TWELVE THOUSAND MILES 15 



in the world, the international port of Tangier, North 

 Africa. A whole book could be written about the 

 historicd past and the romantic present of this most 

 interesting place. We rode about the town on donkey 

 back, a la tourist, visiting such places as the old fort, 

 the sultan's palace, and the market place. The walk 

 back to the pier from atop the hill was a journey never 

 to be forgotten, for it would be impossible to fmd a 

 dirtier place under the sun than this part of Tangier. 

 Filth and stench both cried for attention, and I am sure 

 that no one failed to take note. Away from the smell 

 and dirt, the city presents a beautiful appearance of 

 white houses with tiled roofs and the people themselves 

 are of unusual interest, for here many races are mixed, 

 offering groups and types fit for any artist. 



On account of leaving Tangier in the evening, we 

 passed tlirough the Strait of Gibraltar during the 

 darkness of night, but went so close to the famous 

 rock that its outline could be seen plainly. Search- 

 lights played from the forts, sweeping the water in all 

 directions and now and then resting for a brief time 

 on our vessel. I was glad it was not a time of war, and 

 ours an enemy sliip. 



Upon awakening next morning and looking out of 

 the porthole, I discovered that we were anchored in 

 the harbor at Malaga, an attractive Uttle city in 

 southern Spain, famous for its wines and cathedral. 

 A fellow passenger and myself wandered around the 

 town and tried our best to get into the cathedral, but 

 found it locked tight and no one about. The many 

 wine shops were open, however, and so samples were 

 taken on the spot, both of us pronouncing the product 

 up to specifications. Inquiries disclosed that the 



