Shit Show

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

Well, I was not sure what to title the blog for this day but when I mentioned, Shit Show, as a possibility, my roomies burst out laughing and nodded their heads vigorously. So I guess that’s a consensus. Today we made our way from Agadir to Essaouira. We had purchased our bus tickets days in advance so, in theory, that meant that we had secured seats 9 through 12. Upon trying to put our baggage in the hold of the bus we found that we also needed to pay for suitcase storage. Dave hustled over to the ticket booth and got 4 baggage tags for the steep price of 75 cents per item. (WestJet needs to take a page from the CTM bus lines pricing structure.) Upon entering the bus we found that our seats were already occupied. Mine and Rudy’s seats were filled with a man, a large pail, and numerous sacks and bags. Dave and MaryLou’s seats had a coupla 30- to 40-year-old somewhat rough-looking men. A long discussion ensued and finally the two men in Dave and MaryLou’s seats vacated and kicked out some others from the seats ahead of them. All of this took quite some time. Our man would not move and kept showing us his ticket that indicated he was in seat 11. How could this be? Our ticket also said seat 11. Meanwhile others were trying to get on the bus. A whole gang of Scandinavians were pushing up against us. We told them in English that they would have to back out of the bus in order to facilitate the reshuffle. They replied in some Northern European language that they had no idea what we were talking about and if we could just sit down, they would like to board. Needless to say, things were at an impasse. Finally the bus driver came in and we showed him our tickets. He asked to see the ticket of the other man. The seat-stealing man was only partially telling the truth. He had been in seat 11 on the first part of his journey, but on this part of the journey his seat was number 29. He was not too happy and gathered up his bags and pails and finally moved to his seat in the back of the bus. The majority of bus riders were men of a similar age and there was much laughing and harassing about the whole kerfuffle. Now we could settle in for the 3-hour journey.

Oh no, I guess we couldn’t. The seats were closer together than the seats on a WestJet plane and poor Rudy could not fit his legs in. Even I was struggling with claustrophobia. Well, there was nothing to do but endure it. And endure it we did. We hadn’t gone very far when one of the men behind us hauled out his cell phone and proceeded to have a very LOUD phone call for a very LONG time. Well soon it was time to stop to let off a few people and a few packages. It seemed to be taking a bit longer than necessary. I disembarked to stretch my legs and found a crowd of men around the luggage compartment. Bags were being hauled out and thrown back in and voices were raised. It was clear that something was amiss. This went on for a long time. I later learned from MaryLou, who had witnessed the kerfuffle from her side of the bus, that a fight had broken out. A man had grabbed the bus driver by the lapels and jostled him, and yelled in his face. At one point he shoved him. On my side of the bus, a smaller compartment was opened and a number of boxes were taken out. The missing ones? Not sure, but the scuffle seemed to be over and the journey finally could continue on.

Click to view (and hear) a sample of what we had to listen to for several hours on our bus ride

Back in the bus, it got worse. It sounded like some of the men behind us were having an argument. The “phone-yelling” man’s voice was turned up to 11, and he not only dominated the argument; he talked and talked and talked and DID NOT SHUT UP! It was so ridiculous it was funny (at first),  but as it went on and on, it got more and more annoying, and by the end of our nearly FOUR HOUR bus ride, no one was laughing. It was just too much. The yelling and arguing had given us all a giant headache.

On top of all that, the road was a wild twisty turny narrow highway that basically wound its way on switchbacks up and down the mountains. We were going at quite a clip and the driver laid on the horn at each turn to warn oncoming traffic of his presence. I was getting nauseous from looking over the cliff down to the ocean below on the one side, and into some steep drop-offs on the other side. By the time we arrived in Essaouira I had completely forgotten about the lovely scenery I had seen. I was ready for some peace and quiet.

We loaded up our luggage onto our backs and headed off to our Airbnb. Dave said it wasn’t too far to walk, which was true, but we were tired and headachy and our packs weighed a ton, so by the time we arrived at our apartment, we were DONE!

Our accommodation here in Essaoura was cheap. Dave had gotten a deal, and now that we saw it, we knew why. I won’t belabour the point, but it was not great. Rudy and I got the single beds this round and they were “hobbit beds”. I thought I could probably manage it, but I wasn’t sure about Rudy. It was cold in the apartment and there was no heat. We were also very hungry because we had not eaten since breakfast.

We soon vacated the apartment and headed to the Medina for some crepes; we’d been talking about those Essaoura crepes all day. They were delicious but it was cold and windy and we huddled at a table on the street and sipped coffee and mint tea to try to keep warm. There was some talk of going for another Hammam massage in the next day or two. The Driedgers had really enjoyed them when we were here with our tour group a little over a week ago. I hadn’t gone for one then, but was looking forward to having one now. Dave led us through the narrow winding streets of the Medina, and ultimately found the place where they’d gone before. MaryLou got the phone number and planned to call them tomorrow to book the appointments. 

Then we headed back to our apartment. We had just turned into the driveway when the next crappy thing happened. Dave was going to go around the block to the little Superette to get a bottle of water and some toilet paper. MaryLou, Rudy, and I were about to go up to our third-floor apartment, when there was a thud. I turned around and saw Dave lying on the pavement where a car had backed into him and knocked him down! The driver and passenger got out of the car. MaryLou rushed to Dave’s side. He was stunned but conscious. Rudy grabbed him by the arm and helped him to his feet. He was a little unsteady. The driver said he was sorry. MaryLou took a photo of the car’s license plate and got the name and particulars of the driver. Dave was now trying to ‘walk it off’. There was a dent in the car’s trunk. Dave’s hand had bleeding knuckles, but otherwise he seemed okay. His hip was sore and likely bruised — he’ll be stiff for a while — but otherwise he seemed okay. Rudy went to the Superette to get the toilet paper and water while MaryLou and I took Dave up to the room and put some ointment and bandaids on his fingers.

Once we were all back in the apartment and had settled down a bit, I took the situation in hand. We were cold and had an entire evening to wile away, so I brought out the “Oh So Clever” game and taught the other 3 how to play. Now I can’t say that they were too enthusiastic but it was an activity and soon we will be able to crawl into our beds, pile on the blankets and try to get a good night’s rest.