The sun will come out, Morocco, one hundred and ten degrees tomorrow, it will be fun… Morocco! Morocco! I love ya, Morocco! I left you, three days agooooooo!
That is how the song goes, right? Maybe not. Regardless, I like my version better.
Morocco. The final frontier. The last stop on the trip outside of the United States.
Get excited, because I am about to tell you all of the things I did with my new friend Mo.
Day 1: Who rides the short bus? I ride the short bus!
After a long week of classes and exams, the MV (Moroccan Ventriloquist?) Explorer landed in Casablanca. I was ready to get off of the ship and explore. For some unknown reason, I had been looking forward to Morocco the whole trip. I had a feeling, wooh-hooh, that Morocco was gonna be awesome, that Maroc was gonna be awesome, that Marrakesh was gonna be awe awe some (What can I say, I got the song in me today).
I decided that I was going to change things up in Morocco. Due to unforeseen tensions within my normal travel group, I broke away from the gang. This time I joined a brand new group. I would detail all of the people in it but there were sixteen of us, so hold your horses Sally. No details for you.
Well, now that you’ve got your hair in a knot I guess I can drop some names on your parade. I will give you the names of the people I already knew in my group: Marquette (my boy from Atlanta), Niko (crazy man from Arizona who I traveled with in Italy for a day), Renee (the girl who broke her foot the first day in Halifax- don’t know if I ever mentioned that), Matt (chill dude in one of my classes), Antonio (my Spanish friend), and Sami (my Saudi Arabian friend). By golly I have so many friends! Just kidding. Maybe I made up those names just to pretend I have friends. How would you ever find out?
So, we waited on the ship for passports to get cleared and we left at around 1pm. Renee had worked her magic and arranged for two shuttles (short buses) to pick us up right outside the ship and take us all the way to Marrakech. Our driver, Tufik, had some awesome music (Girl Talk, Mariah Carey, Rolling Stones, etc…) so we listened to that on the way. The drive to Marrakech from Casablanca is about a four hour adventure, so we made the best of our time. The drive would probably be a whole lot shorter if the maximum speed limit on the highways in Morocco wasn’t 60 kilometers per hour, but that is beside the point.
Halfway through our drive, we stopped at a gas station so Tufik and the other driver could rest up for 20 or so minutes. The gas station had a little playground, so of course, without hesitation, I ran over to the playground screaming like a little girl who had just met Justin Bieber. After I realized that the playground was made for people under the age of five and that I almost destroyed the entire swing set, I headed for the bathroom (because the bathroom is like a playground for old people). For those of you who don’t know, Morocco has quite a bit of French influence. It is closer to Spain, but the French had Morocco under their belt for quite some time. The sign for the men’s restroom said “Toilette per hommes” and I thought it was pretty funny because I am immature like that sometimes. Just thought I would throw that out there. We got some snacks and headed out on our merry way again.
We finally got to the city at around 5pm. Because the streets in Marrakech are so small, only pedestrians and mopeds/scooters can fit down most of them. It was a five-minute walk to the riad from the bus stop, and an extremely interesting one at that. Along the way, this disturbed looking guy was stumbling down the path with a violent stride. He got entirely too close to Marquette and squared up with him. He grabbed Marquette’s arm and a local kid came over to break it up. The kid helped us walk away, but the crazy man stumbled over again and confronted the boy by forcefully grabbing his arm. We intervened and scared the guy off, but it was definitely a frightening experience. The boy was shaken up so we gave him some money as our thanks.
Upon our arrival at the hotel (it is called a riad), we checked in and checked the place out. It was huge! There were three floors, six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a huge dining room, a bunch of common areas, a rooftop mini pool thing, and oh so much more. The middle of the place was open to the steaming Moroccan air. Surprisingly, it rained that first day in Marrakech so it was not so hot. Lucky us!
After we dueled for our rooms, the riad people brought us some Moroccan pastries and tea. The tea was good, but the pastries were strange. They were all really good looking and colorful, but none of them tasted like anything. It was crazy ridiculous. Some of the girls got wine and went to town, and we all hung out for a while. At around 8pm we left to go to dinner at a really nice place. I wasn’t hungry so I just got a small appetizer and a drink or twelve. It was our travel mate Charlie’s 21st birthday so we were having a celebration or two or ten (so many numbers!). Dinner was awesome, and afterwards we headed over to a famous club, Pacha, for the rest of the night. It was really expensive, but there are only three Pacha nightclubs in the world so we had to go. It was a really fun night, and it ended up being an excellent conclusion to my extensive run of crazy Semester at Sea party nights in port.
