Arriving in Rabat
- tmatson
- Dec 26, 2014
- 3 min read
The flight from Barcelona to Casablanca was over 45 minutes late. When we finally did arrive in Casa, I ran through the foreign airport to the departure gate for my transfer flight to Rabat. Everyone had already boarded, but the flight hadn’t taken off yet. They bussed me to the plane, but explained the suitcase I was forced to check because it was over the 15-kilo carry-on weight limit wouldn’t make it with me. I arrived in Rabat at 9:30PM with only a passport and the clothes on my back.
Luckily, a driver was waiting for me at the airport, and he drove me straight to Hotel Darna just outside of the ancient medina walls. However, I had no water, no toothbrush and no cash to buy said supplies. The hotel concierge pointed me in the direction of an ATM, but it wouldn’t accept my card. He told me the next nearest machine was in the medina. Despite the cautionary recommendations of the UBELONG preparation manual, I decided to venture out on my own after dark… I was so thirsty.
To my relief, bright, exposed light bulbs dangled off of each storefront, illuminating the main road through the thick smoke wafting from the street food stalls. Fried fish and cumin spice smells flooded my sense. Eyes followed me as I made my way past smoking groups of men and laughing young boys … BOOM!
A blast pierced the air from an arms-length away, knocking me off-balance and shattering all thoughts. Instinct took over, and I clutched my sides protectively as the laughing boys ran in the opposite direction. Oh, fireworks*… I straightened up self-consciously and forced myself to put one foot in front of the air while adrenaline coursed through my veins.
It wasn’t long before I found another ATM, but this one had no money left in the machine. I was about to give up and head back to the hotel when I heard a young man softly curse his luck. I watched him shake his head and retrieve his card from the machine.
“It didn’t work for you either?” I asked him in French.
“Non, mais il y a un autre tout droit. Tu veux venir avec moi?” I quickly weighed my options and decided to follow this Moroccan man to the next guichet. We finally lucked out, and I was able to withdraw 400dhm, which seemed like a sufficiently large sum (I realized later that this is only the equivalent of about $50).
The young man, whose name was Anass, asked me how long I had been in Morocco and if I was studying Arabic. I explained that I had just arrived to volunteer at Hôpital Ar-Razi. Our conversation developed as he helped me find the water and toothbrush I had initially set out to find. He was a biology student, he explained, enrolled in a Moroccan grad school-equivalent program. Anass insisted on escorting me all the way back to the hotel like a gentleman and bid me farewell, thus concluding my first adventure in Morocco.
[Two days and one pouring rain storm later, I did retrieve my luggage from the airport! What a huge relief it was to change out of my soggy, smelly clothes and put on fresh socks!]
*I found out later that I had arrived on the eve of a Moroccan holiday called the Green March. The holiday symbolizes Moroccans' belief in the legitmacy of their claim over the long-disputed terrority of the Western Sahara. Traditionally, it is celebrated by lighting "popper" fireworks and throwing water (or, more recently, eggs) at people. Luckily I avoided any egg encounters.
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