Casablanca, Morocco

I’m sitting here in our room of Le Royal Mansour Meridien in Casablanca, Morocco in a dressing gown provided by the hotel. Courtesy of passing the date line it is still Monday 23 October 2006.

The clothes I walked into the hotel with are the only one’s I have. Same goes for Louise. The airline, British Airways, lost our bags. The whole afternoon from the moment we arrived in London was a balls up.

There was a massive delay getting off the plane at Heathrow airport. There was no airbridges apparently so finally the plane just stopped. A portable stairs eventually made it to our plane. Then there was another long wait for a bus to show up to transport us all to the terminal.

The time for our transfer ticked down and we only had about an hour’s grace period by the time we got into the terminal to scoot down a hallway and up and down stairs to catch another bus to the terminal our plane was scheduled to depart from. Finally we made it to the correct terminal but as we were directed to the departure gate we were told our plane was delayed by a few hours.

We ended up at the One World lounge thinking we’d just sit back and chill for a few hours only to be told there was a message for us to go and get our bags. Though no one seemed to know from where or what was going on. A few phone calls and a increasingly frustrated Lou and Cath we were told that we were not going to be travelling on our scheduled flight and they would put us on another plane with a different company. They told us not to worry about our bags that it was sorted and they were being transfered from the BA plane they were put on to a Air Maroc plane. We were directed back to the ticketing hall.

The BA ticket counter proved to be even more frustrating, not less. In brief we were given the same info with no real apology or explanation. They would not be taking us to Casablanca but had transfered us to another airline. We asked about the status of our bags again and after a few blank looks and repeated no I’m not sure what has happened with your bags comments then a flurry of phone call we were told that our bags would be transfered straight to the new airline because we were in transit so there was not a problem. They just had to take them off the BA plane they had been put on.

From there we were directed to yet another ticket counter for Air Maroc, which is the Lufthansa ticket counter, go figure. They gave us boarding passes and made a few phone calls and assured us that yes our bags would be on the Air Maroc plane.

It was very hard to remain calm and not take their heads off. Both of us did a lot of tongue biting.

Still not reassured, probably due to what we were first told that ‘someone’ had written a note telling us to get our bags but ‘someone’ had not said from where or even who they were. No one in the BA staff seemed to know what was going on or what they were doing.

We went back to the one world lounge to try and relax and calm down a little, I was, I still am a little pissed at the total incompetence of the BA staff.

Not sure the calming down part worked, (knowing what I know now I wish I’d gone with that first instinct and demanded to see a manager and taken his head off for him and served it back to him in little pieces on a small platter!).

Still not happy mainly with the status of our bags despite everyones assurances that the original message was wrong and our bags would be on our plane we trotted over to the next terminal and our new departure gate. On checking in we asked again about our bags and after a little head scratching and more phonecalls we were told they were coming over from BA and being put onto the Air Maroc plane ‘as we speak’.

About 2030 hours Moroccancan time we finally touched down in Casablanca, Moroccoco. Yah!!!

Unfortunately that thrill of first arrival was totally lost shortly after.

You know when you get off the plane and walk through Immigration, that part was easy, then on to stand at the little turnstyle looking hopefully towards the little flap where you bag is meant to come out? That is what we did. I remember looking around at the small handfull of people and thinking that it really should not take that long.

How wrong I was. There we stood waiting and watching as people by ones and twos collected their bags and left.

There we stood watching one lonely piece of baggage go around the turnstyle with no one to collect it. It was not ours and we were the only ones left.

Still we waited and the turnstyle ground to a holt.

No Bags!!!

After a little bit of looking we headed over to the baggage counter at the other end of the hall. They were seriously so not helpful. They just handed us a little card with a claim number for the loss of our bag and told us to keep coming back to the air port and check for our bags.

All that calming down I did evaporated. One very seriously angry Cath. Lou was not much better.

We stormed through Custom’s, no one even glanced at us let alone tried to stop us. We were met by the little man for our hotel transfer, at least that worked. Then went straight up to the BA office. Very convenient for them, they were shut.

Zakaria (aka little man who was transporting us to our hotel) expressed concern for our baggage and told us this never happens with BA. He also told us that everything would be shut tomorrow because it was a holiday. Nice.

We were driven to our hotel and my first look at Casablanca was somewhat overshadowed by the loss of the bags. It is a pity because I usually love that first trip from the airport to the hotel.

The hotel when we got there was great. They took a copy of the little card documenting the loss of our bags and said they would follow up on it for us and send someone to collect them for us when they arrived.

There will be a cost attached of course for the transport etc etc but we both fully expect to take that out of the hides of BA and Qantas.

We got into our room, got clean using cold water because we didn’t know that it takes about 10 minutes for the hot water to kick in, wrapped ourselves in hotel robes and drank a glass of Bailey’s before being hit over the back of the head by the hammer of exhaustion and let unconsciousness take the day.

