Culture Shocked

I've been in Portugal for 2 months now and my visa is soon to expire and I want to squeeze in one more crazy adventure before I have to return to my small boring hometown. A quick look on google flights and I see that Morocco is conveniently close and is sure to give me an experience I'll never forget. I buy the ticket and book a cheap hotel. A week later I'm on my way.

I fly to Casablanca where I transfer to a smaller propeller plane. While waiting in the small airport I notice the eclectic style of songs playing on the overhead speakers: the Russian National Anthem, the Exorcist Theme song, James Taylor's "You've Got a Friend" and Eric Clapton's "Tears In Heaven". I try to avoid the superstitious state of mind creeping up on me and focus on where I'll be arriving in the next couple hours.

During the flight I notice the landscape is nowhere near metropolitan, all of the buildings are made of clay and stand only a couple stories tall. Everything is green with a beautiful mountain range far off into the distance. A short hour later I land in Marrakesh. I find my way to the passport clearance line and I'm now in a mass of Europeans dressed like Indiana Jones ready for some sort of safari.

I find the ATM and withdraw the Dirhams, stuff them in my wallet and venture outside. I'm greeted by literally 20 taxi drivers trying to get my business. My hotel is roughly 15 minutes away and they are charging an insane amount of money. I tell them what I'll pay and after one by one they approach, eventually the last driver has to walk away from my cheap demands. I look to my left and see public transit! "3 Euro" And I'm a happy girl.

I board and the bus driver couldn't be more friendly. He smiles and waits another 10 minutes hoping for more passengers. He starts up the bus and I'm on my way into the heart of Marrakesh. I'm emersed in a culture with sights of fully covered women, men riding motorcycles with their families hanging on behind them. Camels are saddled up- their owners hoping for someone to ride. There are smells of dust and exhaust, grilled meats and the sweet sweet aroma of donkey urine. Sounds of sirens and singing from the mosques, Arabic singing on the radio and conversations from the other bus passengers in a language I cannot understand. There's a large billboard advertising that Snoop Dogg will be performing at a nightclub.

The bus driver lets me know this is where I need to get off and make my trek for the hotel. Yet again I'm approached by men young and old who want to help me find my way, all at a cost of course. I tell them what I will pay and the older man laughs and says "You have a long and difficult road ahead of you my friend"- I get the feeling he's used that phrase a time or two to sucker first-time travelers into paying him the 200 he demands for the guidance. I tell him I only have 20 for him, he laughs and walks away yet the younger one sticks around and takes my bag and starts speed walking. I have to follow, while still trying to take in all of the sights and people around me. After a good 10 minute walk through covered markets and crowds of people we make a right turn down a small quiet alley and he knocks on the unmarked door. At this point I'm just going with it. The inside is actually quaint and colorful.

Then I get to the bathroom and notice that the shower is nothing more than a spout coming from the wall with no hopes of hot water. And there aren't any towels or... toilet paper. Thankfully I packed some wet wipes ;)
Me being an eternal optimist, I took this as a hint to spend as little time in my hotel room as possible so I can explore as much of this place as possible. I woke up early the next morning to the sounds of a bustling city, motorcycles and horns beeping, I walk out and I realize this is what culture shock is like, and I kinda like it.