I'm Off My Beaten Track in Casablanca ...

The vast city of Casablanca at twilight

 ... today.  I've been trawling through my journals and found some forgotten notes from my travels in North Africa.  Check out my thoughts from that time ...

MOROCCO MEMOS

'... I opened the curtains in Casablanca to the spectacular view of towers of containers and the wall of the dock.  Not quite what I had been expecting.  My imagined view of the city was all based on the black and white movie of the same name with Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, and Paul Henreid that was released in 1943.  I’d somehow lost myself in the romance of the story and Rick’s Bar.  The real and immediate view from the window of my cabin kinda shot an Exocet missile through the imagined!  But there’s still Risk’s Bar, I told myself in consolation as I meandered along to breakfast, my trusty travel guide in hand to read over coffee...'

This modern city, with a population of more than 4.2 million, boasts of being the largest urban development, the chief port, and the economic and business centre of Morocco. What I encountered and described in my journal was something a little different.  Read on ...

'... as I got off the supplied transport to take us into town, I and my fellow travellers were immediately besieged by men wanting to entice us into their taxis to drive us across and around the town.  Taking ‘No thank you’ for an answer was something unheard of and clearly unacceptable here.  I just kept walking across the vast square to be free of the constant barracking....'

'... as I meandered along the streets I saw derelict buildings next to French Colonial edifices next to 21^st century empty new builds.  Jay walking is inviting a death sentence, and at the standard, marked and managed crossings are just as dangerous.  No-one gives any quarter here.  The standard of driving is the same as I witnessed in Egypt decades ago, it’s just that everything today happens at a much greater speed with absolutely no regard for the green agenda.  Chaos without even a glimmer of organisation to temper it...

'... I eventually discovered the souk and stepped beneath its ramshackle roof.  Lots of little ‘shops’ in every inch of space and lots of stall-holders, again all men, barracking and clamouring for your attention and offering a ‘good price’.  Then a Vespa came storming down the narrow alleyway – it was the first of a number and it became apparent that this was the norm.  I made my way out and back onto the wide streets where there was no-one to bother me with whatever they wanted to sell.  My peace didn’t last long as I made the mistake of turning to look at a mobile stall selling nothing but oranges.  I was barracked again and just ran a few steps ahead to get away.  It seems the standard European art of browsing is an absolute no-no here...'

'A little further on I come across a plaque above an old doorway.  I tried the door, it was firmly locked, but the content of the inscription above was intriguing. I make a mental note to check it out when I can ...'

'... And as for Rick’s bar – that’s not real.  It only ever existed in a studio in Hollywood.  The Rick’s Café, here in Casablanca, was only inspired by the bar in the film.  Another disappointment...'

'... making my way across the square and I’m barracked again.  Luckily, I spy the laid on transport and I decide that enough of this city is more than enough.  It seems that my fellow travellers feel the same way as there are hardly any seats left ...'

There will be more from my journals in the coming weeks and months.  Keep watching this space...