Woke up groggy eyed and put on the same pants and shirt I had been wearing for the past two days because the washing machine had been acting up and decided to die at the perfect moment when I had no clean shirts left or shorts. If West Africa taught me anything, its that hand washing clothes is a horrible chore, I wish upon no human being. I have never been so sore in my life than after the first time I hand washed a load of laundry. Ok, also another gross exaggeration but its tough, and I would rather wear the same shirt until the machine got fixed. There I said it.
I made my way down Mohammad V with unusual ease. Usually, I walk the boulevard at less opportune times when the crowds make it slow going. I was the first to get to our meeting spot and soon was joined by Michael and Kelsi, Henry and then Danny. We were going to be taking the train to Casablanca. The train system in Morocco is very easy and similar to the European lines, just not as fast. Countless games of 13 were played as the train rolled through the relatively uninteresting landscape that connects Rabat and Casa.
The train dropped us off at the port, which is in the city, and we started walking up a broad avenue toward what looked like a more central point of town. The buildings and apartments are the biggest I have seen since Paris and the only semblance of an old city was the median wall we were walking along. An old man said hello in English and then proceeded to try and sell me some hash, charming town.
Disillusioned already, we made our way to the Hyatt because we knew we would be able to get a coffee or orange juice there, it being Ramadan and all. After over priced orange juice and espresso, Mike, Kelsi and I took a cab to the Villa des Arts. It turned out to be under construction. Cool. So, we walked for a while trying unsuccessfully to get a cab for the longest time and finally making our way to the Hassan II Mosque.
The mosque is the biggest in Morocco, and has the tallest minaret in the world. It sits beautifully out on a point jutting into the ocean and hold hundreds of thousands of people for prayer. It was pretty impressive. On a relatively interesting note, the 13-year project to build the mosque was subsidized by forced donations from the people of Morocco, and, as a result of the loss of extra spending money that people had, the inflation rates dropped significantly in Morocco for a prolonged period of time. (see the comment at the bottom for another interesting tibit contributed by Jared Koch)
After that, we decided to walk by “Rick’s” café, a new café built four years ago based on the famous café in that Woody Allen movie made way back in the stone age right?.......anyone?.....Bueller?……jokes. The menu was again over priced, so we moved on preferring to eat at the McDonald’s.
We had had enough, and it was starting to rain more so we decided to call it a day and get back on the train. We were glad to b leaving Casa and knew that a more charming city awaited us up north. Basically, what I took away from the day was that Casa is a dirty European city that lacks its own charm and happens to be located in North Africa. Oh and that the Hassan II Mosque is big and beautiful and unique. If you come to Morocco spend your time somewhere else, you wont miss much. Blah
1 comment:
Another tidbit they don't tell you on the official Has Deux tour is that in addition to the mandatory tax levied on all Moroccans, they were forced to evict an entire neighborhood to make way for the construction. Many of them moved to the shantyown suburb of Casa - Sidi Moumen, you may have seen it. Interestingly enough, nearly all of those involved in the 2003 and 07 bombings in Casa were from Sidi Moumen. Interesting, eh.
Beautiful Mosque though, that's for sure.
Where are you off to next?
ma'salaama ye sadiqi.
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