June 15, 2011

Flight to Fez | Morocco


They say a West Indian can find another West Indian (or someone with a direct West Indian connection) wherever you go in the world - the Caribbean diaspora stretches further than one can ever imagine. I’ve experienced this as far as China and South East Asia. 

That said, we  were still shocked to hear a Trinidadian accent coming from the steward on our Ryanair flight to Morocco. Brandon was trying to get the straggling Moroccan passengers to sit down and store away the 10  extra bags that had found their way onto the flight and you can imagine the poor fella was getting a bit antsy:
“M’am, sit dOWn plees..” 
(That’s my pathetic attempt at typing a Trini accent) but you get the idea. 

It was quite comical and we managed to put a smile on his face when we said we were Bajans (more likely because he thought that two blonde, white girls were trying to lighten his mood by saying they were from the Caribbean - how cute.) 


As we stepped off of the plane the first words we heard were “Welcome to Morocco girls!”, as a little old lady walked past us on the tarmac. We skipped along and held hands like little girls but pulled away in an instant as we realised that this simple gesture of friendship had raised a few eyebrows around us. 

The first thing we noticed was that there was a chic little Moroccan carpet in place of a car mat in our taxi. The second was that people here have the same disregard for the laws of the road as they do in Asia. As we swerved, braked and beeped our way to the hostel, avoiding bikes, beggars and overpacked mules alike, we wondered if we’d end up making it there in one piece, “Inshallah” (God willing!) Here's a snippet of the street outside of our medina:


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