Owing to winding up being very busy in my last days of employment, this trip came up faster than i'd thought and therefore my only preparation was attempting to drop-kick some of this acquired german language stuff out of my head and replace it with french, as well as spending time at the badeschiff in the sun to up my heat tolerance (forecasts called for highs of 40 in Marrakech!).
And unfortunately this non-chalant approach to this trip carried through to the start of it. I had, once again, arranged to meet my friend Janith who works at the airport for our usual round of fresh pressed juice and sweets. However, upon meeting Janith, he asked, have you already checked in? I said no, the Alitalia counter is still closed....where is your luggage, Janith enquired?
bugger. I'd just bounced right off that bus not paying any mind to the bag i placed in its lower compartment just 20 minutes prior. non v.g. start to trip! in a panic, janith and i raced to the arrivals hall in hopes of finding the bus it was on, but no go. so janith retrieved the number for their customer service, although my hopes of getting this bag back,and in enough time to check it to morocco...my hopes were not high.
However, Janith did get hold of someone and long story short..the bus containing my little grey case was only at the depo and on its way back down. The driver greeted us with a laugh, and handed me my bag in enough time for me to check it in and get the juice and sweets, as well as a quick coffee in Janith's office.
and i was off!
sort of. the flight was delayed initially by a half hour - but after boarding we were stuck out on the tarmac for ages waiting for clearance to take off. i figured i had no hope of making my connection and resigned myself to a night in rome..not entirely a bad place to stop over, as i'd never scoff the option to become miss pennette noci e gorgonzola again! entertained self on non-moving aircraft by offering text support to Geralyn stuck at a work party and some more text exchange with a british diplomat who was in Nairobi, and i'd accidently sent 5 blank texts to...(!). i really have to get over this whole technobimbo-ism thing...
at Fiumicino, the flight to Casablanca was delayed as well; i wasn't told how long it would be waiting, but the woman at the info counter said boarding now, so i took off for a round of airport sport..and my god, i never knew fiumicino was this large...i swear i ran the better part of a kilometre or 2, without an open gelaterie in sight. grrr. but i did make the flight.
on the people carrier, I was stood next to a Moroccan woman, who seemed quite desparate about something and said if only she had a phone, as this flight was so delayed...i quickly proffered my mobile, knowing all too well this situation - after a few goes she managed to get through and have a 2 minute convo with her husband, and proceeded to thank me profusely. she introduced herself as Khadija, and she actually lived in Qatar, but was going home via Vienna, where her husband had done some work for the Euro cup. She asked where I was staying in Casablanca, and i showed my hotel reservation - she told me i could stay with her if i wanted!
of course i'd lose the cost for a night at the hotel, but...stay with a Moroccan family? Authentic Moroccan food? not faff about at the airport with a taxi who would most likely rip me off at 2am? Of course I went.
And of course the airline lost our luggage. the guy on the luggage service assured me they would deliver mine to Marrakech, and I handed over the hostel address, yeah, we will send it there! Bien sur!!!!
owing to the delay, Khadija's father had not been there and we took a cab anyway; she refused to take a single dirham off me for this, and i was greeted warmly by her son, waiting at the downstairs doorway for his mom to arrive. Never in my life do I think I've met such a well -mannered polite young boy. He didn't speak a lot of French, but his English was excellent. at one point he even corrected his mother's English! They fed me homemade Moroccan salads and fresh bread (at 4am!), gave me my own room on a separate floor of the house, clothes to sleep in, shampoo to wash my hair...and a huge breakfast in the morning with olives from their farm and fresh homemade olive oil from same. I think i am ruined for both now, and no other olives or its oil will measure up to this!
In the interim, feeling a bit lost about what the protocol was for this whole situation, managed to sneak a look in the book geralyn lent me entitled 'Culture Shock! Morocco', and found out that this is just part of their culture..the guest is king! and right out of the book , i was told repeatedly 'eat! eat! eat!', which I did until i felt as though my elastic band of a stomach might just snap...i went to the small market as well, they bought me some provisions for the train ride, took me to the station and sent me on my way to Marrakech...v. nice experience!
