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  ---------------------------
  People met on my backpacking 93 - English Makes Many New Stories 9
  
  (English version is below)
  
  *Stepping into the jungle of my dreams, the African continent
  
  I set foot on the African continent for the first time in my life (1991). Since I was a child, I wanted to see Tarzan's home, the dense jungle. I confidently challenged Africa because I had already accumulated some backpacking experience in the US and Europe. I decided to cross the Strait of Gibraltar (27km) by ferry (took about 3 hours - now about 2 hours) from Tarifa, the southernmost port city in Spain.
  
  My entire itinerary: By train from Paris--> Toulouse-> Barcelona-> Zaragoza-> Madrid-> Seville-> Tarifa Port (ferry)-> Gibraltar Strait-> Morocco (Tanger Port, Rabat, Casablanca, Marrakech, Fezs) -> Algeria (train) -> Tunisia (ferry) -> Across the Mediterranean -> Palermo (Sicily, took 11 hours) -> Rome (train) -> Milan -> Paris (took a total of 50 days)
  
  Arrived at Tarifa Port. It's already dark. The first thing to do was to find a guesthouse. I looked around for a moment. This place made me feel as if I was in some Islamic country other than Spain. All buildings and signs were written in Islamic style and letters. It was really surprising. I decided to stay in a guesthouse. Surprisingly, the owner of this place was kind and the room was very elegantly decorated, so I was satisfied. The owner was also Moroccan, and he spoke English, Spanish and French fluently. When he found out that I was from Korea, he apologized for mistaken me for a Japanese. At that time, most of the Asian backpackers were Japanese.
  
  After breakfast with bread and coffee, I walked to the pier where the ferry to Morocco was moored (about 15 min's walk). The departure time was at 10:00, and there were already many people at the pier. Almost all of them were Moroccans. Not a single western backpacker was there. It was unfamiliar to me, so I was anxious. What bothered me more was the announcement. The ferry was leaving soon, so got on board. Another atmosphere bewildered me. The light rhythm of African music was playing all over the deck (incomprehensible to today's concept), and most of the passengers without shoes were just sitting or lying in a comfortable state, talking and laughing. Strange to me, but it looked fun. At the same time, the terrifyingly intense gaze they stare at me had to be felt every time I have traveled to Africa since then.
  
  After a while, people took out passports and rushed to one side. There, a man in his 40s was just walking to one side of the deck in a running shirt and shorts, wearing slippers, holding a plastic chair in one hand and a stamp in the other. He was the immigration officer. When my turn, he looked at the photo on my passport and the name of the country. And asked me if I was from North Korea or Seoul Korea. He then glanced at my face once, stamped my passport, and handed it over. That's it.
  
  Shortly after the ship left the Iberian Peninsula, the African continent began to rise in the distance. The joy of that time is still vividly in my mind. But that excitement soon turned to disappointment. It grew as the African continent became clearer. It felt like I had been scammed. The mountain was nothing but a barren mountain without a single tree. My first impression of Africa started with a sense of disappointment and betrayal. I have been to almost all countries in East, North and South Africa except West Africa (6 times in total). I couldn't see the jungle except in very few areas such as national parks and Uganda. I know it's funny, but I actually saw the real jungle in the Amazon of South America.
  
  Anyway, I arrived at Tangier Port in Mococo. The immigration process was also easy. Felt good. At this time, Korea was still in a developing country, so when entering European countries such as the UK, it was quite strict as if dealing with illegal immigrants (requesting bank balance certificates, etc.). The problem started from the moment I got my entry stamp and left the office with my backpack on my shoulder. Suddenly, a young guy in his twenties came up to me and began to say something in Spanish, and he tried to snatch my backpack from me. As I hold it tightly, he then showed the name tag on his chest and said that he was a volunteer from the government. So he wanted to take me to my dorm.
  
  When I didn't let go of my backpack until the very end, three or four young tough guys who seemed to be allied with this guy surrounded me. There was no one around me to ask for help. I was planning to go straight to Casablanca by train this afternoon. From there it was about a 15-minute walk to Rabat Train Station. Anyway, I got my backpack back from him, put it on my back, and walked towards the station. But one of the them came close to me, grabbed my backpack with one hand, and followed me to the train station. And he asked me for a tip. As expected, I handed over a dollar ($1 was a big money in Morocco then) and hurried into the train station. After looking at the timetable, I went to the window and bought a ticket at 3pm.
  
  After getting my ticket, I was about to get out of the station, and three or four other guys came up to me. They got their hands on my backpack the same way. I couldn't even dare to go to the restaurant across from the railway office building, so I went back to the ticket counter in the station. It's because they didn't follow me this far. Being locked up like this for two hours made me angry. But just then, I saw five or six white strong young men and women walking across the street with large backpacks. I felt as if I had met the Savior. I immediately approached them at a quick pace. Of course, they tough guys followed after me. It was a really tense moment.
  
  I got closer to those young Westerners and spoke to a guy at the far end. ¡°Excuse me. would you do me a favor? Actually, I need your help. Can you help me?¡± This guy, who was listening to me, shook his head with a surprised expression, but without saying a word he simply followed his group of friends. I spoke to him again. Then this guy called up his friends walking ahead of him. As he pointed at me to his friends and eagerly said something in Spanish, one guy came up to me and spoke in English. ¡°We are from Spain and the only one who speaks a little English is me. Just tell me what the problem is, and I'll help you."
  
  I would never forget the kindness of them in that moment. When I explained my situation to him, he immediately translated into Spanish to his friends. Then they all burst into anger. And they looked at those guys who followed me and tormented me. And then one guy said something out loud as if he was scolding them. Then, unbelievably, the rude guys backed away and disappeared without saying a word.
  
  It was really strange to me. What the heck did he say to make them turn back? First of all, I thanked him and gave a brief introduction about me and my travel plans. As soon as he heard me, he translated it to his friends, and then he told me that I could join them to have lunch together at a restaurant they were going to. After lunch we could go to the station and catch the 3 o'clock train. How nice and grateful to me!
  
  We all together enjoyed the lunch and chatting for an hour, who all seemed nice and cheerful. They asked me all sorts of questions through a friend who was an interpreter. "When and where did you learn English?" "Why are you traveling alone?" " Where is Korea?" "Why are you going to Morocco?" "How old are you?" "What is famous in Korea?" "What do Koreans mainly eat?"... etc.
  
  They were living in a small provincial town close to Seville. the guy who interpreted said that he learned English while working in Seville. They said that each season, they went climbing the surrounding mountains, centering on Morocco's Rif Mountains. I was really lucky to meet them who were very healthy both physically and mentally.
  
  (I asked him. ¡°What's the secret for you to repel them who tormented me?¡± he said to me, "I told them If they harass foreigners, I will contact a detective I know well.")
  
  From Rabat to Casa, it was about 2 hours (now 1 hour) by train. We were enjoyed chatting for about an hour, sharing soft drinks without a break. And they got off at the halfway point. They stood at the platform and showed me their smiling and waved for a while after my train had departed.
  
  Thanks.
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