We exited the baggage area and found our guide waving his
Smartours sign. Right from the start I
knew Kahlid would have his hands full.
We were a diverse group. There
were three couples from Queens, New York.
Two ladies whom we had met at JFK, Denise and Connie from Charleston.
Judy and Shelia were longtime friends traveling together. Barton, a widower and
Cindy were also sitting with us at JFK.
Mei Loc and Peter are from Southern California. And there are eight more whose names escape
me at the moment.
Some need the rest room and I needed an ATM, which did not
work. But eventually we were all
gathered together and made our way out to the very comfortable touring
bus. Kahlid has and assistant who
immediately passed out a bottle of cold water and there is a bus driver who
will be with us for the whole trip.
Casablanca is a city of mystery and romance. Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman created an
image which sparks imagination and dreams.
This is not matched at all by the
modern, bustling city.
We drove a great distance through countryside, passing farms. As we came in view of the gleaming white
painted stucco we passed shanty towns very much reminding me of Cape Town, SA. Soon we were amidst a new area called
California. The homes and apartments featured
broad windows and were set off by classic palm trees. This middle class housing had small shops at street
level but they were of the old fashioned style. Before arriving at our city center hotel we
had a tour of the city.
While driving, Kahlid introduced himself and told us he was
from Marrakech and had a wife and one son, aged 7. More importantly he described the various
buildings and pointed out how each section of the city was named by a main
feature of it, like a church or school or a famous person who lived there. The Art Deco neighborhood is from the city’s heydays
when it was a popular vacationing spot for wealthy Americans, and average
Frenchmen and Brits. Casablanca got its name from the whiteness of the king’s
palace when the first Spaniards sailed into its harbor. Originally it was Anfa. The Anfa name is prominent in places where
the Moorish and Berber history is honored.
It is also a lovely old hilltop residential area with many walled
gardens filled with tall palms and beautiful flowers.
The busy port became a key to the economic development of
Morocco as European nations fought over it with the French finally winning
control for the central area of Morocco while Spain retained the North and
South. Even after gaining independence there are two enclaves in the North which
require Moroccans to carry passports to enter or leave.
Our first stop was an exterior visit to the Hassan II
Mosque.
The complex is almost a million square feet and the minaret,
at 656 feet, is the tallest of Islam. It
features two laser beams that project more than 18.5 miles in the direction of
Mecca!
We then drove along the Corniche past the El-Hank
Lighthouse, built in 1916. The road
passes wide beaches with many private beach clubs on the right and large homes,
hotels, and restaurants on our left. We
stopped for lunch as the hotel rooms would not yet be ready. We opted for a McDonald’s on the beach so we
could use the Wi-Fi to check e-mails. Barton and Cindy joined us. It took so
long to just get fries and a Coke that we did not get a chance to check out the
beach at all.
Leaving there with a little more descriptive driving we
arrived near the port at the Novotel City Centre. Our bags were quickly brought
to the elevators in the bright, modern lobby and we were given our keys. The
room on the second floor was very nice and we made use of the pretty bathroom
to freshen up and headed back out the door.
We only have the afternoon here and decided against the 2:30 mosque tour
($13) and headed down the street to Rick’s Café.
We had passed it on the way so had a vague idea of where it
was. Since I understood that we had seen
the back of it while arriving, I had the bright idea to walk up a street and
thought we would come to the front of it.
The walk became a journey into the Moroccan culture. The first thing you have to learn is that
motorcycles and scooters and bicycles will stop for you as you step mindlessly
off the curb, but it is better if you stay right or left and pay attention when
you cross over. The next thing is that
streets and alleyways twist and turn and zig and zag. We did not lose our bearings but were
distracted by the colorful clothing, the large burdens that people carried, the
elderly watching from the doorsteps, the intricate designs of doors and windows
etc. etc. etc.! We were delighted when
suddenly gangs of well-dressed, neatly uniformed young students rushed out of a
plain building to be greeted by waiting mothers and grandmothers wearing their
colorful, traditional kaftans. Running,
skipping, shouting greetings to their friends with book-straps carrying their
loads they could be children anywhere.
It always gives me quiet hope when I see the children of other countries
and recognize that everywhere in the world kids are kids.
