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Published: December 15th 2017
Today we leave the desert which is just as well as there isn't a lot to do.
We have to be up at 6.45am when it is still dark and freezing which is perfect conditions for waking up the kids. Before you know it we are careering through the desert with Sctookie in the dark. I'm a bit disappointed when Schtookie manages to bottom out going over a sand dune. We have a chat about the right approach to approach dunes and then Gus and I manage to get him out of trouble. It takes about 1.5 hours to get to Zagora International Airport where we are getting our flight to Casablanca which is flight 4/15. The World Bank statistic proves itself once again. There are about 5 million customs/security personel and we appear to be the only passengers. I'm not really sure why we have to go through so much rigmarole for a short internal flight. I couldn't find the Royal Air Maroc Business Lounge anywhere.
Once we get on the plane it's pretty clear they've been waiting for us, in fact I'm pretty sure that they only landed at Zagora to pick us up, kind of a milk run flight. We seem to be the only whities on board. As soon as we get our seatbelts on we take off. Now Constance is not the best flyer. As we started to climb the weather started to deteriorate. The plane is getting buffeted around and finally it drops about 20 feet, so much the guy a couple of seats down splits his head open on the baggage lockers.
The flight attendant said "Don't worry it's only the weather", yeah no shit Sherlock! Anyway the prayer mats come out and there's a lot of looking around for mecca and murmuring about Allah. The girl in the hijab who was just a minute go pre-occupied with taking selfies of herself has taken on a religious bent and the little old lady behind me is pulling the back of my seat back. I try tio lighten up the situation with a few of my near miss aviation stories but it doesn't seem to cheer up Constance.
The pilot seems to decide that the best approach is to get the plane down as quickly as possible so he goes into what is a pretty steep dive which doesn't seem to reassure anyone. We arrive a Casablanca and it is pouring with rain. I feel sorry for the pilot as no one claps and I felt he had a much more difficult time than the Iberian Airlines guy. The steward goes down the plane asking everyone if they are OK. He has one of those staple guns like they use in the NRL and he sorts out the guy in front. As we get the bus to the terminal it is great to see all our baggage on a baggage car in the pouring rain.
At customs Becs is in a lot of trouble as she can't find her boarding pass and the customs official takes her to the policeman. Who is clearly concerned that somehow she has got to Casablanca airport from Zagora without a boarding pass and is aiming to stay in Morocco forever rather than returning to Australia. I grab the kids and wish her luck. The policeman did ask me what my occupation was and I was too scared to tell him I was retired (he might think I'm trying to retire in Morocco) so I told him I was a banker.
Everyone (including Becs) makes it through customs, our baggage is there, but our driver is 45 minutes late. I try to have ago but he pretends he only speaks French. He also drives like a complete maniac. There are so many police beside the road that I'm wondering if refugees are actually flocking to Morocco so they can become police officers. It was a dismal day for policing as it was impossible to smoke in the rain. Then I realised that our driver was driving so quickly so he could stay ahead of the King's cavalcade which was just behind us and also why there were so many police.
It took us about an 1.5 hrs to get to Rabat (or rabbit) Morocco's capital.
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