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VI
~ TANGIERS
OW near is Tangiers—and yet how far and
strange! From the summit of Gibraltar I can
distinguish its houses, and from the minaret in
Tangiers the Muezzin was able to observe the great
naval battle of Trafalgar; it is possible for a bee to
fly from continent to continent, from Europe to Africa.
And how remote are the characteristics of the two
places! A living oriental bazaar, a motley fairy tale
from the Arabian Nights, taken bodily out of the book
and populated with fabulous characters of all kinds,
with dervishes and pashas, eunuchs and ladies of the
harem. There lies the city on its hills, house against
house, whitewashed and dazzling in the sun of Africa,
without windows, but with flat oriental roofs. The
towers of azulejos show you where the mosque stands;
the zig-zag Moorish fortress-walls indicate the limits
of the city on the desert side.
Yet how old and familiar it all is! Who is there
that has not dreamed through all this in his soul, that
has not built for himself curiously colored fantasies
that become all the richer because it was impossible
for them to assume definite form.
Pilgrims come singing all the way from Mecca, with
sacred relics on their bosoms and cholera in the folds
of their mantles. Bedouins and Berbers cross the
strait armed with long-barreled carbines or crescent;
camels float down from the hills and the wind blows
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