It’s safe to say that Morocco has been the most challenging port thus far. That’s not to say it was bad per se. (None of the ports have been anything short of fun, uh, unless you count the couple days on my death bed in Paris.) It was just…a challenge. Though I’ve been a couple times before, I’ve never led a group of eight little ducklings through the crowded streets of locals trying to peddle their goods and services onto us obvious tourists.
This visit, we decided to stick close to the port. Casablanca is where the ship docks and is known for being a gritty, industrial town. Marrakech is my favorite of Moroccan cities, but given it’s three hours by train each day—and we only had one night—we took a 55-minute, $15 ride to the capital instead.
After checking into our riad, we set out in search of a restaurant, Dar Naji, that the general manager had recommended—and then I made the fatal error. I asked directions.
The medina was more confusing than any others I had encountered, the map did us no good as there are no street signs in the medina, and a seemingly kind local offered to lead us there, for which I knew we’d pay. What I didn’t realize is he had no idea where he was going, so he took us the most roundabout way possible, and nearly an hour later, we arrived at our intended destination. It took us 15 minutes to walk back the “long way” after lunch.
Tajine and couscous and Moroccan Coke—though we passed on one local delicacy: pigeon pastilla.
We spent the rest of the afternoon checking out the coast line. It was pretty and all, but the next morning, we took the earliest train back to Casa and spent the afternoon enjoying the sun from the ship’s pool deck.