My second time in Casablanca. I take the train from the airport to downtown, then a taxi to my hotel.

Taxi driver: “I’ll take you to better hotel, oui?” (speaking in a mix of Moroccan Arabic and French)
Me: “No thank you, I already have a reservation”
Taxi Driver: “But the other hotel is better”
Me (now grumpy): “No, just take me to that one”

We arrive at the hotel, which turned out to be something like 3 km away from the station.

Taxi driver: “500 dirhams” (about $60)

I laugh maniacally.

Taxi driver: “My friend, I mean hotel not taxi” grinning from ear to ear.

Taxi drivers are so much fun.

After the following day’s appointements, I go to check out the souk, which seems to be the obligatory feature of any Arab/Middle Eastern city. The one in Casablanca is basically the Moroccan version of Khan El Khalili in Cairo. Like ancient ruins: If you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all.

Then I go to the Moroccan “hamam”, or public bath, kind of like a local spa. And I am not much into the spa thing, but you can’t beat a $5 massage by bikini clad Moroccan hotties (okay, no hotties here…the massage is given by a huge guy who is so serious about his job that you feel like he’s going to crush your bones)

Something about reconfirming airline tickets really confuses the front desk staff at Ramada hotels in Morocco. In both Casablanca and Tangier, I give them my ticket to confirm it, and they look at it, and look up to me repeatedly as if I just made a very wierd request.

“This is an airline ticket, and it does not bite”