But that was too far and Casablanca was less than an hour away via a $4 (equivalent) train ticket purchase. As the train pulled into Casa, there was a man leaning against the wall relieving himself. For a moment I wish I had taken a picture, then thought to myself - that wouldn't be very lovely a blog pic. (It's sad when you only want to commemorate bloggable items and are constantly asking yourself 'is this bloggable'?)
Got off the train at the center of town in Casa and PEE-YEW did it stink. It stunk of hundreds of years of human and previous camel pee mixed with rotting fish from the wharf. Yup - welcome to a city that could have been the middle eastern equal to Trenton, NJ. The smell never left so it wasn't as if everyone in town used the same wall for a urinal that the man I saw was using. A city of 13+million people and at least that many run down cars as petite cabs.
After taking a few pics of the third largest (or as the locals say 'World's largest Mosque, number three') Mosque in the world. It was big and these pictures don't do it justice.
Casablanca Mosque, Moroc, R. Mann (c)Well, after walking around and having a so-so breakfast of 'traditional Moroccan pastries' (awful sweet) and more walking around, I had the pleasure of 'sharing' a cab (common in Moroc) and being dumped no where near where I wanted to be. Lovely. More of that smell later and some trashy tourist shopping places to avoid, I found another cab at the local Hyatt. This was the traditional nicer Mercedes 190D that is used en mass in this country to signify a higher level of cab-ness.
This guy took me everywhere - all without a meter running. How nice of him. He waited patiently at each spot I wanted to stop and take pictures or look around. He greased the palm of some local Police agent so I could 'tour' this palace:
The policeman waved at the taxi driver as we pulled out - all very kind of this town. Then the cabbie said I should see ALL of Casa (what the locals call it when speaking to tourists, dropping the blanca and not calling it by its real, longer, harder name).
This meant taking me to the local meat market where I could see this (among other things I couldn't bear to take pictures of):
Yup, that's a camel head. 'Our viagra' he tells me. MAN WHAT CHARM I am getting exposed to... Then the cabbie dropped me at my final stop (below) and I ask 'What do I owe you?' for all his generosity and time driving. He says "Its up to you, whatever you'd like." so I pull out a 200monopoly money bill and some odd ends. He says "More please, 500." WTF? I paid a cab in Rabat for a trip and waiting all of 200. Oh well. Funk you very much Casa.
Anyway, after going by 'Rick's Cafe' (from the movie, opened about 5 years ago) where I got a picture of the waiters looking over a bill. To my 'lens' it could look sinister so I snapped this quick photo of them:
Rick's Cafe - Casablanca, Moroc - R. Mann (c) 2008After paying *WAY* too much for a mug ($26 after I *again* mess up the exchange rate in my head) it was definitely time to escape....er, head back to Rabat. Grab the train (they ran every 30 mins and were efficient I gotta point out) and viola, back 'home' for one more night.
And just as I was about to write of Morocco, I had one of the best dinners of my life. Certainly in the top 15 anyway. And it was classic from the start. Cabbie drops me off at the outskirts of town, waves to a man who then asks if I am there for dinner. I say yes and before anything else could be said, we are walking down the inner city alleyways.
Now those of you who have been reading this blog might say this sounds familiar. Going to a secretive dinner location, being taken there by a local, alleyways to be maneuvered... (See previous post for the story in Beijing). Read more of the story after this short (recharge the laptop battery) break...
