Our adventure began with a 3am wake up call, in time to catch our 3:15am pre-booked taxi to Heathrow, leaving a rain drenched London behind with dreams of warm sunny weather filling our heads. We flew with TAP, a Portuguese airline which meant changing planes at Lisbon, but everything ran like clockwork and five hours and two meals later we touched down in Casablanca. First impressions of this large Moroccan city were that of a complete lack of order, or at least the sort of order we are used to. Waiting at the ticket office to buy tickets from the airport into the city we realised that the concept of orderly queuing did not really exist, with people simply pushing past us to buy their tickets with none of the courtesy we are so accustomed to in England, a country that takes the etiquette of queuing very seriously. Half an hour later we found ourselves and our luggage in a noisy carriage of mainly airport staff on our way to the city, a journey during which we kept our eyes glued to the windows, as we passed herds of sheep and goats tended by shepherds and shanty towns lining both sides of the railway track. The rows of satellite dishes topping the crudely built shelters in the shanty town was quite an amusing sight, it's interesting to see what takes priority in an environment like that!
Upon our arrival in Casa we were immediately pounced on by several taxi drivers and the bargaining of the fare to our hotel began. Thankfully we had been told by the hotel booking site that we should not pay more than 30 dirhams (about £3) for the short journey. Eventually our driver agreed after we showed him the booking reference stating this, and threw our packs into his red petit taxi that was on the brink of falling apart while we clambered into the back for what can only be described as one of the craziest car rides of our lives. Our taxi had no seatbelts, a muffler that was tied on with string, and a door that didn't open and was held together with a screwdriver. But we made it to the hotel in one piece and after our driver unceremoniously removed us and our luggage from the taxi he was off. Our hotel was right in the Medina (old city) and our room had a little balcony that overlooked the port. Upstairs was a huge roof terrace typical of many Morrocan buildings which had fabulous views in all directions of the densely populated, sprawling city that is Casablanca.
After a much needed siesta and shower we decided to head out and explore. We had read in our guide book and been told by a few people that Casablanca was of little interest to tourists, and that it is mainly used as simply a point of access to the rest of Morocco as it is pretty big and grimy. Casa is known as Morocco's cultural and economic capital and a city full of contradictions; home to suffocating traffic jams, simmering social problems and huge shanty towns, as well as wide boulevards, well kept public parks, fountains and striking colonial architecture. I'm not sure if it was just because it was the first city we set foot in, but for us our first experience of Casa had a certain authentic charm that we really enjoyed. Wandering through the medina was a little threatening at times, but more than that we were fascinated by the multitude of sights and sounds that we were surrounded by. The poverty was the most striking, it was filthy with people obviously living in cramped conditions, sharing water from wells and rubbish everywhere. There were cats and kids galore, in amongst all manner of stalls selling food and goods. Chickens and goats wandered the filthy streets where old men sat around happily chatting away, casting bemused looks in our direction as we took it all in. We had kids running up to us and greeting us in French, it seemed that white faces in that part of town were a bit of a rarity. On our out of the old town we came across a guy selling dyed chicks, and being Easter Sunday we couldn't resist a photo opportunity! I'm sure it's very cruel for the chicks to colour them like that, but they certainly made for a interesting effect!
Eventually we made our way towards Hassan II Mosque, the third largest mosque in the world. An enormous, ornate structure in a prime position looking out over the Atlantic Ocean, we heard it before we saw it, with the call to prayer being blasted from loud speakers on the top, a sound that would become very familiar to us as our trip went on, as it takes place five times a day. Unfortunately, being late on a Sunday the Mosque was closed to non-Muslims so we were only able to catch a glimpse of the amazing decoration and architecture from the huge doorways.
Later on we wandered away from the Medina towards the newer part of the city, hoping to explore the produce market that takes place daily. However it seemed we were slightly too late, with most of the stall holders in the process of packing up for the day. Our stomachs rumbling by then, we managed to discover a cheap and cheerful little place selling street food which was packed with locals, where the non English speaking waiter simply bought us plates of skewered meat, lentil curry, rice, chips and bread after we ordered by pointing to what other patrons had in front of them. Feeling pretty tired by then it was back to our hotel for a much needed good night's sleep.
| From 10-04-11 Morroco |
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