I took a second class ticket cos 1st was full...I had just wanted to do it as in Europe 1st is prohibitively expensive for me, but there it was more than reasonable. anyway, no complaints whatsoever about 2nd class, and my compartment was full up of nice moroccans, including a family with a small boy who would run around and touch everyone's knees and a nice young girl who offered me a soda.
Thankfully upon arrival, I'd seen the family again, as the directions from the hostel were a bit daft; 'take bus number 8'. well, bus number 8 ran in TWO directions, none of which was signed for the destination i wanted, which was the main square, so i thought relatively easy to find..huh...anyway, the father of the family knew, and saw the bus pull up over the road and started frantically pointed and shouting 'traverser la rue! traverser la rue!!!', so i did, thankful in just this moment my luggage was not with me...and then asked the driver (after the roman airport train mishap, i always ask now..), and i was right. however, stops were not signposted. nor were they announced. on the bus, one map..only in arabic! so i again asked, and was lead correctly.
Djmena el Fna was a seriously over the top introduction to the city - glaring, blaring, dramatic, in your face Djemna el Fna was unlike anything I'd ever seen and I wondered how the hell I'd find the hostel....I found one point in their directoins, but after that it was a mess so i pulled out the mobile, rang them and within minutes a young lad was round to collect me, curious that i had no luggage....
after the first few times, i would find my way there blindfolded.
Immediately after checking into Riad Amazigh (Riad Amazing more like, this place was far and away the nicest hostel i've stayed at!), I met Shane and Gaz, 2 backpacking Aussies and joined them for a trip into the square..hoping they didn't find it too offputting at how excited and insistent i was at stopping at shops containing shampoo and underwear (the lost luggage thing). They were great company for the evening, giving me tips about getting around there, such as when buying the fresh pressed orange juice, ask for it fresh to get it without the ice, which was an illness waiting to happen. we had dinner at a seafood stall they had been at the night before (and not fallen ill), where some people trapped me into german conversation - meanwhile english with the lads and french with the waiters...buaaa! we also tried all these funny little games, like trying to hook a donut type object on a string over a bottleneck, etc...the things people do to make money....
we took a break after this to grab a mint tea on the terrace of the Cafe de France, which offered respite from, and an amazing view over the square - and a price to go with unfortunately - 15 Dirham for the mint tea! outrageous...later Shane and Gaz enlightened me to the 'scorpions'. when they first said 'aha, scorpions' my first reaction was to look down around my feet with a panicked 'where?!?!', only to realise they meant the men..the group sat behind us of moroccan men with very obviously blond girls. apparently this is the name given to the single moroccan men who are out to seduce foreign women..which does make sense in a country where women are expected to remain virgins until marriage (some Voltaire quote comes to mind about how crazy it is to think of virginity as a virtue, but...yuhhh).
Shane and Gaz were unfortuntely (well, for me, but fortunately for them!) off to the Sahara for a few days bright and early the next day so was a pity i couldnt get to enjoy their company again.
I awoke stupidly early. so decided to get in some email time, as people kept texting me, and i needed to preserve the phone battery..the charger was in the luggage which had not yet arrived, and i needed to keep it available in case it did arrive. then headed up for a breakfast on the terrace....ah what a treat..spent some time lounging up there getting my energy ready to hit the souks and bargain..i was not positive about my luggage and the clothes i had been wearing since boarding my flight were getting a bit funky.
i also hit a hammam.. a waaaaaay overpriced hammam, but the massage was good....tried to get out of my mind i'd paid them more than my accomodation providers. noted to self to take the tip of some young americans at Riad Amazigh to find the much cheaper hammam, but because i suck with directions i only ended up completely lost.
then i decided i needed to see the Sahara. i knew with my limited time, I couldn't get right into it, but just a touch - I couldn't come all this way and not see it, AND Geralyn would be way jealous if I got to ride a camel and sleep in a Bedouin tent. So I promptly signed up and prepared myself to wake at some ungodly hour of the morning for this...
which I did and encountered mass confusion as the meeting point set was also used by numerous other companies, though I was happy when i sneaked a look at the voucher of a pair of slovene backpackers to see that they had paid quite a lot more than me, hehehe.
