Final Hours in Morocco

Leaving Marrakech

After showering, getting myself together, and packing up my stuff, we headed out of the apartment. The sun was bright and shining. I smiled, ready for the adventures of the day ahead. 

We headed out for breakfast at a nearby cafe where we split some croissants and other pastries. Then we came back, packed, and headed to Nikki Beach Marrakech to relax by the pool. After two hectic days running around, it felt amazing to bask in the sun. I reluctantly dried myself off when Pierre announced it was time to head back. 

Since I had only booked one night in my Airbnb in Casablanca, Farid graciously let me crash with him in his hotel by the beach for the night. I would be going to the airport the next morning to catch my flight to Lisbon anyway. 

Exploring Casablanca

When we finally arrived back in Casablanca, we all took some time to get refreshed. Farid took a shower and got on a work call. Pierre headed back to his apartment to shower and drop off his things. I charged my phone and then went on a solo walk on the beach. There were some people taking horseback riding lessons down the beach, and I longed to join them. There were also couples enjoying romantic picnics, groups of guys playing beach soccer, and families hanging out. I settled into a spot on the sand, and gazed out at the sun setting among the waves. I closed my eyes, letting myself bask in the golden glow of the beach, and of the events from the past two nights. I felt incredibly liberated and content. I was a changed woman from the girl who had landed in Morocco only three days prior. After a little while, I headed back to meet up with the group again.

Pierre, Farid, the other lawyer, his girlfriend, and I all headed to dinner that night at Le Cabestan, a beautiful beachside restaurant. I was grateful for their kindness, and how easily they welcomed me into their tight knit group. Pierre and Farid gleefully recounted my escapade with the French pastry chef from the night before to the other accountant and his girlfriend. We all laughed at the craziness of it all. Afterwards, we split up into separate cars and headed out to the clubs once again. 

Exhausted was an understatement to describe how I was feeling at that time. After three consecutive nights of only getting three hours of sleep, I had little energy for anything. I left the others at the bar an hour into the night, and headed back to Farid’s hotel where I slipped into a deep, blissful sleep. I didn’t even notice Farid coming back later that night or him leaving for the airport a few hours later.

The next morning, I woke up feeling more rested than I had in a week. I got up, picked up breakfast at the hotel buffet, and ate by the pool, reflecting on the whirlwind three days I had just had. I couldn’t believe it had only been three days. Three days during a normal week meant three days at work. 

After breakfast I packed up my stuff and left it with the concierge. I still had a few hours before I needed to head to the airport to catch my new flight to Lisbon. While Farid and I had paid a quick visit to Hassan II Mosque (a famous mosque in Casablanca) the night prior before heading to dinner, there were a few other sights I wanted to see before I left.

I headed to a local market in town where I walked among rows of heaping bags of different types of spice. This was the Morocco I had dreamed about from pictures I had seen previously. I wandered around aimlessly until a food stall caught my eye. An older Moroccan woman was selling savory polenta cakes that I felt like I needed to try. I headed over and pointed to one of them. She scooped it up into a bag and added an extra one in there as well for me. I smiled and thanked her and tried to pay her for both but she adamantly refused, and would only accept money for one of the cakes. Her kindness and generosity has stuck with me to this day.

Train Troubles

When it was finally time to go to the airport, I debated about taking a cab, but decided to take the train again. It had been easy enough, and I had met the two accountants which had dictated my entire trip here. If only the return trip could have gone as smooth… 

While the train was a few minutes late, we chugged along. I checked my watch repeatedly, but assured myself that everything would be ok. Then the train started slowing down. And going slower, before screeching to a complete halt. I looked out the window. We were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on either side by an expansive field of tall yellow grass. All of a sudden I smelled burnt rubber and metal, and began seeing people running down the aisles, holding their noses. I started panicking. Was there a bomb? News articles flashed across my mind. Was I about to die?

There’s something wrong with the train! someone exclaimed in French. A broken part or something. I calmed down slightly. Just a train malfunction. I wasn’t going to die. But I was at risk of missing my flight.

I scanned the train anxiously, gazing at the passengers and looking out across the field of grass. If only this had happened next to a street. Then I could have at least had the option to get off the train to Uber to the airport. 

After thirty excruciating minutes, we finally started moving again, although extremely slowly. I repeatedly checked the time, growing more anxious with every passing minute. When we finally arrived at the airport, there was a mad dash of people scrambling to get off the train first, luggage in tow. I can’t miss this flight, I thought to myself. 

I ran into the airport, fully prepared to sprint all the way to the gate. I was met immediately by a security checkpoint, where I was forced to relinquish my bag to a metal detector. Once I had finally entered the airport, I found out I had to check in since I was taking an international flight. After checking in, I found myself at a pre-security customs’ checkpoint in yet another line. Out of all the airports to be late to, Mohammed V Airport was by far the worst.

When I finally got to the real security line, I was met with another large crowd of people. My heart sank. My flight was boarding in thirty minutes, and I still had to go through customs after this. I began sprinting through the line, mumbling about how late I was. The other passengers began to retreat, allowing me past.

When I finally reached my gate, I heaved a huge sign of relief and set my bags down. I had made it. I glanced out the large glass windows at the plane that awaited to finally take me to Lisbon, three days later than I had originally intended. I smiled, ready for my next adventure.