Morocco chapter 1: Casablanca

Hellohellohello,

So I have now been back in Ghana for 5 days (I got back at 5am Friday morning) and am now attempting to update all on my adventures in Morocco. Its been kind of a pain to get this done as campus is still closed and I am a little afraid to venture into Accra because the African Cup of Nations is in full swing. FYI: Ghana won its first game, yay! And my second choice (and probably more likely to go all the way, sadly) Cote d'Voire beat Nigeria last night in a really good game. Tonight Cameroon and Egypt battle it out, which should be pretty intense, and if I can just avoid this total gangsta man I met and who decided we were meant to be while watching the Ghana game on Sunday, everything is gonna be alright.

Also, to make my life a little more ridiculous, Elena and I's room has been attacked by not one, two or three, but FOUR rats starting Saturday night, when I got up to go to bed to see a RAT in my open window, threatening to JUMP INSIDE! Screaming ensued. As did a completely sleepless Saturday and Sunday night, and a trip into Accra to purchase rat poison, which was ALL GONE this morning when we woke up from a much more rest full sleep. Eww, ick, eww.

Alright, Morocco.

So, our flight to Casablanca was scheduled to leave Accra at 4:30 Christmas morning, which FYI is most likely when my family was watching Scrooge, a Christmas Tradition I sadly missed out on, over there in the Pacific Standard timezone. We arrive at the airport at 2am, where we are forced to wait in line for about 30 minutes, then are told we must go through customs, no one seemed to understand that we were not tourists in Ghana. After customs which was a complete joke, as I could have stolen the Golden stool of the Asante and this poor woman who obviously hated her life would not have noticed. (2am, understandable)

Then, we go through immigration where it is obvious that all the men working have gone maybe longer than they would prefer without any human, and by human I think I mean female contact, because after Elena (who is pretty and blond and everyone loves her) gets through 10 minutes of mild harassment where she told Maximilian (one of the immigration officers) that she was married, Max wanders over to me, where he begins to question me about my marital status and Elena's too.

Max: "Hi."
Me: "Hello. How are you?" (man in charge of if I can leave/reenter Ghana...must be polite)
Max: "You are going to Morocco."
Me: "Yes I am."
Max: "Do you want to know how I know that?" smile and giggle are added.
Me: "I saw you talking with my sister over there." sister means friend, or sister, or that to Ghanaians think all white people look alike.
Max: "She said she was married."
Me: "She did? That's because she is. She's married." Not so quick on the lying to creepy Ghanaians at 2:30 in the morning.
Max: "Her ring is not very nice." (Elena has a silver ring with a flower on it that she wears on her ring finger and which no Ghanaian ever believes is a wedding ring when she tries to prove she is married with it.)
Me: "She doesn't like to wear her real ring her, because she is afraid it will be stolen. So she wears the other one to remind her." hahahaha.
Max: "How old are you?"
Me: "22."
Max: "Your sister is only 20."
Me: "Yes."
Max: "Why is your sister married and you are not, when you are 22 and she is 20?"
Me: "I guess I haven't found the right man yet."
Max: "Would you ever marry a black man?"
Me: "I don't think I really want to get married." This is a lie, mom and dad, I probably want to get married some day, just not to Max.
Man looking at my immigration form who has not talked to me at all thus far: "Rules are made to me broken." What?
Me: "Well, I still have lots of school to finish...I won't get married until I am done with school."

This statement seems to satisfy both men who continue to smile and make stupid jokes, which I continue to laugh stupidly at until I have my passport back, because that is just what you have to do.

After 2 hours of waiting, we board our plane which takes off and then lands 30 minutes later, in Lome, Togo, where about 60% of the passengers get off, leaving many empty rows, which Elena and I stretch out across and sleep in until breakfast is served around 8am.

While eating breakfast it becomes more and more obvious to both of us that we speak neither French nor Arabic, and this could be a kind of big problem in about 2 hours when we land in Morocco.

Land we do, and while waiting for our HUGE backpacks to appear on the luggage belt, we meet a 20-something guy from upstate New York who is a Peace Corps volunteer in Ghana, in the Eastern Region. He has a one day layover on Casablanca, and is planning on going to the same youth hostel as us, so we become instant friends. Sadly, John, as is his name, speaks about as much French as I do. Awesome.

We take the train from the airport to Casa Port Gare de Train (just a little Francais for you) after a small crisis where we needed to transfer trains, and luckily a few people around us spoke English and were able to help us in the right direction. We get to the train station and are given the BEST walking directions (down street, lane, NO! lane, NO! lane, left, YES!) by a good natured Petit taxi driver who gave us directions even after we did not choose to take a cab with him.

We arrive at the hostel which thankfully had rooms available, (do people often vacation to Morocco on Christmas? I do not know) and after putting on an extra hoodie--because most Mediterranean climates get cold in the dead of winter, a fact that Elena and I drastically underestimated--the 3 of us set out to the Al Hassan II Mosque, which can fit up to 120,000 worshippers. Damn, that would be an incredible religious experience, no matter who you are.

The Mosque, built in the last 10 years (I think...) was made by the former King, Mohammad V, in an attempt to give Casa a big attraction. Its gorgeous, and one of the only Mosques in Morocco where non-Muslims can enter (only certain parts, obviously). It is located on the ocean, so there is a beautiful view, and we got there around 2pm, so the sun was out and it was relatively warm. I took about 50 pictures. The whole thing is blue, green, white and gold and done completely in mosaic. Its truly incredible how much time and effort must have gone into it.

After the mosque, we walked back to our hostel to get yet MORE warm clothes as we were all freezing. (We live in GHANA where the temperature was around 35 degrees Celsius=really hot) and then wandered through the Medina (old city, where all the souks and markets were) we bought postcards, which later became an addiction of mine, and THE BEST DONUTS IN THE WORLD!

The donuts were round discs of dough, deep fried in front of us, making them hollow in the inside. They are then cut open with scissors, filled with apricot jam (of my god! The apricot jam!) and dipped in sugar. They are then eaten to enter a state of euphoria. For 2 Durham (about 25 cents...I think) they were perfection.

We then got lost in the Medina, found a cafe, got our first of MANY Moroccan Mint Teas for about 1USD and wandered around until we were all too tired and cold to continue, and retired back to the hostel.

John left us the next morning to go meet friends in France (good luck with the French buddy!) and Elena and I spent our second day in Morocco wandering around in the RAIN! We were forced to buy hats and scarves and hid in a restaurant for about 2 hours watching Moroccan music videos and eating really good pizza. (It had been so long...) We also went to the creepiest Internet cafe IN THE WORLD where not only were cockroaches crawling everywhere, but the youth who set up the computers for us decided he loved Elena, and while I was hurriedly browsing the web, Elena was able to tell me (IN TWI) that the guy was a big creeper. (Uhhh...Andrea...obaa ye creeper paa!) I turn to see this 17 year old douche bag stroking Elena's face as she looks horrified. The only thing I could think to do was shout NO! at him which made Elena laugh at least...we quickly peaced it out of there. Poor Elena.

Casa was fun, but pretty ritzy...so we decided 2 days would be enough, and after MORE pizza for dinner and getting lost in the Medina, where a man who spoke NO English helped us find our way back. This was to become a recurring theme. The next morning we boarded a train for Rabat.

I love you.