Casablanca, Morocco

The first thing I did when I woke up this morning was to go over and look out the window. We have a view over the Medina and to the Hassan II Mosque. I opened the window and the noise calling everyone to the Mosque filtered into the room emphasising that we really are in a foreign country. We really are in Moroco.

Breakfast was beautiful as one would expect here. With the food cooked right in front of you with everything from fruit, omelet’s, pancake and pastry’s.

The Concierge assured us that they would keep chasing the airport about our bags but there had not been any answer from them at that point. They also reminded us that it was a holiday so there were not too many working and most places were shut. We went for a walk to find an ATM to get some local money ant that went off without a hitch. The streets were quite bare with only a handful of people out and about mostly male. Most of them stared. Some of them just seemed mildly interested or curious others were down right hostile. At least they kept their hand to themselves.

One male started yelling as we went past we think he was yelling obscenities at us. Strangely enough it did not really worry us that much since it is really hard to get upset at insults when you do not speak the language.

It did not take long for us to realise the Concierge was absolutely 100% correct. Just about everything was shut including the restaurant’s and shops. For the most pârt we just relaxed the day away as there really wasn’t much to do with everything being shut.

We did go for a walk through the Medina. Well ok to be honest we went out looking for food. It was that whole ‘surely something is open. Not everything can still be shut’ mentality. Well it really still was so we wandered back through the Medina back in the general direction of our hotel. The Medina itself was quite interesting and within its wall finally the people were starting to come out of the woodwork. There were stalls selling everything from fabric to toys to sandals, food etc etc. Anything you could want you would probably find it here some where in these ancient winding streets.

Back at the hotel we got the news that our bags would be on the evening BA flight and would come in about 1830 hours. The Concierge assured that he would call the airport and first check that our bags had arrived then he would send someone to go and get them.

About 1700 hours we thought what the heck and went to the hotel bar and had a few relaxed beers, Casablanca Beer, some what overpriced but it is kind of expected here. After that we thought about dinner but checked with the concierge once more about our bags only to be told that they thought they had been sent to Marakesh. AAARRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

I’m sure that would be very helpful when we finally got to Marakesh about the 20th of November. Certainly does not do us a lot of good now!!!

Our clothes were starting tro get to the point where they could just about get up and do a tour of the city all by themselves.

Dinner proved to be the first bit of amusement so far on our trip. We decided to dine in the hotel really not in the mood to go out anywhere. One of the restaurant’s in the hotel ‘Restraunt Maroccian’ looked good so we decided to go there.

Now the problem started when they, seeing that we are oh so obviously not locals gave us the non-arabic menu. tThat was very nice of them I though. Except it was in French. Which neither of us could read. First problem thqt was neatly solved by the waiter explaining the dishes to us. That proved to be the second problem, sort of.

We decided to get an entree and a main to share. I ordered the pidgeon Pastille and Lou ordered the Lamb with Prawns.

Or so she thought.

The Pigeon Pastille was yummy and proved to be meat with spices nuts and fruit wrapped up in pastry with icing sugar on top. It was huge so it was good we didn’t order two of them.

Then out came the main course. A Tanjine for those of you who do not know comes served on a ceramic dish with a ceramic lid. The waiter cam over bearing the dish and with a great flourish placed the dish in the center of the table and removed the lid.

I took one look and started biting my lip trying hard not to laugh out loud. I really did not want to offend our waiter.

Louise just looked at the dish with a slightly perplexed look on her face and said to the waiter who was serving the dish to her.

‘Is this the lamb with prawns?’

The waiter with all seriousness replied that yes this was the lamb with prawns.

I was reduced to sniggering at this point and tried unsuccessfully to kick Lou under the table.

After the waiter left I was laughing out right at this point Lou was looking hopefully but with a perplexed frown on her face cut into the PRUNE still looking for the prawns!!!

I think if I had not been wedged into that couch with cushions on either side I would have fallen off the chair I was laughing so hard.

Louise was just looking at me saying ‘what?’ She still did not get it and was still looking for the prawns.

After several spluttering attempts I managed to convey to her that the dish we’d ordered wasn’t lamb with prawns but Lamb with Prunes.

At that point we were bothy laughing and the waiter was giving us a very odd look.

I can safely report that the lamb with prunes was very nice even if it wasn’t what we thought we were ordering.

After dinner ze still had no news of our bas so we went back up to our rooms. Shortly after that we got a call from the Concierge to let us know that ou bags were at the airport and they were sending someone to pick them up for us.

Our bags finally got up to our room about 2330 hours. There had been a delay at the airport because apparently the Police were causing some problems. They wanted 50 MAD to let the bags through. Apparently the Concierge said NO and told them to search the bags if they really wanted to they would only find clothes that his guests were waiting for.

At that point I gather there was a bit of a waiting game. Police / Customs waiting obstinately for their bribe and the Concierge refusing to pay it. At the end of the day, our feisty little Concierge won and he got our bags delivered to us.

YAH! CLEAN CLOTHES AT LAST!!!!!!!!