Our trip began slowly. We were originally to depart from Ronald Reagan National Airport at 3:40 p.m. on Wednesday heading to Boston. Instead, the plane was delayed getting into DC and we were shuttled to Dulles for an 8:30 p.m. non-stop Iberia Air flight to Madrid. The flight was half full. The business and first class seats were completely empty.
The economy, man. What a bummer for the airlines.
Iberia jet in Casablanca
We got into Madrid just before 10 a.m. local time, 4 a.m. EST. Our connection at 10:30 a.m. to Casablanca was delayed, leaving us enough time to pick up three liters of duty-free hooch.
Our flight from Madrid to Casablanca was pleasant enough. I discussed, or more accurately, was told the meaning of life by a jovial Nigerian man sitting beside me. Mostly speaking in Beatles lyrics, he pontificated on the characteristics of money (wealth); namely, its coming and going and inability to buy happiness (and presumably love).
After arriving in Casablanca, we stocked up on the Moroccan currency, the dihram. The exchange rate is roughly 8.65 dirhams per dollar. We all took out about 1500 dirhams ($175). I enjoy carrying foreign currency as they are almost universally more interesting than American dollars in design and size. The dirham is no exception. Andrew, keeper of random trivia, told us that the the export of the dirham is prohibited by law. This is confirmed by Wikipedia here.
Andrew and Dan at a cafe in Marrakesh. The bills on the table range from a 50 to 1,000 dirham bills.
After unsuccessfully talking any cabbie down from 300 dirham, we left Mohammed V airport the airport crammed into an old Mercedes-Benz complete with bungee cords to keep the trunk closed. The road into town was initially empty and then crowded with cars of all sorts. We saw a lone donkey grazing by the road, a few flocks of sheep and their shepherds (warning: some bad language), and several fairly rundown buildings. As we approached the city, the air became increasingly polluted and the sky more hazy.
We passed a bus with its transmission below and people sitting along the road. Traffic was chaotic. Cars drifted in and out of lanes. Everyone reminded everyone else their Peugeot 205 came fully equipped with a standard horn. There were few traffic lights and while we saw police responding to several fender benders, very few seemed to be attempting to prevent them.
Crammed in a cab from Mohammed V Airport into Casablanca
Our hotel, the Central Hotel, was on the edge of an old crowded part of town by the sea called the medina. From our window we could see the harbor and ocean, warships, tankers, and cranes. The staff was friendly and they provided towels (something we weren't sure about).
View from our hotel-room balcony
Casablanca (Dar-el-Beida on a Moroccan map) is perhaps unsurprisingly a city of white buildings. Over 3 million of Morocco's 34 million people live in Casa (pronounced kah-zah), making it the largest city in Morocco.
View from our hotel's rooftop
Dan: I'll have the scallops.
Waiter: Scallops, Ok. Steak?
Dan: What?
Waiter: Steak?
Dan: Scallops, yeah.
Waiter: Ok, yes. Steak?
Dan: Yeah?
Waiter: Ok.
Waiter: Sir?
Sean: I'll have the same.
Waiter: The steak?
Sean: Yeah, the scallops.
Waiter: Ok.
This was the result.
The rest of the food was similar to some of the seaside food we had on the Mediterranean coast of Spain this summer. Small fried fishes (three kinds), fried whole shrimp and calamari were served as appetizers. The local beer, simply "Casablanca beer," was a decent lager. The main course for the reste of us was an earthy (as in, it tasted of dirt) white fish, perhaps monk fish. It was served with ratatouille and a baked tomato.
Seafood platter
Following dinner we walked to the Hassan II mosque, named after the King Hassan II, father of now reigning Muhammed VI. It is the second or third largest mosque in the world and was completed in 1993 after only six years of construction. As with all buildings of this nature, pictures do not do it justice.
Hassan II Mosque
After visiting the mosque we walked through the medina back to the hotel. We sat on the roof of the hotel and had drinks.
Drinks on the rooftop
We then did what American tourists in this city must do: head to Rick's Cafe by the sea. Rick's, based on the bar in the movie Casablanca (trailer here), is actually only six or seven years old. It was built in the style of the movie and in different parts of the bar/restaurant the movie is on constant repeat. We watched most of the movie while sipping the most expensive beers we would have in Morocco.
Sean in Rick's
On the way home we had our first encounter with Moroccan street food: a mystery meat sandwich that cost us 7 dirham. Dan complained for two days after, but the rest of us were too manly to follow suit. It was cheap, not too bad, and didn't make us sick. Success.
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