However, off the start I was a tad disapppointed to see my group was rather small..Ok, that is an understatement, it was just myself and a Welsh couple. I felt a bit of envy for the larger group going, including a (seemingly: key word) cool Argentine guy from my place, but I remembered, everything for a reason and as i was rather exhausted drifted into a wee snooze, and in the very end, realised we were way better off. We'd kept running into these groups along the way, so clearly we all got the same thing, but we had spent less money.
The couple, Katy and Steve, were absolutely lovely - genuine, down to earth sort of people who are very rare to find in the world these days. We had a real laugh and it worked out well as from what i could gather, we all had the same expectation from this journey, and it was more than fulfilled. of course at dinner we all would have fancied a bit more company, but otherwise we reaped the benefits of being a smaller group. it was approximately 10 hours to Zagora, and the scenery along the way was breathtaking and otherworldly. It was especially neat to see the Draa valley, with all its palm trees looking like a tempting oasis with various mosques marking the villages. We were first taken to a carpet shop and when i saw the tea laid out, thought here we go..I know that Katy and Steve had similar thoughts as they had just gone through the carpet ordeal the day before in Marrakech! Of course the fact that I am now officially unemployed and soon to be homeless means i should be void of any carpet purchasing..and I wonder what the guy thought to find that Steve was the only employed member of our petite entourage! the one guy selling the carpets was actually rather impressive...we all had the feeling he had some clout amongst his tribe by the way he carried himself..his language skills were even more impressive..of course knowing Arabic and French, as is standard in Morocco, he also spoke fluent English and suddenly busted out in German! and speaking it very well, probably better than I..which is a tad discouraging seeings how I have been living in Vienna 3 years, 9 months in Hamburg...and him? 3 visits to Germany, maximum 2 weeks, and one visit to Switzerland (if one can really call that dialect german anyway, har har). Encroyable!
and we were off...we named our camels - mine was 'George' (of course thinking Grey's Anatomy here), Katy's was 'Eddy' and Steve's was 'Keith'. Of course they already had Moroccan names so I guess we were just confusing the matter. Children followed us out of town, throwing little cames made from palm leaves - cute - and asking for pens. and had i had them, i would have given them some! one particularly persistent little fellow followed us quite a ways out, and i resolved if i were able to rustle up a pen, and saw him on the way back in..it was all his. I did as well, but we were stopped mid ride the next day so no go. oh well.
The evening was not cold at all as we had all thought, and brought no relief from the oppressive heat of the day - now, if I am saying its hot, it must be! but it was still pleasant. after dinner the guys brought out the drums and played some songs for us, and then handed the imaginary mike over to us (!)...now (un)fortunately the only song i actually know start to finish is a japanese one...
so to add to the randomness of my life, i'm sitting in a tent, in the Moroccan sahara, singing a japanese song to 2 Welsh and 2 Moroccans!
and we laid out in the sand to stare at all the stars...gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. for a small moment, i was the most at peace i'd been in a long time. All the soap opera problems of Vienna, all the freaking out about leaving, all the stress from lost luggage...gone. we managed a few hours of sleep this evening before being awoken for the sunset - a welcome waking for me as for such a peaceful end to the night I'd had some disturbing dreams. after the sunset we had a small breakfast and headed on out.
What I found quite funny on this journey - The driver spoke some English, but would rather not. the Camel guide dude spoke next to none, and both had told me, they will just tell me in french, and i can explain to the other 2. hello! i mean, come on..this was like asking someone with a junior high accounting course to do your tax return!
Although in the end I reckon I did ok with it....(!)
