Ikahn’s Top Ten Tips for Traveling in Morocco
Morocco
In the eight years since my first trip to Morocco I’ve learned so much and yet am still vibrating from the visceral impact of the grandeur and starkness of life in Morocco. Moroccans are renowned for their beauty and as I also found; their world class complicated psychology. My last trip was my twelfth time. It was the best trip of my life and came complete with all the danger and heartbreak I’ve found inescapable. Here’s why…
10. Take a bottle of Scotch and a case of Marlboro’s. (tip currency)
On my first trip to Morocco I was clueless. I’d forgotten about a hotel. A good friend introduced me to a Moroccan living in New York. We spoke on the phone for ten minutes. He told me to hang up and he’d call me back. In eleven minutes he called back and had arranged my entire trip to be spent with his family from Casablanca to Marrakech. I met him for fifteen minutes the day before I left. We are actually brothers to this day. I could tell him things I’ve never told my mother. Always have a small gift when entering the home of a Moroccan.
9. A comfortable pair of boots is a must. (Italian)
You’ll be walking along and all of a sudden find yourself transported to the days of Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Nevertheless you’ll want to be fashionable. What’s the difference; everybody will know you’re a foreigner. They can smell you.
8. Water. Unopened bottles of SDI Ali only!
Naturally, on that first trip I had water with the meal. By the time I got to Marrakech I was constantly hanging my ass over a porcelain hole in the floor. I had to bolt from my friend’s uncle’s house to a hotel that had a ‘Western Toilet’. You can only squat for so long before other physical ailments start to crop up.
7. US$100.
There was nothing like being far south in Agadir and finding that no one would change my money (including Banks). 1990 was obviously the year of living dangerously. I had to travel all the way back to Casablanca to change some money.
6. Use your bank card at your own risk.
Being a do-gooder I stayed past my due date to help a Moroccan get a visa. Needing more money, I went to a cash machine. It ate my card and would not give it back. I went into Ugly American overdrive. The next two days found me hounding the president of the branch and the executives at the Corporate
headquarters. My best line was: “How would you like your Mother to be in New York without her money and have me tell her sorry, I can’t do anything till Monday!” They opened the machine and gave me the card. Twice! I did it twice and they gave me the card twice!
5. American = Gods or Suckers (you decide)
Anyone who flies into Casablanca as much as I have has to be wealthy. Or so the locals think. But they are not above taking pot shots at you. Like the time I took one of the local teens on a buying excursion to keep me company and help me get good prices. It took awhile but I realized that every time we left a store the merchant was happy and kept giving him little trinkets. That was not a good trip. It was also our last outing together. Good luck Mohamed!
4. Pick your chin up off the floor, someone more beautiful is just around the corner.
It’s true the next Moroccan will be more beautiful than the one before. Men or women. Take your pick. A passenger on a return flight put it best I
think… “Take my word for it; people don’t go to Morocco for the handicrafts!” I think that just about says it all.
3. A pair of American made Levi’s are worth their weight in gold.
So I’m wearing a pair of Levi’s and I could sense some intrigue in the air. This was my first trip. My friend’s sister was washing my clothes. But had sent my jeans to guess where? The cleaners. Due back; guess when? The day I’m leaving at 7:00am. Boy was I pissed! Her brother wanted the jeans and instead of asking for them she devised a scheme. Much like she did when she wanted to have me purchase my first merchandise from her Boss! A pair of baboosh (pointy Aladdin slippers) that would go for $4 was suddenly $20 for me. The “good price”. So much for family.
2. Rent a room one night in the Hyatt Regency that overlooks the Bab Marrakech, the Mosque De King Hassan II and the Atlantic Ocean.
My other best friend is a pilot for Saudi Airlines. He would fly in from Jeddah and I from New York and we’d stay for free in a suite at the Hyatt Regency. On the ninth floor we had a huge bed with about ten different layers of sheeting and the bed was draped from floor to ceiling in lush fabric. There are two bathrooms, a Jacuzzi, efficiency kitchen, full wet bar, a full parlor for entertaining and two entrances.
That’s nothing compared to looking out the window. Below us was scene of unparalleled exoticism. The Bab Mar’Esh as they say; is a teeming cacophony of burning fires, spices blowing, music wafting, little bells ringing, and the fullness of life in the center of hand to hand commerce. It grips you by the throat and dares you to look away.
Beyond that is the magnificent wonder of the Mosque De King Hassan II. The light from its minaret can be seen from all over Casablanca. It stands at the foot of the Atlantic Ocean as the ultimate lighthouse. One that says not only are you safe from the sea but somehow you are safe in this life. Somehow. And you are immediately appreciative once your eye glimpses the the Ocean from it’s African origin. It’s not to be compared with any other perspective. The powerful waves are seven deep as they approach the continent and you know then that you are no longer in Kansas.
“How can such splendor and energy be absorbed?” I would think. Not easily I would find. The ravages, the rapes, the Godly manifestations and the history are all still there; pulsing as if it were three thousand years ago. Don’t take my word for it. Go once yourself. I dare you.
1. Resist calling your lawyer and giving him power of attorney; you can always come back.
