Our last day dawned clear, both the air and the streets!
Our flight was not until after 2:00 in the afternoon but
Kahlid had us all on the bus by nine a.m.
Elva and I had no problem getting our bags out even earlier than the
required 7:30 and were having breakfast by then. We greeted Kahlid and thanked him for his
kindness and for sharing his beloved country with us. With our sandwiches
tucked away, after one final check of the room, we set out for our two hour bus
ride back to Casablanca.
The time on the bus passed quickly as we checked to be sure we
had contact information with our new friends, sand along to one last hearing of
As Time Goes By, and Crosby and
Hope’s On the Road to Morocco! Wrong
kind of taxi they are riding. Remember,
no camels here, just dromedaries!
Laundry lined our way as did hundreds of satellite dishes! The landscape was dotted with dozens of small mosques.
Laundry lined our way as did hundreds of satellite dishes! The landscape was dotted with dozens of small mosques.
Before reaching the Mohammed V airport we stopped for a
break at a very nice roadside place. Along
one side of a wide patio was a restaurant.
On the other side was the open air kitchen where they even baked fresh
bread.
Tagine would be the preferred dish here. It looks like they are ready to severe a
hundred at a time!
We followed Kahlid to the entrance of terminal 2 and had our
bags scanned as we entered. We had to
scan our bags on arrival at the exit to the parking lot so this was not a surprise
to us. We continued to the check in. Elva and I changed lines more than once as
each line seemed to have someone ahead of us with major ticketing problems.
I had asked Kahlid to help me communicate that I would like a window seat
on the right side of the plane. A window
seat is always my preference but since the surgery I especially do not want to
have my arm coming in contact with random strangers. He remembered and spoke to the gentleman who
nodded and assigned me a lovely seat on the left hand aisle! I might as well draw a target on my shoulder!
We headed to the security check in where, after a short wait,
my carry on was examined. The officer
asked me to open my bag. I asked what it
was that needed to be looked at. As I
started to remove things and recite silly things, like “Oh, is it the tablet?” as
I held it up. No. “Oh, did we need to
remove our plastic bags of liquids?” and held it up. “Is it my sandwich? Can we not take food on the plane?” clutching
my little ham sandwich and croissant. No.
“The jump rope?” holding up my physical
therapy tool. No. He continued to fish around and cane up with one, then two
one pound weights. Yes, I had forgotten
that they would need to be in the checked bag and had left them in the carry on
so I could use them that morning and tomorrow in New York. I am that mush of a rule follower, exercises
every day!
Through his smirk he asked me what they were and why I had
them. I told him and said to just throw
them away as I apologized. “These are
not allowed!” He continued to lecture me
as I continued to suggest he discard them.
Then he put them in my bag and said, “Don’t do that again!”
Next was passport control.
Elva zipped through one line and then I did. We had sort of begun to hook up with Cindy
because she was on her own. So we waited
for her to go through a different line.
We waited. Then we asked each
other if we should just leave her and go on to the gate. Then we waited for her, and waited. Never did find out what took so much longer.
The three of us then figured out how to find the gate and
were not surprised that it was at the farthest end of the terminal, even though
it was gate two. Turns out there is no
Gate Two so we sat near gate one. After
a while we went to find a snack or drink.
We are suckers like that, one person walked by with ice cream and that
became our mission!
After another half hour or so I set out to find some water
to fill my bottle. I like to take water
aboard so that it is handy before whatever service there might be begins. No water fountains and I was warned off what
water might come from the faucets. I
returned to the food court where our New York friends were having lunch. Water and Diet Coke were the same price. I used the last of my dirhams and a stray
Euro to buy a bottle of Coke.
I was saving it for the plane after I had just a sip.
An agent appeared at Gate One. I thought maybe that and gate two shared a
podium so I asked about the seat on my flight.
Was it a window, which with the designation “K” I thought it wasn’t. One of the agents said they could make no
changes as there were no empty seats. The other looked in the system and found
one and told me what it was. But didn’t
write it on the ticket.
After sitting awhile longer, there was a repeat of what
happened in New York on the way over.
Suddenly, everyone in the area jumped to their feet like as if Mother
Superior had entered the room! They
scrambled toward Gate Three and clustered behind some quickly produced
stanchions and ropes. We also grabbed
our stuff and headed that way. Getting into
the back of the line just as the final rope was placed, turned out to be a
lucky thing. They whole line turned
around and we were just a few people behind the front of the line! Four police officers rushed toward Gate One,
to the side. An impromptu security check
was in place.
