Arrival in Morocco

Our arrival into Marrakech was one of the more interesting passport & customs experiences. Like most international arrivals, we were given a form to complete on the plane (this becomes impotrant later). We landed on time, walked down the jetway steps onto the tarmac, and then were directed by two older men in white lab coats through one of three metal detection-like boxes before entering the airport.

These detection boxes were unlike anything we've ever seen before. They were about the size of a regular walk through metal detector, but had nothing credible to suggest that it was detecting anything. It wasn't quite a cardboard box, but it did seem to have the same detection capability. It had metal mesh sides and a series of lights across the top. When the light flashed green on our side, one lab coat guy gestured us through (with all our carry ons) and another lab coat guy read an indicator light on the other side. We made it through just fine, but others were asked to go through the box several times until lab coat guy number two was satisfied. Unlike metal detectors where a person generally keeps unloading pockets or removing jewelry until the all clear is given, in this circumstance, no changes were required to receive the all clear. Just walk through it enough times and it'll be ok.

So then we got in the passport control line, where we were removed and directed to a table with the same exact form as what we received on the plane. A little confused, we got back in the passport control line with our original form, only to be removed again and directed to the same form table. Now confused AND frustrated we got BACK in the passport control line in hopes of slipping past the officer who kept removing us. By this time, there is a sizable group of Americans roaming around trying to figure things out. I suppose the customs officers were confused about why all the Americans wouldn't stay still andorra do as we were told, so they corraled us into a line near the detection boxes. Together, with the other confused Americans, we figured out that we had to complete a duplicate form for the lab coat guys.

As it turns out, the lab coat guys were swine flu detectives! They left their detector posts and were now interrogating everyone. As we moved closer to the front of the line, we speculated what they may ask and decided we'd be mad if we were sent back to Spain if we answered wrong. I guess we looked healthy enough because our interrogation was only two questions: 'where are you staying?' and 'when did you leave the US?'

We made it through hurdle number two and were FINALLY permitted to go through passport control. After about another 15 minutes, we made it through passport control and could finally collect the one suitcase we brought from Spain. It was the only bag left on the carousel, and we rejoiced when we reunited with it.

On to customs. We got at the end of a very long stationary line and prepared for another hour wait. We slowly crawled along for about 5 minutes then, all of the sudden, they just let everyone through! It was as if the customs agents got tired or filled their daily search quota!

Finally, we made it into the arrivals area and met Franc (pronounced with a French accect), who was there to take us to our ryad. He was a very friendly man who taught us Arabic phrases on the drive. Fortunately Alison and Margaret's middle school French came back to them a little because Franc spoke no English.

By this point in our Morrocan experience we had figured out it was a chaotic place, but I think nothing prepared us for the drive to the ryad. People in cars, on foot, on bicycles, on motorcycles, in horse drawn carriages, and on burros all moved on the roadways and sidewalks (I use the term sidewalk loosely) as if they were ants and their mound had been stepped upon. And we thought Sevilla driving was hard! We were very thankful we did not rent a car.

After about 267 close calls and 20 minutes later, Franc parked the car and said 'follow me.' And so we became one of the pedestrians walking on the side of the road with cars, bikes, motorcycles zooming past. Single file, we weaved our way through tinier and tinier crooked streets until we only had to dodge other pedestrians. Then we arrived at our ryad, a little sanctuary behind an adobe wall among all of Marrakech's chaos.

A ryad is a Moroccan B&B. They are adobe like structures that share walls with the building next to it, and quite frankly, look pretty disapointing from the outside. But when the huge wooden and brass door opened to ours, a little oasis revealed itself. It was a square doughnut, two stories tall, with a courtyard in the middle. The courtyard had several iron tables and lounge chairs and a tiled pool in the middle. Unfortunately, the water was a little too cold for this wimpy Texan to get in.

Our room was on the second floor behind another set of huge wooden doors. We had plenty of space and a huge bathroom to spread out. Actually, we had the whole place to spread out... There were no other guests there (there were only 6 other rooms).

After only a few minutes we went back downstairs to enjoy mint tea and Moroccan pastries. It was all delicious. The mint tea was incredibly potent and probably half sugar. The pastries were small phyllo-like treats, a perfect pairing for the super sweet tea. While we relaxed, Morad, the young manager, showed us a map of the area and drew routes for the most direct ways to get to the souks (markets). I don't even know why he bothered, the map had no street names and the only things labeled were the mosques, which didn't have names posted on their walls.

Then Alison and I set out for more food... another adventure in and of itself and deserving of another post. Tomorrow we head to the Sahara. Pictures coming soon.