... or, an account of our travels over the Christmas/New Year break.
Lagos, Nigeria: 3 a.m. start to the day; kids fairly cheerful as we head to murtala mohammed airport for our 'early' flight to morocco; the flight takes off 3 hours late! So much for rushing to the airport. The adventures continue at gate e52, where the concept of a queue degenerates into a mass of people jamming the entry way trying to get in. We do. And, wait a further hour for the flight to take off. Royal Air Maroc - anything but royal.
Casablanca looks gorgeous from the air - all green fields and rivers, with the atlas mountains framed in the distance. The slowest immigration officer on record hand writes us into morocco through the 'fast track diplomats' lane. After battling through a non-moving customs line, we miss our train to marrakech by 30 seconds!! We see it pull away as we run onto the platform. So, coffee it is, moroccan style. And, much needed restroom breaks.
The Ride to Marrakech: The train ride to marrakech is in 2 parts - a shorter trip to Oasis (near casa city) and then a 3-hour ride to "marrra-kosh" (as the locals pronounce it).
First class is all booked, so four second-class tickets, it is. A mass of people converge on the train as it pulls into Oasis. We aren't even done deciding which door to board when the conductor blows the whistle. As the train begins to pull away, the four of us and our mercifully light carry-on-only bags board the train - somehow. About 20 of us are jammed into the tiny vestibule space at the entrance. We hang on for dear life as I also try to close the door as the train reaches warp speed.
The smiles on my kids faces tell me that they think it's an adventure. We know that might not last. So, prasanna fights her way in and finds them a seat. Tired of standing, I spy the nearby luggage rack. Its wide berth is inviting. At the next stop when a lady off loads her luggage, I quickly climb up and settle down on the iron rack. Beats standing up for 3 hours, any day.
The train rumbles on as night falls.
After a while I spy prasanna getting tired of sitting on the arm rest of a chair and invite her to my lofty perch. At first doubtful, she gives in after a while and hops on to the luggage rack opposite mine. After settling in and smiling for a picture, she folds her legs, and promptly falls asleep.
The train rides on into the night stopping at numerous local stations. I sit and listen to the animated conversations of my fellow passengers in french and arabic. And older gentleman switches on his music player and out floats david gilmour singing: ... ... "the grass was greener ... the light was brighter" ... ... . His stunningly evocative sliding, steel guitar solo fills the compartment. I lean back and savor the music flowing through me.
Ah, ... Floyd! Perfect.
A couple of hours later as the train pulls into marrakech, a fellow standing next to me nods, smiles, and says, in broken/accented English: "you ... hindien." Knowing what he means, I nod and smile. We strike up a "conversation" and I learn that he is from casablanca and is traveling to visit his family for christmas. I tell him I live in the usa; he asks if my parents are in india; I keep lagos out of the loop, not wanting to complicate the conversation. Satisfied that he has me pegged for an indian living in the usa, my fellow traveler leans forward and says: "shashi kapoor; ah, singing and dancing." And then, "shah rukh khan ... good movies ... I like ... I watch ... in casa."
Bollywood, it seems, like its western namesake, is a cultural equalizer.
Marrakech: djemma el fna square, africa's biggest souk -- sand/limestone walls with holes -- goat heads on sticks -- snake charmers -- bonjour and salaam-alekum -- frankincense and spice shops -- well-laid out, clean roads -- petit taxis -- the imposing and impressive kotoubia mosque/minaret -- bargaining as sport -- all smoked-up -- crazy traffic -- herbal tea -- loud conversations -- strong mojitos -- stronger coffee -- pink and red buildings -- tourist=king (and sucker) -- curved daggers -- leather and silk and suede -- narrow alleyways -- dime-a-dozen 'historic' hotels -- fresh, tasty mediterranean vegetables -- authentic berber fakes -- silver, filigree work -- bread stuffed with eggs, meat, rice, ... -- late lunches, later dinners -- prayer calls from minarets -- big, round, hard bread as paperweight and dinner mainstay -- more bargaining -- non-smoker=pariah -- french and arabic -- rose-garden medians
More Marrakech: Orange trees and tangerines -- gare du marrakech -- oncf -- sidewalk cafes -- trains that run on time when you are not, and are late when you're prompt -- birds in cages and snakes around necks -- 17-kilometer wall thru the city -- the sultan's palace, only mental pictures allowed -- aeroport cafes with pricey coffee -- fresh: figs, dates, almonds, apricots, cashews, raisins, walnuts -- saffron -- mint -- 2-tone 10 dirham coins and purple/orange notes
Djerba Island & Southern Tunisia: Dinars in 1000s -- wild ride through the desert -- nomadic berber camps -- ksar ghilane, oasis with hot water from 1000m below -- olive and palm trees and shrub -- troglodyte houses built into the hillside -- sand dunes stretching into nothing -- camels twitching their noses and gurgling, with their tongue sacs hanging out -- sidi driss: lars family homestead, episodes 4 and 2 -- dar dhiafa hotel: beautifully restored tunisian home with alcove beds and scruffy & grinch, friendly resident cats -- bollywood fast food serving couscous royale and lamb -- magnificent arabian steeds ridden by bedoiun warriors -- plaintive sound of a lute from the nearby nomad camp -- silky soft sand, ground fine over millions of years at djerba beach -- djerba golf club & it's stunning 15th green overlooking the blue-green mediterranean, with om as cart driver and hansin as ball-boy!
Casablanca: winding sea-road -- imposing minarets of the 3rd largest mosque in the world -- midnight stop at Pizza Hut -- taxi-tour through the city -- friendly, tourist-filled, trendy, bustling, smoky, smoky, smoky, ...
Bumpy flight back on royal air maroc.
