Morocco: Day 1-Part 1

Sitting on a hot train in Tanger on my way to Fez. I have (nearly) survived my first day in Morocco. I'm not gonna lie; I was nervous. I've just spent a month in Spain comfortable enough with the language & culture that I could explore without any fear. It also didn't hurt that with the appropriate sized hoop earrings...I could easily pass for a local. Morocco, although a place I was extremely excited to include in my itinerary, posed many obstacles. In my mind's eye, Morocco came jam-packed, loaded with tons of preconceived notions. The guide book I bought to arm myself with knowledge vs stereotypes did nothing but heighten my anxiety. I should tell everyone I was married. I shouldn't walk alone after dark. To prepare myself for the slack-jawed stares of the Moroccan men, I should avoid eye contact and arm myself with a good pair of dark sunglasses. The streets were filled with nothing but people trying to hustle you at every turn.
So I prepared myself. Armed with a steely gaze and surliness perfected from nearly a decade of living in NYC, I stepped off the bus in Tanger. No sooner had my foot hit the pavement when an old leathery man in a plaid shirt and dusty jeans approached me.
Taxi?
I firmly shook my head no, careful to not make eye contact. I grabbed my bag and hurried purposefully down the street keenly aware that he was following me and asking me questions. I ignored him which was easy to do considering he was speaking in French. He caught on and switched to Spanish.
That's when I realized that I was walking down the street in a foreign country without any clue as to where I was or where I was going; and all without a dime in my pocket. Whether I liked it or not; I needed help.
I turned to him and said that I did not need a taxi or a guide or help; I jut needed to be pointed in the direction of an ATM. He told me I was going the wrong way and immediately began to lead me down the street.
Oh great! I panicked and my mind began racing. Now this guy has latched onto me and is going to pressure me to drive around with him as my guide all day! At the very least, he's gonna follow me around until I give him money which he knows I have because...well...he's walking me to the ATM.
Fail! I can't believe I let this happen. Then a funny thing happened. We chatted a bit; he showed me the ATM and then hailed me a taxi. As he shot me a wide toothless grin and wished me well on my journey; I realized he didn't want anything at all from me.
The cab driver; the guy who helped me figure out the train schedule; the porter at the left luggage office- everyone was so open & kind. After the 1st 30 minutes in North Africa, every stereotype I had was shattered. By the time I made it to the entrance to the medina, I was ready to drop the surliness and explore the old city streets.
Then I met Masamba...but we'll leave that story for another day.