Morocco Reflections; Thoughts on Spanish Infrastructure

There's a psychological phenomenon in some of the wealthier Pacific Rim countries called Paris Syndrome, where people experience such a profound disappointment upon visiting Paris that they feel physically ill. Imagine someone coming from a clean, organized, and polite country like Japan or Singapore who spends their life romanticizing Paris as a magical place where all of the people are fashionable and all the streets are beautiful who travels to Paris and instead encounters a dirty and crowded metropolis full of locals irritated by all of the tourists. It's not difficult to see why they'd feel disappointed, but now I identify with all their other symptoms, like feeling physically ill or feeling persecuted.

I think I built Morocco up too much in my head. I imagined myself in some James Bond scene blending in confidently and effortlessly in this beautiful and exotic place. I also knew of so many stories of weirdos in the arts like Dali or Tennessee Williams finding inspiration in something exotic but familiar there. I usually enjoy being different, but part of me has always sought my home planet.

The feelings that stemmed from such a profound disappointment in Morocco really shook me for a few days. I wondered whether I should quit my whole journey. I felt like my whole plan was stupid and self-indulgent and I should immediately go back to work anywhere that would take me, put my head down and go full throttle at anything that requires self discipline—the job, AA, the gym, fasting, celibacy, saving money—for at least a year. I thought I had food poisoning, but since nothing came out funny on either end, I suspect it was entirely psychosomatic. Days later, I still feel physically sick to my stomach when I look at pictures I took in Morocco or linger on any particular memory too long. I'm feeling a concerning level of disgust for the place and the people, and I'm praying that it'll pass soon because the thoughts I'm having aren't congruent with my moral values.

Tarifa has been a chill place to relax and do nothing. I've been taking long walks on the beach twice a day, reading, watching Netflix, and doing very little to plan what's next. I have no idea how busy this place is normally, but the sleepy vibe at the end of the tourist season is great. The hostel has very graciously spread the guests out in their own rooms rather than consolidating everyone, so I got this entire dormitory to myself for the price of one bunk.

I'm continuing to admire quality European urbanism, even in a tiny town like this one. Tarifa is less than 20,000 people. It's concentrated so that you're never more than a twenty minute walk from the center of town, yet nothing feels cramped. Most of the homes have patio and courtyard spaces that seem very private. And even though vehicles make a little more sense in a more spread out town like this one, there are no "pedestrians." There are people walking around, yes. But it's not like the world is meant for cars and being presently carless is some special class of existence.

I cross this street every day to walk to the beach. The crosswalk isn't just some paint on the ground; it's level with the sidewalk.

Notice how the cars have to slow down to cross over a space that belongs to people. In the US, "pedestrians" have to step down from the sidewalk to cross a space that belongs to cars. It's a hostile way of deprioritizing human beings. I'm still slightly nervous when entering a crosswalk, but the drivers are unbelievably cautious and attentive. I think it stands to reason that this is a matter of infrastructure impacting the culture. Drivers here don't have a sense that they're inherently entitled to drive their car absolutely anywhere.

Years ago, when I had been sitting in my Volkswagen for half an hour in miserably gridlocked freeway traffic in Phoenix, I saw a giant lifted four-wheel-drive truck pull off of the road, drive up a massive landscaped berm, run down a chain link fence, and drive onto the surface streets fifty feet above us. A lot of onlookers appeared furious, but I was in awe. That guy was my hero. A few years later I bought my own four-wheel-drive truck.

I'm not alone in craving a bigger and more capable vehicle as a way of escaping the chaos of the road. Trucks and SUVs are outselling cars at an alarming rate. The three top selling vehicles in the US in 2023 are the Ford, Chevy, and Dodge Ram full sized pickup trucks. The increased size of vehicles has made the need for people-focused infrastructure even more imminent. If my career takes me back into homebuilding, I'm considering going into land development so I can impact the way we design new communities.

Next stop: Málaga. I'm excited to be back there. It'll also be nice to be back in a town with AA meetings. I enjoyed the group I met there.