Day Two: Okay, Okay! For You, My Friend…
This one is good.
I woke up at one in the afternoon because no one realized that I sleep like a brick and in order to wake me from my slumber (hibernation) you have to do one of two things: hit me or throw things at me (not really… don’t do it. That’s not cool, bro).
The boys had gone out to the Moroccan Souks (markets- a lot like the Bazaars in Turkey) and I waited for them to come back. Niko and Marquette are not good at bargaining so they came back with a big load of overpriced merchandise and they were exhausted. I basically forced them to get over it and go back out there with me. We got lunch at this little café because we were told they had free wireless Internet. The wireless Internet was a no go, but the chicken sandwich thing I got was pretty good. After lunch, we went out to shop.
Shopping in the Moroccan Souks is an awesome experience. If you recall my experience in Turkey, I didn’t like it at all. The merchants literally grab you and attack you for your business, and I was not a fan. Apparently the Turkish people gave the Moroccans a heads up that I was coming, because they were all about hassle free shopping. I bought so much stuff it was ridiculous. I absolutely loved the Souks. Not only did they have unique merchandise that didn’t consist solely of knockoff clothing and touristy crap, but they also had some highly interesting people.
The first shop I stopped in caught my eye because I saw a guy sitting on the floor with some crazy contraption and a saw. He was a carpenter, and he had some gorgeous pieces of wooden art in his shop. I stepped in and I was looking around. He picked up this box thing and told me, “This is magic box. You see magic box before?” I looked at the box and I had no idea why it was so magical. I mean, after all, it was a box. He asked me to open it. If I could open it, he would give it to me for free. I kindly obliged. Five minutes later when I was just about ready to smash the box open with a hammer, he took it from me and showed me the magic (a magician never reveals his secrets unless he is really just a carpenter that wants your money). While he was showing me the box, he handed me a picture and said, “Reagan. 1991. He bought box for 300 U.S. dollars.” I put it aside and laughed. My thoughts: ‘that’s crazy. Why would this Reagan character buy the box for that much? He is (mid-thought pause)… Ronald Reagan?’ Yeah. Ronald Reagan. The picture showed Ronald Reagan in 1991 with his wife, the same carpenter guy, and a bunch of secret service guys. Rambunctious Ronald was, in fact, trying to open one of the boxes. How cool is that? I decided that I had to have one of these things. I felt bad haggling with the guy because the merchandise was definitely of high value- I mean, after all, he made it right there in his shop. It isn’t a magic box from China; it’s a real Moroccan cedar wood box. I decided that I would be a better bargainer than my boy Ronny so I got it for a great price.
Onwards I went in this market of markets, until I found more and more stuff. I would tell you what I got but these things are mainly presents for family and friends so I can’t do that. What I can tell you is how fun it is to bargain with Moroccan merchants. Everything I bought in the market was brought down to over 60% off the original price. How did I do it, you ask? I called Bill Shatner and he gave me some lessons. Now I am “the negotiator.” I tried to get him to tell me how to pilot a spaceship too, but he proceeded to tell me that I only had one wish and he disappeared back into his lamp (I should have wished for three more wishes!).
In general, bargaining in the souks is fun because of the reactions you get from the merchants. Let me give you a little text-based reenactment of what happened every time I haggled my way down.
Me: How much for this?
Merchant: For you, my friend… good price.
Me: So how much?
Merchant: Okay, I make you good price.
Me: What price?
Merchant: Good price. (Names some outrageous price, say 400 Dirham- $50)
Me: Ummm… no.
Merchant: Okay okay, what price you like?
Me: What price? This is only worth 20 dirham.
Merchant: 200 dirham?
Me: 20 dirham.
Merchant: Noooooooo! (Grabs chest).
Me: Yep.
Merchant: Okay okay my friend make me good price, good democratic price.
Me: 20 dirham.
Merchant: Okay, for you… 350 dirham. (grabs my hand and starts shaking it)
Me: I’ll just find it somewhere else. (walks away)
Merchant: Okay okay, make me final price. Final price.
Me: 100 dirham is all I have.
Merchant: NoOoOoOoO!!! (Grabs chest again). Make me final price. 100 is crazy.
Me: 100 dirham is literally all I have. (pull out wallet and show that all I have in there is 100 dirham because I already took out the rest of my money and put it elsewhere)
Merchant: no. Not good price. Make me better price.
Me: Okay, bye bye. Sorry my friend. Chukran! (Walks about half a mile down the road)
Merchant (from really far away): Mister! Okay! Okay!
Me (yelling from half a mile away): HOW MUCH!??