We asked a couple of times to be sure we were on the right
path to our destination as it only is open during the lunch hour until
2:30. It reopens at 6:30 and stays open
until late at night. We passed a small store that reminded us of the stores in
the Ukraine. I loved the egg man riskily
moving his goods over the rough cobblestones and up and down curbs.
We entered the cool serenity of the mythical café and were
seated in high, green leather stools at the bar while In the Mood put us into
the mood of the ‘40’s. My Cosmo may have
been available then but I am not sure about Elva’s Marguerita! But they were shaken, by a handsome bartender
while we gawked at the finishings.
Served with salty, sweet almonds and a dish of olives we perched, and
sipped, and chatted and I could have stayed there for hours drinking 80dh
cocktails. That is $8. Money exchange is easy, just divide by ten.
While enjoying our oh so grown up
fun, we stopped to take pictures of the first floor accoutrements including a baby
grand piano, lovely light fixtures, and fancy decorations.
The card room used twice a year for casino nights, New Year’s
Eve and a Rick’s birthday. Otherwise for drinks.
We loved looking around.
We recognized that it wasn’t the “real Rick’s” as that never existed but
the story behind the famous movie CasaBlanca is real. It was the escape route for so many Europeans
during World War II. Being here in this
pretty place, in this lovely city makes me want to learn more about it all.
Reluctantly we set out back to our hotel. Although we started out on the main street we
soon retreated to the relative quiet and safety of our earlier route. This was not necessarily safer as scooters
and motor bikes navigated the narrow streets and luckily have good brakes and
careful, but speedy drivers.
On the way to the hotel we crossed the street so I could try
to use the ATM at the train station. I
had no luck. This was a different kind
of machine so I had hope it would work.
Back in the peace and safety of the hotel lobby Elva checked her phone
and I used mine to call my bank. They
could not understand why it didn’t work and although it showed I had used it at
McDonald’s it was not registering the attempts at the Banque O’Matics. Yvette
reset everything and asked me to try again.
I told her it would take a few minutes as we had to go across the
street.
Elva went with me.
Crossing the street in Morocco is a team sport. Traffic moves very fast
in three or four lanes each way on the main streets. You must step off the curb and wait for cars
to begin to look like they might stop.
You just keep walking. A
crosswalk is helpful but not necessary.
A traffic light is a suggestion.
We quickly learned to look only the direction of the oncoming traffic
and look the other way when you get there.
We also decided our best bet was to try to be in the midst of a group of
locals or at least one or two.
No luck at the ATM and back again into the rushing river of
cars and busses. Called Yvette who
conferenced us with Visa. No evidence of
use, no denials. My new card with the
European chip is on the way but I can still use this one for charging.
We needed to go upstairs and get ready for the Orientation
meeting and Welcome Dinner. I woke Elva a little early from her nap as I
thought we needed to be downstairs at 6:30 but it was really 7:00. We had our first taste of “Moroccan Whisky”
which is a tiny glass of mint tea served hot with three sugar cubes melted into
it! Introductions were made and we met
the remaining members of our little company who were six relatives from
Medellin, Columbia. The instructions
were given to make the trip easy and fun for everyone. Really just general rules of politeness. Don’t be tardy. Be sure to contact Kahlid on
his cell if we needed anything or felt we were lost. Don’t go off on your own. Be careful in traffic. Be careful when in
crowds.
We adjourned to the hotel restaurant for dinner. There were two long tables. Elva was at one with the group from NYC, Judy
and Shelia. I was with Connie, Denise
and the Columbians. My limited Spanish and their wish to learn English worked
out. One couple has been to the States two or three times a year. The other spoke little English. The brother I am not sure about but the uncle
spoke no English at all. Very brave of him especially to take an English tour. But
we did notice that they would translate for each other and our guide spoke some
Spanish for the important things so they seemed to feel included.
Dinner was a choice of either a chicken or fish tajine. It
was like a stew served in individual cone topped containers from which the name
comes. It was indeed a quarter of a
baked chicken in a mild sauce. There were
potatoes and a few vegetables. The
spices are mild and a little sweet. The dessert
was a delicious apple tarte in the French fashion. French influence is everywhere.
The time has come to say goodnight. I had been up on Tuesday morning at 4:30 and
it was now 10:00 Wednesday night. Even
allowing for the five hour time difference that is being awake more than 36
hours!
