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Alarm went off at 6:30. Showered and packed our bags. Went downstairs to the buffet breakfast and looked at some very unappetizing scrambled eggs. Coffee was okay. My ankle was still quite swollen but felt much better. By 8:00 the tour leader was phoning our room: Everyone is in the van, we’re all waiting for you! Hurried down. Bags were all stacked in the back of the ‘bus’. Bus? Hardly. It’s a 16 passenger van with our 14 tour members jammed into too small seats. I joined Dave and MaryLou in the back seat. Maybe a bit more legroom for me, but the back of the bus will surely deliver the ‘bumpiest’ ride. I was disappointed. Not quite what I expected from this tour.

The highway going north out of Casablanca was a relatively new divided 4-lane. Casablanca is a big sprawling city. Once we were out of there we were following the Atlantic coastline for a good part of today’s trip. It was surprisingly busy on the road this Saturday morning. Lots of trucks.

We were making pretty good time, when things suddenly crunched to a halt. And I mean CRUNCHED. A small van was in the passing lane to our left, when apparently it got a flat front tire, causing it to careen right in front of our bus. Crunch! It was straddled across the front of our vehicle and we were ‘pushing’ it along ahead of us until we finally came to a stop. I hung on to the seats in front of me so I wouldn’t follow my big backpack, which  had tumbled down the aisle to the front of the bus. When we finally came to a stop we  were surrounded by big trucks and lots of cars all around us; we were lucky that the line of trucks behind us didn’t end up rearranging the back of our van! Traffic had now come to a crawl as everyone merged into the only open lane to get around us.

The crunched van on our grille managed to push off and ended up on the right shoulder, facing oncoming traffic. Our bus now made some significant noises as the driver pulled over to the side of the road. It was probably at least an hour until the police and traffic cops were through with us. And in the meantime the traffic was now backed up and we weren’t sure if our van could even continue. Maybe we’d get a (nicer) big bus to come pick us up and continue the tour? In the end it was determined that our vehicle would be okay to drive, at least for the rest of today’s trip.

And it was during that hourlong wait in the bus that the next crisis occurred. One person in our tour group made a comment and another woman took great offence and scolded her for it. And that developed into a long, angry war of words. And these two women were supposed to share a room for the rest of our trip! Nope. Not gonna happen. Our tour leader tried to smooth things over. The first woman demanded a single room. Both could not see themselves sharing a room for the next 13 nights. We all sat there in awkward silence. Fortunately it was about that time that the two drivers had settled their claims and we could continue our journey. Truce, for now.

We were delayed by over an hour, so when we got to Tangier it was already after 2:00 when we sat down in the Ali Baba restaurant for lunch. (And lunch was terrific. I had a chicken and mushroom tagliatelle, and Naomi had a chicken tajine.) Then off we were to meet another guide who would walk us through the Medina in Tangier.

It was dark at 7:00PM. We’d already been on the road for at least an hour, leaving Tangier, heading for Chefchaouen. The road was winding its way up into the Atlas Mountains. We had a 15-minute rest stop and then continued our journey for another hour. We pulled up to our hotel, which was on the main (narrow, winding) road of Chefchaouen. We handed in our passports in exchange for the keys to our rooms. Ours was on the 3rd floor. Up the winding staircase. Wow! What a weird and interesting hotel.

We dropped off our luggage and then went back down to the lobby for a short talk from our tour guide. Then we bundled up and headed out for a walk up the road. She took us to see where we could find an ATM, supermarket, restaurants. We asked if there was a place where we might have a drink. Muslim countries like Morocco disapprove of alcohol, and it’s hard to find a pub. Our guide asked a security person in a little park where we might find a beer. She then led us to a little doorway that led up some narrow stairs, and voila! A big and busy room filled with smokers and drinkers! About half of the 14 members of our group sat down around a big table and enjoyed the rest of the evening getting more acquainted over Czech and Spanish beers.

It was late by the time we got back to our room. Thankfully, the A/C unit had managed to heat it up nicely. The bed had nice blankets that would keep us warm. It had been a long and interesting day. It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep.

Traveling offers up both pleasure and pain and the balance of the two can determine how satisfied I am at the end of the day. Too much pain can overwhelm me and leave me feeling low and discouraged (not to mention homesick). Too much ease and pleasure and I am not appreciative enough of the joy that came with no struggle.

Well today we had a bit of both. We started off with breakfast at the restaurant just 20 steps from our lodging. Yesterday I ordered blindly off the menu and hit gold. Today I was not going to make any changes. A Moroccan breakfast often consists of cheese, olives, bread and amlou. But let me describe this further. The bread in Morocco is amazing. The French (colonial) influence is very apparent.  The buns are chewy and crunchy just like a baguette. The pastries are soft and rich. There is also a type of bread that is very grainy and nutty tasting. My breakfast consisted of the nutty tasting bread, a pot of spreadable cheese, some oily black olives and amlou. Amlou is a spread made with crushed almonds, argan oil and honey. The flavour is amazing. Add to that meal, freshly squeezed orange juice and cafe au lait. The result: complete satisfaction.

