When you travel in Morocco (or in dozens of other countries outside of the US) you have to manage your expectations.  As Americans, we’re used to doing what we want, when we want to.  We can get virtually anything we want or need, at any time.  We drive to our destination in air-conditioned comfort, pull up in front of the hotel on schedule, unload, check in, and arrive in our rooms in minutes.  The GPS tells us how to get there and how long it will take – adjusting for traffic.  We know for sure that we will have internet access, and we can get a glass of wine any time our hearts desire one.

None of this is guaranteed in Morocco.  A lot depends on the will of God.  Insha’Allah, the Party Bus will pick us up around 10 a.m.  The air conditioning combined with strategic window ventilation will probably keep us from melting into a puddle in the 100-degree heat.  After asking directions several times, we hope that someone will come and guide us through the medina, and nobody will get run over by a motor vehicle in the narrow passageways.

It’s actually sort of freeing if you can adapt to this way of life.  This is not my first rodeo, so it didn’t take me long to fall in line.  The Party Bus DID show up around 10 today, and although it was a little toasty, we all survived the 3-hour ride on the highway to Marrakech.  We stopped at Marjane (the supermarket – where a highlight was seeing the birds eating from the bulk pasta bin) in Marrakech to get some snacks and drinks, and found the assigned street corner semi-close to the riad by a little after 2 p.m.  We called Marrakech Riads, the company that manages several riads here, and they sent someone to meet us with a cart.  He guided us through the maze to the riad (guesthouse), where we found an oasis of quiet, beautiful guest rooms – with AIR CONDITIONING.

We were seated in the lounge and served mint tea while we filled out the “police forms”, and then we were shown to our rooms.  They’re simple but beautiful, and throughout the hotel there are amazing details and cozy nooks.  I will post more photos tomorrow, but here are some from today, in random order because Norah wants to go to bed and I can only access the cell network from the roof…

Larry and Marc’s office:

Dinner is served!

The roof is BEAUTIFUL, and so cool and breezy right now (10:30 p.m.):

I told the kids that the pool was super-small because I didn’t want them to be disappointed.  Adlani thought this was it:

The door to Gia and Marc’s room:

The plunge pool:

Last night we were schooled in the art of making mint tea, which is served daily (multiple times) in Morocco.  Ben’s sister Amina is the Tea-Master, and demonstrated for us.  She rinsed the teapot, and added two scoops of green tea (we use Gunpowder Tea from Chinatown in Boston).  Then she added a little hot water and poured it out a few times – most of the tea stayed in the bottom of the pot.  She stuck in a giant handful of mint, followed by 5 huge sugar cubes, then filled the pot with hot water and heated it to a boil again.  She poured out several glasses of tea and dumped them back in the pot to mix it.  Finally the tea was ready to drink and Ben did the honors.

The mint is SO inexpensive here…like a dollar or two for a small laundry basket full.  I’m vague on the quantities of the ingredients used in the tea, although about a half hour was spent during the ride to Marrakech trying to figure out how much sugar was in the 5 cubes.  I think the mathematicians in the front of the Party Bus finally agreed on 135 grams total, which worked out to WAY less than a Coke per person.  The tea is super-sweet, like drinking liquid spearmint gum.

Our lesson in tea-making was like Moroccan dinner theater on the roof, with a group of curious tourists gathered around the tea tray, our Moroccan family thinking we must have a few screws loose, and Andi teaching them how to say “cheers!” and clink their tea glasses together.  Good stuff.

Ben’s brother Najib is in the middle here…

Cheers!

After we almost went to the mosque, we headed to Ain Diab – a beach area lined with restaurants.  On the way Ben announced from the front of the bus that we were going to the area where the “rich bastards” go.  As Gia and Ben were discussing the use of the word, I heard Nic pipe up from the back of the bus – “We’re going to the area where the rich ambassadors go!”  Pretty soon all of the kids were talking about the rich ambassadors.  I don’t think we saw any, but I’m sure they were there. 

