Casablanca

I had booked us on a ships excursion for the Morocco leg of the cruise as I had an unexpected windfall in the shape of a tutor bonus just before we left home. This meant an earlyish start and a posh breakfast. We departed the ship and walked past the Costa Pacifica, who once again had got poll position. Our bus was the first in the queue of many buses and was nicely air conditioned. We just had to wait for one couple, there is always one, before we departed for Rabat and our guide, who's name we did not catch but let's call him Bob, began our education. Bob was a fountain of all knowledge of all things Moroccan. As we drove through an unimaginative looking Cadablanca he told us all about the Moroccan system of government and election, all about the number five in religion and architecture, all about the Moroccan housing system. As we exited Csdablanca and got onto the highway, he told us all about the road system, all about the make up of the Moroccan people and how they had all arrived in the country. As we neared Rabat he told us everything we needed to know about the sights we were about to visit, and all about the position of women in Moroccan society.  He was amazing. Unfortunately, due to the early hour (9.30!) all of our party except Vicky and I, in fact most of the people on the bus, slept the whole way and missed it. 

Our first stop was the Royal Palace. Bob explained that it is not a residence but an administrative centre, and that the King, Mohammed VI, uses lots of palaces for this. He explained all about the different types of guard that were standing (sloppily) outside. 

Next Bob whisked us off to a Kasbah (only has one gate as opposed to a medina which had four- ref Bob). This one enclosed both a Moorish and Roman necropolis. 

Then it was the mausoleum of the two most recently deceased Moroccan kings, Mohammed V and Hassan II. Some say this is the eighth wonder of the world. This was guarded by some better postured guards than the palace. 

It was on the same site as the 'unfinished mosque', which, I gather from Bob, was not completed due to a change in capital city, or maybe an earthquake. He was a bit fuzzy on that. 

Then we were off to another Kasbah where we got to taste Moroccan mint tea and sweet pastries. This would quench our thirst Bob told us. It was here that Vicky got an unwanted tattoo, despite trying her best to avoid it. Ian refused to pay more than one euro, despite being hassled for five, and the tattoo lady cursed us all. 

Here we were unmercilously hastled, and could have purchased jewelry, scarves or kaftans, the latter seller being particulously stubborn with one lady of our party who expressed a very mild interest. 

On the way back to Casablanca Bob let us rest a little, only telling us about slums and gardens being built by the sea. 

We all agreed afterwards that, to say English was clearly not his first language, the words and phrases Bob used were of the highest quality. Chris remembered thinking that he had let himself down with an easy word, before he corrected himself and used a much more complicated one. It was a wonderful tour because of a great guide. Well done Bob. 

We did the usual and read, rested, or paid bingo, before eating. Later on we watched the karaoke before retiring. 

Tomorrow, Gibralter.