Three weeks ago, when we first considered visiting Morocco, Sean had suggested an overnight amel trek in the Sahara Desert. Time and temperature constraints resulted in a camel ride along the Atlantic Coast’s sandy dunes.
Slightly afraid of heights and of riding atop large, ungainly animals, my stomach lurched at the sight of 3 white camels, all at least 9′ tall, plodding past a row of date palm trees to where Sean and I stood. One camel was much taller than the others; I could walk beneath him without ducking. He also was much crabbier. As he groaned, snorted and shook his massive head, I thought, “Whew! I am so glad that the short person – me – will get one of the small, passive camels.” Yes, I got the big, crabby one.
Named Gallelli, he was also the oldest and most experienced. He led Sean’s and our Berber uide’s camels through the dunes, over scrubby grass and past rows of budding argan trees (they produce olive-like fruit that provide oil for dressings) and grazing goats (goats climb the argan trees to eat the fruit). Contrary to my initial impression, Gallelli was quite sweet and, even at a gallop, provided a smooth, easy ride. By the end of our journey I was smitten.
If the camel ride, delicious food, gregarious people, inexpensive yet lovely crafts, ancient kasbahs, beautiful weather and overnight stays in riads (mansions built around a courtyard and garden) were the highlights of Morocco, Casablanca is the low point. It is not the dusty, romantic town immortalized by Bogart but rather a huge, industrialized city teeming with pollution and
fast-moving cars. No major sites. No unique features other than nightmarish traffic that makes Marrakech seem like a country village. Along with the ever-present darting pedestrians and unsteady bicyclists/bikers toppling over amidst the speeding cars, Casablanca has thousands of lawless drivers who make their own lanes (7 lanes of cars on a street that supports 4), ignore lights, stop traffic to chat with drivers of passing cars and honk their horns constantly. We tried to avoid staying in the city but the top-rated seaside hotel 15 minutes north had no a/c and was crawling with roaches. Sadly, we learned this after checking in, eating dinner and returning to a hot, bug-infested room. After a heated debate we retrieved our bags and passports and drove ack to Casablanca for a cool, clean, roach-free room from which we could hear 3 muezzins compete for the faithful at 3 a.m.
-Kath
