Day 137 (19 days until surgery) Monday Casablanca

The sleepy town I was used to has transformed into a working town with traffic and people everywhere. Crossing the streets is now a game of nerve (I let the locals go first and sometimes follow their example with my hand in the air). Casablanca looks busy and hardworking.

Going backward (because I have not done that in a while), I am back in 1203 writing the blog as I wanted to share my day before it gets any later. I also had an expresso for finishing dinner, and that gave me the energy I needed to finish. Yesterday, I was stumbling-tired at this time, and tonight, I am fading, but I am not falling asleep. I did steal a nap this late afternoon.

So before this, I was at the rooftop poolside bar and restaurant at the top of the hotel. The food is good and not more overpriced than anywhere I would find after walking thirty minutes or taking a taxi. The staff has one older gentleman who speaks good English. The hostess tries to teach me French and Arabic, but it is lost on me. She also addresses in the French form, which I am not prepared for, sounding like Michelle. I apologized; it is not her fault that I am a dunce at languages.

I had a Casablanca brand beer and a chicken lemon tagine dinner. When delivered, it was sizzling hot, with one slice of preserved lemon and the rest mixed in and browning. Olives (with pits) were sprinkled throughout. The bread served was fresh and chewy and hard to resist. I made this at home and wanted to compare it. I make it in a big pot and can see the difference in making individual tagine dinners. Also, they use more lemon than I do. All interesting.

It was cold tonight, so I passed on sitting next to the pool. The inside bar is well-ventilated, which is good, as water pipes are offered. The smoke was polite, just an odor, and smelled sweet, not bitter—definitely not the stinking leaves of Portland’s decriminalized smoke. I will likely get some tagine cookware when I return (I will not even try to get some back from here). It was a pleasant dinner.

Moving back to 3, my driver delivered me to the massive mosque, and I stood in line for a ticket for forty minutes. I then crossed the huge courtyard to the entranceway. There, I was reminded to remove my shoes, told that my hat was allowed, and told that I could take photos–a surprise as I had been told in a video that photos were banded. I have been in many cathedrals in Washington, D.C., and Europe, and this worship dwarfed them all. Notre Dame could fit inside! It is hard to imagine a worship space this large. The decorations were intricate and lost in the size of the space. It reminded me of the People’s Hall in China. While iconoclastic, the decorations were lovely. The top level, hidden by a balcony, showed brilliant white walls from the sides with painted decorations like what I saw in Istanbul. Breathtaking and holy, with the space reminding me of the lines of the Hebrew text that prayers rise like incense to God. I skipped the basement, which I am sure is great but does not rise like the main space.

Before this, my driver (I hired him for the afternoon) wanted us both to have a break. We tried Rick’s, but it was fully booked according to the unfriendly doorman (who, if transformed to black and white, looked like he could be in the movie). I was thinking of the scene in the movie when the French police chief discovers there is gambling (despite collecting his winnings) and closes the place. Switching themes twenty years, I instead had mint tea at Le Gatsby, enjoying the slightly aging Art Deco look and the view of the mosque.

Moving back to just past noon, I walked to the mosque. An older man with car keys told me the place was closed to tourists until 3 and asked me if I wanted a tour. I hesitated and then saw the standard red taxi and the grey-haired driver; there was no ripoff here—this was a great chance for him to make good money and me to see more of the town. I agreed to a price, and off we went. Perfect.

Soon, we were at the lighthouse I had wanted to visit from my last driver. You cannot go inside, which is sad, but I still have some nice pictures. The Atlantic waves break on the rocks nearby. A cat jumped on the storm wall, and I took its picture; it seemed to be posing.

Aside: I updated the Mac OS, and my internet access is now slow, and Grammarly is having some issues.

Next, we stopped at the beach, but only for pictures. I was told that the beach was not used until it was warmer (there were people in the water). I have heard similar illogical statements in other countries. Beaches are not respectable and not accessible during tours. I think the hotels may own the beaches and might object to me walking on their sand for free.

Next, we toured the wealthy area, which was the land of extravagance. The driver drove us by the polo club, where the polo horses were being loaded and unloaded from expensive-looking trailers. I was not expecting to see that. I could follow the location on my phone and felt safe the whole time.

Parking the red taxi and being waved at by other taxi drivers (some of whom saluted my obvious senior driver), we did a walking tour of an Al Muhammadi Mosque with an impressive date of 1355 written on it. I thought it was more modern, but later, I learned that it is the date on the Muslim calendar, and it is also 1934. We then walked through the small passages and soon were in shops and other photo-friendly areas, with my driver suggesting I take some pictures here and there.

The olive market, with no more than ten stalls, was impressive and surprising. There are so many olives, preserved lemons, and other similar products. We walked and walked, and I was happy to retrace some of my steps earlier and learn how many of the streets connect. I am beginning to learn the city’s streets. I took photos of the cathedral and the park and could walk to either from my hotel now.

Yesterday, I noticed a spooky, rundown building dated 1916 and thought it was perfect for a horror story. When in black and white, my pictures would look 1920s. I took more pictures today and learned it is a military building (on Monday, it has flags, unlike the weekend). I think I will still use it for some Call of Cthulhu writing or a Howard story. More to come.

After first saying no, I agreed to use the drive at 10AM on Tuesday. My driver waited for me at the mosque, moving again to the end of the afternoon, and took me back to the Mövenpick Hotel for no charge.

Moving to the start of the day, I woke around 7AM and started the blog. I did not feel tired. It was over 2200 words, so I dressed, grabbed the laptop, and finished the blog at breakfast. Breakfast was at the hotel and was included in the room. Something I would recommend to most travelers is to pick hotels that supply breakfast; it makes the mornings easier.

The food was slightly changed, or likely a rotation you would learn if you stayed long enough (I have learned the rotations on some long business stays). The place was not the quiet dining of the weekend. It was close to a madhouse, with business folks everywhere eating fast and tourist groups finding their way to yet another brunch-styled feeding.

I ate extra and then wrote the blog, which took over an hour to complete. I headed upstairs to 1203, got my coat and hat, and headed out. I walked for hours to shake off the jet lag and tried to do what Dondrea would do: exercise to make you feel better. It did work, and soon, I was feeling more myself. I enjoyed the walk and took lots of pictures and posted some videos while walking. I headed towards the Old Madina and Cafe France (which did not impress me). The rain started, and the Madina was just waking up–it was still early. I was only accosted a few times, which disappointed me surprisingly. I was getting used to it.

The rain got worse. I was getting cold. Then the thunder started. I found the fortifications and cannons, which is also a restaurant, and I had coffee there with little baked goods. Some of the folks getting on a cruise ship were early and had also found refuge and breakfast. I had a few cups of coffee with milk and baked goods. I headed out when the rain stopped.

Rick’s was just opening but was “fully booked,” I was told (like later), and I walked to the Atlantic seawalls and the mosque. It was now a sunny, warm day, and I posted more pictures and videos. I met the driver I hired for the day, as I said above.