Monday, June 20, 2011

On the Road Again

Isn't it amazing the way a desperately needed shower has the capacity to wash away not just dust and grime but also negativity? I just had one of the best showers of my life in one of the grimiest hotels I've ever stayed in. In fact, this hotel rivals the one in Agadir, but that's okay--there was hot water, and today, that was more than enough for me. :) Travel is really teaching me to appreciate stuff I never noticed before. It'll be a long time before I take a hot shower for granted. And at the end of a hard day of travel, being clean is enough to make me genuinely happy.

The day started out in Taroudant, where I had spent most of my 48 hours there feeling a bit like an unwanted houseguest. After talking to a number of people there, both locals and other tourists, I sense that because Taroudant is a market city, a lot of the people on the street are themselves visitors to Taroudant from the surrounding farming towns and mountain villages, where life is much more traditional and where there is less exposure to foreigners. That's totally understandable, but it still doesn't feel good to be a spectacle just walking down the street.

I still absolutely cannot figure out why both Lonely Planet and the Rough Guide were so enthused about the city, and especially about its architectural beauty. It had a decent souk, but nothing special, and all the buildings were one and two story concrete block. The city is ringed by a crennelated wall, and I agree that's cool, but I wouldn't have used the word "elegant" to describe anything in the city except my riad. And given how pronounced the reaction to my presence was, I'm a little surprised that there was no warning at all about women travelers in the city. But whatever--I'm glad that I tried it, and going there gave me a perspective on a much different aspect of Morocco than what I've seen in Marrakesh and Essouira. It's all good.

Taroudant did serve up one last problem, though: it's really hard to get in and out of town. There is no rail service, and the bus service is a little unreliable and conducted through what most people regard as a very low-rent bus company. I originally took the bus to Taroudant, and it was not great but perfectly serviceable for the two hour trip from Agadir. Marrakesh is at least six and a half hours away by bus, stopping at every little town along the way. Also, unlike the better bus companies, this one allows hawkers and beggars to board the bus at each stop, where they push and shove up and down the aisle shaking their goods three inches from your face: chocolate bars, necklaces, perfume, tissues, gum, Arabic prayers on scraps of paper, and anything else they had handy. Each stop is prolonged because the bus can't depart until all of the hawkers leave. Seven hours of that might make me snap.

The only real alternative to the bus is a "grand taxi," where five or six passengers pay a driver to take them to a particular city, in my case Marrakesh. What would take six and a half hours by bus is around four in a grand taxi. But instead of departing at a scheduled time, you just have to wait until all of the places in the car are filled. And wow, are these taxis crowded when they finally leave. Three or even four people in back, and in the front, the driver, one in the passenger seat, and one person in the front middle seat straddling the gearshift. Sometimes people pay for two seats so that they can have extra room, and given that the base price of the trip was $10, I opted to splurge and pay for the passenger seat and keep the middle seat beside me vacant. Since it's unusual for a woman to travel in a grand taxi, I figured it would be smarter to give myself $10 worth of breathing room. It was a good investment, I think, and it probably made things more comfortable for the men in the cab, too, since they wouldn't have wanted to be squashed with me.

It took about 45 minutes for our group to assemble, so I got a chance to have a great chat with Yunis, the proprietor of my riad, who had offered to accompany me to the grand taxi area and get me set up with the driver. Yunis is a bit younger than me, and he's a computer programmer working at the riad until he can find something in his field. Apparently there's a growing industry of computer animation programming happening in Morocco, and he'd like to find a place in it. Very cool person. He isn't married and his mother is nagging him to find a wife and get married soon. He said it's pretty common for young people here to marry at 18 or 20 and then live with the guy's parents, and if the family has land or something, everybody gets involved in the work. But he said that more and more Moroccans are delaying marriage like in Europe and the US. Interesting conversation.

By 11:30, we had our quorum and were off. I said goodbye to Yunis, dumped my backpack in the trunk, and we headed out of town. It was over 100 degrees and the car didn't have any air conditioning. The open windows kept the air cooler and moving, but it was still sweltering. I had a bottle of water with me, and after a couple of hours, it was as hot as freshly served soup. With the open windows blowing loudly and the radio screeching an imam's sermon and the ungodly heat, the journey seemed to last forever. But as always in Morocco, the landscape was worth seeing. We drove through the mountains and saw a gorgeous mountain lake, and we cut through miles and miles of farmland and grazing areas. I saw donkeys, goats, sheep, horses, cattle, and even a couple of dogs that made me miss Muppet, my dog back home (all dogs make me miss Muppet. Actually all quadrupeds make me miss my Muppet.).

At long last, around 4 pm, we arrived in Marrakesh, and I had the taxi driver drop me off at the train station so that I could travel on to Casablanca, a three hour ride departing at 5. Since I only had a short time in the station, my lunch choices were KFC and McDonald's. I opted for the cheeseburger and fries--which have never, NEVER tasted so good. Three more hours of zoning out while watching livestock, farms, and buildings flick by, but this time in a first class compartment ($20) with air conditioning that worked maybe 60 percent. It was better, but all six of us in the compartment were sweaty and hot.

When I finally arrived at the hotel, I was so filthy I was absolutely disgusted with myself. Not only was I smelly, but driving through the arid mountains with the windows open meant that I was also caked in a film of dust. And just to top things off, somehow I stepped on gum on the train. All kinds of grossness happening. That's why I don't care that much about my shag nasty hotel room. The shower worked. The water was hot. My needs are abundantly met.

Tomorrow I'm going to go explore Casablanca!

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