People in line slugged down their water and I noticed that
the first people had their full, unopened bottles confiscated. Without looking too hard, or being too
obvious, I slid my bottle into the inside pocket of ‘suitcase jacket.’ I also put my sandwich in my pocket and my
phone and camera.
The guards were through in rummaging through the bags and I
figured I would again be asked about my weights. I almost took them out and just threw them
away.
When it was my turn they unzipped all the zippers on my bag,
unzipped the tablet case, and rummaged around.
No word about the weights. Then I
realized there was a male and female officer doing pat downs. The gate security must be standard operating
procedure as there was a curtained booth off to the side that she waved me
into. After closing the curtain she was
quite through. However, she indicated to
me to hold my jacket away from my body so my sandwich, and Coke made it onto
the plane with me!I waited for Elva and while doing so heard my name called. I looked up to see one of the men of The Six signaling me about what was going on. I nodded my head and indicated the checkpoint and officers doing the pat downs.
Elva and I proceeded to Gate One, walked down the long
descending ramp, and exited to the tarmac.
The plane was too big to use the gate bridge access. We boarded a small bus and were driven to the
part of the apron where the plane was waiting.
Lugging our bags up the steps we were greeted by pleasant flight
attendants who asked where our seats were while looking at the ticket. I told them mine had been changed at the gate
and the man said then the attendant would have marked and signed the ticket. I pleasantly replied that she hadn’t and was
told go ahead and you can try. I found
my A seat which had me now seated only three rows into economy. Elva had also been successful at changing her
assignment to a window on the other side of the plane.
It took a little more than an hour to process all of the passengers through the extra security and drive them to the plane. Our New York Six were the last to board. They later said they just stayed in the food court when they saw what was going on and relaxed.
What luck! The center seat was empty and the gentleman on the aisle suggested we take full advantage of it. We set personal items on the seat after takeoff and during the meal used the tray as an overflow location. We got along well with minimal but enjoyable conversation. Although we flew roundtrip to Casablanca, the return flight was scheduled to be two hours longer because of flying East to West. We left a few minutes early and arrived a little early as well. The dinner was unremarkable and not as good as on the way over. The in seat screen worked and although I had planned to write I just watched movies and read. I was able to finish A House in Fes and was glad to do so.
Although most of the flight was in daylight we were high
above the clouds. I like looking at
clouds and am always amazed at the different types and what they remind me
of. We flew over some that looked like
cauliflower! Tight little clumps of off
white clustered in rising and falling lines like the roundness of a head of the
vegetable.
I was glad that as we broke through the ceiling I was able
to see a site that is always amazing.
NYC and the Lady Liberty! She was
lighted in the blue, white, and red of the French flag. The photos did not turn out but the sight is
in the best album of all – my mind’s eye and my brain!
Surprisingly the reentry was swifter than usual although we
had been expecting a delay as passports were carefully reviewed after Friday’s
attack. We gathered our bags and quickly
got through customs as we had nothing to declare. We met up with Cindy again who was trying to
catch a flight that night back to California.
I would have liked to be heading home as well but because of costs we
were instead looking for a way to the Comfort Inn of Jamaica Plains.
Cindy asked for directions and left us, but not before we
met up with our South American friends. Suddenly the nine of us raised an arm
high in the air and shouted Columbia! We
laughed and hugged but those around us seemed to edge away.
We found the board with the phone to call the hotel for our
ride and were given directions to the Plane Train, which we were to take to Jamaica
Plains, and a specific waiting area.
Off we went, all but Cindy.
Not as easy to access as the underground train in Atlanta, we went up in
the elevator, across a long bridge, down an escalator, out onto a platform and
caught the next train. Onboard a very
nice young man asked us if we were going the right way. I think he thought we should have been
heading to Manhattan. He was warning us
about Jamaica Plains and how to move quickly and be safe. We said we were just staying at a hotel and
being collected by their van right at the station. He seemed to relax a little and wished us
luck.
We watched for our exit, took the escalator down to the
parking level and found the pick-up point.
It was a very short time until the Fairfield / Comfort Inn driver arrived,
jumped out, collected our bags, and we boarded the comfortable but full
vehicle. We were the first dropped off
and the only ones checking in. Our first
floor room near the desk turned out to be noisy but it was comfortable and you
know I was excited that it had a tub in the bathroom and a tea / coffee pot on
the desk.
I had been having trouble turning my phone on and the kid at
the desk let me take his cell phone and call TY-Mobile. I had reset the settings but forgot to turn
off the Wi-Fi Calling Only button. Once
that was done all was well.
