However, Morocco is definitely different than anything I had ever experienced before. As soon as we got off the plane we had to go through a VERY INTENSE customs check. As the five of us stood in the slowest moving line with the meanest looking customs official, watching the man who went tried to get through a few lines over being escorted to a security room by the customs police, we got pretty freaked out. We eventually made it safely through the first mean-looking customs fellow only to have to go through another, pick up our checked bag and go through one more. Luckily, as five small gringos, we did eventually make it out of the airport without too much trouble.
Once we left the airport we had to go to the train station to get to the center of the city. This in itself was a task as we didn't fully know where we were going and the train table was next to unreadable. Eventually we sort of just picked a train and got on. I'm vaguely certain that the train we rode on was built in the early 1900s. The airport in Casablanca is actually in a suburb of the city, so it ended up being an hour train ride through the Moroccan countryside. I was completely taken aback to see that horse and buggy or donkey and cart are legit means of transport outside of the city.
When we finally got into town we had to take a taxi from the train station to the hotel. In Casablanca there are 2 types of taxis. "Petite taxis" are used to transport 3 or less people and there is also a larger breed of taxis for up to 6 people. We ended up getting into two separate petite taxis. Before we even got out of the parking lot, I knew it was going to be a crazy ride. I'm pretty sure the only traffic law in Casablanca is "try not to hit anyone else." Driving left of center seemed to be a norm. There were no traffic signs that I could see. It was was just every man for himself. Motorcycles (which looked more like bikes with engines), petite and grande taxis swerved in an out of 80s and 90s era Hondas and Fords and with the occasional brand new Mercedes or Audi. Here's a picture of the traffic situation we encountered. The white car is a grande taxi. Note the car behind the bike straddling the two lanes. Very normal, no big deal.
We gritted our teeth the whole way. The taxi driver had no idea where our hotel was, so it took a good 25 minutes to get there. Despite the long ride, it ended up costing us about $8. The group I was with made it first and we had to wait another 20 minutes before our friends showed up and needless to say, we were more than a little concerned that the Casablanca traffic situation had done them in. We checked into our rooms and decided to go find dinner before it got too dark. (View from our hotel room)
The sidewalks of Casablanca were filled with people. The five of us, with our western clothing suck out like crazy. Groups of 10 or 15 men sitting outside of a cafe (there were no women at the cafes) would stop their conversation and stare as we walked past. We eventually got used to it, but it was definitely uncomfortable at first. After a filling meal that cost us about $6 each we walked around a bit more, stopped at a bakery, bought a loaf of pineapple bread (best loaf of bread I may have ever had) and went back to our hotel for the night. After playing cards and watching an episode of Law and Order in French we went to bed. The two boys we were with had their own room down the hall, so the three of us girls all slept in the same bed because none of us wanted to be the one who had to sleep alone.
Just as we were drifting off to sleep, we suddenly heard tons of loud shouting on the street. The shouting was not letting up, so after about 15 minutes we crept to the window and looked out. On the street three stories below us, we could see a huge crowd that had come out of the bar next to the hotel, an angry looking man with no shirt on, and a car that looked like a cow had sat on the hood. We watched as all the men shouted at one another and pushed each other around. Eventually the angry shirtless man got in a car and speed off and the crowd dispersed. In the morning, the boys told us they had seen a bunch of men come out of the bar and watch as the shirtless man started to jump up and down on the top of the car we had seen and proceed to smash in the hood and the roof. And we all agreed that it was a good think he hadn't stayed out too late the night before.I was the first one up the next day and decided to take a shower. I went into our bathroom only to discover that it had become infested with flies since the night before. We had to take turns dashing into the bathroom to recover our toiletries before we could go and use the bathroom in the boys' room. We told the manager about the problem (I figured out how to say fly in French, since the people at the hotel didn't speak very extensive English). When we got back that evening all the flies were gone. It's kind of hard to tell in this picture, but those little black dots on the shower curtain are flies.
That day, the five of us headed out the the local Medina (market). We spent about an hour there bargaining for bracelets before we headed to third largest mosque in the world the Hassan II Mosque.
The mosque was beautiful. Although it was built in the late 80s by a French architect, it very much stays true to traditional Arabic architecture. I love Arabic art and architecture, so I could have sat and studied the the mosque all day.
Hassan II in the only Mosque in Morocco open to non-Muslims. There are guided tours several times a day. The $8 or so dollars it cost to get in were well worth it as the inside was just as beautiful as the outside. The mosque sits right on the water. The wall that over looks the ocean has huge glass windows so you can see the ocean as you pray. There's a verse in the Qur'an that says, "the throne of God was built on the water" and the mosque was inspired by this idea.
We even got to see the mosque's Turkish and Arabic baths, which had beautiful tile work.
On the way back from the mosque we were waiting to cross the street. On the street to our left, a taxi coming towards us tried to make a left hand turn onto the street in front of us and ended up hitting a man on a motorbike. The man on the bike went flying and the taxi took off. I felt almost as bad for the passenger in the taxi as I did for the guy who got hit. She looked horrified. The man on the bike was lucky that there were policemen standing on the same corner as us, who rushed over to help him. He looked pretty beat up and I think his arm might have been broken. After that we were even more cautious about crossing the street and even more nervous every time we got in a taxi. That night we had another unbelievably cheap meal and got more of the awesome pineapple bread at the store where we were becoming regulars. We fell asleep to the sound of another bar fight that night, although for some reason it was not quite as horrifying the second time around.The girls got up in the morning and ventured out to the Medina again. This time we bargained like it was going out of style and got some awesome souvenirs. My best buy was a little hand-made clay pot painted green with black and white speckles. (Here's a picture of a VERY old 20 Dirham bill. Can you believe that thing came out of an ATM?)
After a full morning of bargaining, picked up another loaf of pineapple bread and went back to our hotel to pick up our bags and the boys and headed to the airport. We were so happy (and slightly surprised) to have survived the intense weekend of bar fights, hit and runs and frightening customs officials. I know I learned a lot and think I finally understand the term "2nd world country." I'm glad I went and I'm excited for future ventures outside of Europe. Next stop: Istanbul. We'll see...
