Much discussion about how to get to our hotel. Taxi or train, train or taxi? We have all changed money 8.2 dhiram to a dollar and are ready to spend it. Taxi wins out as we haggle over 250 or 300 dhiram for eight people and numerous bags in two cabs to take us to the Riad Salam on the corniche or the seaside district in Casablanca. This is about 30-37 dollars US.
A tall gentleman in a long white djellabah made of soft woven cotton which sports hood with a tuft on top stuffs our overstuffed bags into his small sedan trunk and four of us pile in followed by the others in the other car. The sun is just rising, the air is balmy but breezy, about 58 F. We get our first glimpses of palm trees and billboards in Arabic and French.
Many cars on the road and the air is a bit smoggy. Casa is the economic heart of Morocco, the major airport and seaport. Also the largest city. It was originally called Anfa which is a Berber name, but was renamed Casa Branca by the Portuguese in the 1700's when it was a fortified city. This name has become solidified in all American minds as Casablanca because of the classic movie starring Ingrid Bergman made in the 40's. We passed Rick's Cafe later in the day - restaurant started by a British business man.
The hotel is quite a drive and when we arrive at about seven thirty they are not yet open for business, but agree to take our bags until we can check in. The lobby has a gracious winding stair case surrounded by a tiled fountain which is not yet on.
We all avail ourselves of the WC and then to breakfast brunch in the restaurant. Fruits, flan, blood oranges, blood sausage, Moroccan vegetable soup. I ask for tea and am handed a small glass with a golden liquid - mint - but with a ton of sugar. Delicious but I wil have to be careful with this stuff.
After le petite dejeuner - my French returns slowly, we walk out to the sea.
We had a sense if it from the car and the wait staff are all spreading table clothes and preparing the outdoors terrace for the day. It looks bright and promising. It is actually magnificent. A hotel built around a circular pool with a cascading fountain and palm trees and gardens all around.
It resembles a movie set and we all stand above it on a terrace before the sea and decide we are going to be movie stars. This is not hard since one of us is already Mia and another Raquel.
Then we look at the sea - the west African coast of the Atlantic - latidunally equivalent to North Carolina - the waves crash in big rollers and the mist rises in the early sun. A large group plays soccer far down the beach.
Many tankers sit half hidden in the haze of the distant horizon and two yellow dogs scamper in the surf seeming unattached to any human. The sand flat is riddled with plastic bottle caps reminding me of the earth day junk sculpture I want to do with my kids at work when I return. I find a small shell which looks like the rays of the sun to remind me of the day. We have to be let back into a gate to get to the hotel.
Tour of the city and pigeon dinner next...
A tall gentleman in a long white djellabah made of soft woven cotton which sports hood with a tuft on top stuffs our overstuffed bags into his small sedan trunk and four of us pile in followed by the others in the other car. The sun is just rising, the air is balmy but breezy, about 58 F. We get our first glimpses of palm trees and billboards in Arabic and French.
Many cars on the road and the air is a bit smoggy. Casa is the economic heart of Morocco, the major airport and seaport. Also the largest city. It was originally called Anfa which is a Berber name, but was renamed Casa Branca by the Portuguese in the 1700's when it was a fortified city. This name has become solidified in all American minds as Casablanca because of the classic movie starring Ingrid Bergman made in the 40's. We passed Rick's Cafe later in the day - restaurant started by a British business man.
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| Rick's Cafe |
The hotel is quite a drive and when we arrive at about seven thirty they are not yet open for business, but agree to take our bags until we can check in. The lobby has a gracious winding stair case surrounded by a tiled fountain which is not yet on.
 |
| Richard in Riad Salam Hotel |
We all avail ourselves of the WC and then to breakfast brunch in the restaurant. Fruits, flan, blood oranges, blood sausage, Moroccan vegetable soup. I ask for tea and am handed a small glass with a golden liquid - mint - but with a ton of sugar. Delicious but I wil have to be careful with this stuff.
After le petite dejeuner - my French returns slowly, we walk out to the sea.
We had a sense if it from the car and the wait staff are all spreading table clothes and preparing the outdoors terrace for the day. It looks bright and promising. It is actually magnificent. A hotel built around a circular pool with a cascading fountain and palm trees and gardens all around.
It resembles a movie set and we all stand above it on a terrace before the sea and decide we are going to be movie stars. This is not hard since one of us is already Mia and another Raquel.
Then we look at the sea - the west African coast of the Atlantic - latidunally equivalent to North Carolina - the waves crash in big rollers and the mist rises in the early sun. A large group plays soccer far down the beach.
Many tankers sit half hidden in the haze of the distant horizon and two yellow dogs scamper in the surf seeming unattached to any human. The sand flat is riddled with plastic bottle caps reminding me of the earth day junk sculpture I want to do with my kids at work when I return. I find a small shell which looks like the rays of the sun to remind me of the day. We have to be let back into a gate to get to the hotel.
Tour of the city and pigeon dinner next...
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