The Flight and Casablanca

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The Flight

I feel about aeroplanes the way I feel about diets. It seems to me they are wonderful things for other people to go on. (Jean Kerr)



Most people do not believe they are on holidays until they reach their destination; in our case first stop Dubai but I like to think the holiday begins the moment I walk out the door.

George is taking us to Sydney, left home 12.30am arrived uneventfully Sydney airport 4am. Parked, met Natarsha, checked in, passed through customs and boarded our plane. Perfectly timed.

We are flying Emirates, 14hours to Dubai, arrive 1pm Dubai time.

Emirates, I guess, is the best of the best. The air hostess’ are immaculately groomed, no middle aged gentleman on this flight. I feel it is necessary for them to be good looking, and not only that, between them they spoke 14 languages... amazing! The food is good and the service fantastic.



There seems to be approximately three things to do on an aeroplane. Watch TV, there is one thousand different channels to view. (Kathy has already watched a movie before breakfast is served). Read, this begins once everyone realises the same crap is served up on this screen as the box at home. Sleep, a special delight for the drugged up few whose uncle is a doctor or schizophrenia runs rampant in the family. I tend to watch other people’s screens, read other peoples books and envy other peoples repose.

The plane is broken up into three sections: first class (who are sipping on their champagne before the rest of us board), business class (who are basically the ‘want-to-be’ first class), and economy (or cattle class as I like to call us). The only advantage we have over the other two classes is being up the back of the plane (where all the noise and the turbulence is) so if we crash we will live fractionally longer. Good enough satisfaction I feel. Actually, I like it back here. Who wants to eat at the Terracotta when one can drink at the Grand?

The nationality of the airline is also very important as this will generally determine the types of people who will accompany you, the smaller and the quieter the better. There is nothing worse than sitting behind three overweight, loud mouthed, beer swilling boofheads. I will leave the origins of their roots to you. The Japanese are the best I have travelled with. I once sat beside a young lady who curled up on the seat like a kitten and slept all the way.

Arrived safe and sound at Dubai. The weather is quite pleasant at about 27 degrees. We have a free night’s accommodation, transfers and meals. Emirates are the way to fly.





Arriving into Dubai, we are floundering between exhaustion and the naive giddiness that accompanies the start of every holiday. In the airport, things run smoothly but much slower than expected. It seems the sounds of screaming children are haunting us, even after we have gotten off the flight. However, it’s impossible to suppress a smile when looking into those ridiculously large brown eyes – officially affirming my belief that Western children are not as attractive.
Indulging in our adventurous spirit, the first thing we do in Dubai is grab a drink in an English Pub, wittingly named ‘Biggles.’ A beer is 32Dirhams, Jim Beam 26DIR. Natarsha’s Pimms and lemonade comes accessorized with cucumber, glazed cherry and a strawberry.

We watch as two Bedouins beside us pay a young gentleman hotel employee to place their bets (apparently illegal for them to gamble here).Australia verses India cricket plays on the television.



Casablanca

Woken 5am from the sleep of the weary traveller. Hit the sack exhausted after 24hrs on the go. Retired 7pm even Kathy conceded to the power of slumber.

Heading to Morocco today to taste the real Muslim culture I feel.

Dubai airport is amazing, Emirates has its own section which is huge in itself, and the rest of the airlines have another.

Arriving in the early morning the place reminds me of a casino. Coloured lights are flashing and everything is over the top. Inside there are gardens, waterfalls and shops. Did I mention shops. Every airport I have been in has retail but here, at 7am, the place is like a boxing day sale. I have never seen so many shoppers. The prices must be good or the customers rich. Natarsha and I have to restrain Kathy, pointing out that we shall return and rushing her through to the plane.



Conversing with an airhostess on the flight she tells me she is from Perth. Loves working for Emirates and loves living in Dubai. She lives with a couple of Aussie’s. A huge group of foreigners live here consisting of over a hundred different nationalities. Her and her family receive 90% discount on flights and cousins 50%. I am going to have to push Natarsha strongly down this career path.

An airhostess has to work in economy to start than work their way up to first class which sounds like a bit of a bludge because most of the passengers sleep all the way. Their main job is to check on the pilots who are hopefully awake.

She is an interior designer, just finished Uni, she said you would be amazed by how many professionals work for the airline.



Casablanca is not a beautiful, romantic city quite the opposite it is an ugly sprawling mass of dilapidated French architecture combined with grey slums and shanty towns. Traffic jams and the beeping of horns.

We visit the Hassan the II mosque which is huge, the tallest building in Casablanca, built in 1981 it was not very popular with the poor locals. Overlooking the Atlantic ocean is quite a structure.

Seafood for dinner is delicious though a menu in French is a bit of a challenge. Earlier we went to a typical French bar overlooking a square only thing you could drink water, tea and coffee. Maybe not Greg’s cup of tea.

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