Arriving in Casablanca in the early morning of the 21st, there was a glimpse of sunshine and then clouds. The airport was third world with the usual long lines of fonctionnaires and forms. The baggage also descended slowly from the plane. No losses out of five. Finally we cleared the third line up and were in the arrival hall looking for the man with the rental car.
We found him after a bit and then we paraded outside to meet our Renault Kangoo and fill in papers. Things went well except the vehicle already had 83, 000 km and few dents to boot. The diesel was on E and he told to check the tires. (Why?) Our bags did fit in the back and we all piled in while waiting for Guittel to change some currency. The agent took off, promising to meet us in Agadir on the third (weird way of returning the car)and I realised I could not get the car in reverse. We asked some chuckling parking attendant how and he quickly showed me there was a knob on the shifter to engage before putting it in reverse. Oops. We then managed to exit the parking and the airport to find the first gas spot. Fill up with gasoil and yes reinflate the left front tire. Then off to Casablanca sharing a secondary road with an assortment of crazed humans, crazed donkepys, trucks, buses and potholes. Had to learn how to enter the rotaries and still be able to survive and exit.
I drove into Casablanca not recognizing any street names (most signs are non existent). The streets are teeming with honking, careening, red petit taxis, mopeds, motorcycles, horse drawn carts (yes in a city of 3.5 million) buses, trucks, expensive cars and barely mobile clunkers. The all circulate without regard for rules, red lights (okay sometimes)and right of way. I was dodging and weaving while shifting the reluctant manual transmission and coaxing some speed out of the Renault. The buildings were concrete jungles with street vendors, garages, shops and clinics. Mostly there were just many people, everywhere on cells and crossing in the middle of the streets. After an hour of zigging and zaggging successfully, we arrived at the Grand mosque of Hassan II. It is a huge building with a towering minaret, perched over the edge of the Atlantic. We all took snapshots but could not go in. Then we drove downtown to the port with fewer questions on the way (tout drroit monsieur) to the port area. We ate lunch at the Restaurant du Port- an old fashioned restau with an excess of waiters but also some fresh fish. Our quick lunch included shrimps grilled and pil-pil (mildly spicy) as well as fried calamari. All quite good and rapidly served. I grossed out the kids by eating the shrimp heads and Mark followed my example (adventurous at least when it comes to food).
After lunch came the deluge. The skies clouded over ominously and then a downpour started and persisted all afternoon (sunny Morocco, eh!). We drove our putt-putt out of Casablanca and onto the divided highway to Rabat. Visibility was terrible and all were fatigued. Kids asleep in the back and I had to pull off the road a few times to rest for five minutes. A delicious coffee to go woke me back uo and we got to Rabat by 4 PM. Still pouring so we somehow navigated to our hotel, Le Pietri, down a side street somewhere near Guittel's old apartment. Through the wet windshield we glimpsed some of the walls of the old city and some more interesting buildings than in Casablanca.
We parked in front of our little hotel and checked in. Two rooms, third floor as reserved, business like but pleasant. A very nice mint tea in the very pleasant restaurant- bar and we all crashed for a bit before supper. We ate in the Pietri restaurant- good tagines and entrecote- quite tasty and satisfying. The doorman showed our poor Renault after dinner with a flat tire (the one we had inflated earlier). Oops, we've been given a lemon. For now to sleep but tomorrow the prospect of changing a flat in the rain or calling for help.... Salaam ou aleikum.
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