As usual our longer trips begin with a very busy schedule wrapping up work before the trip. I had our departure day off, so I could put the finishing touches on our packing, straighten up the house and turn everything off, and then take a leisurely ride by train and bus to the airport.
Kuniko, however, was super busy and had to work even on our day of departure. After work she rushed to the airport using an express train from her job in Osaka. By the time she arrived a pretty good line had formed at the Turkish Airlines counters, and so we waited patiently for things to start to move.
Turkish had only two counters available, and they had some confusing signage above. One said “Online Check-in” and the other said “Bag Drop”. I had checked in online already and I just wanted to drop our bags – which line should we use? I asked the staff and she pointed us towards the longer of the two lines.
But as we approached the front of the line, Kuniko suddenly felt faint, and as I struggled to hold her up she completely passed out. I guided her slowly to the floor and told her to keep breathing – after about ten seconds she came to. She was still shaky so we got out of line, I got her some water, and we went off to the restrooms to try to freshen up. As I waited outside the women’s restroom for Kuniko, I realized that I had no good way to check on her. The longer it took the more I worried, but eventually I shouted her name from the entrance and she was fine.
There was a time when we were wondering whether to go on with the trip or to head back and just focus on resting, but ultimately Kuniko said she wanted to do it.
Once Kuniko was feeling a little better we went back to the line and had to wait from the end – it took a long time to get back to the front, but check in was easy and we rushed through security and immigration in time to make our flight. Kuniko bought me some curry bread for dinner, and then we boarded our plane – on our way. I was hoping that what brought Kuniko down was just exhaustion – and spending the next 13 hours on the airplane in the dark seemed like the best way to deal with it.
I guess we were both tired out – we slept through most of the flight. Before sleeping I saw the time remaining clock at 13 hours, and the next time I woke up it said 3 hours. That was a new record for me – and in economy class, too! The only down side was the guy in the seat behind me poking his toes into the back of my elbow now and then – gross… Kuniko got some rest and was feeling much better, and so it seemed like it was the right thing to go through with the trip.
So soon enough we were back in Istanbul airport with lots of time to kill. We had been here a few months ago for our summer trip, and we were wary of the 36 euro prosecco. We did have a couple of coffees at a cafe with a cheese sandwich that really hit the spot – even though it was pretty greasy. We also discovered the airport “NapZone”, and so we got even more rest while stretched out in a very comfortable recliner – nice!
Believe it or not we got hungry again, and went to a sports bar for Turkish kofte, a great cheeseburger, a Turkish sparkling wine (expensive but really good) and an Efes beer (or two). While enjoying the food we were talking and Kuniko said that our next country will be the sixtieth country that we’ve visited. Wow!
We headed off to the gate, got our boarding passes (which had been changed due to a plane switch). Waiting by the boarding gate a guy across from us was snoring so loud – his family looked embarrassed but didn’t wake him up. It was so loud as to make you worry for his medical condition.
On the plane we sat next to a nice guy with his family, and ate a dry chicken dish. We did get a bag of Turkish snacks, which came in handy later – I just threw them in my backpack. Kuniko slept through most of the five hour flight to Casablanca – it was a lot of sleep to catch up on. Out the window I could see the southern coast of Europe but unfortunately couldn’t see the rock of Gibraltar – too cloudy or too far away.
Once we landed at Casablanca we had two events in the tunnel coming off the plane. First, a guy next to me suddenly vomited against the window, and second, there was a group of policemen checking passports at the end of the tunnel. Not sure if these two events were related, but it took a while to get through the tunnel and off to immigration. We picked a long line in immigration and got our first taste of the slow and steady delays that come with a developing country. While we waited the immigration staff frequently looked up from their work to glare at people in line, they sometimes got up and helped other people cut in front of us, and generally worked very, very slowly.
Near us a group of Chinese people came in and were acting really weird – they tried to cut into the front but were sent back to the end of that line. Our line was so slow that we watched the Chinese guys make it all the way the front of their line again – it was another hour before we got through with our passports stamped.
