My mother has a saying, 'It's not to whom it is said or written, but rather, to whom it is destined'. It's actually a Serbian saying (although I doubt it's uniquely Serbian because they're not particularly creative people), but that issue aside, the saying serves a purpose in this particular situation. It is for this reason, in all likelihood, that I found myself on a 16 hour flight out of Sydney bound for Dubai sitting next to a large, Arabic looking man whom I mentally called Faruk. Just between you and me, he had some nice body order going on which made the economy class seats feel 37% smaller than they actually were. I don't get it, for the longer haul flights, Emirates use their 777-400's (I think, I'll get back to you on accuracy of that statement) but either way, seating is mapped out in a 3*4*3 cabin specification which = friendly in Winter but cruel as all hell in Summer. Their shorter flights, i.e., Dubai to Casablanca, are in taken in their Airbus options, more humane, generally roomier, and nothing like being in a haman, being stroked and saturated in the glorious body sweat of your Arabic brother.
So in any case I land in Casablanca at some time in the future, which was made available to me by the ports of Bangkok and Dubai, some 23 hours after leaving our fabled land of kangaroos and 'Aussie oi, oi'....can you believe that our later war cry is what we're known for around the world, right after kangaroos and before koala's, it's tres embarrassing! In any case, I burst out of that Airbus like a man possessed, ready to claim a piece of Morocco and as Jase would let me know unequivocally, to get that damned stamp in my passport. I admit, I'm a stamp whore ! It's part of the deal that I make with myself when I travel, 'take the stamp, see the sights'.
At this stage I consider myself to be relatively well prepared - Lonely Planet (the wisdom and truth in relation to all things travel related) has warned me of the propensity for Moroccans to instigate a scam, which strangely, seems to be the Lonely Planet voice of reason in any country other than the US or Canada! I walk to the awaiting cabs at the stand outside the terminal, chose a driver that appears to be moderately alert and point out the hotel that I'll be staying at inclusive of the address. The cab driver stops for a split second and then tells me that the place doesn't exist.....ALERT, ALERT, bullshit merchant # 1, 20 mins after hitting Moroccan soil. I tell him kindly that it does and please, could he take me to that address. He says again, 'It doesn't exist but he 'knows' of another hotel' - 'oh really senor Ali', that is a scam my friend, you are the instigator and I'm busting your ass for trying it out on me. So I say again, take me to the address or I'll get out of your fine piece of machinery and I'll be catching the next train into Casablanca. Ok, so I'm bluffing Ali (...btw, Ali just sounds like the name I should use),then my brain kicks into gear, I have the hotel phone number, I dial and ask them to speak to the cab driver and 20 seconds later we're all 'Kool &the Gang', we're getting our freak on down the Casablanca Highway.
An hour or so later I'm in downtown Casablanca, checking out a town which appears to be a little shabby, a little French and a little Moroccan. Whitewash walls, some French style boulevards, traditionally busy in its position as the heart of Moroccan trade and commerce. By all accounts not the most inspirational town in Morocco and by my own account, pretty run of the mill from initial perceptions.
Hitting the streets and walking is my usual style in most cities when I arrive I'm and this was to be no exception. Come heatstroke or pinacolada hoboken crunch I'm usually out taking it to the streets, sometimes in high 30 degree temperatures, such as the current scenario. My intention in terms of immediate sight seeing requirements was to make it to Hassan II mosque which is built out into the Atlantic. I try to zero in on this architectural marvel for several reasons, one, because of it's sheer size, it's the third largest mosque in the world, two because it's on the Atlantic, and three because it's the only building of real significance in Casablanca. Walking the streets, giving my Lonely Planet map a real beating, I mentally prepare myself to walk for hours and guess my way by that internal guidance system that quite often serves me well in the domain of orientatio. From nowhere my to be new pal for the next few hours, Ahmed, comes up beside me and offers to sell me a lute. Sure Ahmed, let me break out some power chords for you and we can busk this town stupid whilst you give me your best rendition of Highway to Hell in Arabic or whatever language you believe would suit our purposes. I politely tell Ahmed that at this point in time I'm not in the market for a lute but I'd be more than happy for him to tell me where the hell Hassan II fits onto the Casablanca landscape, he tells me that he will. It went something like, 'Yes, my brother, I will show you'. My brain triggers, I know there's a bounty here and I know it's on my head. I think for a brief moment and say 'Alright Ahmed, lets sort out a democratic price'.
This is Ahmed - at times he had 'the crazy eyes' - Casablanca - Morocco
'Up yours too' - I think Ahmed got this sign of 'friendship' a little wrong - Casablanca - Morocco
Ahmed and I kick it in a cafe for a little while, we bust out some classic cola and talk business. I try my best French, c'est combien? I think it's close to the mark. Ahmed, inspired by the cola puts his own moves down and hits me with a 300 dirham amount that he believes would be valid compensation for his services. Now, at this juncture let me just tell you a little bit about exchange rates, 1 Australian dollar = approx 7 Moroccan dirhams. At this point, 'My Brother' is asking me for just over $40 to walk me a couple of kms - I know this ....and I also know his game...but by knowing that, I know that I could also turn this into a little bit of fun also. Ahmed looks at me, he has that look that screams 'I seriously can't believe I pulled that shit on him' - it's obviously a poker bluff that he has going but his eyes are almost laughing, seriously, his eyes were kind of crazy! I consider it for a moment, I bring our my poker play skills and I slow play Ahmed, I bluff right back , I check my wallet for a moment, making it look like that I was happy to seal the deal, look at him once more and then laugh hard. 'Ahmed' I say, 'my taxi ride from the airport cost less than that!'. He bursts out laughing, 'Ahhh', slaps my hand, and says 'You offer me price'. I say 50 dirhams', he says '100', I say '50', he says '90', I say '50 and I pay for your coke', he says 'ok'.
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Hassan II mosque - Casablanca - Morocco
Hassan II mosque - Casablanca - Morocco
We walk, we talk and all in all, Ahmed is good company. We see the Hassan II mosque and it's enormous. I'm not sure how many people it can accommodate, he says to me 200,000 but I think the interpretation is more like 20,000, impressive all the same, and during the day I was there, the spray coming off the Atlantic, the waves crashing against the stone walls, it felt almost spiritual.
Hmmm, I'm writing this from a cafe in Fes and I've got another Ahmed waiting for me at the moment, waiting to take me out for some sheesha action, will get back to the rest of the Casablanca story shortly.
