With the exciting news of our repatriation ferry we packed up our things and said goodbye to Imsouane
We began the 4 day drive north
There were lots of jobs to do on the way
- Print ferry tickets
- Do a covid test 24 hrs before and pray for negative result
- Renew online vaccine passport and print it out
- Fill out 3 forms (covid related) to enter France
- Speak to police about Visa
As Europeans, we were automatically given a 90 day travel Visa on entry into Morocco. Due to the border closure we overstayed this Visa by 13 days. Back when we were in Fes, and we knew we were going to be stuck in Morocco past the date of our Visa, we went to the police to ask what we should do. They said it would be no problem because the borders were closed, it wasn’t our fault. They said we just needed to go to a police station 3 days before we left and they would send a fax to the border police at the port and we wouldn’t be stopped.
So, 3 days before we were due to get on the ferry we visited a police station in a small town on route north. We waited about 30 minutes to be seen. On entry into the chief’s office we were made to feel like naughty school children. He listened to our request, giving very disapproving looks and not saying a word. He stared at us then proceeded to take several phone calls, shouting and gesticulating very dramatically. Eventually he reacknowledged our presence and told us we were in the wrong type of police station. We’d gone to the Gendarmerie and we should have gone to the Prefacture de Police. So, slightly bemused by this experience, off we went down the road to the correct police station.
We were greeted by a lovely female police officer who said she could help and began filling out the forms we needed. We waited about an hour. Then, unfortunately for us, the chief came along and took issue with us. We could tell he wasn’t happy. He asked for more documents, then we waited… for another 2 hours. After 2 hours, he told us that we weren’t his problem. He didn’t want to help. We had no right to be asking them for help when we weren’t from that town. We explained our situation but there was no changing his mind. It was very fustrating because we’d been so close to getting what we needed. We could see the documents up on the female officers screen, all ready to go.
By this point it was way past lunch time and we were starving. We made a quick lunch at the side of the road whilst ringing the Irish, British and French embassies. They all said our overstayed Visa was likely to cause us an issue at the border and we really did need this documentation from the police before trying to get on the ferry. They suggested trying in a big city. So we drove 2 hours to Rabat as fast as we could to get there before it closed.
We arrived in Rabat around 4pm, found the police station we needed and… they didn’t help us. Another long wait. Another bad tempered, power crazy chief who got some enjoyment from refusing us help. He said if the police in Fes told us it’d be no problem then we should go back to Fes to get it. We explained we didn’t have time to drive all the way to Fes before the ferry. He laughed and said ‘well you like adventure so why not just go to the border and see what happens without the paper work’.
We rang the British embassy again. They said to try Tangier police. We wanted to get as close as possible to Tangier so we could get into town first thing in the morning. So, we drove well into the night and slept at a motorway services. We still had all the jobs on the list left to do and only 1 full day left before the ferry.
The next morning we decided to get our covid tests done before anything else. It all went smoothly and whilst we were waiting for the results we headed to the police. A friendly officer greeted us, listened to us and said no problem. He gave us a form to fill out and asked us to go to get a photocopy of our passports and V5C documents. We couldn’t believe our luck. It seemed too good to be true. We found a printing shop and printed all the documents we needed from our list, at the same time as doing the photocopies for the police.
At this point we got our covid test results. Rachel – negative. Harry- negative. Paul – negative. Alex – positive. We all stared at it in shock for several minutes. It didn’t make sense. We had spent all of our time together, sharing food and drinks etc. So if one of us had covid, we would surely all have covid. It made sense to go for a retest before panicking about missing the ferry and quarantining etc. I was a nervous wreck waiting for the results. They came back 45 minutes later… negative. Thank the lord.
We went back to the police with all our documentation expecting to see the friendly face we had met before. No. It was the chief, and he behaved worse than any of the previous chiefs. He took issue with Paul (who was doing all the talking). He belittled him, shouted at him, laughed at him and insulted him. He was trying so hard to get a reaction, as if he really wanted a fight. Luckily Paul didn’t rise to it and managed to stay super calm. The police officer told us we needed an address in Tangier otherwise he couldn’t do the forms. We explained we were in campervans and had been travelling. He said this wasn’t his problem and if we wanted to leave then we would have to go and find an address and bring him evidence that we’d stayed there. He said he wasn’t going to tell us how to do that because it would be a good problem solving lesson for us. Basically he was telling us to lie, produce fraudulent documents and bring them to him. We left feeling angry, deflated and upset.
Harry and Paul went off to try and bribe a campsite into writing us a fake receipt and Rachel and I got back on the phone to the British & Irish embassies. Both teams were successful. The boys came back with an official campsite receipt and we got through to the embassy who said they would stay on the line to us at the police station and would speak to them if needed.
We nervously went back in. We handed in our receipt. It was rejected. Apparently not good enough evidence because it wasn’t stamped (no campsite we’ve ever stayed on has stamped a receipt!). Rachel explained (via Paul as translator) that we were in touch with the British embassy and they would like to speak to them. The chief laughed and said ‘nice try’ and then disappeared. A different officer came out. He spoke a bit of English and we explained all we wanted was to go home (Rachel and I had agreed to squeeze out a few tears for added effect). We were left waiting again.. another 30/40 minutes not knowing what was happening. Then all of a sudden the chief comes out and demands that Paul goes with him into his office. We waited nervously wondering if we should be worried for Paul’s safety, only to find that the chief decided he was going to fill out the forms for us after all. It takes another hour, we go one by one to the office and eventually it’s done. He sends a fax to the border police. We will be able to leave the country!
Unfortunately the chief also sent a copy of these documents to the court. He was adamant it was our own fault for overstating the Visa. We broke the law. We have to pay a fine. There is not time for us to have our judgement before we leave so he said that if we ever return to Morocco, the first thing we will have to do is go before the court and pay the fine (€50).
It’s such a shame that our time in Morocco ended like this. These ‘chiefs’ in the police were horrible. It seems a certain type of person is attracted to that job, or maybe the job attracts a certain type of person. I’m sure it’s the same in police forces all over the world. We will not let them tar our memories. Our whole 3 months in Morocco were filled with such lovely, positive interactions with the Moroccan people. The Berber/Arabic culture is so welcoming and kind and we will always choose to remember that first.
We made it onto the ferry
And arrived safely in France 42hrs later
We said our goodbyes and parted ways. Rachel and Harry are heading west to Portugal, Paul is going home, and I am going to spend the next few days here in the south of France, relaxing and recovering from the last week of stress.
Then I start my journey east to Italy
Aimee is meeting me in Sicily for my birthday. I can’t wait!