paris travel

hi. i went to paris where i had an amazing time with my amazing girlfriend. this post isn't about that though. it's about traveling differences between countries.

Moroccan transport 1.
the bus from Midelt to Fes was predictably awesome. we stopped just before azrou to throw bread at monkeys. at that point a child puked on me, and then her mother proceeded to do the same because the windows were sealed shut and everyone on the bus was drinking raibies and hawai (one "i") like it was going out of style. so i took my slightly puke stained self to a friend's house in fes, where i was able to use the washing machine (i know, crazy, right?). i packed ultra light and didn't have a single shirt to spare... so i got clean and continued on my journey which then led me to an über-crowded train to casablanca. (through Meknes which had a small bombing a day later). anyway, i got off, and then got another train to the airport which went through fields and fields of marijuana. i thought maybe folks around here might not know what it was... but i saw a kid out in the middle of the field picking buds. he was wearing a bob marley shirt. so at least one person is in the know. i arrived at Muhammad V airport which i hadn't been to in almost two years. i had a flood of memories from the first time i flew into morocco. M5 is really a great airport. people were super friendly, stuff was easy to find, security looked to be pretty good and the check-in lady gave me a coupon for a free snack at the VIP cafe. she said i was cute. or salty. the words are really close and i didn't hear her very well.

the plane was 5 hours late, but that didn't really affect me. what did have some effect on me was the man who lit a cigarette in his seat and merrily puffed away until two somewhat mortified flight attendants asked him to put it out. he asked why, because he wasn't dropping ashes or anything (he had a henry's cookie package open and was dropping his ashes into it, after all). the flight attendants not-so-calmly explained that smoking was not allowed on the flight. the man very calmly replied that it was allowed on the bus, so it should be allowed on planes too. the flight attendants then snatched the cigarette, lightly burning the smoker's neighbor and told the man not to light up again. he said it was his last cigarette anyway. the flight attendants came on the loud speaker and told everyone on the plane not to lend the smoker a cigarette. the flight continued...

...until the man's slightly burned neighbor wandered to the back of the plane and swiped a bottle of whiskey and brought it back to his seat before beginning to chug it. the same two flight attendants returned to the troublesome row, and without uttering a word, snatched the half consumed bottle of spirits from the pilferer, returned it to the galley and promptly turned on the fasten seat belts light for the rest of the flight...

...which landed at the wrong airport. i checked my ticket three times after the captian welcomed us to Charles de Gaulle. yup, it definitely said, and i was under the impression that we would be landing at Orly. oh well. not like that sort of thing is important anyway. so i got off the plane, found a corner and went to sleep (it was 2:15 am and i really didn't feel like trying to find the hotel i had booked.)

Paris transport.
we rode a bus downtown from CDG, and it was strange. it was crowded, but no one was sitting on top of me, and no one was staring either. just people being quite and calm. no puking, no yelling at children (well, actually a little of that). it was pretty incredible. and the stops were marked on the bus!

throughout the week, we made frequent use of the metro. musicians, most of whom weren't too good, were a frequent fixture. again, the route was marked. this is madness. fixed routes and the assumption that most people read...! kind of interesting for a mountain dweller like me. kind of fun. not once in all my travel in france, did anyone try to convert me to Islam, or any other religion for that matter. this was probably the most marked difference.

Moroccan transport 2.
back on the plane. the flight crew this time was spanish, because the Jet4You plane was elsewhere. they chose to operate in english. which was a big problem for the mostly moroccan passengers. they kept asking in french, "why don't you speak french?" and the flight crew kept answering in spanish and english, "we don't speak arabic." the lady behind me, after getting beef instead of turkey finally had enough and started yelling at a flight attendant. but she failed to catch the flight attendant's attention as her rant was in arabic. i lost the battle to not chuckle. the lady noticed and started in on me, but i just smiled.

the train was a grudge match between the old women who claimed to be fragile but threw mean elbows and the Bortherhood guys who didn't want to touch the women, but weren't about it give up their spots either. the old women mostly won. i mostly ducked and covered. in any other country, you'd probably have to catch the action on pay-per-view. nope, in Morocco it's free and live!

finally, on the bus home, a little kid managed to puke on me. excellence!

i had a fun trip. i like traveling. you feel more special and more like you earn your arrival in Morocco. but french travel does seem to be easier.

PS. i got another nod on global voices.

PPS. i almost forgot: when i got back to my house, someone had defecated all over my doorstep. when i got inside, i realized that i had left my bathroom window open (always close windows when you travel, kiddies!) someone had killed a cat, slit it open, and tossed it in my window. welcome back!!!