 |
| Modern postcard of Ceuta |
It was Monday the 19th of January and we were on our way to Ceuta across the Strait of Gibraltar, still Spanish, but on the African continent. The trip across wasn't very exciting, one hour and 125Pts each, and my memory was that Ceuta wasn’t much either.
 |
| The Victoria and Gibraltar - Postcard |
 |
| Monthly guide to Morocco |
Anyway the hassling started almost straight away, Young guys coming up to help, guide, find a room, etc. and very hard to get rid of. Two Canadians were ready to turn back in frustration but we convinced them to go on, and then we were surrounded again at the bus depot in Tetouan about 30km to the south.
 |
| Tetouan Medina - Postcard |
The bus was crowded but the scenery was nice, different to Spain and very hilly and mountains in the distance. Our first experience of a Moroccan town, Tetouan is a bit frightening. At the moment the Spanish seem more trustworthy, in comparison with the Arabs. We decided to take every precaution just in case.
 |
| Shopping in a medina Postcard |
The medinas are a mixture of markets and living quarters, usually in the older parts of the town. They are like a maze with narrow winding streets, usually covered overhead so orientation can be incredibly difficult. It's typically not as open and bright as in the postcard. If you go in too far, you'll usually need a guide or help to get back out - and often not the same place where you went in!
The next the morning we braved a walk through the Tetouan Medina. I bought a leather bag for 25DR, which on reflection seemed high, although quality bags that will last are not all that common. We managed to find our way back out for a lunch of bread, sardines, olives and wine from Spain.
 |
| Women wearing djelllabas Postcard |
We tried to organise our finances and budget for the rest of the trip –ha! Now we had Moroccan Dinars, Spanish Pesetas, French francs, Swiss francs, travellers cheques in British pounds and $20 Australian! The money we have left should get us back to Lausanne in Switzerland okay then we'll know if we can visit Greece.
 |
| A Southern Moroccan Postcard |
 |
| Fez - Postcard |
It looks like we might stay in Fez another day, maybe hire the guy we met today as a guide, and give Marrakesh a miss. We intended to visit the four imperial cities, Fez, Marrakesh, Meknes and Rabat but Marrakesh over 500km away. Instead we’ll go straight to Casablanca which from all reports is a write off, but we'll see. I'm writing this in a cafe near the hostel where we've just had a good Moroccan meal. No cutlery of course, we had grilled minced meat, chips, hot sauce and really sweet mint tea to follow for only 9DR.
 |
| The tanning vats - Postcard |
We stopped at a perfumery to get some oils, which also he was not taken with, and we bought two bottles at two different places. We saw the Tannery which was something incredible, especially the smell, never to be forgotten. There were guys up to their thighs in cement tabs either washing, drying, or bleaching the skins, and we forgot the bloody camera again.
Our guide then offered to take us to a cheap restaurant for 6, then 5, then 4 DR but we declined and so he said he had things to do and so we asked him to lead us out of the medina, much to chagrin. Outside, I asked him if he wanted some money to which he replied that it was OK if we wanted to. I gave him a 3DR to which he immediately demanded 5DR, but we stuck to that amount and he left a little bit pissed off.
 |
| At a bus station - Alamy Stock Photo |
 |
| Moroccans |
I found taking photographs in North Africa incredibly difficult. Firstly I felt uncomfortable photographing local people as I had no idea how they would react, especially as we were often away from the main tourist areas, and secondly, as soon as I pulled out the camera, I'd be surrounded by young hawkers demanding money for taking a photo. the few photos I took were mostly from the window a moving bus and so we relied on postcards to capture images of the locations.
Eventually after getting on a the bus, a young guy started talking in French and broken English to us. He turned out to be a really nice guy called Hassan. He said that he translates letters for a foster parent organisation and does some from Australia. When the bus stopped at Khemisset, a small town where he lived at about half way, he bought us a grilled meat sandwich with many spices including cayenne pepper which was really tasty and so we paid for the mint teas and bid him goodbye. Back on the bus I offered some biscuits to the family we'd met earlier. They accepted, then they gave us apples, boiled eggs and an orange in exchange. Our experience with ordinary Moroccans was fantastic, and overall we had a really good trip.
We arrived in Casablanca around 10:15 PM that evening and found the hostel with only a little trouble and settled in for the night.
 |
| The Youth Hostel in Casablanca |
 |
| Casablanca Promotional booklet - It didn't look like this to us |
Danielle on a French passport had no problems, but Australians required visas. We did a bit of shopping and had lunch at a nearby restaurant (the hostel is in the medina) at 3DR each for a really good and varied meal. We've decided that Casablanca is decidedly less hassle then Tetouan or Fez and we may stay here a bit longer, maybe till Monday, and check again for mail. We had dinner at the hostel, 2DR for each which was okay, with mint tea included. We were learning more about the Arab bargaining technique: the seller asks for as much as they think they can get and then will settle for about half of that, or less if it is impossible to get any more out of the buyer.
When we bought some beignets (deep fried pastry sprinkled with sugar) this morning - one guy had them for Fr.20 each, and the other Fr.10 - we paid the lesser amount. We had mint teas in the afternoon in a "tourist bar" with James Brown playing on the jukebox and strange ladies working or hanging around, reminiscent of the movie Casablanca and my preconceived image of what it would be like.
 |
| The Mahkama and Town's Emblem, Casablanca - Postcard |
 |
| Young Girl typically ornamented - Postcard |
On our way back I stopped at a lottery office and asked for posters. The guy gave me some and then expected some money. I gave him a 10DR note and he pocketed the lot giving me no change. After haggling all that time over the blanket I blew 10DR for five posters – Oh well, you live and learn. We had a quiet dinner back at the hostel and met a guy called Najib who was a bit strange (camp, shy, or both) but told me quite a bit about Arabic, the alphabet, etc.
It started to rain in the morning, but fined up later so we went to catch the bus to Mohammedia, the beach at Casablanca, low class line. We were a bit disappointed when we got there after finding the beach and having a quick look, decided to head back.
These black and white photos were taken at Mohammedia, and the colour photo is a recent on sourced from the internet.
Later we wandered through the casbah looking for a beignet but no luck. Back in Casablanca we went for a walk along the coast to a place where we could see the sunset over the sea, but it was too cold and windy to wait so we gave it a miss. Tomorrow we leave for Meknes and Oujda.
I'm sitting here watching Moroccan TV. A bit of difference to England (news, documentary, educational, interesting shows), in France (dubbed American films and shows, and stupid panel games), in Swiitzerland (the same except for ads for expensive, useless gadgets) and in Spain (complete mixture but lots of travel and other documentaries). Moroccan TV is mostly music – live or recorded music concerts of Arabian music with people playing and singing exciting and moving songs, in tuxedos and glittery djelllabas. It lacks the polish of the Swiss with 'state of the art' double image, colourisation and collage video effects, but with plenty of shots of upstaging musicians and musicians picking their ears or scratching their noses. The sound of course is of terrible quality.
 |
| Goulimine, southern Morocco - Postcard |
Well, the Moroccans were okay until I asked one officer in a different uniform if he was representing the Algerians. At that, he went off his head and spat on the ground against the Algerians, making me do the same. I didn't mind, hoping that no Algerians weren’t watching. In situations like that one can't afford to be highly principled and disagree.
We then walked across a no-man’s-land area to the Algerian side.
