For as long as I live and as long as I explore this world, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fully figure out how to properly follow the direction of the little blue dot on Google Maps.
Seriously.
Looking back on previous blogs, from all over the world, I realize this has always been an issue for me. They say practice makes perfect… but that doesn’t apply to me. I really should have it down pat by now.
I don’t.
The blue dot messes with me. Always. It’s stressful enough navigating the regular streets of a city or town without trying to successfully steer myself through the maze of each of Morocco’ s old media’s narrow alleyways.
It can be a nightmare.
Well… a do-able nightmare… I don’t want to make it sound like I can’t do it or don’t do it.
Don’t get me wrong… my journeys have found me lost, disoriented and waywardly wandering… but I don’t think I’ve ever not made it to my destination.
For clarification ~ that was a nod to manic man from my Fes Frightening.
Blue dot confusion or not… I figure it out. Somebody should really follow me around with a video camera one of these days. It would be quite entertaining.
I go left. Then I backtrack and I go right. Then I circle back around and go left again. Then I continue forward… then I backup… and turn right… and then left again. I go up the hill and then I come back down the hill. I’m all over the map.
Each excursion is nothing but bewildering and the entire time, I have my eyes glued to that silly, little blue dot on my phone, feeble attempting to follow it along the walking path it has determined for me.
Anyone trying to follow me would be a mess. Thank goodness I’m not famous. The paparazzi would be put through the wringer.
I took the bus from Chefchaouen to Rabat… and it was one of the most exasperating bus rides I’ve ever been on. I know I seem to be met with the weird & the wild each time I turn around, but I guess that’s the nature of travel. I’ve riden with chicken, pigs, goats and men with bad body odor. I’ve ridden on top of buses. I’ve had buses break down, go off the road and get lost… but never have I been on a bus where there was so much quarrelling.
I was right in the middle of a full-on battle.
Obviously very word shouted was in Arabic, so I was clueless as to what was going on… and unfortunately, no one could properly explain it to me what exactly was going on.
The one lady, that was sitting next to me, kept standing up and venturing back a few rows for the sole reason of - from what I could make out - provoking a lady that was sitting by a window. Each time she would confront her, the window lady would peak… completely lose the plot altogether and just start going ballistic. The screaming would last about 4-5 minutes, and the eventually someone would calm them down and the one lady would return to her seat, next to me.
It happened a few times.
Each episode, and I’m not making this up… when the argument would temporarily come to an end, everyone would turn and look at me.
Why me?
I had no idea.
Was I in this lady’s seat?
Were they fighting about who had to sit next to the foreigner?
Were they humiliated by their abusive behaviour in front of the foreigner?
Perhaps.
I would have been.
What did I do ?
Nothing.
I just sat there. A few times, I offered to switch seats, thinking these abusive outbursts might be because one of them didn’t have a window seat, as absurd as that sounds.
The men around kept shooting me apologetic smiles, assuring me that everything was ok… though the continual clashes proved otherwise.
I guess I’ll never know.
The bus was meant to drop me off at the Rabat CTM Station, but it took such a wide berth getting around the city that I began to suspect we were going to bypass it altogether.
It was nerve racking. I was staring at Google Maps, watching the blue dot get further & further away from where I was mean to go.
Finally the bus did a very illegal and dangerous u-turn on a fairly congested highway and pulled over on the side of the road.
Everyone’s attention turned to me.
“Rabat!”
THIS was my capital of Rabat station?
Seriously?
Ok.
I was in no position to argue or question or voice my concerns, so I quickly gathered my things and disembarked.
There I was, on the side of the road.
I didn’t have any dirham on me at all. My whole plan was to hit the ATM when I reached the Rabat CTM Station. There were none of these convenient financial amenities on the dusty side of the highway.
Shit.
I hailed a taxi, told him where I needed to go and shoddily showed him my collection of small change I had. It was hardly enough to pay for a ride into a the historical centre, but It was all I had.
