Check out of Hotel Tangerina after obsessing over the coolest wall clock / calendar I have ever seen. Head to station to catch express to Casablanca. Haggle with taxi driver about the fare. He wants to charge us a 50dh flat fee (illegal) and we want him to use the meter. He reluctantly agrees and the ride is 18dh. Almost miss train but make it by the skin of our teeth after Cristina puts the guy who tried to cut her in line in his place (the wonders of cueing are lost on most Moroccans.)
Lucky to have private cabin this time although the A/C is on the blink. Spread out across three seats and try to catnap. Five hour ride goes by in a flash. Arrive in what appears to be a depressing, dilapidated city, full of smog and pollution – and not a horse or donkey in sight for the first time in over a week.
Hail taxi and jump into masterpiece of improvisation. Every part of the car was either made of, held together by, or leaning on stuff that doesn’t belong in cars… like plastic plumbing pipes, straw floor mats, and empty soap boxes. Head to our hotel, JM Suites, which we are thrilled to find in an upscale part of town. Almost faint when we pass a Lanvin boutique… and a l’Artisan Parfumeur! Modern hotel and (kind of) modern city are a welcome sight after the past week of dusty (though fabulous) African towns. Check in and plop onto bed in air conditioned / flat-screen having room. Decide to have tea at the cafe across the street and then dinner at the über-glamorous / tourist-trappy Rick’s. Totally surprised / impressed by the progressive vibe throughout the city and happy to see jean wearing women in the cafes alongside their men. Same density of headscarves but chicer sunglasses.
Dive along the Casablanca waterfront, past the magnificent Hassan II mosque to dinner at the straight-out-of-Casablanca-the-movie restaurant. Start off with fave new cocktail, the Martini Blanc, in a gorgeous glass. Piano player keys out perfect 30′s classic standards. Indulge in ridiculously delicious crab salad and sole dinner with a French white. Deliriously happy.
Milked wine and Wi-Fi’d our brains out for three hours with the first working connection since we landed in Morocco. Both totally astonished at how much we’re enjoying this town that everyone told us to avoid.
Take lovely late night petit taxi ride back to the hotel, watch about an hour of hilarious / depressing Moroccan fashion TV before passing out on finely pressed linens. I love my new little city.
