Until the end of the 1950's Tangier was a stylish Mediterranean resort with its own laws and administration. It was home to smugglers and spies, conspiracy was rife and brothels numbered over one hundred, that's one to every thousand inhabitants. The city was a no mans land, a place where anything went, it attracted the Beat writers, artists, movie stars, desperadoes and similar displaced personnel. Paul Bowles summed it up: "the place is a counterfeit, a waiting room between connections, a transition from one way of being to another, which for the moment was neither way, no way."


This is me looking in need of a
holiday after finishing my first novel. 		�245 bought me a week's half board in a top beach hotel.
Well worth the outlay to investigate the sin city legend and feed my unhealthy preoccupation of seeking out haunts of the Beat writers.

On paper it looked like I was in for a treat, Interzone was place where William Burroughs wrote Naked Lunch yet had no recollection of doing so.

LET'S GO....