It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's a Goat?

By Geoff Edwards

There is nothing that will send a sharper elbow into to the ribs of your sense of universal order than rounding a corner on the road from Essaouira to Marrakesh, Morocco, and coming upon seven or eight goats scattered like so many Christmas ornaments in a 30 foot thorny Argan tree. Munching calmly on the oily leaves, they ignore the passing trucks, busses, cars, and donkey drawn wagons. Not so their goatherds, who wave wildly, pointing to the tree, and hoping for a few Dirhams from photo taking tourists.

This is a land of contrasts. On the one hand, steeped in ancient customs, on the other, modern and progressive. A land best described as “ not what I expected”. Once a year, as jets fly overhead in Marrakesh, a line of male children, as old as five, forms at a public square deep in the Medina. It is circumcision time. The local barber sharpens his blade, and takes a little off the top.

This is a Muslim country, and although forbidden by religion, liquor flows freely and is consumed by the devout and infidels alike. How can this be? Why is there not a law against alcohol. The answer, according to our host, Chaouki Benabdeljalil, is philosophical. “How can one pass a law against what is already forbidden?” Magazines like Playboy are also forbidden, and are nowhere to be seen or bought. Never mind, there are thousands of satellite dishes in Casablanca, freely funneling in news, drama, and German pornography. Besides being a conduit of contraband, the dishes serve as convenient places to hang laundry.

Although the muezzin calls the faithful to prayer 5 times a day from the 650 foot minaret of the Hassan II mosque in Casablanca, few take to the rugs, and, unlike Saudi Arabia, the business of life goes on uninterrupted. In Morocco you find daily dissimilarity; veiled women shop next to mini-skirted contemporaries; men in hooded Jellabas stand in office elevators next to Arab women sporting DKNY labels on their pantsuits, wooden carts vie with Mercedes taxi cabs for space at the traffic lights. A point here; in Casablanca at rush hour, traffic lights are more of a suggestion than a dictum. Green means go, and red means go carefully.

In charge of it all is the King. Morocco is a constitutional monarchy, but unlike the United Kingdom, the King has the final word. Legislators can suggest, but must have the King’s approval to implement. And the Queen? That is a question that no one will answer. Moroccans simply don’t know if their 37 year old King is married or not. Most of them seem not to care. They say if he fathers a child, then it will be obvious that he is married.

This is a country where you can stay in a five star hotel, (and given the choices, this is a good idea), and a few blocks away, watch grain being weighed on an ancient balance scale. This is a country where well-paved highways bisect villages with dirt sidewalks, muddied by throngs of Monday Market vendors and hagglers. This is a country where live, trussed up, turkeys are flopped onto bus tops on their way to gourmet restaurants. This is a country where an American can immerse in the Middle East, be safe, and feel warmly welcome.

Take a week. Spend a day in Casablanca, several in Marrakesh, and a few in Essaouira, the windsurfing capital of the world. In Essaouira, you will feast on freshly caught fish, grilled at a beachside table, then head to the state of the art spa in the Sofitel Mogador, the best hotel in town. In Marrakesh, have lunch at, or better yet, check in at the world class La Mamounia, where Jimmy Stewart frequented the bar during WWII. But, if you decide to buy a rug, don’t tell the merchant where you are staying. The price of the rug escalates in direct relation to the rating of your hotel. In Casablanca, you will be reminded 100 times by guides that the movie Casablanca was shot in Burbank.

A visit to Morocco is now a fairly simple matter. Delta airlines and Royal Air Maroc have agreed to code share. One airline ticket, one baggage check, and an easy change of planes in New York is all it takes. Casablanca is just a six and a half hour flight from N.Y., and Delta’s new and highly rated Business Elite, merges with Royal air Maroc’s Zenith (business) class…….maybe! You see, Royal Air Maroc has just two 747’s, a 747-200 and a 747-400, and only the 400 is configured for business class. Unfortunately, the 400 is the King’s favorite plane which he uses as a sort of Air Force One. So when the King gets the urge to travel, there is no business class to Casablanca on Royal Air Maroc. First Class has a mere 12 seats, and coach is an experience in itself. Women might want to carry extra tissues as the lav’s toilet paper was in very short supply.

An inconvenience, yes, but it was the non-stowed luggage that was the most worrisome. Luggage was allowed to be piled on top of the storage bins, not necessarily inside them. Luggage was in the space between the seats, not under them. And heavy bags, too big to fit either under or over, were merely piled on the cabin floor in the front of the plane. Take off and landing procedures basically ignored this safety hazard. So, if you are on Royal Air Maroc in coach, be prepared for things that go bump in the flight. Passengers, in a desperate hurry to stand up and wait until the exit doors opened, yanked bags down from the overheads while we taxied. Flight attendants seemed not to care.

Oh, and if you need a flight attendant, go get one. I pressed my call button, and someone, somewhere just kept turning this minor annoyance off. After several tries at attracting attention, I gave up.

The word on the street is that most of this will change in the months to come, as Delta gets a firmer grasp on this code share. Royal Air Maroc is in the process of acquiring 767 equipment, and may well emulate Delta’s Business elite configuration. With this accomplished, the monarch will have his 747, we will be assured of business class to Morocco, and the Kingdom of code share will live happily ever after.