If I were a third grader creating my own Morocco, it would be a country of primary colours whose cities, rivers, and borders - I would add - would be painstakingly coloured within the lines (much to the relief of Western Sahara and a handful of child psychiatrists). And this would be my colour palette of crayons (remember, I am only 8 years old):* Marrakech is the red city.
* Meknès is the yellow city.
* Casablanca is the white city.
* Chefchaouen is the blue city.
The truth is, in spite of what guidebooks may say, Marrakech isn't particularly red, and Meknès (whose amber epithet I just made up) is only marginally yellow-ish. I did make that one up after all. Casablanca isn't so much white as the colour of snow in March, complete with dog turds peeking through the slush after a nice acid rain shower. And 'Chaouen? Only time will tell. And by time, I mean tomorrow.
The hotel has been reserved - albeit with a modicum of difficulty as few hoteliers here seem inclined to respond to e-mail enquiries. Which leaves me thinking that the 'contactez-nous' link on their reservation pages is more of a decorative whimsy than utilitarian in any way. Remarkably, the bus tickets were purchased without incident. The knapsacks are, if not packed at least in a state of hopeful anticipation.
Dare I say - as I take pause to consider those tortuously precipitous and often fatal hairpin turns which go up up up and down down down the Rif Mountains - what can possibly go wrong?
Perhaps not.
So this, our last weekend in Morocco will be spent verifying the azure-ness of the country's fabled Blue City - a city which once, during its tenure as a hotbed for religious extremists, barred Christians from entering it. Not that
Until Monday.
5 comments:
Dear Cat,
A fellow foreigner in Rabat, residing in a slightly shabbier part of town, I've often chuckled at your pertinent obervations of the world's pot-hole capital and the antics of its benighted inhabitants. So it's with sadness I hear you are to leave these sewage-strewn shores for other climes. At least Rabat's a city you know you can return to in 5, 10, 50 years and nothing much will have changed, Agence du Bouregreg or no Agence du Bouregreg.
In my darkest moments I sometimes think one might as well be dead in Rabat -- at least you don't get hassled and there's a lovely sea view from the cemetary. When I feel chirpier it seems a very human place, the other end of the scale from the soulless western metropolis. Either way, I've at least two more years to go so let the Moussem go on and roll on Ramadan!
T.
So:
Will you now be called Cat in Madrid?
Seriously, wishing you a pleasant, safe and fruitful trip (take many piccies!).
Thanks to you both. Anonymous: surely the Agence du Bouregreg will transform Rabat/Sale into the world class city (ies) it is (they are).
Knarf: am toying with Kautar & Bilal Do Madrid. Too bad Madrid isn't in Catalonia...the possibilties are - well - obvious.
Thanks for giving Western Sahara its border back! Crayon is better than nothing :)
Yes, Morocco is very colorful country. Morocco brims over with contrast, colour and mystery and all you can do is simply catch your breath in wonder. It has a timeless quality that no longer exists in the modern world. Morocco is a land which invites you to enjoy delightful and happy holidays, a land where nature proudly exhibits its beauty, and where the people meet you know how to greet and honor their guests.
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