He agreed to take me to the Medina. Thank gawd. I didn’t know what I would have done had he not. See… there are good people in the world… and thank goodness for weary travelers, they tend to appear when things have gone belly up!
I had a bunch of fun stickers on me and, after discovering he had two young kids, I gave him a handful of those.
Rabat was nice… big. I can’t really say I did or saw a lot, as my time was fairly limited. I strolled through the old medina, wandered down the Avenue Mohammed V, did a bit of sightseeing, found a cute little place to have dinner and then went to bed.
I’m not as enthusiastic about the shopping anymore, as my pack is beyond full. As much as I would love to bring so much back… the truth is, I cannot.
The prices I paid in Marrakech compared to Rabat infuriated me. I certainly got ripped off. There were so many items starting at half the price I paid for them in Marrakech.
Seriously cheated.
Speaking of overpaid, does anyone remember my first evening accommodation fiasco in Marrakesh?
I’d booked (and pre-paid) my riad for four nights through Booking.com and upon arrival, I found myself with nowhere to stay. I stuck seeking out alternative accommodation. My first evening, in the dark… alone.
Very put out.
Well since that day - November 4th - I have been writing to Booking.com to report this place and get my money back. The latter being the most important.
It was over $200.
I needed that.
I’d written daily. Sometimes more than once a day. Sometimes 5 times a day . Or more. Each message sent, I received an automated reply that said my message had just been sent to customer service and i could expect a reply within 24 hours.
No reply came.
Actually… I shouldn’t say that.
Between November 4th-18th - 2 weeks - I did get 4 messages.
The first - … on the 7th…
**Patrick James A. from Customer Service** Reservation 4349667064: Update on your enquiry
Hi Joanna,
I strongly believed that apologizing will not make you feel better but please do accept one from me personally as this was never been an intention to valued customer like you.
We’re sorry to hear that Riad Andaloucia wasn’t able to honour your reservation.
We will contact them to find out what happened and get back to you. You should receive an update within the next five days.
Meanwhile, if you have any other questions, we are here for you.
That seemed promising, right? He apologized on their behalf, made me feel like a valued customer, told me they were here for me… and then completely cut me off.
I never heard from Patrick again.
He ghosted me.
The second - …on the 8th…
**Nina R. from Customer Service**
Dear Joanna,
once again, we're sorry you had to experience that.
We contacted the hotel about what happened and the cancelation and we are waiting for their answer.
Also, your case was reported to our internal supervisor team.
For any further assistance, we are always here. Best regards.
Ok… they were putting my mind at rest.
But then, again, Nina ghosted me too.
The third - … on the 15th… and by this time, I’m losing my mind.
**Elron Dave C. from Customer Service**
Reservation 4349667064: Update on your enquiry
Hi Joanna,
Thank you for getting in touch and letting us know.
Unfortunately, after your checkout date, there is little we can do to help you find a suitable solution as we cannot work further with the accommodation to assist you. We encourage you to get in touch with our Customer Service as soon as you can during your stay, so we can do our best to support you.
To discuss this further with the accommodation, you may contact them on +212650751225.
If you have any other questions, we are here for you.
Infuriating. I wrote back with a few choice words.
AFTER my checkout date?????
The fourth - … on the 18th… I was livid…
**naima w. from Customer Service**
Hi Joanna,
We hope this message finds you well.
We sincerely apologize that we are unable to process a refund, we kindly request to contact the property directly to resolve this issue.
To discuss this further with the accommodation, you may contact them on +212650751225.
If you have any other questions, we are here for you.
That was it. Those were fighting words.
I couldn’t believe they kept telling me they were here for me, when obviously nothing could’ve been further from the truth.
So one of the things I did after discovering I had issues making important phone calls while travelling, was to download a Talkatone phone number. It’s a free calling & texting application that allows users to make phone calls and send text messages over Wi-Fi or mobile data, without relying on a cellular phone plan.
