Morocco The beginning
Adding a two week tour of a developing country to the end of 5 week itinerary was always going to have its moments. When we turned up for the meet and greet at the hotel in Casablanca. I realized I was old enough to be the mother of all of my co travellers. This made for a dynamic which was at times a little testy. So, this is Morocco part 1.
A comment on my arrival first of all. Casa Blanca airport is not as chaotic as some facilities in Europe. Secure with the knowledge i had paid for a transfer – once the suitcase was screened (again) I emerged into the bright Moroccan sun fully expecting someone to be holding up a card bearing my name. No one to be found – despite the best efforts of volunteers to assist. No help with the language barrier either . What was most concerning was having absolutely no phone service. No cheerful notice from Telstra telling me I had an active day pass. At least it was broad daylight – people everywhere. All other options exhausted, i decided to head back to the airport terminal and once close to the entrance , WhatsApp fired into action. My driver – where was I – what did I look like.
Just a word of advice to my fellow adventurers . Make sure you either have an eSIM or are within WiFi coverage of an airport precinct if you have a transfer booked . WhatsApp is the platform of choice pretty much everywhere and it works well. Especially with countries not covered by an international day pass. My trip notes advised a driver would display my name somehow but the communication had not passed this on to him.
So luggage loaded and first impressions of Morocco as it’s quite a drive to the hotel. Once formalities were completed, the meeting with our chief expedition officer was underway.
I manhandled the stuff upstairs made a bee line to the meeting room where I met Yusuf, our CEO, and my travel companions, Dakota from Chicago, Kim from Calgary, and Manisha… Indian born, but now lives in Vancouver.
These briefings are much the same across companies. The punters are prepped on the amazing experiences that await us. Followed by the first night dinner – which we pay for. After a long travel day , I wasn’t mentally or physically up to walking the streets – however amazing the food .Instead a delicious tagine dinner at the hotel bar.
So day 2/1 and the luggage stowed – with only 4 on the bus plenty of room t0 spread. Canadian Kim had already shared her migraine susceptibility and it seemed the back seat was her domain given her claiming it most of the time .She seemed to suffer from a migraine every other day. Our first stop was in Tangier, where the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea collide.
We enjoyed a guided tour of the old city and its Medina, with our guide Abia.
Back on the bus to Cheffchaouen or the Blue City for the first night on the road,
Some locals…….
On the way to Chefchaouen, our talk turned to hotels. We were booked into the Madrid hotel, a cousin I am sure to the infamous Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. The chaotic entry to Chefchaouen involving navigating all manner of livestock and machinery. Our hotel was perched precariously on a bend in the main thoroughfare where an army of handsome young strong men emerged to help with the luggage. The colour scheme for my room – all shades of green. The hot water was dodgy, the view over the street always entertaining, teeming with noise until well after midnight. Hotel choices for tour groups such as this are selected for the experience , the nightly tariff modest.
So that first afternoon involved a quick tour of the Medina with Yousef and a drink at a pub! The second day offered a hike. I would have joined happily but research indicated the terrain might not be as kind as the travel notes suggested. Manisha was up for the hike – she climbs mountains and is half my age. So time for my very first Hammam, a Moroccan bathing ritual whereby you are exfoliated and scrubbed in a hot steamy room . Then a massage – lovely. The final component – a compulsory cup of mint tea.
The tour notes that day recommended a climb up stairs and a track to the Spanish mosque to watch the sunset. Kim,who had been in bed all day with a migraine ,and Manisha who had successfully completed her morning hike, joined me and we made our way up the mountain side along with a large crowd, young and old.
The actual sunset was somewhat of a non event. “ Is that all there is?” Manisha commented. Afraid so .
I think it was on that walk to the Spanish mosque that really made me realize how little Moroccans, generally speaking, respect their environment. I honestly don’t think they see the sea of plastic that proliferates quite literally everywhere. With so many iconic attractions in this North African country listed as world heritage, there must surely be a way in which authorities can do something. That evening , I raised the issue with some G Adventures CEOs and a nice young man who apparently was quite important. He promised me action was possible. I wonder……..