Our outings today consisted of visiting Rick’s Cafe (of the movie Casablanca fame) and a trip to the Hassan II Mosque. Rick’s Cafe is a romantic reconstruction of the 1942 film and is every nook and cranny has intricate carved chairs and buffets, beaded and metal lamps, a piano bar, marble fireplaces, and more. I felt that I needed to have a classy drink to celebrate the occasion and also, perhaps, to pretend I was as sophisticated as Ingrid Bergman, so I order a martini. I only needed a few sips before I felt like I might slip from “oh so elegant” to “oh so unable to walk down the curving staircase without falling” and so Rudy finished it off.

With our fancy drinks finished we headed down the avenue to attend to more serious endeavours (the mosque).  The Hassan II Mosque is the only mosque in Casablanca that non muslims can enter. It is a palatial affair with  space inside to accommodate 25,000 worshippers and a surrounding courtyard that can hold 80,000 more.  The minaret is 210 metres tall. The roof is retractable and can open to the heavens and the building was built out into the ocean. The marble pillars, walls of mosaics, carved wooden balconies and grates and the painted cedar ceiling were only some of the wonders. It was almost too much.  I do hope that the King (who completed the build in 1983) invested as much in helping the people of Morocco as he did on constructing this edifice.

But it was not all beauty and pleasure. Oh no. There was some pain involved. Well, perhaps not for me. Rudy was the one who had to suffer today. While we were being ushered into the lower hall where the 350 huge marble washing stations were, Rudy neglected to read the signage. Danger was lurking just inside. Marble curbs surrounded the washing fountains and Rudy, so engrossed by the glory and splendour, slipped on the edge of the curb and twisted his ankle and fell flat on the marble floor. Luckily his noggin missed the enormous marble basin or it might have been much more than a sprained and swollen ankle that would have resulted.

While that was the most serious incident of the day, our pain did not end there. The wind whipping off the ocean was joined by rain from the heavens and we had trouble getting transportation home. We called an “Indrive” taxi but were met with hostilities from the regular taxi drivers. One glared, spoke harshly to us, and lurked around so he could get the license plate of the “illegal” taxi. In the end the Indrive taxi woman couldn’t risk picking us up and we were too mad to take the offer of a ride from the irate regular taxi guy. And so we continued on foot. Rudy limping. MaryLou very cold because she didn’t have her rain jacket and Dave and I just generally grouchy. We tried for a long time to get another taxi on another cold windy corner but everyone was desperate for a ride and we did not manage to secure one. On we tramped. Another opportunity. Another disappointment. The taxi driver asked to much and we dug in our heels. He followed us around the corner and berated us. Is this story getting too long? Too much of the same? Okay. I will just say that we did finally make it back to the hotel in two separate tiny taxis with a couple of rally drivers swerving in and out of traffic. We were just in time for our tour group meeting.

The tour group is a varied group . Some of us are pretty run-of-the-mill and some maybe not so much. There is an unhealthy number of teachers in the group (too many know-it-alls) but we shall have to get along for the next 15 days. After our meeting we headed out for a supper together to a nice place where most of us had tajine, a traditional Moroccan meal cooked slowly in a clay pot. I had a vegetable tajine but others had chicken, veal or lamb.

Well, it is time for bed. Tomorrow we are up early and off to Tangiers.

Day 2 in Casablanca.

Well, we managed to stay awake until about 9pm last night in an effort to get over our jet lag as soon as possible. So once we got back to our hotel after supper Naomi finished up yesterday’s blog post we called it a night. NO problem falling asleep. And although the mattress on the bed in our hotel room was kinda hard, it felt so great to just stretch out and rest our weary bodies. After a great sleep, I awoke completely refreshed and ready for another day of adventures. I reached for my phone and squinted to read the time. Seven o’clock. PERFECT. Wait a minute. Take a closer look. What? oh boy! ONE o’clock. Hmmm. That’s not very good at all. I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, but I decided to lie back down and ‘rest’ for a while. The next time I looked at my phone it was 8:00. Yeah. That’s really good.

I showered and rummaged through my neatly organized luggage to find just the right t-shirt for the day. Then I headed downstairs to find a coffee. A very friendly waiter happily poured me a cup which I took back upstairs. Now Naomi was done her shower and MaryLou was already texting us: Waiting in the lobby. Want to go for breakfast?

And that’s how we began our day.

We had breakfast at the coffee shop across the street from our hotel. Very fine breakfast and good coffee. MaryLou had signed us up for a free walking tour of the Old Medina. Soon after breakfast we headed out, intending to walk the 30 minutes to the ‘meeting place’ just outside the Medina. It soon became apparent that our pace would not get us there in time. We ordered an Uber and that got us there with a few minutes to spare. And then the guide texts to say he’ll be 10 minutes late.

