To leave again is kind of difficult as you have to go back to a different way of life : switching to survival mode is not that easy …
It takes time, and, I had a bit of preparation while crossing France and Spain.
During the 25hours journey, I had the time to think and to plan what I was going to do next.
Of course I already had a list of destinations to go to and a tons of things to do … but it’s never really the same on the ground.
Between what you’ve planned and what is actually happening, there’s a huge difference.
Then, on the road, I prepared some Plan B just in case, I also had the opportunity to re-acclimate to the nomadic life, sleeping on the van, looking for WiFi network, looking for service station to park etc …
It’s like the bike, you never forgets …
Ceuta is a Spanish enclave in northern Morocco … it’s one of the two Spanish cities located in the country, the only european points in Africa.
Then no need to say that’s the border of the places are more than well-checked.
Ceuta feels like being in a jail, a golden prison where people try to get in rather than escaping.
And the city is full of Moroccan, both, able to stay and clandestine migrants.
There’s also some Spanish … plenty “guarda civil” too.
Some people coming back from Europe with their car full of stuff for their families back in the country.
Well … I didn’t feel well being trapped in this 6km piece of Europe … enable to do anything but to feel the pressure of the border.
I’ve been trying to find helpers there who could advised me … in vain.
I’ve been to the fences and the “mirador” near Bel Younech, the frontier …
I could feel the people hidden in the forest and the mountain around, waiting for their chance to cross to the city through the lands or the sea …
I met few people sleeping in the street, on the beaches, I gave them what I could … nothing more unfortunately.
The day after, I crossed the Moroccan border and saw there the hundreds of people packed at the fences … shouting at the guards, queuing at the gates which were closed.