I was wondering what I should do for my first "real" post, and as I was looking through my travel blog, I realized I had this article, that I had written last year when I went to Europe for a month.
Here's some background to the story. So, I was traveling with my family for a 3-day stay in Morrocco. You won't hear about him though, because we had to leave him in Italy due to issues with his Bahamian Passport.
Here goes!
This week it was time to switch scenes and head to Morocco. I was ecstatic because it was my first time I have been to the African continent.
On April 1, We headed to Bergamo airport in Milan. Word to the wise, beware of Italian bus drivers. Some of them are actually crazy. Ours kept one hand on the wheel, and one hand on the horn. One of our bus drivers, the same on that carried us to Milan when one car got in front of his way, and he started yelling, and waving his hands and leaning on the horn... The scary thing was, the rest of the way, for two hours, he mumbled to himself about it.
We had a hangup at the airport but managed to catch our flight from Bergamo to Marrakesh airport. While flying though, the turbulence got bad, but thankfully we arrived in one piece. At 10:30 pm or "half ten" as the guy said when I asked the time, We arrived.
My first thoughts about Morocco: "Boy! It is cold!" Later I realized that the weather in Morocco just can't make up its mind. One minute the temperature feels like Arizona in mid-summer, and the next minute you're reaching for your scarf and jacket. It is really strange...
At immigration, they only take you one by one, so My brother and I had to get in a different line, which disturbed Mom, but the guy was nice, and gave me no problem. "Welcome to Morocco!"
When we stepped out of the airport. Mom asked directions to the Riad Kech our hotel and the Taxi driver told us it would be 150 Dirham. Needless to say we all thought he was crazy for even suggesting a price like that. He must have noticed the look on our faces because he then added that it would only be 15 euro. This would be the many times we would forget about the conversion rate. Come to find out we only had 15 euro cash on us.
Driving is not one of Morocco's specialties. I heard a rumor that people there are supposed to drive on the right side of the road, but they drive at any speed, and on any side, that pleases them. It is hard to explain how bad it is...
So, when you enter the old city in Morocco, you have to drive through the gates of the city, which were made for donkeys, and not for gigantic two-ton cars. While you're driving through these narrow gates you have like 5 cars all trying to get through at the same time, and a few scooters trying to get around those cars. Then there are mopeds, scooters, and motorcycles throughout all of Morocco. We found out later that there are 90,000 scooters registered in Marrakesh alone. Our driver was an expert though, and had a "You get in my way I'll run you over" attitude. Being pitch dark though, it made it even scarier as we weaved through the old city.
In the end, with a little bit of walking included, our driver managed to find the Riad Kech, our hotel. From the outside, it looked un-glamorous. It was in a narrow side street, in a narrower corner, with a sign, that I didn't even notice was there until the next day. Anyway, the driver knocked at the door for us, and the manager, (also the waiter, the cleaner, and the best mint tea maker on the face of this planet), Mr. Yousef, answered the door. We walked into the first room there, which I assumed was the lobby. The room was bright white, with even whiter tile. There was a (white) fountain in the middle of it. The two (white) couches were made of steel, and sat in the corner of the room next to the (white) coffee table. So when he said: "Welcome, this is your room." And then handed us the keys, you can imagine our surprise.
What were they thinking by putting a fountain in the middle of the room? (I'm not complaining.)
Now this is where things get funny. Dad had reserved the room but had not paid for it yet, a custom that is done on that side of the world quite often. SO we followed Yousef up 3 flights of stairs, to the roof of the building where we found out He lives. There was a little building on the side, which looked like it was for utilities. In the place of breaker-boxes and wires though, was a small bed, and a microwave. Clothes were strewn on the floor, this guy was not married.
He showed Mom some crumpled papers, and He pulled out a credit card machine from under His mattress. She then handed him her card and he went to stick it into the slot.
"Wait!" Mom said, "it's a swipe card, you have to swipe it."
"What?" He asked. "I have never seen this before."
Mr. Yousef was so used to seeing and using a chip card, he never had even seen a swipe card. Mom, had to teach him how to use one.
So we walked back down the spiral staircase, and back down two flights of stairs, to our room to get ready for bed.
The highlight of our hotel was the mattress. These mattresses are ridiculously hard. They feel like they are stuffed with cardboard. Come to find out they are traditionally stuffed with sheep's wool. I didn't realize this at first when I flopped on the bed, and the whole bed moved and I ended up on the floor. But, don't get me wrong, I slept well on them.
Well, that's all of that article. Leave an upvote if you liked it, and want to read more. (There is plenty more where that comes from.)
