Casablanca, Morocco

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Morocco- The Ancient Medina.

We flew from Madrid, Spain to Casablanca, Morocco. I had heard this line in the Movie "Almost Famous" with Kate Hudson. She and OP are standing waiting after a show and Lady (Kate Hudson) says to OP. "Don't say good-bye. When we meet again, we will live in Morocco for one-year. one year- got it?" I don't know why that made such an impression on me. Maybe seeing the movie hundreds of times it gets engraved to your brain that this Morocco must be miraculous if Kate Hudson's character Lady wants to go there for a whole year. I mean, she's amazing. She says Morocco, then I must go to Morocco.

The real reason I wanted to go to Morocco is that it is a land I have only ever heard of. It is supposed to be Aladin's playground. Full of spices, shoes, belts, amazing markets with smells of fresh produce and meats. It is supposed to be the most amazing shopping and craziness.

What I got was almost exactly around those lines.

We get off the plane, and I am immediately aware of what the hell I just did. I don't know why I had it in my head that Morocco was, but I was thrown into this Arabic world. When I say "Arabic" I'm not trying to be intentionally insensitive or naïve. I simply do not have the words to describe what exactly I was experiencing. I feel as though I reference language a lot when describing different situations because to me the language dictates the culture.

This time, in Africa, I did go through customs. Customs had this huge line of people that did not look like me. Everyone had on traditional clothes or were in business suits. My dad said, that by the time we had walked the hallways from the plane to the customs line, our faces had passed through 100s of facial recognition software. I don't know how much of that is true, but it made me feel like Jason Bourne. I watched people get taken to one of the side rooms, where they would question suspicious travelers. We made it through customs okay, got to an ATM machine, had no clue how much Denar* (SP?) to withdraw...found a cab, got in a fight about the cab (something along the lines of the guy wanted us to get in a different car after we had already left the airport a few miles). I'm not going to lie, the cab ride was stressful. You can't tell from the picture of my dad smiling in the cab- he's used to it. We make it to the hostel, and it is right on the water. The cab could not drive us the full way to the hostel because in front of the hostel was construction. Dirt and rocks and crap everywhere. The air was heavy from the sea and smelt of ocean and industrial progress. We walk into the hostel and this guy (forgot his name, sorry) checks us in. Now when you check into a hostel, you give them your passport so they can input it into god what knows system so that when you leave, they can track where you have been. Dude takes one look at my passport and says, "Ahh, so you're Obama". I think I just kind of looked at him. Now I might not agree or want to associate with my president at times, but I am a proud American. I think I asked him not to call me that, so he started calling me "Bush". I know what he was referencing to but I hate a nickname that someone calls me based on what they think my political views are. Plus I have no idea what my country has done to Morocco, and if we are even welcome here (insert stupid American comment here). Okay fine whatever- dude wants to nickname me after a president.

Dad and I get hungry and we are right next to the Ancient Medina. (In Casablanca there are two medinas or markets. One is the ancient medina which is the older one, and the new medina which is the newer market.) The Medina is this crazy built in fortress full of back streets that twist and turn like spaghetti in a bowl. Unless you know where you are going, that place is just a crazy maze. We walk some back ally and happen upon a guy cooking Tangine. I had never had tangine before but my dad explained it is this meat and veggies and potatoes slow cooked in a clay pot. Not knowing how to speak Arabic, we point to the tangine and try to order some and this kid who speaks English about my age comes up, grabs a table (literally grabs a folding table from who knows where) and starts setting up a table for me and my dad to eat at in the middle of this random ally. He brings us the tangine (lamb, and oh so amazing-) and a water. We settle up the bill, and talk with this English Speaking kid, Khalid. We talk with Khalid about Morocco, and what languages he spoke (he spoke 5), where he lived (he currently lived down the street at this parents, but had been going to school outside Morocco for Economics and had recently moved home to help his family). My dad hired him as a guide and Edward took us to his house where we had tea and talked some more. I had never been in a house so entirely intricate. The walls had this pattern on them and everything was so detailed my eyes almost hurt to look at everything. He introduced us to his mother, who brought out a plate full of homemade cookies. We were seriously sitting in Africa, in Morocco, at this guys house! Khalid gathers us up and walks us around the Ancient Medina and explained most of the things we saw. He said there was no garbage collection, so most of it ended up in the streets, he explained if I wanted a picture, to ask him first, and to go ahead and take pictures of things, but not people. If I wanted to buy anything, tell him first and he would take care of it. I got this amazing scarf to cover my hair (traditional) and my dad bought a bell for a family member. Khalid said he was tired after we had walked for a few hours and asked if we wanted a beer. He lead us out of the ancient medina and into the city. we walked for blocks and blocks and made our way into the bar, and then to the back of the bar down some stairs to the basement not much bigger than my living room with tables and a DJ. We were the only people in the bar except the bartender. Khalid is chain smoking, and I feel like we are breaking the law by having beer (most likely me being female in a bar, I was). Music comes on and Khalid asks me to dance to Moroccan music.

Lets get two things straight. I can dance. If I feel like it. And usually two-stepping or rap.. not Morocan. None the less, futbol is on the big screen, the DJ is playing, and Edward tries and fails, to teach me to dance. Lets just call that whole situation awkward.

A few days later we happen upon Rick's Café, from the movie Casablanca. I think this excited my dad the most about Morocco. We get presentable (as presentable as you can be when you are backpacking in Africa I guess) and we enter Rick's Café. Have drinks at the bar, the movie is playing on TVs all around us, and the building we are in is the perfect replication of the movie. We had one of the most magnificent meals that I have ever eaten, with piano players and dimmed lighting. Truly a cool experience.

We did not end up staying long in Morocco, we saw the medinas, we saw fresh fish being loaded off boats and walked into the market, we saw Muslim Mosques which were amazing and again intricate. We heard the call to prayer, and I got to experience Morocco.



Edit: Khalid's name

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Comments

[Kamel Daher]

Just bright smart young girl
You are mazing actually ,I got idea about you sense day one I met you .My brain start telling me so many things I didn't tell you about it but in the following days you really aprouved you have so many things uncovered yet.? I like the way you talked about your experience in that trip to Marroco the introduction was so well in the middle of the story very well and how you ended up ,it was like I m reading a book to a real ecrivin .It was good story good job Kristin

[Dad]

Khalid
Just found your blog... and missing you! The guide's name was Khalid Love Dad