Road Trippin'
The other half of the weekend was the crazy road trip down to Essaouira, which took us across the agricultural belt of Morocco. We ( 9 Americans, 1 German, 2 Moroccans) made this trip in two, count 'em, two Fiat Palios of a circa-twentieth century vintage. In case you're wondering what a Fiat Palio is like - sounds exotic after all, right? - wipe away images of burl wood dashes and leather-appointed interiors, for this is not that kind of car. In fact, if you want to do word association, think of the crippling disease Polio.
Even getting the cars out of Rabat was an ordeal. First off, we had one Palio and one other, slightly larger Fiat. Unfortunately, that Fiat broke on the way from the renter's lot to the apartment. Worried about liability, we brought back the slightly larger Fiat slightly sheepishly, hoping that it wouldn't turn into a big issue, etc. When we told the man at the auto rental, he simply crossed off that car on his sheet and made a small notation - in retrospect, he was incredibly casual about it. Soon, we had another Fiat Palio which had a cute little flaw- the gas tank was punctured, but, only at the top. So, as long as we didn't put in more than half a tank at a time, it shouldn't be a problem. Despite the fact that both shifter knobs came off the cars by the time they were at the apartment, we remained cautiously optimistic.
Soon, another problem reared its head. As we prepared to leave, two more cute flaws were discovered. Firstly, one of the Fiat's hoods wouldn't close. Secondly, the back right door on the other fiat had some... spacing, and you could see the road in between the door frame. So, on our way out of Rabat, we stopped by a "Mechanic." By Mechanic, I mean that this guy expertly wielded two tools: a small sledgehammer and a brick. Within twenty minutes' hammering on the poor Palio's hood, he had the hood latched.
By this point, we were understandably itching to be out of the starting gate and begin what turned into an 8-hour journey. As I previously mentioned, there were 6 people in each Fiat. Four people do not fit in the backseat of a Fiat Palio... or do they? Well, suffice to say, it was a jumble of limbs back there, circulation was lost, words were said that weren't meant, etc. I just want to clarify at this point that these were two old, dumpy Fiat hatchbacks- no wagon model for us.
This trip was my first real initiation with the Moroccan highway system. I'd experienced the white knuckle "holy shit!" city driving enough to be apprehensive about higher speeds and less witnesses. After getting out of Casa, an hour or so down the coast from Rabat, we transitioned to a more bucolic setting, replete with thousands of donkey carts (they even have their own crossing signs) and a landscape most closely identifiable with rural Mexico (admittedly my only frame of reference is the movie Y Tu Mama Tambien, but I was assured by other Americans that it was pretty spot-on). Pastoral settings transitioned into charming hills, as the lanes narrowed to one and half through the winding roads up and through the hills. There were several close calls with big trucks coming around corners towards us. Unfortunately, or thrillingly - depending on your life outlook - guard rails were not abundant.
There was a respite as we found this quasi-river oasis in the hills. We stopped to swim, posed for pictures, etc. Another six or so hours later, we made it into Essaouira for the night's festivities.
Another hitch was that A: there were no hotels, and B: there was no shelter, ie: tents to rent. So, we roughed it for the weekend, sleeping in the Palios and on the beach, which got down to the forties (fahrenheit) at night. Luckily, we all made it through in one piece.
Even getting the cars out of Rabat was an ordeal. First off, we had one Palio and one other, slightly larger Fiat. Unfortunately, that Fiat broke on the way from the renter's lot to the apartment. Worried about liability, we brought back the slightly larger Fiat slightly sheepishly, hoping that it wouldn't turn into a big issue, etc. When we told the man at the auto rental, he simply crossed off that car on his sheet and made a small notation - in retrospect, he was incredibly casual about it. Soon, we had another Fiat Palio which had a cute little flaw- the gas tank was punctured, but, only at the top. So, as long as we didn't put in more than half a tank at a time, it shouldn't be a problem. Despite the fact that both shifter knobs came off the cars by the time they were at the apartment, we remained cautiously optimistic.
Soon, another problem reared its head. As we prepared to leave, two more cute flaws were discovered. Firstly, one of the Fiat's hoods wouldn't close. Secondly, the back right door on the other fiat had some... spacing, and you could see the road in between the door frame. So, on our way out of Rabat, we stopped by a "Mechanic." By Mechanic, I mean that this guy expertly wielded two tools: a small sledgehammer and a brick. Within twenty minutes' hammering on the poor Palio's hood, he had the hood latched.
By this point, we were understandably itching to be out of the starting gate and begin what turned into an 8-hour journey. As I previously mentioned, there were 6 people in each Fiat. Four people do not fit in the backseat of a Fiat Palio... or do they? Well, suffice to say, it was a jumble of limbs back there, circulation was lost, words were said that weren't meant, etc. I just want to clarify at this point that these were two old, dumpy Fiat hatchbacks- no wagon model for us.
This trip was my first real initiation with the Moroccan highway system. I'd experienced the white knuckle "holy shit!" city driving enough to be apprehensive about higher speeds and less witnesses. After getting out of Casa, an hour or so down the coast from Rabat, we transitioned to a more bucolic setting, replete with thousands of donkey carts (they even have their own crossing signs) and a landscape most closely identifiable with rural Mexico (admittedly my only frame of reference is the movie Y Tu Mama Tambien, but I was assured by other Americans that it was pretty spot-on). Pastoral settings transitioned into charming hills, as the lanes narrowed to one and half through the winding roads up and through the hills. There were several close calls with big trucks coming around corners towards us. Unfortunately, or thrillingly - depending on your life outlook - guard rails were not abundant.
There was a respite as we found this quasi-river oasis in the hills. We stopped to swim, posed for pictures, etc. Another six or so hours later, we made it into Essaouira for the night's festivities.
Another hitch was that A: there were no hotels, and B: there was no shelter, ie: tents to rent. So, we roughed it for the weekend, sleeping in the Palios and on the beach, which got down to the forties (fahrenheit) at night. Luckily, we all made it through in one piece.
posted by Isaac at 5:03 AM
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