I slept most of the way back in the car. We were thankfully back in Marrakech early, so I grabbed some food and went through the dastardly task of hunting down my luggage which was still AWOL. now, because the charger was in the luggage, my phone battery was at a minimum and therefore useless. so I did something I've not done in years; I used a payphone! which was a royal pain in the arse. first i had to buy a phone card from a 'teleboutique'. now, despite the teleboutique having innumerable payphones, none of them took this card. So i had to hunt high and low for one that did. which was of course was on THE busiest street possible, and I was not left in peace to make my call by people harrasing me for a hotel.
Well. At Casablanca airport, they told me it had been in Marrakech the whole time! Well, thank you for letting me know. I put out to the employee there and felt marginally better. So then I rang the same department of the Marrakech airport. and put out to the employee there. Oh, they cannot deliver it. customs regulations. So why on earth did they tell me in Casa it would be delivered? AEEUGHGHG.
In the interim, i'd made a plan to meet the seemingly cool Argentine bloke for dinner, and with no communcation to change that appointment, it left only the later hours of the evening to collect the luggage. thankfully one thing; it was 24 hour.
So no time for hammam, i just bought a scrubber and some black soap and made my own in the hostel. not quite the same, but i was clean again nonetheless!
so met Argentine and hit the markets, finally buying some things i'd wanted to - paying entirely too much, but at that point i just thought, sod it, so long as its cheaper than in Vienna! and finally decided on some food - and chose what appeared to be a bit of a disappointment..for me anyway. I was surprised Mr. Argentine went with it..he was displaying a few cheapie qualities, being almost donut-like even...it was full of tourists and not very atmospheric. also rather pricy for what it was. it was the kind of place that one writes their order on a piece of paper. and they still dont get it right first go..i know my french isn't stellar but its not that bad!
the meal was nice, but i still would have chosen a smaller, more family run kind of establishment. huh. anyway. during this time the argentine mentioned his plan - as he was also leaving from Casablanca the next day - to go to a beach 40kms north of the city, and did I want to join? I had a number of things I still wanted to collect to bring back for people, so I agreed, if I could finish this - and with a couple hours remaining to shop in the souks there was no reason why i couldn't, I'd suck up the early train time and do it, as quite frankly i was a bit sick of the souks anyway and had thought i might go to a pool anyway to chill out (literally and figuratively), why not go see this beach?
right. so shopping done at half past 11, grabbed a taxi who agreed to take me both ways and wait for a few extra dirhams, but ended up taking me right inside and showing me the way to the lost luggage claim area - something tells me that i was just one of many who called round there to do this.
all went smoothly enough and i was glad to be reunited with the bag, even if just in time to collect it and have to lug it on the train in a few hours. the driver dropped me back at djemna el fna, and i made my way through the now deserted streets to the hostel - well, nearly deserted anyway. As on the approach to the hostel, in the narrow covered streets was a group of teenage boys, who initially attempted to block my way, but I got around the first one manouevering the case as best I could, but that just meant another grabbed at my arm as they swore at me, and I continued to ignore them, aiming solely for the door of the hostel which was easily in sight. Thankfully it seems they have some kind of 'barrier' to as far as they will go (i found this with the smaller, less aggressive kids in this street earlier on), and they remained where they were merely threatening to steal everything - although after what i had gone through to get that bag, it would not have been going without a fight!
The guys on reception actually cheered at the sight of the luggage I had been bothering them about during my time there - I had a few minutes to repack and reorganise, and headed up to the room for a nap. Having been placed on an impossibly high bunk and still feeling the effects of the camel ride, in addition to the thing having one of the A/C units right above it...I just took a spot on one of the sofas, awoke at 4:00, and after checking with the guy from reception to ensure the creepy kids were gone, I went to meet the Argentinian - who then transformed into a donut, and I began to regret this decision a little. Of course his grand donut plan was to get the bus. Save for one thing; the buses were not running. crossing the entire djemna el fna, i had not seen one pass. nor was one likely to. so we needed a taxi. and although they are still about, they are not abundant at this hour, one of the precious few that the square is not bustling. however, he kept turning them away! I figured at this point, i've gotten up and went through all this trouble, so i am going one way or another and and when i hailed a taxi he was in agreeance, but kept saying some weird word for station - when in Marrakech, there is only one ONCF station, unlike Casablanca, so to simply say 'a la Gare' is sufficient. And then the price was too high - i thought 20 would be reasonable, they wanted 50. until competition arrived; then they guy dropped down to 20, but mr. argentine was still fervently arguing for 30 (!!!!). thankfully he shut up in time to keep the price at 20.
