More for your money

I finally made it safely to Rabat, and man, it’s been brutal. I am already a day behind and completely off-schedule: I’d intended to go to Marrakech first and work on that area.

But after pretty darn awesome flights and arriving a grand total of 10 minutes early, due to a late departure from Atlanta to Paris, my single checked bag didn’t arrive. I was surprised, really, because on the transfer bus in Paris I met three other women going to Casa, and their bags all made it.

Side note: They were doing Cross-Cultural Solutions in Rabat, which is the same program that carried me to Yaroslav, Russia. And one of the women had recently volunteered there as well. To bring the circle in closer, PC’s director of safety when I arrived quit his job to begin the CCS program in Morocco, but I don’t think he’s still there.

Anyway, back to the story – which is a boring one. My plan had been to take the train to Kech, since I’m more concerned with that itinerary. Plus, I was getting in early so I figured I’d just do the five hours of commuting, find a hotel and get my plan ready for Saturday. Saturday happens to be the Couchsurfing meet day there, too, and I hoped to attend and get some pointers.

But life intervened, as did an all-day layover at Casa. And it’s boring. No WiFi and not even good people watching. I did do a couple of things from my list, which were fairly sad because instead of collecting 10 maps to pass on to the flight leader, I have to report no such papers exist.

But I did get contact numbers for lost luggage. Not that I had a phone to call – my Morocco phone was checked.

Oh, story on checked baggage, too. I don’t look so good. Going through the security at Tallahassee, the guy was like, “Do you know about our liquids ban?” I said yes, I was, and wondered if I hadn’t emptied my water bottle properly.

I had done that, but he pulled out another sack – the one with some chintzy gifts for my host mom, should I see her. And those would be bath gel and honey, forms of liquid.

I felt like a moron. Seriously, I hadn’t looked on them for what they were. They weren’t “liquids,” they were gifts.

But luckily, I was able to hustle them out of there and get them checked, so I won’t go empty-handed into Midelt.

Back to the wait. My bag did arrive on the 2:37 plane, unrifled through but missing the little sticker they’d put on it. It did have, though, a new one of the flappy tag things, which said “expedited luggage.” I was so happy to see it, and promptly took the pictures I was supposed to, of things like the baggage claim are and lost luggage. Personally, I hope to be able to send them without seeing them again. I’d like to lose that memory fairly quickly.

And then the train. Casablanca is one of those cool airports that enables you to connect to the train system. It’s not extensive through Morocco, but it’s the best way to travel and it’s fairly easy.

Except for sleep-deprived me. I did the transfer and got my ticket from Casa to Rabat, which is the capital city and one I’ve spent time in. The transfer train left at 5:15 but I didn’t really know how long it took to get to Rabat.

Although I listened to the recorded voice – in Arabic and French – I didn’t hear “Rabat,” and there are two stops. So I rode along, catching a few Zs (I cannot sleep on planes. The guy in front of me sacked out the entire 7 ½-hour flight and I was SO jealous.) I’d been sitting alone, but I recognized some guy sat down briefly, then got off and a girl sat down. She had a suitcase, which struck me as odd, but whatever.

We kept riding and riding. I finally looked at my watch and it was something like 6:45. I checked the guidebook to see how long it was supposed to take and it said an hour or so. I then asked the girl where we were and she said Kenitria. I’d missed my stop.

We were stopped when I made that revelation so I hopped off and limped (my ankle is not liking this at all) over to security and tried to explain my plight. My Arabic tested at mid-intermediate but might have waned a bit.

The nice guy – God, Berbers are so nice – OK’d me to just get on the one going the other way in about 10 minutes. And he dragged me into the café to point me out to the guard so he’d know I was on a paid ticket. I doubt he was supposed to do that, but I was really grateful. And the guy, realizing I was just beyond my capacity at that point, told me it was three stops and then he pretty much made sure I got off at the right place.

Which was Rabat. I’d changed the Kech plan because I hadn’t wanted to get in after dark, but I wound up pulling up at 7:45 or so. And of course, I had no hotel room.

I’m now safely in one of the PC hotel haunts. Originally they said they didn’t have a room but when I asked if there were any other volunteers I could share with, he asked if I was a PCV. I said last year, yes, but I’d just returned and wasn’t now. But the ploy worked and now I have a room for three nights.

Honestly, I’m not sure what I am going to do for three days here, but I figure I will sleep late tomorrow, as I am completely exhausted. I need to go investigate real hotels for traveling students and see if I can get information on things like sites, group discounts, transport and hospitals. I also need to go to the Embassy and get some information, but they won’t be open until Wednesday; hence three nights.

My reasoning is this travel must improve. I pretty much hit rock bottom. It’s now 10 p.m. and I’ve had absolutely nothing to eat since 5 a.m. except for two breath mints that were fruity and not minty. (Passing through business class, I picked up one of the comfort kids in hopes of finding toothpaste. I didn’t, but the breath mints have somehow sustained me for 17 hours, and I’m headed to bed now.

My sketchy plan, which might have changed by the time I send this, is to track down internet and a phone card tomorrow. I might head out to the PC office (I think there’s someone there Saturday, and RPCVs are welcome) to use their internet in the mean time.

I also need to get a SIM card to let EC know I’m here.

But first, I will sleep as late as possible and hope the hotel people don’t have to wake up me because I slept so long.