A Tale of Two Tajines - Morocco

---

After my first trip to Morocco, in 2010 with my sister Moira, I began regularly cooking Moroccan recipes, especially Tajines. I attempted to buy a pottery tajine in New Zealand but I could find only expensive non-Moroccan dishes.

Fast forward two years ...

We bought two tajines from a souk (small shop/stall in the heart of the old market) and we went straight to the nearest Post Office but the postal section was closed. Our only option was to haul them to Casablanca and post them from there. When I say ‘haul’, that’s exactly what I mean. The expression on Leigh’s face was priceless when he lifted the carry bag, quickly followed by an expletive (Leigh says he said “golly!”)

On Sunday we arrived at the train station in good time to catch the 11am train to Casablanca. After stowing our suitcases (Leigh fired them into the luggage rack well over his head, grunting like a Russian weightlifter, while I worried about the cost of a hernia operation), daypacks, handbag, man-bag, and tajines above and around us, we settled into our first class compartment along with the other four passengers. It was a cramped journey with all the passengers’ luggage, but at least we had comfortable seats!

On Monday afternoon we went to the nearest Post Office without the tajines (Leigh said if he had to carry them he would only walk in circles!) to investigate the postal options. In New Zealand we think of a “Post Office” as a “Post Shop”; a place that provides postal services and a place to buy ancillary postal products. We walked into the enormous old building housing Poste Maroc where we saw people sitting with queue numbers in hand, waiting for a “teller”; a bit like a bank. There was not a stamp or a parcel in sight, let alone “bubble wrap”, flat-pack cardboard boxes, or weighing scales! When I tried to ask in French about postage, the security guard sent us across the road to the regional tourism office.

No English, so my rusty French used at the tourism office sent us back to the Post Office but this time to a side entrance. Hmmm ... Post Office boxes lobby. As far as we could see, this was a post office where nothing could be posted!

Leigh made a suggestion; I should go back to the hotel and begin to gather the other items we wanted to post to NZ, while he would find a Post Office and purchase the packaging materials.

He was back in 15 minutes. “Wow that was quick!” I said in anticipation of good news. Leigh’s response was “I think if we’re going to send the tajines, ... (hang on a minute ... what does he mean “if”!!!) ... they should go to Scotland..” “Ok”, I said, “so you found the Post Office?” He continued, “I found a TNT office and they will pack the items and send them to Scotland for us ... (I was becoming excited at this point) ... for €249.” My excitement turned to disbelief and then despair as I looked at the clock. It was 4:20pm and we were flying to Barcelona the next day.

“NZ$395!”, I gasped, “The tajines will have to stay.”

“No”, said Leigh, “I’ll buy the packaging at a stationery store and we’ll go to the Central Post Office before it closes at 5:30pm. In the meantime, you pack your suitcase and start the other jobs.”

Leigh, miraculously without a word of French or Arabic, was back in 30 minutes with a flat-pack box, three metres of “bubble wrap” and a dot on the map marking a Post Office where you can actually post stuff. He told me some crazy story about a fabric shop guy taking him down some back alleys to a stationery shop, getting completely lost only to find he was at the restaurant at the end of our street!

The race was on!


• Leigh found the tape and knife while I wrote the address on paper.
• I taped the base of the box while Leigh held it together.
• Leigh found some other items while I started carefully packing the box.
• I cut down the sides of the box while Leigh wrote down the contents.
• Leigh made a suggestion about my packing while I “took the humpf”.



At this point, there was a short break for an exchange of ideas and feelings!! This resulted in the box being unpacked and repacked ... let’s call it “the pit stop” ... then we were back in the race.


• I taped the box shut while Leigh held it closed.
• Leigh taped the address label while I held it straight.
• Done!



As I stood on the street holding the large and heavy box, Leigh tried repeatedly to hail a taxi. A very old Mercedes stopped but the driver wanted 70 dirhams for the 2km journey, so Leigh sent him packing!

At 5:10pm a petit taxi, with a working meter, stopped at Leigh’s hail. The next 20 minutes seemed like an hour. We were stuck in peak traffic with horns tooting, cars squeezing into every available gap, pedestrians weaving through the traffic, motorbikes whizzing by and vehicles parked in the traffic lanes. Just as we were stuck at some road works, I looked out the window and there it was ... the Central Post Office.

I scrambled out of the taxi and dashed to the nearest door but it was locked. Leigh paid the 7 dirhams fare then ran to the main doors – they were locked too. A postal van driver told me the Post Office closed at 4pm and he asked me where the parcel was going. I replied “Ecosse – Scotland”. He shook his head saying “demain, a huit heures”. I explained to Leigh, “he said tomorrow, at 8 o’clock”. “Perfect”, said Leigh, “We’ll come back first thing in the morning!”

Back on the road with my fingers turning blue, Leigh was trying to hail another taxi with the same success as before. Eventually a taxi stopped so 20 dirhams and 10 minutes later we were back at the hotel and planning the morning excursion.

At 8:10 am the next morning Leigh was out again trying to perfect his hailing technique – it has worked everywhere else! This time, several taxis stopped for him but after he showed them the map, they drove off. Finally we piled into a taxi after quickly agreeing on a 20 dirham fare.

I wasn’t sure what Leigh had agreed, so I didn’t ask him why we were going in the wrong direction. The driver picked up a young woman (it's common for taxis to collect additional passengers going in the same direction) and then he stopped 100 metres further on and pointed to the first Post Office we visited. Leigh said “no” and pointed to the map. This wasn’t in the plan!! She explained where we wanted to go and after she got out, we turned and headed in the right direction.

When we arrived at the Post Office I left Leigh arguing with the driver while I entered the building. It was like stepping back to the sixties; long, wide benches, men in grey dustcoats, a large high stud room which created an echo. The security guard indicated I should step up to the grey counter. Leigh joined me and then the taxi driver too. He wanted more money even though he had agreed to the price before we took the ride. In order to shut him up Leigh gave him another 5 dirhams (very unusual for Leigh!) and said a firm “no more. Go away!”

The Post Office worker weighed the parcel and calculated the cost; 716 dirhams (NZ$100). Yahoo! He gave me some forms and sent me to the Customs desk. I waited while the Customs Officer ignored me. Eventually Leigh joined me and the man was out of his seat and walking towards the parcel. Leigh said “ahhh... the joy of being a big white male”. We had to open the box of 20 or so items and then he moved a few things ... all our beautiful packing! He pulled out the slippers, towel, neck pillow, half the bubble-wrap, pushed and jiggled a few things, then Leigh said “two tagines” and he immediately stopped searching and stamped the forms. As an ex-Customs Officer I thought, “What a shoddy job of searching!”

Next was the packing man. He stuffed the things back ‘willy-nilly’ and ripped off the address label; I had to walk away. He looked for a box ... then s-l-o-w-l-y, made up the box ... s-l-o-w-l-y, put our box inside and began taping it ... s-l-o-w-l-y, attached my address label and the paperwork... s-l-o-w-l-y. Oooh, the frustration when you have a plane to catch and something is holding you up and you just want to shout “HURRY UP!!” Eventually the box was ready to go and it was 9:55am - Eeek! We dashed into the street, hailed a cab, travelled back to the hotel, ate some breakfast and checked out just as our 10:30am taxi arrived. Mission accomplished!

I just hope they arrive in one piece .....

---