I arrived in New York several hours before my flight to Casablanca. I was so early that Royal Air Morocco wasn’t open yet, so I grabbed something to eat and bought some toothpaste to replace the tube that got confiscated by the Phoenix security. Let me tell you my breath right now is a terrorist act. I’m writing this from Casablanca after more than 30 hours of traveling.
I met a few people at the airport including Kathy, the woman I will be sharing a room with and Alice Beckwith, Rev Michael’s mom. Everyone is really nice. They are a lot like the Center for Spiritual Living group, but with more people of color. Black women form the majority of this group…how often in life have I been able to say that? It’s lovely. Kathy is a writer too (I am surrounded by writers in fact) so there is lots of good conversation to be had and I can’t help but feel like it’s an auspicious way to begin my journey.
Air Morocco is not JAL or even Air France. There was no little handy movie screen on the back of the seats, nor were there any hot towels, but they did give us socks and eye masked and the beef was almost delicious. I had an aisle seat across from Alice who filled me in on her life with Agape (the church in LA that put this trip together). Turns out she founded Agape’s bookstore…see the theme emerging. :)
Upon arriving in Casablanca, we went through customs. This was the first time we got to actually see the group as a whole since even as we boarded the plane, we did so separately. Alice kept running up and down the aisle trying to get an accurate roll call, but as she hadn’t met everyone it was a hard task. There are 23 of us total, not including the group we will be meeting in Accra. Most hale from LA and the Agape church, but there are a few strays; a guy from Portland and a lady from just south of Denver. Since we are a group, getting through customs took a long time, so I did a little exploring, exchanged some money and browsed the postcards. Then we were all together. We met our guide Hamid, who is a middle aged Moroccan currently living in DC…I’m still getting his story. Hamid is an invaluable resource. He knows the area and the history and even more fascinating the religious history.
We stopped at the Hotel Atlas, right by the airport. Even though we’re not staying the night we have rooms to freshen up in, but our rooms weren’t ready, so then we got right back on our big touring bus and headed out into the city. Here is the part when group traveling gets dicey. Some people wanted to stay at the Hotel, others wanted to take the tour, still others just wanted to get something to eat. So we all ended up on the bus ostensively to get something to eat and maybe do a mini-tour of Casablanca while they readied our rooms, but in the end someone decided we would just do a longer tour and eat lunch in the city. I don’t know. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other, but this one lady got really pissed. Then we got to this café and it was quickly revealed that I was the only one who had any Moroccan money (I had the chocolate crepes…they were very good, and I ordered in French!). I had only changed $20, thinking we would have a chance to get more money later…I’m not really shopping til we come back. But then it became this big drama.
The café was right on the beach though and gorgeous. I met a few more people. I am making a point to sit with different people at every opportunity; so far it’s been pretty good with the exception of getting stuck next to that negative lady. She is an energetic vampire…but I can see it and refuse to get sucked in!
I digress. Casablanca is a modern looking city with lots of palm trees. Apparently there is some kind of connection between Cali and Casablanca…Hamid says almost all the palm trees in California come from Morocco and that almost all of the cacti in Morocco come from Cali. There was also some story about a gazelle, but I have to go soon, so I will skip to the cool part. After a fabulous lunch of beef stew and well spiced tomato salad, Hamid took us to visit the largest Mosque in Casablanca…Hassan the 2nd Mosque. We are 5 days into Ramadan so non-Muslims are not allowed in the Mosque, but we walked around the outside and it was absolutely gorgeous. I’ve seen temples and Cathedrals around the world, but they don’t have anything on this place. It was huge. Hamid says 25,000 people can fit on the inside and almost triple that come to pray on the outside. If I had to sum it up in 3 words I would describe it as intricate, beautiful, and humbling. Hamid spoke to us about Ramadan and the meaning of fasting. He also talked to us about Sufism which I find absolutely fascinating. I got chills.
Then of course I had to pee…badly. So I excused myself to search for a toilet. I thought I had found one near the Mosque, but a lady sitting there said I had to be Muslim to use it. She directed me around to the other side, so I dashed over to the other side only to find nothing. Then that lady (I guess she had walked to that side from the inside) appeared again and waved me to follow her. I was a little unsure (al of this is taking place in French…I can order chicken, fish, and crepes…but that’s about all), but I followed her anyway and she took me around this gorgeous blue, green, and yellow tiled hallway…except then she kept going. And at this point I’m wondering if my bladder is about to cause an international incident, but I really do have to pee and she keeps motioning for me to continue, so I follow her.
She leads me, not to the bathroom, but inside the Mosque…which is absolutely gorgeous, awe inspiring, and holy to the nth degree. The size alone took my breath away, especially realizing that this wasn’t something built by cranes. They didn’t have bulldozers back then. They had shovels and a really phenomenal understanding of math. She led me into the inner sanctum where I covered my hair and removed my shoes. We walked among those praying until we came to a wall where I could see the rest of the sanctuary and where the men prayed…also gorgeous and amazing filled with golden light and cathedral ceilings carved with geometric patterns.
Eventually she did take me to the bathroom and might I say THANK YOU Ms. Blu for insisting I take spare toilet paper and antibacterial hand gel. Thank God I learned how to use the squat toilet during my stint in Japan. I was relieved and led back out. The lady, whose name I never caught, thanked me (I think she was thanking me) for being respectful of the experience. Then she made the international sign for give me some money, so I tipped her a $10 bill and snuck out with the promise not to tell anyone in my group she’d taken me inside.I caught up with the group and we walked a bit more before getting back on the bus and heading back to the hotel. When we were almost there, we got pulled over by the cops. Don't know why...again, no subtitles...but our driver was hella pissed. He and the cop went to go "talk" outside. Then one of my group mates almost got herself arrested because she decided to take a picture...which of course the cop receiving the bribe didn't take kindly too. He marched on the bus and made her delete it. And we all breathed a sigh of relief when we were able to get back on the road again.
Now I am back at the hotel about to have dinner before we hop on the plane to Accra. So far, so good.
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