Casablanca Journal - Day 3

Three colleagues and I were sent to Casablanca for business three weeks ago. The trip lasted four days, so I kept a daily journal.This is the third day.

During a break in the meeting, we took in the view from atop our client's building.

Eating to Excess

The hotel’s breakfast is a rich buffet. There is an omelette chef, a lady who makes pancakes, and a spread of Moroccan dates, almonds, merguez sausages, and other local deliciousness. For Westerners, there are cupcakes and a love-handle load of sugary pastries on a table. Yes, there are also fried potatoes and broiled tomatoes. There are cheeses, olives and, yes, a small pork section for those who don’t do halal.

So we sit down here, eat too much, and feel truly North American in our needless excesses. Pass the cupcakes!

To the Meeting!

We catch a cab and begin the battle with traffic. Casablanca traffic is a study in the chaos theory. It seems disorderly, with bicycles, motorcycles and mopeds diving between cars, pedestrians ignoring crosswalks and crossing wherever they please. The lines painted on the road are really just abstract theories, cars jump out into opposing traffic to pass cars, they make wild left turns from the far right lane at intersections. They jockey for pole position at stoplights, which are the only traffic law obeyed here.

But! The traffic moves and it seems to fit the flow of the city. As a client put it yesterday, you can’t get angry about traffic here, it won’t do any good.

Casablanca traffic. An orderly snarl.

This is an Office? 

The client’s office is in a walled compound with trees, flowers and other lush surroundings. Walking to the main office building was like walking through a garden. The office building is built around an atrium with gilded wood arches and a beautifully tiled floor and mosaic on the ceiling. It’s a beautiful office to visit and a welcome change from the beige-grey offices I’m accustomed to.

Trial by Taxi

After the meeting, the client called for cabs. The office is in a nice neighbourhood and doesn’t see too many cabs. We waited a half hour before the first one came. Then Arnold and I waited another half hour.

Growing impatient we hailed a Petit Taxi, which are shared cabs, so with two out of three spaces filled our cabbie was pulling over for fares on the way to the hotel.

No one was going in that direction and the cabbie made quick work of the trip – scooting down side streets at break-neck speeds and sliding between garbage trucks and oncoming traffic. It was a cheap fare to boot.

Friends of Friends in Strange Places

A colleague from deepblue Budapest has a friend in Morocco, who we met her for coffee. Naturally, traffic came up. She finds moves too slowly and is accustomed to the lax traffic enforcement of Mexico, apparently the land of the loco speed demons. Here there’s a speed limit that’s obeyed, so she gets pulled over often and has to talk her way out of it.

She moved to Casablanca after marrying a Moroccan man. I give her credit, she moved here without any friends and she’s thriving – a very brave lady.

I Hate Haggling

Once again we took a taxi, the same one we took us there.The cab driver demanded more because he had to return to the cafe to pick us up, I got grumpy and said that’s not happening, he’s already getting a tourist-whitey fare. He didn’t object. I’m getting sick of the haggling here, but I might be getting the hang of it.

Rick’s Cafe

Katie made reservations for dinner at Rick’s Cafe tonight. The movie Casablanca wasn’t filmed in Casablanca, but an enterprising individual opened a Rick’s anyway. It’ll be pricey, but I’m looking forward to it, I’m a fan of the movie and I think I’ll finally do the lamb...

Rick's Cafe... and Arnold in mid-bite.