And it wasn't til we actually neared Casablanca itself that the flawed nature of his plan showed itself - that he didn't know the actual name of this place, let alone any idea of a train that might go there. so, lets just stay on this one shall we? Very donut like, not taking any consideration for the fact I had all my luggage with me, and in no way could i take this to a beach, especially if a lot of walking may be required..not against that, however, there was another issue..again, just having retrieved this bag again, i was not keen to part with it should it go missing at the beach (or get full of sand, or numerous other impracticalities). Again, I was getting off at Casa Voyageurs, regardless.
And lo and behold, I was right. the trains for this town went from Casa Port, not voyageurs. the name of the town was Bouznika, the information girl told us. so mr. argentine donut would have been slightly lost, on his way to Rabat I reckon. then it was also revealed that 1 - there was no left luggage facility in this station and 2 - there was not a return train from Bouznika that was early enough for the donut to get his flight. And in all honesty - a simple few minutes on ONCF's website could have saved all this trouble!
And then I could not quite believe - he basically took off on me, wishing me luck finding the beach! chuh, again, obviously oblivious to the luggage I was still carrying and nowhere to leave it, and took off on his own. Which I found to be incredibly rude - for me, its no worry actually, and I was much happier to have my own company than that of an inconsiderate donut - i've done my time travelling with donuts this year in Nicaragua and Costa Rica - but i know that there are people out there who might have been phased at being deserted like this in a place like Morocco!
but, what comes around, goes around - I am sure that he probably did not get up to anything of interest at all this day, but i checked around at a couple hotels to see about giving them a bit of cash to leave my stuff, and found the hotel terminus, which will rent a room for the day (ie, no overnight stay) for 50 dirham (4 - 5 euro), and voila! not only did i have a place to ditch the bag, it meant i could also shower, and even nap later should i so desire!
So I quickly reorganised myself and grabbed a taxi down to Casa Port, bought my ticket, grabbed a small breakfast at a streetside stand, eating a croissant, fresh juice and tea at the counter surrounded by colorful moroccan conversation before heading out to the beach.
At Bouznika, this was easy enough; there were taxis waiting, and they did it on a share basis, so only 5 dirham was paid, and i was there! now, the donut's saying this is the best beach in the whole of africa i did not agree with - this place had nothing on some of the beaches in south africa, for example, and could not even begin to rise to the level of Zanzibar's, but it was still nice, had some neat houses along it and was full mostly of moroccan families with few foreigners, and i passed a great day here, with minimal harrassment.
Headed into the town after with a few minutes to kill before the train back to Casa Port, and found a non descript cafe just round the corner from a street that must have been the official street of car repair for some mint tea, where a few locals engaged me in conversation - not sketchy ones either, they just seemed more interested to see just who was this strange foreigner who seemed to have accidently wandered away from the beach....
trying to find something to eat in Casa afterwards was a disappointment, so I headed out to the airport ridiculously early for my 3 am flight (which i would need to do anyway owing to the time of the train), and had an alright meal in a restaraunt there. I was so tired at this stage I could barely keep my eyes open in the airport, and thankfully slept all the way to Rome.
In Rome this time, I was again most disappointed to see the gelato counter was still closed (ok, seroiusly 7am is also a perfectly reasonable time for ice cream!), but got a pizza instead, and slept all the way to Vienna, arriving feeling like i'd been gone from civilization for ages. And arriving to no luggage...
but thankfully i am now in receipt of it, and they did deliver!
All in all, a cracking trip with fantastic people (won't let one donut ruin the lot of good ones i met there!) - I'd definitely go back agian, but will consider the merits of only taking carry on bags.... :-)