Handy.
So… I’d had enough of texting Booking.com and having my blood boil with each day that passed without compensation. I picked up the phone and called them.
The girl on the other end of the receiver was kind. She called the riad (finally) and discovered they were no longer operating (just like I’d said) and refunded me immediately. I should’ve called two weeks ago… as obviously that was the only way not to be ignored.
From Rabat, I took the train to Casablanca. I almost missed my stop… and that would’ve been worse than being dropped off on the side of the highway. For some reason, I thought that the train ride was two hours… and after an hour, every single person was standing up and getting ready to disembark. I couldn’t help but wondering “where are all these people going?”
Casablanca.
Figures…
Casablanca is a quite large city, with a lot of culture & history, so instead of trying to see it all on my own, I decided to book a small day tour.
I booked for 10am… and it was 4 hours. It was a group tour, but our group was tiny. There were four of us sitting in a van with the driver driving all around, pointing to things.
I guess that’s the definition of the word ‘tour,’ but it just seemed a little detached .
Does that make sense?
The four of us were all female. One girl from Ireland, one from the States, one from Nigeria and … me.
The girl from Nigeria was terrible.
I’d place her late 20s… a complete ‘screensaver,’ excessively glued to her device. She spent the entire four hours either texting, face timing, talking, scrolling, surfing or taking selfies. I can’t make this up. I’m not.
It was bad.
She rarely paid attention to any of the surroundings, spoke on the phone while guides were speaking, barely chatted with us in the van and was only interested in posing for photos or showing her friends where she was. The disrespect was out of this world…
Oh well.
We stopped at Mohammed V Square, the boardwalk, Habous Market, LaPrade Fountain and the legendary Rick’s Café.
So anyone that has ever seen the 1942 movie, ‘Casablanca,’ knows the legendary gin joint, Rick’s Café. It was a fictional place… but after the success of the film, someone decided there should be one. Now there is! I wasn’t able to go inside, as it’s quite busy… quite expensive (from what I’ve heard) and you need reservations.
“Here’s looking at you, kid.”
The guide kept asking us, “Do you like tour?”
I always find that such a strange question to ask. What the hell are we supposed to say at that exact moment? No?
Odd.
We also had a tour of Hassan II Mosque… and I think it’s the only mosque I’ve ever been in. Guess if I had to pick a mosque to visit, this was the one. Check this out…
It’s the most stunning mosque in the world.
It’s the largest mosque in Africa and the seventh largest in the world.
It is renowned for its 210m minaret - the tallest in the world. It has a laserbeam at the top which points towards Mecca.
The mosque is built over the Atlantic ocean symbolizing God’s throne of the sea.
This mosque has a retractable roof.
Over 10,000 artisans contributed to its construction.
After the tour, I got dropped off at Morocco Mall - which is the largest mall in Morocco and the second largest mall in Africa. The first is in South Africa… and I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s the mall I was dropped off at in Johannesburg, on my final day in South Africa.
I can’t be sure. But I am pretty sure.
Sometimes I feel like I’m on the mall circuit of the world. I’m not normally a big fan of hitting the malls while I’m traveling, but I needed to get a few things and I figured a nice stroll along the ocean boardwalk back to my hotel would be a good idea afterwards. It was about 2.5 hours, but pretty… and I didn’t have anything else to do.
A walk would do me good.
My plan seemed indestructible… until I became the destructible.
I didn’t count on my heel pain acting up to the extent that it did. It was excruciating. I made it about an hour and a half before agonizing pain crippled me and I could not longer go on. Pills didn’t even help.
I limped along, determined to plow through, but it eventually got to the point where I could hardly put one foot in front of another.
Pain? 8 out of 10.
Sometimes it’s good. Sometimes it’s bad. I never know when the torture is going to strike.
I hailed a cab and went back to the hotel to just lie there. This can’t go on…
Nope.
And that was my final day in Morocco…
🤎
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