I rose at 7ish with my alarm. It took me a moment to remember where I was and what was happening. It was a grey day with threats of rain from a small Atlantic storm. While I ate breakfast and wrote the blog in the Cafe, the rain, more of a heavy mist, started. Changing the order of my morning rituals to align with the hotel and Cafe, I cleaned up and headed down. There was no formality and no serious person taking room numbers. Smiles, neatness, and fun seemed to be the call to action here. I skipped the fruit all lovingly cut and arranged. I eat nothing; I do not peel when it comes to fruit. Veggies are hot to be eaten. I found the hot food and the usual cheese, yogurt, and smoked meats. No pickled or smoked fish this time. Maybe next time. The baked goods looked wonderful. I had a chocolate croissant.
Coffee comes from a machine and is perfect with warm milk. There, watching the waves of dinners, most tourists, to my surprise. I continued to write for hours as it was a travel day. I did pass over some difficult events without some details or some of the people I met in the chaos. I wanted to finish so I could start my travels, and it was best to forget the bad things.
Cats are everywhere.
Next, I managed, even though my French was not usable, to convey my wish to see the city like a tourist. French is really needed, but I will muddle through. Soon, I was on my second tour agent (?!), and this tour was in English. I made the mistake of picking the time; I should have asked about their idea, and I wanted to see Casablanca soon. I said soon, and they were there in thirty minutes.
This meant the famous and open Mosque was still closed as prayers were ongoing—a beginner’s mistake. But it is on the coast, and while massive and impressive, the harbor and beach were more interesting to me. There is also a spa under the mosque (yes, under), which may be something to brave this week. The spas usually take non-Muslims.
Finding my driver was difficult. All the vans—I have one to myself—are black and look the same. I also got some offers for tours, but soon, my driver saw me. He was smoking and having a coffee, and we reconnected. That was another failure on my part. I had not taken his card or remembered what he looked like. I should know better.
Next was the tourist trap, Rick’s Cafe, from the movie. This is a created site, as Hollywood moved the original story to Casablanca, a more exotic place, and filmed it on a sound stage, but it is still nice to see. It was also closed (I started too early). As it is just a constructed version, and I can get back to it if I want, I was only surprised the driver did not know it was closed.
That was really it for sights, but my driver took me to a beach cafe, Tropcania, and suggested I get a coffee. The waiter offered me a fish plate, and I went with that. I had olives and bread while I waited. There, I met a lovely local gal now living in America who was happy to meet an American visiting her hometown. She now lives in Virginia.
My waiter on the coast.
I ate my dinner fast as I wanted to get back to the tour, but I loved to see the Atlantic crashing on the rocks and the leaden sky, suggesting more storms. It was like a painting. But soon, my driver took me to the carpet store. I forgot that these tours always include this economic part. Time to fleece the tourists. I was willing to participate and bought a rug that was too expensive. I went for a native pattern from the dessert. I wanted something that looked like it picked me, not the other way. I wanted something not gigantic, too. I offered only 50% of what they wanted. Not to be cheap, but it was a stupid amount. They accepted my last offer with shipping included and on my AMEX. I cover a $250 fee for the family fund in cash. They walked me to a working ATM to get the money in local currency. I paid, signed, and even addressed the package. The rug will likely beat me home.
After that, I was introduced to the potion and homeopathic options. I walked out. My age group suggested to my host Aphrodisiacs and other things I would prefer to avoid. It was a Steve Martin moment, and I looked confused when they moved from overpriced rugs to this. I just got back in the van.
I remembered now how this went. My driver took me to the King’s Palace, and there was a special store for me in the market next to the palace. They wanted me to buy women’s clothing, but they understood when I told them I was a widower. I bought one overpriced shirt that did not fit when I tried it later—no surprise. I will put it as part of the goal now–the Casablanca shirt must fit!
The hotel at sundown.
And with that, the tour ended. While it was not as good as I had hoped—some of that was my own fault—I got to the lay of the town and enjoyed the ocean and the drive along the ocean. Dinner overlooking the water and meeting the gal from Virginia was worth it. The Mosque was also great.
Back at the hotel, lunch was unsettled, and I was drifting a bit, too. I took a two-hour nap. I dreamed and woke, knowing where I was this time. I rose and headed down again after checking the rooftop spa and restaurant with a pool. It looked great. I headed downstairs and, with more difficulty, tried to get a tour of Marrakesh on Sunday. I was told they would call me in my room. So I returned and wrote. Time went by (like the song) and not call.
I returned, and I poorly understood. Finally, a man with keys on his lapels could handle everything. The concierge was back, and soon, I had a plan: Sunday at 7:30, travel and return. It was not cheap, as I paid for the whole trip (usually split between groups) but was happy. Done!
I went for a walk, wanting 10,000 steps today, and walked down the streets. I found a flower market and bought flowers to decorate the room. Next, after carrying the flowers to the room, walked again almost to the same market by the palace. The distances are not as far as they seemed in the van.
I returned to the hotel and went to the restaurant on the roof, where I had lamb and prunes for dinner, a Casablanca beer made here, and coffee for dessert. All of it was good. The music was blaring, but I recognized the alternate rock in a new party mix. Excellent.
I am now in 1203, working on the blog. I have to be up early. So sorry if it sounds rushed–it is.
Thanks for reading.
Alohawild (Michael Wild's) Website 