I’m not sure what makes a place eligible for this body of work, but Morocco clearly makes the cut. This is extra significant because I really didn’t choose it as a desitnation. I decided on an organized trip this time, and the only group that met my timeframe was going there. I did no research on the place and did not even look at my itinerary. As it turns out, unexpected delights awaited me at every turn of the narrow alleys of Marrakech,
the twisty mountain roads that take you away from the city,
and the many-roomed casbahs in the countryside.
One of the many pleasant surprises about Morocco was that I felt like I was a lot further away than I really was. A six and a half our flight would get me to London, which is merely “different”, or to the hub city of Casablanca, which is “exotic”. And after a layover that was just long enough to finish the first of many mint teas, I boarded the plane for the 45 minute flight to Marrakech, where it got even more exotic.
Being a big fan of the movie, it added to the excitement to board by the stairs. As I walked across the tarmac, I thought of the closing scenes and half expected Ingrid Bergman to be standing in front of me. But as it turned out, Humphrey Bogart didn’t shoot any Nazis and none of the Usual Suspects had to be rounded up, and an hour later I was in Marrakech . . .
wheresmike 