After doing a little postcard shopping we stopped for lunch.  I sent Ben down ahead of our party of 15, to make sure they served food.  They did, and the menu looked fine – pizza, paninis, brochettes, etc.  Except that they couldn’t make pizza, or brochettes, or most of the other things on the menu.  And they were out of Diet Coke.  Oh well…we’re in Morocco.  Paninis for all!  Except Adlani who ate a crepe spread with Nutella, which he would not touch at home.  Progress!

After lunch, Dani (our driver) took us to see a few other Casablanca landmarks…the king’s palace (with historical narration by Ben), an area of shops that we were too tired to shop at, and Place Mohammed V.  Ben and I have visited this small park before.  It has a fountain in the middle that is always covered with hundreds (thousands?) of pigeons. 

As we strolled around the park doing some people watching, I noticed small areas cordoned off: 

I finally realized that each small area was controlled by a photographer, who would call a bunch of pigeons into his area by scattering corn, and then take your photo for a fee.  The funny thing about Morocco is that when someone has an idea, everyone jumps on the bandwagon.  How many pigeon photographers does one park really need?  Someday I’m going to bring some fresh new products to Morocco – I already have lemonade, chocolate chip cookies, and seedless watermelon on my list.

In the park we had our first diapered monkey sighting, some water seller and horse photo ops, and something I have not seen before – colored chicks for sale for 10 dirhams each (less than a dollar).  Very strange and probably cruel to the chicks, but the kids were fascinated and promptly broke rule number 42 AGAIN (don’t touch the animals).  Until one chick made a leap for freedom and apparently broke his leg – off.  So sad.

We’re off to Marrakech tomorrow!

This morning we left home at 9:30 and rode to Casablanca in the mini-bus to go on a tour of the Hassan II mosque.  Unfortunately, today is the anniversary of the king’s coronation (who knew?), and the mosque was closed to tours.  This was not unexpected – there are no guarantees when it comes to making plans in Morocco, or most of Africa for that matter, but it was still a little disappointing.

Here are a few stats on this mosque:

• largest mosque in Africa, 7th largest in the world
• tallest minaret in the world – 689 feet (6o stories)
• completed in 1993
• lasers on top of the minaret point toward Mecca
• can accommodate 25,000 worshippers inside and 80,000 outside
• has a glass floor over the Atlantic, and a retractable roof
• construction cost is estimated at 585 million Euro (almost 800 million dollars)

Some photos from the exterior…

Nic looking through the keyhole:

The pattern on the door:

This light fixture is at least 4′ tall:

I’m fascinated by this inside corner with the perfect zelij pattern:

A close-up of zelij:

Ben and the kids on the rocks next to the mosque:

We may try to go back for a tour at some point if the schedule allows.  It’s definitely worth the (second) trip.

First of all, the Jobinoffems are here!!! 

Second, we have a small problem.  We don’t know what time it is.  The problem didn’t come to light until this morning – the first time since we arrived that the time actually mattered.  Can you imagine not needing to know what time it is for 4 days?? 

We were discussing what time to leave for the airport and we realized that the time had changed on our iPhones, so we were 5 hours ahead of the US rather than 4.  I checked online and found some websites that said it was 4 hours later here and some that said it was 5.  I asked my niece, and she said it was the time on my iPhone.  Ben asked his brother-in-law, and he said it was one hour earlier.  I ended up watching the flight on flightaware.com, and when it got over Spain we drove to the airport. 

Apparently there is a time change coming on August 2nd, but somehow our phones have changed early.  We are being picked up tomorrow at 9:15 a.m…or is it 8:15 a.m…or 10:15 a.m.?  I’m confused.  Is it possible that all of the iPhones in Morocco and many websites are wrong?  I guess we’ll just embrace the Moroccan “makayn mooshkeel” (“it’s not a problem”) and hope for the best. 

Tomorrow’s itinerary includes a trip to Casablanca by mini-bus, to see the Hassan II Mosque and some other Casablanca landmarks.  Today’s post-airport events included a delicious meal of couscous with beef, a nap, a trip to the beach for the boys and Norah (the girls were sleeping), a lot of window-watching, and feeding the cats.  So far, so good.