Amin introduced himself to us and suggested we climb up a few flights of stairs so we could look out over the wall that surrounds the Medina (old city), from where we could see the big Casablanca harbour and the many big ships that were out on the Atlantic awaiting their turn to enter the port. Amin grew up in the Medina and told us many stories of how in more recent times the old buildings inside and outside the walls are being gradually replaced by modern malls and hotels and more tourist-friendly structures.

Old Medina is a maze of narrow alleys and traditional souks selling textiles, jewelry, spices, food, and much more.

I think our two-hour tour lasted nearly 3 hours. Amin showed us how to buy tram tickets and got us on the right one back to our hotel. We decided we should check out a pub near our hotel and maybe have a cold local beer before going back to our rooms. No luck with that. Google Maps let us down. So did numerous people I stopped to ask for help. It seemed that as soon as I explained that what we wanted was a BEER to drink, they immediately shut down. So no alcohol in this country? Really? Is a wee little cup of espresso the only ‘adult’ drink in town?

Back at our hotel we stopped in at the restaurant. Do you have beer? Yes! Two local beers to choose from. The waiter showed us to a ‘private’ room next to the cafeteria and was pleased to bring us nice ‘Casablanca’ beers and frosted glasses. Not great, but not terrible. We had a fine hour chatting with the Driedgers. Then up to our rooms for a bit of relaxing before meeting downstairs to go out for dinner at six.

We ordered two plates of ‘mixte plato’, one for each couple to share. That was plenty, and it was quite tasty! Fries, rice, sausages, olives, tomatoes, onions, delicious baked bread, and more. Spicy Dijon mustard to top it off. And the cook was super friendly and seemed pleased to have us there.

A short walk after supper and then back to our rooms. Time to read a bit of news, maybe do a sudoku or wordle puzzle. Look through our photos and update the blog. By 11:00pm it was time to turn in. (Not really sleepy yet, but we’ve got to get into the routine.)

Well, we made it! We are sitting in our hotel room in downtown Casablanca and Humphrey Bogart is nowhere to be found. I realize that the movie, Casablanca, was a Hollywood construct and in no way reflected the actual place even then. However, the words “sultry and sexy” had taken root in a back corner of my mind and so far, I cannot say I have seen either of them.

But really we have not seen that much. After deplaning we walked way too far through the airport to try to find “just the right phone company” to get SIM cards. We are traveling with MaryLou and Dave Driedger and in compliance with the request by our tour company we have come with backpacks. (Rudy didn’t get the memo and has his wheeled carry-on suitcase and it may turn out that he is the smart one.) By the time we had traversed a section of the airport us backpackers were struggling. Dave’s hip was giving him trouble, MaryLou was sweating in her raincoat, and I was remembering the South American backpacking trip with Ana, Miriam, and Paul. (My hips were aching, my pants were being pushed down off my butt by the hip belt to expose my plumber’s crack, and I was leaning dangerously backwards because of the weight of the pack.) Rudy, however, was walking briskly and happily at least 25 metres ahead of the three of us, merrily pulling his suitcase. Grrrr!

We eventually did get the phone cards, obtained tickets for the train and hopped on board for a 40-minute commute to our hotel. Well, not quite to our hotel. We ordered an Uber at the last train station as we didn’t want to (or couldn’t, because of the baggage load) walk to our hotel. As it was, it seemed an eternity before the Uber car pulled up and we probably could have crawled to the hotel by that time anyway.

Check-in at our hotel wasn’t until 3:00PM and so we had an hour to kill. We parked our luggage at the hotel desk and went for a walk to get some refreshments. It seemed as though every restaurant we passed had a row of chairs lined up along the sidewalk where men sat wiling away the afternoon sipping their little coffees and teas and smoking cigarettes. No women. Only men. And so we too sat ourselves down at a couple of empty tables, despite the fact that MaryLou and I felt quite out of place at the male-dominated cafe. It was moderately satisfying (Dave and I each had a delicious cafe-au-lait with multiple sugar cubes. MaryLou’s sugary mint tea was also good. But Rudy’s Americano, which was more like a small glass of strong Nescafe — was a bust.) However, things looked up for Rudy with the second-hand smoke. He TOTALLY enjoyed it. (Rudy would concur with John Prine’s sang, “When I get to heaven….I’m gonna smoke a cigarette that’s nine miles long.”) As for the rest of us, we could have passed on the experience. To top it all off and to add insult to injury, I had a bird poop on my head. It was time to head back to the hotel and check in.

After a bit of a rest in our rooms, we ventured out to get supper. We passed up on some delicious-looking street food (hope to be back tomorrow to check it out). Instead, we opted to sit down at an outdoor cafe. With the help of the waiter and our handy Google Translate app, we ordered a Moroccan salad (tomatoes, onions, and olives), French fries, baguette sandwiches with chicken skewers, tomatoes, and olives and a plate of kofta (meatballs) and sides. Yum. It was a good first meal.

Tonight we are off to bed early due to lack of sleep and a very long day. We are seven hours ahead of Manitoba time.