We had a long wait for our suitcase – another hour watching the carousel – until we finally left the airport. We caught a train from the airport – we had considered a taxi to save time but it seemed from the internet that it would take about the same amount of time for a much higher price. So we waited about 20 minutes for a train, and we were off to Casablanca’s main station (Casa Voyageurs) from the airport. Finally! Our train was really old, and it made its way slowly to the station, so by the time we arrived we had missed the next express train to Rabat where we were hoping to spend the night. We instead walked around the station killing time until our train would arrive. The station itself was quite modern and beautiful – all the train stations we saw in Morocco were very nice. The trains weren’t modern but at least the stations were cool.
Originally our plan was to take a taxi from Casa Voyageurs to see the Hassan mosque, but from our messaging with Aida and her husband Othman it seemed like it would be better to come directly to their place and save the mosque for later. So we caught the next train to Rabat, but we had to change trains at Casa Port via another slow train. Casa Port had lots of people changing trains – some running across the tracks – and the port must have been nearby as there were flocks of seagulls swirling overhead.
The next train was a little bit faster, and in first class we sat alone until a family of four came in and sat right near us. The kids were super noisy, the parents let them scream and yell, and it seemed like the air conditioner was stuck on the maximum setting so we were really cold. It was turning into a real ordeal – poor Kuniko pulled her hood over her head and just sort of checked out.
Finally a staff member noticed the cooler was not set correctly and fixed it. The conductor was sitting behind us as we traveled, playing with his smartphone. When he checked our tickets Kuniko had accidentally shown the old ticket, but the conductor didn’t seem to care at all.
Meanwhile I was messaging Othman who was waiting at Rabat station to pick us up. Our train was running about 45 minutes late, and he was nice enough to wait around for us. Finally we arrived, and he took us to his car and got us on the road to La Finca, Aida’s facility/home in the countryside. It took another 45 minutes or so to get there by car, through the darkness and down country roads. Othman was really nice to answer our questions and chat with us – he owns a restaurant, does computer programming, and also helps Aida with La Finca.
We drove past the king’s residence complete with soldiers out front, and then past a big area of BBQ stations built out of truck trailers – that seemed like a place I’d like to try out. Then we went down a dirt road and finally arrived at La Finca.
Othman used a remote control to open a gate, some dogs came out from inside barking (and sometimes growling at each other), and then we could finally get our stuff inside. We kicked off our shoes at the door and had a chance to greet Aida, and meet some of her friends that were also there for dinner. Luckily they are used to eating late, but we felt bad for making everyone sit around while we tried to manage the Moroccan train system.
There was a big group there – we met Shashi and Nastya who gave us lots of information on places we should go and foods we should try. Also there was Aida’s friend Nassim with her daughter Kiana, who spoke English with us and made us feel welcome. Nassim was really into Japan after her stay there, and she was also friends with Pico Iyer which was pretty surprising. Also there was Zineb (Aida’s cousin) and Imane (Aida’s friend) and their kids: Adam, Yanis, and Ilyan. Mostly they spoke French, so we didn’t get a chance to talk much.
Aida welcomed us with dates and milk as a Moroccan traditional greeting, and then gathered us all into a circle to welcome everyone together, and in a very kind gesture she spoke in English to help us out. She also made a big announcement that caught everyone by surprise, and so it was an even more special evening. Afterwards they served a real feast – Moroccan flatbreads cut into paper thin strips (like kottu roti) and served with lentils and a big roast chicken on top. There was also nettle soup, cucumbers with sesame oil (to give a refreshing Asian splash). She also served a really nice salad that was so light that I felt like I could eat it endlessly.
Everyone was talking and eating around a long table inside the very big house, and we struggled a little to follow all the languages being spoken. Still, everyone made us feel welcome and chatted with us, even though at this point we were totally shattered from the long travel day.
Dessert was an excellent lemon cake, I had lots of great wine, and after some cookies came out on a plate it was time to call it a night, at least for us. We begged off to bed, Aida gave us a big bottle of water for hydration, and we retired upstairs to our room. It was a huge place and each group had their own bedroom and bathroom – so spacious.
We pretty much just conked right out – one of our longest travel days ever. If the party went on downstairs without us, we were both completely unaware. What a day!