Merchant: Okay! Okay! Come back!
Me: HOW MUCH!??!?
Merchant: Okay! 200 dirham!
Me: NO! BYE BYE! (walk further down the road. A minute later, sweaty merchant grabs shoulder).
Merchant: okay, okay, come back. For you, my friend, 180 dirham.
Me: Nope.
Merchant: okay. Just give me 100.
Me: okay. Done deal, Chukran my friend!
And that is literally, without exaggeration, what happens in the Souks. If you see me in person ask me to do a live reenactment of this, its hilarious.
I ended up spending the rest of my day and money shopping. I got plenty of awesome stuff. That night we all hung out at the place and had lots and lots of fun. Things got a bit awkward though because we found out that we had accidentally stolen another SaS group’s riad… long story. Essentially, they were staying at the same place as us and they had also booked shuttle buses to Marrakech on the first day. The riad made an error and only sent two buses, which my group got in. The riad people got mixed up and thought we were the other group so they got stuck with our place and we got theirs. The other group was pissed off, but luckily nothing big went down.
Day Three- Bang, Bang, Choo Choo Train
I woke up at around noon and packed up. The majority of our group, including myself, went to the train station to check on tickets back to Casablanca. I wasn’t ready to leave Marrakech, but no one wanted to stay with me so I had no other option but to go back. Eventually I decided that I was really upset that sandboarding was not going to happen and I was ready to give up on Morocco and just go back to the ship. I had researched sandboarding the night before and found out that the best location was a lengthy eight-hour drive away from Marrakech. That was eight hours more than I was willing to drive. So, I boarded that one o’ clock train to Casablanca with my peeps.
At some point I had bought an awesome drum, and I brought it on board. We got lucky because we had second-class tickets but we got rooms just for our group. The trains in Morocco are ridiculous. They fill up really fast and everyone ends up cramming into these tiny cabins. We had our own cabin at first and we were really excited because the air conditioning was working (it was way over 100 degrees Fahrenheit that day). That all ended, of course, when the air conditioning turned off and a bunch of random people crammed into our cabin. The cabin made a nice sauna if nothing else. Of course, being the fun loving SaS’ers that we are, we still managed to have fun. I have some hilarious videos of us playing the drums and making up our own songs. One day we will be famous for our freestylin’ skillz.
We finally made it to the ship, took the best showers ever, and ate (undoubtedly) the best meal that has ever been served on the MV Explorer (barbecued beef brisket, you rock my world). A few of us decided that we wanted to go explore Casablanca, so we went to their souk, the Medina. It was cool but everything was closed. Along the way we saw a playground, a bumper car arena, a gigantic fruit market with a colossal amount of bananas, and some really cool graffiti. Eventually I decided it was time to go back so we called it a night.
Day Four- Quick! Spend All of Your Money, it is Worth Nothing in the States!
The title says it all. I went out early with Antonio to go shopping again. We bought some cool stuff and along the way met these wacko guys who really wanted us to buy some of their stuff. One of them spoke great English and he told us he lived in Santa Cruz for a while and that he used to travel around the world with his band. The guy decided he was going to be our personal shopper for the day. We met a few of his friends, one of whom gave me the nickname Tom Cruise (I called him Vin Diesel because he was bulky and bald), and had some good tea. Antonio and I bought a few things but we had to go back to the ship for food because we were starving.
After a late lunch, we realized that we still had way too many Moroccan Dirham that we couldn’t convert, so we went out to buy more. As we were walking down the street, I heard someone yell, “Tom Cruise!” It was our crazy friend from before. He was literally mentally unstable. I didn’t notice the first time, but he was missing a finger on his left hand, he had a strange dent in his left cheek, he had needle marks on his arms, and he had cuts all over his arms as well. I like crazies, so we stuck with him. He took us around to his friend’s shops and helped us get good prices on a bunch of stuff. Along the way he told me how he loves to smoke hash and he used to do cocaine. He also loves whiskey, women, and weed. The guy was starting to freak me out a little bit and we had one hour before onboard time, so Antonio and I booked it out of there.
That’s all, folks!
Morocco was fun, no doubt about it. I wish I had made it there earlier on the voyage, because I was too burnt out by all of the other ports to really take full advantage of Maroc. Regardless, it was a great experience and I would do it all over again in a heartbeat if some generous soul gave me another 20 grand to blow on SaS. Any takers? Anyone?
Its bedtime now… as you all should know. As per usual, I finished writing this at 3:30am (even though it feels like 7am… we have gained 4 hours over the past 4 days).
I bid you adieu!
~Stephen the Sailor
