(the title of this entry is a line taken from a song by David Hasselhoff...who is a genius, as we all know)Before i visited casablanca, my knowledge of the place was
a) it's in morocco,
b) Humphrey Bogart starred in a film called "Casablanca", which is presumably set in this fair city, and
c) one of
Hugh Hefner's three "wives" gave him two white peacocks for his 80th birthday -- 'One's called "Casa", the other's called "Blanca"!' -- as some sort of tribute to Hef's favourite film.
needless to say, i didn't know very much about the place.
and admittedly, now that i HAVE been there, i still don't know much more about it.
but at least i can honestly say how the place
feels, what it's like to be there, to have walked around it, to have stared straight into a butcher's window full of cow's tongues, and to have walked on, proud of the fact that the contents of my stomach stayed as just that: the contents of my stomach.
i'm told that near to where i stayed in morocco, there's a bar that featured heavily in "Casablanca" the movie, and at any given time when you walk into this bar in real life, "Casablanca" is playing on the big screen there.
now, don't get me wrong, while i haven't yet seen that particular film, i'm sure it's a good one -- but wouldn't the staff at this bar just go INSANE having to watch it all day, every day?! how many times have they heard Humphrey Bogart say to Ingrid Bergman: "Here's looking at you, kid" ?
the staff must know every single line of that movie.
the only movie i could have ever said i knew every line to was "Spice World", and even now, i can no longer say that i have that talent.
i won't say that i felt necessarily safe here walking around casablanca, but truth be told, i never felt directly threatened either, like i have in other cities i've walked around in. maybe it was just the staring that i found a little off-putting. i guess they just don't get many half-asians with bed hair walking around their city, bleary-eyed and camera in hand. i can't imagine why.
my adventures in casablanca:
after dumping bags in hotel room, meet with crew mates and jump in taxis to
Hammam Ziani: a traditional moroccan bath experience where i put on something that resembles a skirt, and go into a steam room full of other similarly-clad men, before laying on a giant marble slab and being scrubbed down roughly and slathered in a hot seaweed body mask and wrapped in clingfilm, all by a big hairy man wearing little more than a loin cloth...if this sounds erotic, i can assure you: it wasn't -- which isn't to say it wasn't an incredible experience: it was..even if my once-white briefs were now a sludgey seaweedy green . when we came out of the baths, we were car-free (which isn't to be confused with "care-free", which is a whole 'nother trait altogether) given that we'd had an argument with our cabbie, as he felt that our pre-negotiatied price shouldn't have included him having to wait the 90-minutes while we were inside being pampered -- which was fair enough, i say, i'm sure he has more productive things to do than wait for me to have my upper inner thighs exfoliated -- so we then had to hunt for a new taxi, which seemed to be a little easier said than done . thirty minutes later, now happily inside a taxi, we are ferried off to a nearby market-place to peruse their wares -- unfortunately the stall-holder confused my desire to buy a tajine as a desire to buy a tajine, a pair of traditional leather shoes, a traditional hand-woven rug, a traditional fruitbowl the size of a satellite dish, a traditional spice rack and a traditional imitation Louis Vuitton suitcase...i did, however, allow him to talk me into buying a traditional fridge magnet for my traditional collection . now back at our hotels, my mate Chantelle and i wrap ourselves in chunky hotel dressing gowns, order room service (adamant that my food should be served in a tajine), and watch MTV Europe Music awards - because after all, when in Casablanca, it's important to stay in tune with what's happening of the world of pop culture . next morning, it's time for my favourite "walk off by yourself and get lost" expedition, and while i've mentioned several times that i'm somewhat conceited when it comes to my map-reading skills, i
almost wasn't able to recover my bearings after getting deliberately lost this time -- spent a good few hours walking around taking photos and pretending that i knew which direction i was heading and where i'd eventually end up...if all else failed, i knew i could've jumped in a taxi and headed back to my hotel, but that seemed like giving up, and i ain't no quitter . take a photo of two cops talking, and curse myself when the flash goes off, notifying them of my presence and my intentions, try to scurry off quickly whilst simultaneously deleting the photo, fearing they'd call me back...they did:
Policeman: "Monsieur! mon-SIEUR!!"
Mitch: (feigning innocence) "huh? pardon? moi?"
Policeman: (angrily) "Oui! Vous!"
Mitch: "uh, il y a un problème, uh, Officer?" (shit, saying 'Officer' with a french accent doesn't
actually make it a french word)
Policeman: "you speak English?"
Mitch: "uh, yeah, sure, i speak English"
Policeman: "were you taking photos of me and my friend here?"
Mitch: (nervous laugh) photos? ha! no no, not at all, i wouldn't do that, not without your permission, no sirree, no photos of you guys taken today, nope!"
Policeman: "show me your camera!"
Mitch: "uh, oh sure, ahh here we are, look, a photo of your beautiful traffic, and some photos of the market-place, and uh, yes please ignore that photo of the unconscious homeless man...but see, no photos of you in there!"
Policeman: "fine, on your way. go!"
Mitch: "i don't suppose, maybe, there's any chance i could take a photo of you and your friend here, i mean, now that we're all standing here?"
Policeman: "no."
walk down to the Hassan II Mosque -- now i don't pretend to be any sort of expert when it comes to mosques, but this is one big-ass mosque! the thing was massive, and pretty darn impressive...i also don't profess to be any sort of expert when it comes to religion, but i've always admired how much effort people have put into building their houses of worship . exhausted, head back to the hotel for a few hours shut-eye before jumping on a plane home .
here are the photos:
stay tuned, next week: MOSCOW!!!
let the good times roll!!
