Ricks cafe Casablanca - Tipsy Greenock woman refused service.

We had decided that Monday was Casablanca day. A 1 hour trip on a train and goodness only knows what at the end of it.

The day started with a chorus of alarms in the dark as we wanted to be up and on the 8:30 train. Breakfast at 7am sadly did not follow as there were no Riad staff around so we went back to the nice cafe where we had an omelette yesterday...and repeated our order.

 

The nice man who Sheena had spoken to in the train station phone stall yesterday who had vowed that his store was open at 7:30 had been sadly mistaken in his attempt at telling the time and selling a SIM card to my one and only, now that she had her passport with her. ( don't know how spies get away with it in movies....sorry Mr Bourne but we need to see your passport before we issue you a Burner phone)

Upstairs on the train with a bit of shared Harlan Cobens newest novel to listen to was nice.

Casablanca station is nice and modern as the city is the business capital of Morocco and its affluence shows.

Sun was hot but not too hot with a few clouds in the sky

A nice taxi driver offered to show us everything that Casablanca had to offer but we declined and instead got a ride up to the Hassan 2 Mosque, the only Mosque in the world to let in non Muslims. I do love the concept of Mohammed 5 and Hassan 2. I can almost hear the voice of the late James Alexander Gordon reading the footy results.

It was quite intimidating to look at as we approached.

U

Pictures do not do the place justice.

Although the beauty of my wife neatly matches it.

Morrocan marble and granite, with a hit of Murano glass in the chandeliers, the building was a masterpiece of arches, dark and light.

Then we went downstairs.

A pool that has alledgedly never been used.

We sat and had a coffee outside waiting to gather our thoughts as to how to walk to the medina as I observed the danger of Moroccos roads as an old bloke was knocked off his motorbike in front of the cafe

But we walked on as Sheena bought loads of fine threads from a shop in the medina as we trudged through the scales and fish heads in the road as we traveled in land.

Then we found Ricks Cafe. Yes, I know, Hollywood fiction becomes Casablanca reality.

We weren't actually hungry at this point so we found a couple of stools at the bar and ordered a vodka martini and a mohito for the lady.

No music on a Monday...apparently it was Sam's day off.

So we slipped quite gently into another, very nice round of cocktails.

Sheena asked for a third round but had to have it pointed out that All the other patrons had left as the staff geared up for dinner .

We decided to head back to Rabat and so returned to the train station.

Another hour in the company of Harlan Coben passed happily.

We walked back up Mo.V. To see if we could find something in a zebra print for a present.

We went out to the Riad Kalaa, our hotels sister hotel for dinner. Luckily tonight's salad did not have the surprise "I'm a celebrity " chicken factor. Last nights had a texture that I feel uncomfortable repeating and thinking about still give me a cold sweats.

Worse still was the fact that Sheena tried it, thought it tasted weird....yet still put the plate next to mine and said nothing.

I will get her back for this, oh yes, will get her back.

We went with the safety of a fine skewered kebab and a bottle of Casablanca beer.

Ah well, you must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss and a day trip to Casablanca was a very nice experience.

 

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My life in Rabat - day 1( dodgy dirham dealing Dave)

Started with a lay in ...a dog free lay in on the comfy bed.

Breakfast in the hotel was nice. Some lovely home cooked bread and pancakes followed by coffee and orange juice....then off to see the city.

Quiet.

Just as I like it. The boss wandered south through the medina....struggling to find a shop of any name.

Then we smelt it. The street selling wares of the sea......and other fine foods. Turn left onto Mohammed V......what happened to the first four?

We started to find retail experiences....but sadly no beaureau de chance to convert our fine fine Brexit leaving pounds. Sheena spoke to many people asking where she could find money so that she could buy their fine wares and was greeted by shakes of the head. One stall holder couldn't even look at her as she mentioned Sterling)

Finally, a man pointed up ahead and said man near the bank. Confused....we strode purposefully ahead.

Dodgy dirham dealing Dave sought us out like bees to honey.

There we were and he was peeling wads of dirham out of his pocket with his friendly minder at hand. £100....should be about 1150 dirham...Dave peeled off 1100 and counted them out. We thought a deal was about to be done. He counted them out again...and beautifully paled one into his other hand...what! A change in exchange rate....we questioned the deal ....this time he beautifully palmed 200 into his other hand...down to 900 in less than a minute. Sadly for Dave and his minder, the deal folded....much like his wad of notes.

We walked on. What else could possibly happen?

This place looks quite nice. Must be important...man police and soldiers out front......then we heard it. The bullhorn.....at the front of a mass of protesters heading for the parliament building where we were standing in front of...we headed for a side street....where serendipitously....we found the only open currency exchange shop in Rabat. Result. Never fear Cinderella, you shall have some lunch. We found somewhere nice to sit and ordered Diet Coke. 20 minutes later, the waitress said she didn't have any...by that stage the desire for orange juice and a cheese omelette kicked in.

We moved on. Past the parliament building where the dregs of any protest were still thrashing about. We found the train station and booked tickets to Casablanca on Monday and the wield Little blue town in the north on Wednesday. This will involve a train journey and a bus journey to get there....and back.

Went on and found nice church.

Headed east towards tomb of Mohammed V.

 

Stopped for a mint tea ( no sugar) looking towards Sale. Bit like Buda and Pest with a different river. Had asked for cola light....again no cola light.

Made the mistake of finding a nice Souk with non hassling locals so felt OK. Wife bought a light cover for downstairs bathroom.

Bought a pair of slippers.

Many nice side streets

Headed back to the Riad, thought we try to buy some cola lite. Turned away from many small corner shops. Thought we had found some in a fridge in a shop......the man we think said that he couldn't sell any to us???

Wife went for a lay down, I went back out for a walk.

Didn't find a Hammam for us to go to.

Didn't find a restaurant near the hotel that was open.

Found the beach. Having walked through loads of cemeteries, crossed a busy road, walked through a boulevard of thousands of mopeds and bikes to get to Rabat plage....autocorrect changed it to plague....which might be more applicable. A dirty rock strewn place that my tootsies won't be treading in.

I did however, find a carrefour and thus 4 bottles of cola light for my princess.

Came back to find her watching bake off.

Went to roof.

Quite nice and peaceful up here

Time for another Gn'T before we head out.

Up early tomorrow.

Casablanca beckons.

Traveling by train...... First class of course.

 

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Rabat here we come

Enjoying a well earned rest with H.I.O. ( her inside ofthedoors) in Rabat. Nice to get on a flight with the great unwashed again.

From "don't touch me" Dave who decided to get up during the flight safety instructions to do something and ignoring the nice flight attendant who tapped him on the shoulder only to get a torrent of abuse.

Firstly we met a nice Asian man who had his family spread all over the plane. ......who tried to explain to my wife that she had the wrong seat.

I've never tried to do that so he had little chance.

I also love the concept of cabin luggage...which really should be a nice big handbag or computer can but has morphed into..."let's all bring a ruddy small to medium sized suitcase"

Depending on when you get on...depends on how close the afore mentioned bag is to your seat.

And why, dear lord do people think that the seatbelt sign doesn't actually apply to them as the plane is still raining height?

That, and why do we all stand up at Olympic qualifying speeds just so we can all get our "bags" down and stand hunched in an awkward position as we wait for 147 like minded people to attempt the same thing on the way out.

 

But it's alright.

After a 15 minute taxi ride, I'm lying on top of a memory foam mattresses bed waiting for sleep.

Can't wait for a good walkabout tomorrow.

Bobby.

 

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