Today was a mix of emotions for me. It’s difficult as a woman and a mother of a woman to witness a culture that treats women as subservient creatures of society. There. I said it. As a visitor, I was respectful of their culture but it was like chewing nails.
We learned a lot about the Muslim religion, witnessed the marginalization of women, learned that the movie with Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman was not even shot in Casablanca and that locals and tourists alike have an extreme fascination with pigeons. Never ever in my life have I witnessed more pigeons and pigeon shit than I have in our one day stop in Casablanca!
The tour guide said the city staged a replica of Rick’s cafe from the movie so tourists could take pics. 😂
Perhaps other places in Morocco 🇲🇦 are worth visiting but I’d cross Casablanca off of your bucket list. Sorry not sorry!
Welcome to Morocco! This was literally the first thing we saw as we left the ship; a foreshadowing if you will.
We immediately boarded a bus 🚌 and headed to the Hassan II Mosque. Men were packed in the cafes with very few women on the streets. They were smoking, drinking and animatedly chatting amongst themselves.
The mosque itself is massive and very impressive. Women were asked to cover their shoulders and knees and though a head covering is customary, many in our group did not honor this particular cultural custom. Honestly, as much as I disagree with their treatment of women, I felt strongly that we should honor their customs when entering a place of worship.
⚠️ Many photos to follow.
You can’t see from these photos but there is a round object at the top of the tower that beams a layer after dark. Any guesses as to where the beam is pointed? MECCA
Upon entering the mosque, we were asked to remove our shoes. 👞. There were large bins that I dropped mine into and then The tour guide told us to carry them! Oopsie!
The downstairs was for men only and could hold approximately 20k men. The much smaller upstairs was reserved for women. As you might expect, my blood pressure started to rise. I politely asked our guide where the rest of the women would pray since there was not the same space allocated for women. The tour guide explained that women here are revered and that they are not required to pray 5 times a day; especially if they had children because they have tasks and responsibilities to handle at home. Many, he explained pray at home. We waited until we were outside the mosque but my friend and I looked at each other and in unison cried “bullshit!”
This is actually a cutout in the floor looking down to the first floor.
Before each prayer there is a washing ritual that must take place and in a very specific order:
The four Fardh (Mandatory) acts of wudu are washing the face, then the arms, then wiping the head, then washing or wiping the feet, and doing these in order without any big breaks between them. Wudu is an important part of ritual purity in Islam.
The wash room, if you will, was filled with gigantic marble fountains that allowed men to wash before prayer. This room, though large, could not accommodate the thousands who come to pray each day. Our guide said that many people wash at home and only have to repeat the process if they have used the restroom between prayer times.
We were then asked if we needed to use the restrooms. YES! YES! The tour guide then explains that the restrooms are traditional meaning, a hole in the floor. Fine by me, I don’t do squats for nothing! He failed to mention no paper. Guess I’ll drip dry. It did flush and they were kind enough to have a water spicket so that you could clean up the floor if your aim weren’t so good. And, did I mention nowhere to wash your hands. Ok, break out the hand sanitizer!
I would have been totally fine with this experience as we’ve faced this in other countries if only the men had the same experience as the women. Bill said his restroom experience couldn’t have been more different; one of the best restrooms in Europe. We’ve traveled so much in the past few weeks that I think he forgot we were actually in Northern Africa.
We left the mosque and headed to a beachfront cafe that served Moroccan cookies and their mint and saffron tea. Problem was, the ship told us that the water isn’t the best and should we try the tea, gastrointestinal issues would surely arise. I’m fairly certain the cafe owner was offended we didn’t try this local drink. I wish I could have texted him later telling him that I bought the tea and saffron to take home with me. At least I’m going to try it…eventually and with clean water.
Next we drive through wealthy neighborhoods and working class neighborhoods. The population of Casablanca of 8MM which shocked me because Google doesn’t indicate this. Put out this way, their rich sections didn’t look rich to us though the houses were large. Working class neighborhoods had ornate wooden doors but very plain otherwise.
In all honesty, there wasn’t a lot I wanted to capture. However, I did want to learn about the door knockers located on many of the houses here.
The Hand Of Fatima – or the Khomsa or Hamsa as it is also known – is the universal sign of protection and acts as a form of protection from evil. The symbol itself finds it's origins in the form of a salutation – that is, when someone raises their hand to say hello to a friend – making it the perfect door knocker!
This reminded me of the EYE 👁️ in Greece It’s really a very similar sentiment and something that is super cool to me After all, we want something to believe is protecting us from Evil Course, I’d say God is protecting us but this tradition is a tangible thing to have faith in.
Holy shitting pigeons! Our next stop is a central square. We get off the bus and there are hundreds of pigeons and pigeon shit. I can’t even focus on what the tour guide is discussing! If that’s not bad enough, I’m looking at a heavy line of shit and I thought “why is this such a perfect straight line of shit?” I look up:
You ain’t ever seen me move so fast What’s worse? Yes, it can get worse. There were photographers you could pay that would get a photo of you feeding the pigeons from your hand. Peace out my friends, I’m headed for the bus. 🚃
I did manage to capture this shot of the newly minted arts and culture building where concerts and plays will be held. I gave a silent. Prayer that the pigeons would stay on this side of the road.
We walked to a government controlled souvenir store featuring all the local wares. I was actually grateful that we didn’t have to be ogled by the local men selling their wares at the market.
Bought a sterling pendant of the Hand of Fatima to not only protect me from evil 😈 but to remind me every day how lucky I am that I don’t live in a country where women are oppressed. I also bought some “snake oil” promising me my skin will look years younger, some mint tea and saffron.
Back to the bus, free from pigeon shit.
Tonight was the crew talent show and again this year, it did not disappoint Talented members of the crew entertain us with song or dance. I especially love when a group, from the same country, performs a traditional dance. This year a group from the Philippines and Indonesia each performed a moving tribute to their respective countries.
We heard “let it be”, “dont cry for me Argentina”, a solo guitarist playing a song from passenger, an Elvis impersonator singing a medley of songs and many more. One kid dressed as a cowboy hat, boots, jeans, belt buckle so we assumed a country song! Nope, he starts belting Don’t stop believing by Journey!” He definitely had the crowd singing and hootin/hollerin’! Tina Turner showed up with her dancers to the delight of the crowd! Last but not least was a group of guys who did a synchronized swimming bit that was roll over laughing funny. It was a great end to the evening.
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