which becomes, as it mounts a San Francisco-style incline, the Rue Kasbah, were cables connected to an enormous crane along which a camera would trail Bourne in a harrowing, rooftop chase scene. The location was ideal, affording a view of the iconic laundry-draped rooftops of Morocco, the glistening Atlantic, and a street bustling with schoolchildren, vegetable and date stands and people out shopping.

Samuel had been assigned to the second-unit team for the day, which was shooting the chase scene with Bourne. Second-unit typically handles the action sequences and the director, a former stunt man, is one of the best in the business. Over the course of the day, his team got off an impressive 25 “set-ups,” yet he still had time to answer Samuel’s battery of questions, letting him stand beside him at the monitor so that he could witness the shots unfold. For Samuel, it was bliss and he furtively scribbled notes as the director shared tips about what makes an action sequence, paramount in a thriller like Bourne, compelling.



Meanwhile, I had the day to wander Tangier and deal with some logistics: our return train tickets and transport for the five lanterns that we’d bought at a local foundouk the day before. Samuel picked out three more star-shaped lanterns, which in my opinion signals the end of the celestial décor theme with which we’ve paid tribute to Dar Noury’s name. Wandering Tangier is like spending the day on a stairmaster. After a few hours of hiking up hills so steep they are bordered by cobbled staircases, your legs and lungs are burning. In need of a break, I stopped off at the hotel Minzah, a Tangier landmark, ostensibly for a cup of mint tea, but no waiter came to take my order as I sat in a quiet, sunny courtyard reading my book. This no-rush approach to service is something we’ve encountered all over Morocco and while exasperating at times, it’s nice to linger over coffee and dessert after dinner without feeling like the staff is anxious to flip your table.

At about 1:30, Samuel and I met up for lunch at a little restaurant just down the road from the Minzah, one of the few places we found open. The terrace is filled with foreigners, puffing away on cigarettes and sipping at Cokes. We’ve been fish and seafood starved in Marrakech and had vowed to eat as much from the sea as possible while in Tangier. Ordering our simple lunch of grilled shrimp and sole, however, turned out to be a comedy of errors. First one waiter came without menus and told us we could have beef brochettes. “But we want fish,” we said. Forty-five minutes later, with Samuel antsy to get back on set, a second waiter delivered two pots of mint tea, which we hadn’t ordered and when we asked after our fish and shrimp, he claimed ignorant of our order. In the end, we did enjoy a delicious lunch, our dishes flavored with piquant seasoning and a subtle smokiness. Our surly waiter blamed the problems on Ramadan, absolving him of any responsibility and hinting that we were foolish to try to eat during it.

After lunch, I continued my tour of the medina, although it being a Friday during Ramadan most everything was closed. The terrace at Dar Nour offered a perfect late-afternoon perch for reading and looking over the Kasbah to the ocean.

Since our train wasn’t to depart until 9:30 that night and because the local restaurant pickings were scare, we ordered dinner at Dar Nour, which Abdullatif will cook for guests of the hotel if requested in the morning. The dinner is served in Dar Nour’s intimate dining room with one long, communal table, Philippe’s collection of gorgeous Uzbekistani suzanis (colorful, hand-embroidered tapestries) on the walls and flickering candlelight. Abdullatif is a whiz in the kitchen and the meal, an inventive interpretation of a few Moroccan classics turned to be one of the best we’ve had. First came zucchini, julienned and sautéed with sun-dried pancetta. A tagine of chicken with cured lemon and green olives followed. Dessert was house-made pear ice cream and delicate almond cookies. Simple and divine. Throughout dinner, Samuel recounted his day on set, with eyes sparkling like a sixteen-year-old who’s somehow scored the keys to a Porsche. This boy needs to get behind a camera again soon!



And we hope to find ourselves in Tangier again soon, too. We know there lurks a Bowlesian underbelly to this place, but our first visit offered only much-missed Atlantic light and air.