We checked in for our morning flight and saw it was on time
at 8:15 a.m. A few minutes of TV and a
hot bath and sleep did not delay coming.
Our bodies were still on Morocco time!
We set the room alarm and both phones since we had an early flight and
needed to leave on the 6:30 a.m. shuttle.
We did not need the alarms as it turned out and were up and
dressed and going to the lounge for a quick breakfast by ten after six. The driver was there and so we quick got
coffee and joined the 6:15 empty bus. It
stopped at Fairfield and filled up.
Instead of having to take the Plane train that we had allowed time for,
the driver dropped us right at the terminal.
We checked in okay, and under what seems to be the new
airline plan of not having preassigned seats, I knew I would be given a seat
and have to request the change at the gate.
We made our way to the assigned gate which was not the one our tickets
showed. We had two different gates
named. Elva walked down to the most distant gate, which was the originally
assigned one. I followed her and then I
found a cup of tea at a kiosk, thank you America! I also made a quick stop at an ATM where, of
course, my Visa bank card worked and I withdrew enough to pay back Elva for
being my banker during the trip.
When the gate agent arrived I pleaded the surgical issue and
was assigned a very nice, up front, not first class, but extra comfort window
seat. I forgot to give Elva the money so
worked my way back through the plane with the boarding passengers and passed
the money to her. When the doors closed,
the seat next to me, on the aisle, was empty.
I asked the flight attendant who had already served us our first drink
and snack, if my friend could move up to the seat. She said no, I had paid for the Comfort Plus
seating and that wouldn’t be fair. I
said I hadn’t paid for it but it was just assigned and she just smiled. Moments later a deadheading flight attendant
took her place next to me and went promptly to sleep.
I had a nice breakfast and enjoyed the flight. Leaving New York I was, as always excited to see the iconic
skyline and the Statue of Liberty again.
The New Home of the Falcons - Mercedes-Benz Stadium – doesn’t look much bigger than our once iconic Georgia Dome! I hope it has more ladies rooms!
I transferred my luggage to my car after petting my Skeeter
for a few minutes, and headed home. I
couldn’t take her with me since the next morning at 8:00 a.m. I was to begin a
four day babysitting job. That ended on
Friday evening and on Saturday I hosted our Family Thanksgiving! It was a crazy schedule to return to but all
went well. I do blame it for slowing me
down in completely this blog series for your enjoyment and for my memory stabilization!
Let me close with a couple of old family recipes. Why would I include them here – they feature
dates! Our dates here, let me say, no
matter how good a quality I buy, nowhere as delicious as the ones we are
enjoyed in Majestic Morocco! Enjoy!
This first recipe is for Poor Man’s Cake. The original is in my mother’s personal book of saved recipes. The cake is so called because it doesn't use real butter or eggs and no white sugar. It is from "the
War years.” That means World War II when
rationing demanded that cooks and especially baker’s be very clever. Maybe it was passed on from bakers of the Great Depression era. Then it would have used lard and I am not sure how that would enhance the flavor! We love this treat.
Poor Man’s Cake
1 c. brown sugar
½ c. margarine
2 c. chopped dates
1 c. boiling water
¼ t. salt
2 c. flour
1 t. baking soda
1 ½ t. ground cloves
¼ t. nutmeg
Pour boiling water
over chopped dates, let sit 2 – 5 minutes.
Drain and reserve liquid.
Cream margarine and brown sugar.
Alternately add sifted dry ingredients and water from dates. Add dates.
You may add chopped nuts if you would like. I don’t usually. Bake in greased loaf pan.
350˚ for 1 hour.
Important note. I do not bake the cake but place the pan in a
little water in my slow cooker, which is conveniently oblong. I turn it on high and steam the cake until a
toothpick comes out clean. It takes a
little longer but is delicious and moist. When I used to bake it in the oven, I added a
pan of water on the second rack so that the cake gets a nice shiny top crust.
This recipe was my Dad’s favorite cookie. It is a puffy, soft treat. I like them for breakfast.
Sour Cream Date
Drops
¼ cup butter
¾ c. brown sugar
1 ½ t. vanilla
1 beaten egg
1 ¼ c. sifted flour
½ t. baking soda
¼ t. baking powder
¼ t. salt
½ t. cinnamon
¼ t. nutmeg
½ c. sour cream
1 1/3 c. chopped
dates
Cream butter and
sugar well with vanilla. Add egg, beat
well.
Sift together dry
ingredients. Add to creamed mixture
alternately with sour cream. Stir in
dates. Drop by teaspoon onto greased
cookie sheet. The cookies will spread
and rise.
Bake at 400˚ for 10 mins.
