July 13th 2016, Casablanca, Morocco
Arrived in Casablanca again, a few days later from my last visit.
Oh Rick, (Blaine, of course)…my fast life…
“Yvonne: Where were you last night?
Rick: That’s so long ago, I don’t remember.
Yvonne: Will I see you tonight?
Rick: I never make plans that far ahead.”
This not only could be the story of my life, this currently is the story of my life.
I’m quite familiar with the surroundings and I know I want to explore the city alone. Spotted some superb buildings with lots of pink, small flowers grown all the way up, leaning on the white walls on Rue d’Alger, so I guess this is a plan.
Of course, as most of the plans I’ve made in my life…
…at the time a plane landed from the Middle East on Mohammed V International Airport, Rick was in his posh restaurant by the Mediterranean, having the most exquisite view of Hassan II Mosque mirroring in the sea waters, sipping on one of the collection wines that fill the walls of the place where, in the middle of extreme poverty, the Casablanca rich elite gathers. A little later, he signed for the wooden boxes of fresh fish that landed on my plateau just a few hours later, when two destinies met, just to confirm that we have soul brothers all over the world and some of them we’re lucky enough to meet in this lifetime.
So, I drink another strong coffee, wear my long wide floral print in blue and red caftan and my green turban, the turquoise bracelet ring I got last time from the local souq (market in Arabic) and a tiny purse. I get a Petit Taxi to the Mosque and he actually starts the meter. It costs 10 dirhams ($1) and take no spare minute to drop double the amount. I spend the whole afternoon at the mosque resting in the shade, taking pictures, watching the people and inhaling the sea air.
As researched online, there is a 30 minute walk to the Corniche, so I keep walking and stop to take pictures every now a then, or to buy fresh juice. In less than an hour I’m there and find one of the restaurants on my list, but keep walking through something that does not look like a Corniche normally does.
The examples I have would be the Corniches in Abu Dhabi, Dubai or Doha. Well, my friends, this is a whole different story, far from the opulent luxury and 5-star hotels and fancy places I was expecting to see.
Actually, it’s a slum, where young kids swimming in the sea, dipping their feet in the water, playing football, rushing on their motorbikes. The houses are absolutely not resembling a house, they are made of cartons and sun dried soil, nothing organized, all improvised, doors and windows almost falling. Falling. However, I must admit, their view towards the waves of the sea breaking on the small peninsula’s stones is great.
I’m almost at the Lighthouse when a lady in one of the huts asks me if I speak French. I say a little. She and her daughters – I suppose – look at me with the most precious eyes. She tells me to stop taking pictures, hide my camera and return to the main street in the direction I was coming from. It was an advice. Probably a good one. The truth is that I am not in the mood of being snatched second time.
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I had written a lot of things about this trip in Casablanca. There were some intense feelings of all sort and really, it was an adventure. I love to evolve as I go again to a city. I become bolder, I learn more, I get more opened up and that’s when …things happen.
If I showed any person from the frequent Casablanca good night life scene my list of places where I wanted to go, they, for sure, would have told me there must be something connected to Rick. What is the probability that I had on a piece of paper a list of all the places he established or managed once and now I reach the place he just opened a week ago?
Another page of my life, another city, other people, new experiences, discovering a little bit about Casablanca’s interesting nightlife.
The trip brought revelations on the cycles of life and I closed one circle, for sure.
You know that place and those people who, with their unconditional kindness, tell you…Stop! You’re not going the right way with this right thing to do. Funny, no? Contrasts all over.
So, it’s not something wrong, it’s just that things have a purpose and one must never lose their eyes from it. So…as I was there, with my half naked shoulder…I was over it!
There were so many things I had written and most of them were quite intense that the fact that I have lost the file means I should just keep this one for me and for my soul. That’s the beauty of things, that you cannot really explain the most intense feelings, but they stay with you in a special place.