My long trip to Fez, Morocco began with a smooth fligh to Newark airport in New Jersey and the scenic route to JFK through south Brooklyn and Queens. I arrived at JFK around 12:30 and found that check in for my flight did not open until 4:00 pm. Thus began the end of my smooth airline experience. After burning 3 1/2 hours in Terminal One I finally was towards the front of the line for check in and was soon entering the exciting world of the secure gate area. Being the security threat that I am, I got to experience a capsule that shoots air at you, 'the wand', and a friendly TSA pat-down with the obligatory cast swab, all in addition to the regular metal detector most passengers only get to experience. Now, it was time to wait another almost 4 hours till our Boeing 777 departed for Casablanca. The secure gat area held less excitement than the home I had come to know as Terminal One earlier. The overnight flight across the Atlantic was quite enjoyable, I shared a row with a wonderful woman from Wisconsin who was on her way to see her daughter who just competed her Peace Corps assignment. We also received two meals and free headphones and socks, which was a big deal for me.
Arriving in CMN ( Casa), all it took to enter the Kingdom of Morocco was a two mintue session with an official who stamped my passport and sent me on to the terminal to catch my domestic flight. Once at gate 15 to wait for my flight to Fez, the 45 minute wait turned into two and a half hours. We eventually boarded after receiving a free lunch. This short flight was possibly the least comfortable I had ever been on airplane. It wasn't so much the space as it was the vibrations and multitude of squeaks and noises that the airplane emitted during every moment in the air. obviously I survived, and landed at my final destination: Fes Saiss Aeroport.
From there I and a couple of other American students studying at the ALIF institute caught a cab to the school and I to the hotel several blocks away. As we left the airport the cab driver honked at a couple of police and for the majority of the ride we followed a path cleared by police. There was even an intersection blocked off. Once in Fes jedeeda, the new city we were on our own. After speaking in Arabic to the man at hotel reception and hearing him reply in French and some Arabic, I obtained my key and headed up to room 106. He seemed to have a hard time understanding the fact I didn't know French but did know Arabic.
Pictures to follow tomorrow.
2 comments:
Hi Andrew,
I'm glad to see and read your post. I got an international calling card and called the hotel to see if you had checked in. The man who answered obviously spoke only Arabic and French. Fortuately, an English speaking hotel guest took the phone and translated for me. He learned that you had checked in and told me your room number. The man spoke excellent English, but it wasn't with an accent I could place. If you meet him, thank him for helping.
Have you tried to call?
I look forward from hearing from you on the phone and on your blog.
Love ya,
Dad
Francais n'est pas difficile!
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