Trying to wing it

I know there´s a bunch missing about Spain but I´ve been very busy soaking up every ounce of my Spanish family and my trip oasis (aka their beautiful homes). That being said, I´ve just left today and am now enjoying the amazing city of Barcelona (Sagrada familia + Me = awestruck). Anyways, I have a bit of a tummy ache at the moment, so I´ve decided to spend my first night telling you all about the trip to Morocco I finished a few days ago.

To be honest, I was a little bit intimidated by the thought of doing Morocco by myself. So when I found out that one of my best friends from high school was going to be there visiting her family while I was in Madrid, I jumped on the chance to go. Fate was calling. I found a reputable bus company, and booked a one way, overnight ticket to Tangiers. From there I decided I would change over to a train to get to my final destination: Rabat. Considering all my previous travelling it seemed like a good plan.

My night on the bus with a trailer, broken chairs, broken lights, and a driver that only spoke arabic didn´t phase me (tuckered me out, yes). The constant unknown of where I was supposed to go to get on/off the ferry in order not to lose the bus and my luggage on the other side was mildly worrisome (again arabic bus driver). The stares of male passengers as if I were alien life form were eventually forgotten. Paying off the customs officials and then the driver once in Tangiers, piece of cake. Non-functioning cell phone and therefore no means of contacting my friend to figure out where to go once I was in Rabat...most disconcerting moment of my trip so far. I ended up befriending 3 Moroccan guys on the ferry who all spoke french or spanish (and arabic of course) and who ended up being, without a doubt, my guardian angels. I honestly don´t think I would have survived it all without them. When my friend couldn´t get in touch with me, I really considered going to stay with them in Casablanca.

Anyways, I decided to take my chances on Rabat. After the bus dropped me off on the side of the road instead of the actual station (I officially hate you Eurolines), I wandered aimlessly around the station for a half hour hoping that my friend would miraculously show up. As the sun started to set, I realized I needed a plan B and fast. A functioning internet cafe (which I would learn later, was fairly hard to come by in Morocco) ended up saving my life I think. I topped up my cell phone with credit, found a hotel, and finally found a map of the city. One hour later, my friend finally got through on the cell. She found me by the side of a fountain, dazed and eternally grateful to see her...rose in hand from one of the many guys who had quickly realized I was alone, female and foreign.

More to come...need to lie down now