Casablanca travel post, the end
Back-dating this to Saturday, October 21st, 2017, even though it’s June 6th, 2020 by the time I’m posting it
So, full disclosure, I’m writing this post from 35K feet, more than two full years after it happened. I’m on my way to Asia for the first real time (that one short somewhat-kidnapping in Istanbul shouldn’t count), and I want to start with a clean slate, with not only my erstwhile Belgium posts completed and published, but also these last two from Morocco. The previous Marrakesh post was nearly complete, but this Casablanca one has just jotted down notes and faded memories that I won’t be able to independently verify with Ryan because I procrastinated too much. I’ll edit if I have to.)
After a stay in Marrakesh that was altogether too short (Go! Don’t wait for the chance—make the chance!), and after the train ride to Casablanca completed, we return for we return to Casablanca for a final night before our flight home the next day. Typically when we travel we stay 4-6 nights in a single place, and stay only one or two places on the trip. I wondered whether our Morocco itinerary—Casablanca, Fez, Chefchaouen, Tangiers, Marrakesh with an overnight in the desert, and back to Casablanca—would overwhelm us in one week, but we’ve been able to keep up with things just fine, with ample naps on the travel in between locations (or in that one case, a night train).
Our last day in Morocco, we’ve accomplished everything we set out to do and more, with the exception of two things: Toast my grandfather, stationed in Casablanca during World War II; and purchase some sweets to take back to friends and family. We opt to tackle the latter first.
We take a taxi to what is apparently the only patisserie worth patronising in Casablanca and stock up, the pastries arranged along the walls and purchasable by the kilo. Flush with pride at our accomplishment, we head back to the hotel to drop off the pastries and change for dinner.
We opt for an easy night in Casablanca, taking in one don’t-miss tourist site and satiating an appetite for pizza. (It never worked out to meet back up with our friend Abdul—whom we’d met at that train station our first day in Morocco—for dinner with his wife and kids.) We leave our hotel and take a car to a famous mosque situated right on the water, and I snap a few final pictures as the sun sets on our last night in Morocco.
We take a taxi back downtown, towards a pizza place that Yelp recommended, and arrive only to find…well, nothing. No evidence of a pizza place that ever was. We wander the block a little aimlessly before accidentally stumbling upon an Italian restaurant that just so happens to do pizza, and has wine (alcohol has been much harder to find than tea in this predominantly Muslim nation). Cheers, Grampy. You did well.
Full of pizza and wine, we travel back to our only hotel stay of the trip, and a bathroom we regrettably won’t be able to make full use of (fancy tub, lots of toiletries including slippers and robes, a separate room with only a toilet and bidet…sigh). We pack, charge devices, procrastinate publishing blog posts (well, one of us does, at least), and try to keep thoughts of returning to everyday life at bay.
Our Morocco stay, while short, was one of the most welcoming of my travel experiences, up there with Turkey and Ireland, and behind perhaps only the latter. Travel within the country was such a breeze, and everyone we met was genuine, warm, and with some recommendation or other on how to make our stay as enjoyable as possible. My series of accidental blog posts PSAs should serve as a testament to our time here, and you should go.
Someday I’ll be back, if only to introduce Catman to a whole host of opportunities to get fleas.