Vol 58 Day 10 Istanbul/Casablanca

I took these photos from the uphill side of Ferhan's apartment. The balcony across the street from his and the view looking up the street.


I awoke to my last day in Turkey with legs that were slightly less swollen but still bright red, itchy and tight feeling. This was my last day in Istanbul and I had intended to take care of all of my souvenir shopping. Sigh. It was not to be. Ferhan and I agreed that it would be self destructive to do any walking when my legs looked and felt like they did. So we just chatted until it was time to go to the airport. I don't want to hear any whining at Christmas time that I didn't buy anyone anything from Turkey. Because, aside from the rug, I also didn't buy me anything from Turkey. And there was plenty to buy. Sigh.

We were goofing around with the camera while waiting for my cab.... I am so pretty.

These are all photos taken from the taxi on the way to the airport.




It is so beautiful in Turkey. I really didn't want to leave. What if Morocco wasn't as good?


My flight left around 4:00pm and arrived in Casablanca around 10:00pm. While waiting at the baggage carosel I got chatting with an American woman and her daughter and they agreed to share a taxi with me into the city. I was very grateful since there are only 2 ways to get into Casablanca- by taxi and by train. The taxi into the city is very expensive and the train only runs once an hour and I would just miss it by the time I cleared customs. This woman and her daughter took forever to clear customs so by the time we got out of the airport it was getting close to 11:00pm. We headed towards the nearest cab and the driver started loading our bags in. Suddenly this woman got cold feet about sharing a cab with me. She abruptly ordered the driver to remove my bags and they took off in a hurry, leaving me to fend for myself. All of the other passengers had left. I stood there, shocked. Truly shocked. What happened to the kindness of strangers? Perhaps she thought I was an ax murderer?

I really didn't want to start my trip off with an expensive cab fare so I decide to wait a bit to see if I could share with someone else. Almost 1 hour later 2 English dudes came along and agreed to share a cab with me. Then they booted me and my bags out when they driver informed them that their fare would not be reduced, just mine would. Again it was all very sudden and they had him drive away before I could even offer to pay part of their fare. Again I was shocked. And my feelings were hurt.

1/2 hour later. By this time I was sitting on the curb, beside one of the cabs. The driver had told me not to worry, that he would find someone to share with me. 2 Japanese men came along and the driver asked if they would share with me. The older one said "OK" but when I stood up to join them he gave me the single, downward swiping wave that means "no way is that woman is getting in our cab". Off they went leaving me standing in the middle of the street. Crying.

I had just left one of the most hospitable places I have ever been. And for what? Was this how my trip to Morocco was going to be? 2 hours had passed. I could have caught the train. A couple of cab drivers tried to comfort me saying I would share the next cab but I said no, screw it, just take me into the city. I was struggling hard to keep a positive attitude.

Since this trip to Morocco was so last minute I had not had time to secure lodging with any Casablanca couch surfers. I had not heard back from any of the people I had emailed the previous day from Istanbul. I told the cab driver the name of a hotel that my Rough Guide guidebook recommended as being clean, budget accommodation and off we went. $40US later we arrived in Casablanca at the Hotel Touring. It was 1:30am.

Let me just say this. The Hotel Touring is perhaps the most disgusting hotel ever. Ever. I should have known when my room only cost me $15US but I didn't know what 15 bucks gets you in Morocco. In Thailand it gets you a nice bungalow on the beach. I got my key and walked up the 4 flights of stairs to my room. I almost started to cry again. The door was dirty. The walls were dirty. The drapes were hanging funny and dirty. The floor was dirty. There was a shower but no toilet and the shower was dirty. The toilet was down the hall. It was absolutely, 100% dirty. I'm pretty sure you can catch something just looking into that bathroom. And the bed. What can I say about the bed? I will just say, it was dirty. In my head I will forever think of the Hotel Touring as the Urine Hotel. In the margins of my journal I scribbled "God Forsaken Hell Hole". I decided against taking any photos of it. I just want to forget it.

I was hungry and in no big hurry to try to sleep in that room so I got the heck out of there and wandered around trying to find food. I wasn't too impressed with what I could see of the city so far but I was trying to keep a positive attitude.

I found a cafe serving food and ordered what turned out to be a mediocre cheese omelet. I came upon an internet cafe so I checked my email to see if any couch surfers were ready to rescue me. No such luck but I tried to keep a positive attitude. There would be a reply tomorrow.

Then it was back to the Urine Hotel where I put on all of my clothes to keep warm, laid my big head scarf on the pillow, laid down on top of the covers of that nasty, lumpy, smelly bed and tried to keep a positive attitude.