Yesterday my first day in Morocco was interesting from the start. Guide books are incredible preparation for such a journey. Reading Lonely Planet (LP) on the plane either prepped me or made me over cautious from the get go. It talks about how friendly and warming Moroccans are yet warns of some friendliness being a way to become your guide for hire etc. ie they’ll help you out and then expect compensation in return. Other suggestions are on negotiating as everything seems to be bartered and locals see it as a fun part of life yet if they can take advantage of a tourist, so be it.
Well, there was a nice Moroccan gentleman on my same flight route from Miami to Casablanca via Rome. Having noticed we were on the same flight a conversation was struck up while going through immigration and customs. All seemed fine and while this guy supposedly had been living in West Palm I quickly got the sense he was sizing me up as he was attempting to help me with everything offering to assist me as I made my way to get my bags. I’m not sure if he was being genuinely friendly or I was overreacting because of what I just finished reading on the plane. Anyway, somehow through long lines, checking bags, and the customs inquiry if I was in the military (what a not.. surprise) got me sped through everyone (a big surprise) while he got stuck having his bags searched and I was off on my own.
Now I’m out of the terminal and need to get my hands on some local cash to get a taxi to my hotel I’m hoping replied to my email the night before asking for a reservation, but not had the chance to check. My cell phone isn’t access data for some reason and I can’t check it to confirm that way either. So much for technology. I’m now flying by the seat of my pants. ATM here I come, nope broken screen. ATM two, well it takes my card and spits it back out saying it can’t connect, ATM 3 no better luck here either. Now what, Oh a western union sign to the rescue and exchange a little USD for Dirham’s at a steep price.
After a short and uneventful train ride into the center of Morocco, the negotiations start. Exiting the train station head for the taxi stand well armed with knowledge from my guide book taxis are supposed to use their meters. First taxi driver knows my hotel, loads the bags, and I jump in. Before we’re out of the lot I notice his meter is off and inquire to a no no, and I stop him. We banter for several minutes in his broken English and he wants 100 Dirham (12 bucks) and what a good deal it is. Price comes down immediately to 80 while I’m insisting on using the meter. No luck, he refuses, so grab my bags and out on the lot I go looking for the next taxi. However this guy is fending for his friends as and yells ahead. I approach a driver standing by his car who was on the phone hoping he didn’t hear whatever this other guy was yelling and asked if he’d use the meter. He’s like sure where you going followed by oh that’s 50 Dirham’s, still far more that I know is standard. Now what there’s no way I’m getting a fair rate from the hoard of taxi’s parked every which way in front of the train station but I can see mass amounts of traffic down the street and go for it on my own. A block away a taxi pulls over in the street and I ask about using his meter leaning in the window sure he will, however he has no idea where my hotel is. Seems fair he’s willing to use the meter get in and he pulls up next to another car driving in what is some of the worst I’ve seen. He leans out the window yelling asking questions and now he knows where to go while I’m grinning and brimming with excitement to have jumped right in with both feet. Make it to the hotel for 9 Dirham’s. (under a dollar) Wow all because I looked like a gringo. I’m feeling all proud of myself at this stage to have saved a few bucks grabbed the bull by the horns and didn’t let this foreign environment get the best of me.
Settled into my hotel exhausted from travel but brimming with excitement to see the town out I go. Casablanca, bursting with hustle and bustle the traffic going in crazed zig zaged patterns with little regard to traffic signals. More fun however is the sport of crossing the street. Ever play Frogger? Well there is no orderly way to get across just start walking and hope to not get hit, stop, go forward, back up, go forward again to cross 2, 3, 4, 5 lanes of cars swerving, braking, honking at either the person they’re about to take out or the car they want to cut in front of. For those of you that have been to Rome, where I’ve seen similar situations this seemed far more treacherous, or my memory is failing me. How fun and crazy is this place is gonna be and Casablanca is the cosmopolitan city here.
Making my way with a handy dandy compass on my watch band (gift from Tampa Bay Brewing Company) I find my way to the Medina, old town and jump into the Souq. A souq is a street vender shopping area basically a labyrinth of narrow alleyways with thin cloth, kinda look like big sarongs, draped over the alley ways between opposite facing shops one after the other, and packed shoulder to shoulder with people looking and negotiating over their purchases.. Boy what a shoppers heaven, you could find almost anything here, rugs, gold, beautiful silver table ware sets, watches, cloths, knock off cd’s and DVD’s, pillows, clothing, and every imaginable type of cloth, you name it. Loathing shopping, I settle for aimlessly wandering and seeing what I’ll discover. Vendors selling steamed snails from a big boiling pot on a cart. Looks interesting and I no doubt will try this local treat another time, however I have my heart set on chwarma and find a local cafe serving what turns out to be not the best I’ve ever had. Hopefully I’ll have a better experience elsewhere as I’ve had my heart set on it for a few weeks now.
That’s it for my first day excursion on a lengthy journey. I’m sure I have similar exciting days ahead.
After waking up late today, I made it to the train station with no taxi issues. My skills are getting better. I’m sitting on the train on my way to Marrakesh hoping I won’t have to hunt to hard for a hotel as I can’t figure out how to make a local call with my cell phone to check ahead. Both my US number and the UK sim I have get a voice recording in what I think is Arabic. I’m sure I’m making some mistake in dialing, however even after extensive reading on the topic before arrival, I’m stumped and rolling along.
My choices when I arrive in Marrakesh, get a local phone card for a pay phone and call ahead if I can figure out the phone, or take my chances and get a taxi to my first choice of hotel in the guidebook. The risk taker I am I’ll take the risk getting a taxi to a hopefully not fully booked hotel.
