Columns of Hercules

Border crossings are always something special. They used to be really exciting: everyone is nervous whether you will be let into the foreign country without any problems, you speak a foreign language (or you don't, which is even more exciting!😜), the border officials sometimes seem intimidating.

Although I'm sure I'm not carrying anything unauthorised, I feel excited.
For years I have travelled almost exclusively in the European Union and therefore I am no longer used to crossing borders.
And this is Africa. After all, anything can happen!

I slowly roll up on my bike so as not to do anything wrong.
I am waved through from one person to the next and roll through the border at walking pace. I look around attentively for faces that either stop me or wave me on. I really don't want to have an official against me whom I accidentally pass.
I am guided past the queue of cars into an empty check-in lane. The box there is unoccupied.
I stand there and look around - no one is here. The only occupied box is the one with the cars. But they didn't want me there, they wanted me here where there is no one. 🤔
Should I drive on?
Should I go to the box for the cars?

I slowly roll on and come to an official in a long coat to whom I hand my passport. He takes a quick look and waves me on.
I am now in the zone between Spain and Morocco.
I've made it through the first half - almost.

A whistle sounds. Behind me a second official in uniform waves: I shall come back. I turn around and roll back a few metres. The longcoat and the uniformed man are discussing. Then the longcoat waves me away from a distance:
I shall roll on. I turn around and do so.

Again the whistle. The uniformed man waves me on again. I have skipped the procedure and have no exit stamp. Instead of walking the 20 metres back to the gatehouse, I am now supposed to
- roll on
- but then join the queue leading back to Europe.
- re-enter the country
- get the exit stamp and then leave the country properly with a stamp. 🤯

A diversion for me, but the officials have the power of interpretation here. 🙇‍♂️

I want to carry out the procedure as I was ordered and turn left through a gate to the entry queue.
I explain the situation to the officer standing there, then he makes a short radio call to the uniformed officer. Finally he waves me on. The exit stamp is irrelevant for entry into Morocco.

In contrast to the exit, the entry is completely uncomplicated:
'Do you have alcohol?'
- Yes, but only to burn, not to drink.
'Do you have a drone?'
- No.

They want me to open another bag and then I enter Morocco. 🇲🇦Read more