 What is Paul doing in Tangier?
One can't be too cautious about the people one meets in Tangier. The Place de France is the town's hub. It marks the end of Boulevard Pasteur, the main drag of the westernized part of the city, and the beginning of Rue de la Liberté, which leads down to the Grand Socco and the medina. It's quite a town, Tangier. King-size sidewalk cafes occupy three of the strategic corners on the Place de France. The Cafe de Paris serves the best draft beer in town, gets all the better custom, and has three shoeshine boys attached to the establishment. You can sit of a sunny morning and read the Paris edition of the New York Herald Tribune while getting your shoes done up like mirrors for thirty Moroccan francs which comes to about five cents at current exchange. Tangier is possibly the most cosmopolitan city in the world. In native costume you'll see Berber and Rif, Arab and Blue Man, and occasionally a Senegalese from further south. In Tangier you'll find some of the world's poorest and some of the richest. A French girl went by with a poodle so finely clipped as to look as though it'd been shaven. I didn't know Paul very well, but, for that matter, it's comparatively seldom you ever get to know anybody very well in Tangier. Tapas at the Cafe de Paris are apt to be potato salad, a few anchovies, olives, and possibly some cheese.
 He is on a business trip to find a source of protein.
 He is on a business trip to find a source of protein.  He is on a business trip scouting locations for thrill-seeking tourists.  He is vacationing.  He is in Tangier to watch the satellite launch.