Advertisement
Published: April 12th 2008
It's only been a few days since I've written but I have much to say and not quite enough time in which to say it. To begin with, on the plane ride here I decided to try to turn over a new leaf and start focusing on the present, instead of dwelling on the past - why did I let that camel rider talk me into giving him so much baksheesh?! - or planning for the future - where will I be having dinner after the museum this afternoon, and where will I get stamps for those postcards? This appears like a good idea, and undoubtedly it will be when I get to France and back to San Francisco, but attempting to fully experience Morocco can be a bit overwhelming, to say the least, and I find myself already reconsidering my new goal.
My first impression of Morocco is of farm animals - donkeys, cows and sheep, a few accompanied by shepherds - grazing in the median of the roads near the train tracks on the way from Casablanca airport to Rabat. This odd feeling of disconnect - is this a city or the countryside? - has continued thus far,
particularly in terms of the trustworthiness of the Moroccan people. I have been overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers who help me with my bag on the train, the taxi drivers who chase me down to give me my change, the restaurant owners who try so hard to make sure I get something edibly vegetarian. And yet there are others, undoubtedly goaded on by poverty, desperation and a touch of greed, who attempt to overcharge me for hotels and make me pay for visiting parts of the city, and who try to keep me lost in the hopes that I might eventually buy something at a nearby shop.
After a windy flight into Casablanca - where I will be returning for a few hours on Saturday - I took the first train to Rabat, the capital of Morocco and a relatively laid-back city for this part of the world. I dragged my luggage to my hotel in the medina, and after my first vegetarian vegetable tagine - it's just hot vegetables, folks, nothing to get too excited about - I collapsed and slept until morning. For the start of my half day in the city it was raining, and
I managed to get thoroughly soaked visiting the Tour Hassan and the beautiful ruins of Chellah - where I met a handsome snail, a large collection of storks and an enterprising tour guide - before it became a beautiful day and I was able to tour the Kasbah. The Kasbah is really just the old fort where many of the wealthier families and some diplomats now live, and also the site of the lovely Andalusian Gardens planted by the French during colonization. It is in addition where many of the faux guides rest and wait for tourists. The scam of the day was to claim to not be a guide at all, while following the tourist around and pointing out historical tidbits and finally introducing the tourist to an official looking fellow and claiming that one must pay in order to visit the area. Like a restaurant, I guess, where you only pay after you get your food: were you pleased with the Kasbah today, madam? Luckily this scam is easy to avoid by simply walking away when asked for money or threatening to call the tourist police, or a combination of both. Later things will not be quite so
easy.
Having gotten my ticket when I first arrived in the city, per protocol, I was at the station and ready to go well in time for my train to Marrakesh. Unfortunately my train was not, and after waiting over an hour I jumped on another train heading in the same direction. I was told that this was not normal and that there were some problems with the tracks: only time will tell if this is true. I shared my compartment with some interesting characters who at one point got into a heated argument about whether Morocco was an Arabic country, a Berber country, both or neither. Officially I had no opinion, but in reality I am not sure that Morocco is to be considered a fully Arabic country, and in fact a majority of Moroccans consider themselves to be Berber, not Arab, according to recent polls. I suppose Morocco is really a mixture of so many cultures and peoples, though, that singling any one out would be an impossibility.
After my late arrival in Marrakesh, where one helpful fellow offered to take me to the medina for over five times the going rate, I wandered the dark
and smoky streets amid calls and comments before finally finding my hotel which, despite a good review in my guidebook, proceeded to charge me for a double room despite signs everywhere on the tariff for a single occupant. Being late and dark I took the room, and was luckily able to find a replacement in the morning. Beware of Hotel Chellah, Lonely Planet readers - the most unfriendly place by far that I have stayed in years.
Marrakech itself is overwhelmingly large and busy, and I have already gotten lost in the Souk more then once. On the upside the city, like Rabat, has some fantastic patisseries and apparently good shopping. I will write more on this city when I get a better picture of it and see some more of the sights for which it is famous. In the meanwhile, Clement will be joining me tomorrow and we will be moving to a more upscale riad in a different part of town. More later.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.06s; Tpl: 0.011s; cc: 11; qc: 28; dbt: 0.0288s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
Amanda
non-member comment
I think it's good to naturally be on your guard. I hope you'll have a great time with Clem coming to be with you!! I can't wait for the pics. Take care, lady!