Day 74

I wrote Florence that we were coming to Tangier. We had been in contact since sailing across the Atlantic on the the rehabbed Victory boat manned by a crew from the former Yugoslavia. She was traveling with her son's Gay friend- and they were a jolly pair sauced most of the time. Florence, responded that she would see us in a city that she called, "The end of the line, the bottom of the barrel, the Cesspool of Civilization". 

Everything is perspective. Tangier in the 1960's was a hub of liberal internationalism. Lots of different New York players that were against involvement in Vietnam landed there. What a magical city on hills, great for adventure and walking.

Memories of the friendly transgender Crystal, who had some small pups and called everyone darling. We met up with Erica from Great Neck who was escaping from a bad marriage and belly dancing in some club. Lots of drinking and Kief/Kif (not legal now). Paul Bowles- lived on the hill and held court. I remember seeing cruise boats arrive while male prostitutes stood waiting-- very young.  

I talked to one older much married English gentleman who said that his wife did not mind at all... a very wild scene- perhaps Florence captured some essence... when we walked in the Souk- Barbara Hutton's house was always pointed out.. I truly love Morocco--and although that moment in time might be considered decadent to some- it was openhearted as well--Florence was off on other travels-so we never met--for me crossing the The Strait of Gibraltar had a feeling of home-that strangely I never got when heading back to Spain...who knows

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