Over the weekend I planned the last outing of our trip to Morocco – a night in Marrakech, a night in Essaouira, and a few other stops along the way for Elizabeth, the 3 amigas, and me. The first thing I arranged was the transportation – an SUV driven by Dani’s boss (Nourredine). I then booked the non-refundable riad accommodations, and arranged for a guide to take us shopping in the Marrakech medina. I was excited about this last leg of the trip and feeling pretty accomplished, but I forgot to consider the Morocco factor.
This morning, Nourredine was supposed to pick us up in the SUV at 9. We were packed, fed, clothed and ready to go. At 9:30, Dani showed up with the mini-bus. He told us that Nourredine couldn’t drive us because someone had died, and that his brother-in-law Abdou was driving us instead. I was counting on Nourredine because he speaks English and it was our first foray without an Arabic-speaker, but Dani told us that Abdou speaks “shweeya” (a little) English so I figured we could make it work.
The next issue was that the touristic license had expired and Abdou was in Casablanca at that moment, trying to get it renewed. So Dani had come to drive us to Casablanca to meet up with Abdou, the SUV, and the renewed license (insha’Allah). Ben rode with us to make sure everything went smoothly, and Norah came along for the ride. Dani was returning to Mohammedia after he handed us off to Abdou, so Ben and Norah would catch a ride back with him.
We drove to Casablanca in the mini-bus and pulled over into a shady spot that appeared to be a driving lane based on the cars honking and swerving around us. We waited there and called Abdou several times to see what was happening at the licensure office. The office opened at 9 and it was now 10:30, but the man with the rubber stamp had not yet arrived. After a while, Ben called Nourredine and Nourredine decided that Dani should drive us to Marrakech in the mini-bus. The main problem with that is that we had Ben and Norah, who were not prepared to go to Marrakech. Ben considered buying new clothes in Marrakech, but we had left Adlani at home. It probably would have taken a while for Adlani to notice that Ben and Norah were missing, but I didn’t think we should leave him home unexpectedly for 3 days. We also thought about going home to get clean clothes for Dani, since he too was unprepared for a 3-day trip since he had set out on a 45-minute drive from Mohammedia to Casablanca.
We decided to send Norah and Ben home to Mohammedia on the train, and we headed for the train station. Somehow on the way Ben decided that we (Elizabeth, the 3 amigas, and I) should take the train to Marrakech, and that Abdou would meet us in Marrakech with the SUV tomorrow. We piled out of the mini-bus in front of the train station, with me wondering how we were going to get from the train station to the riad, where and when we would meet the SUV tomorrow, etc. At that moment we got the call that the guy with the stamp had arrived and we were in business. Back in the mini-bus and across town to meet Abdou.
Once we were finally on our way, it took about 3 hours to drive to Marrakech. Abdou’s shweeya English and my shweeya Arabic resulted in some interesting conversations along the way. He told me about his family, pointed out the different crops we passed, tried to tell me about some of the notable towns, and where some of the rivers went. The vast majority of my 100ish Arabic words are nouns, so the balance of the discussion covered the list of Moroccan foods that I know how to cook, and me teaching Abdou the English word for each type of farm animal we passed. My favorite exchange was when we stopped at a rest area and asked if it was ok to leave my camera on the front seat floor. Abdou said, “Safe! No Ali Baba here!” That’s a relief.
Our first order of business in Marrakech was to find the store that sells wine (“white tea”). Abdou couldn’t find it so that mission was aborted with no discussion about whether aborting was an option. He stopped several times to ask directions to the riad and I did a decent job of directing him with my map and my recollection of the route. He dropped us at Dar el Besha and we knew exactly how to walk to the riad. This is not as easy as it sounds – there are no street names, the streets are tiny, and scooters are constantly whizzing by. My mental list of directions within the medinas has included “turn right at the bees swarming around the candy,” “go past the fake Louis Vuitton,” and “turn right just after the hedgehog.”
We were probably a little overconfident during our walk to the riad because we’re staying at the same one from last week, so poor Elizabeth was lagging at the end of the line by herself. A teenager started trying to talk to us in French, and I told him we didn’t speak French (in French) and kept walking. Boys are constantly trying to talk to someone in our group but for the most part they’re harmless. We were almost to the riad when I looked back and saw Elizabeth slap the boy, who had grabbed her butt. Idiot.
Our rooms at the beautiful Riad Dar Sara (which I highly recommend, especially because Ben left his iphone there last week and it was waiting for us when we arrived):
Another Abdou (the same one from our Marrakech tour last week) arrived to take us out shopping, and he did a great job of finding what we were looking for in the medina. By chance he walked us through the metalworkers’ souk, and I saw amazingly beautiful handmade locks. I bought one, mostly for the chance to talk to the craftsman and take lots of photos (they are here on my work blog). He also makes handcuffs in case any of you are interested.
Look how happy he was when he put the cuffs on Aliya…
Jewelry shopping with Abdou (we were so happy to have his help!):
The same store sold antique locks!
We did one lap around Djemaa el Fna where Elizabeth got some exposure therapy for her snake phobia, and Abdou led us to a good restaurant for dinner. I had asked Abdou about where to get white tea, and he decided we should take a caleche (horse and carriage) to the supermarket, so off we went. As we should expect by now, when we arrived at the supermarket, “La Cave” (where they sell alcohol) was closed. I may have actually cried a little.
This was on the way to the supermarket before we experience the agony of defeat (again):
The caleche dropped us off near the riad, and Abdou walked us to the door so Elizabeth didn’t get groped again. It cracked me up that when the girls heard what happened, they decided they should walk behind and in front of Elizabeth because they took a self-defense class. I love seeing them so confident and self-sufficient.
Tomorrow we head for Essaouira!
