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Published: February 15th 2006
as promised, here are my musings on morroco:
Morocco is like Scotland. Foggy and green. Or maybe it’s like L.A. and smoggy. It has american looking freeway under/overpasses, California looking eucalyptus but comfortingly African with people walking along the sides of the big highway and people riding on overladen trucks and motorbikes. The signs are in Arabic and English. The airport was terribly signed and misinformed; they sent a bunch of people from out flight upstairs to “transit” what does that even mean in English? But we were supposed to pass through passport check, not pick up our luggage and go out and upstairs to get our free hotel room voucher. All this I found without the help of signs, english or otherwise, but from exasperated airport workers. I must have had my naive look freshly painted because this guy escorted me upstairs, taking my ticket and only slightly expediting my process all the while trying to convince me to take a tour of casablanca with him later for only seventy-five American dollars. But despite my insisting I only had 20 bucks in my pocket, and no I didn’t have traveller’s checks, they were in my luggage I couldn’t get. He was not deterred but gracefully conceded to give me a twenty dollar tour of the major points of interest.. I write this from hotel al something, with limited t.v. channels and I changed my computer clock to casablanca time in case I really want to get the tour, I think I do though, and eat...I should sleep now...
so i ate a terrible steak with fanta what a disgusting combination, but when i asked for water the waiter shook his head tisking as if that wasn't a good choice and i was too tired to insist. the steak was soo chewy and gross and heavy and long lasting in my mouth with each bite.
so of course i needed to sleep and digest it, so bundled in all of my clothes that i've been wearing for three days or something because it's cold here in scotland, i curled up in the little bed in the little room without a clock so i couldn't wake up again in time for the tour of casablanca. instead i had bizarre dreams, one including lindsay lohan coming out of the airport and me getting excited and going up to her and saying, "Lindsay, i don't really like you but will you sign this?" and then i felt bad. but then she stole my cell phone and my notebook and i ran after her and met a guy i had met earlier in my dream at a flee market on a riding mower, quite tiring. . .
i didn't eat again
i waited in the lobby for the bus to take us back to the airport
people can smoke in hotel lobbies
i got to the airport at 12:30 p.m. and waited a little bit in front of the dark duty free shop
but not for long
and boarded my flight
and am pretty sure this guy switched seats while i went to the bathroom to sit in my row
he was odd
lives in new york and paris, his aging father is in niamey and he was very incredulous of my reasons for coming to niger and testing my french in a caustic way
cirque du soleil was playing on the t.v. and even though they gave us headphones there were no headphone jacks, anywhere on the plane
at one point i reached under the seat to get my nalgene and the stars!
the stars out the window!
have i ever seen stars from an airplane?
i didn't have to look up at them, they were right there, level with me, orion just jaunting along at the same level as me. . .
coming into niamey was dark on my side, as if the ocean were there.
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