postcards
equi's tangier: summer of 1936
Imagine Equi dashing off postcards to his aristocratic English mother, who lives in Burgundy, France. Their relationship can be prickly. These vintage Tangier postcards from the twenties and thirties show settings from the novel, as they existed in Equi’s day. No spoilers on the postcards. Promise.
The Hotel Continental
Ashore. Spent my first night here. Oldest hotel in Tangier, it overlooks the harbour. Spain’s coast visible northwards. Met my boss Chief Inspector Inman, a Scot from India, for drink on the terrace. Not entirely agreeable.
Boulevard Pasteur
Yes, I get out, don't worry. The "Boulevard" is the axis of the European quarter. Reputedly resembles French Algiers or Oran. Art Deco and Beaux Arts buildings, cafes, shops, restaurants (Fuentes is best). At night the Spanish take their sombre paseo here and the Avenue d'Espagne: nothing like our passeggiata. They don't laugh - ever. Perhaps it's the war in Spain.
Place de France
No, I’m not too old to “peddle about.” My cycling club ride finishes here on Sunday mornings. Café de Paris and Café de Normandie serve disgusting ersatz espresso. Supporters of France prefer the Paris. I find the Normandie more congenial.
Hotel Valentina
My Italian housekeeper/cook worked here. On my first day I was called to a birthday party on the beach by the hotel. An Englishman shot dead an injured horse. Berber owner was not pleased. More later.
Discover more about Tangier by visiting the link below.
Grand Socco
Of course I eat! I hired an Italian housekeeper, Giosetta. More later. GS is the main market. Its aromas – a mixed bag -- flood my office. This expanse divides medina from Ville Nouvelle/European town. Giosetta prefers food here to European markets. Yes, for god’s sake I tend to my teeth. Everyday I walk by a giant dentist sitting on a stool with a pile of teeth he has pulled at his feet. He winks at me and wriggles his fingers. Apparently he doesn’t use pliers. How could I forget?
Place de Telegraphe Anglais
Noted: you’re concerned that I make friends. Most nights I meet Hurtado my friend at a nearby café. Bohemian oasis. He is a journalist of sorts and lives above the café. The espresso needs no excuses.
Rue des Siaghines
European high street in the medina or native quarter. New Boulevard in the Ville Nouvelle now more fashionable. Note Spanish church steeple. In Petit Socco (square) old expats and Spanish republicans frequent venerable Café Central. Espresso is not potable. Entertainments include a man with snake that bites his face. Snake charmer? Venom glands removed -- presumably.
Rue des San Francisco
Tangier is musical. Church bells on the hour, muezzins call to prayers five times a day. Tower on the left is the English church St. Andrew’s. My office is across the street overlooking Grand Socco marketplace. The road goes south out of town to the Christian cemetery. Trouble there recently. More later.
Hotel El Minzah
When you come . . . the new sultan of Tangier’s hotels awaits. American built it for his palace. Marquis of Bute bought it and much else in Tangier. I suppose you know him? Had drinks here after a murder victim’s funeral then a few days later, after her murderer’s burial. More later. As to your query about companionship: NO.