Is it true that if a new experience completely sucks at the beginning, it´s probably going to became a good one day by day?
I so deeply hope that it´s true. I already was a little scared coming here, but now I just really want to go back home, lay in my bed and watch a movie.
Yesterday my adventure here in Morocco began. A bus from Turin to Milan and a plane from Milan to Casablanca. I had to take a second flight from Casablanca to Errachidia, my final destination, but… well, no.
I think that I´ve started this experience in a bad way: I wasn´t so convinced that coming here alone was a good idea, and this thought kind of changed the way I am facing the situation: I don´t want to be here. Maybe this is the reason why I was panicking in the plane like I´ve never done before.
So, after those 3 long hours in the air, we landed, I was happy and more or less ready to take off again. But I had to wait quite a long time and, even though there were those two extremely cute cat-puppies jumping around (like, what the hell?!? Cats at the airport??), it felt weird being here. I waited and waited and waited and I took off a tiny bag that I had under my clothes, because it was itching. I took it off for just one second and puff: gone. Gone! Like, GONE! There were my credit cards inside. I run towards the police, but meanwhile my plane took-off, and it pissed me off so much: I wanted to take the plane, arrive in Errachidia and block the credit cards. But they didn´t even ask and just told me: “O, you know, your plane is gone”.
And that´s when I realized that I was stuck in a foreign land with no money and nowhere to go. I panicked. The purse was nowhere to be found, my parents probably were already sleeping, I had a few euros in my pocket and I just wanted to go back home.
The police looked around with me, and they even checked the security cameras to see if someone took my damn purse, but they could not.
And that´s how my adventure with the airport-police began. I had to follow this policeman who didn´t want to give me a second to call the bank to block the cards. And he didn´t want to talk to me. He just made gestures like “hurry up” and “come on”. He told me a couple of sentenced, but the rest of the time he looked so pissed and so mad. I followed him around trying to talk to my bank, while he walked and chatted with all the people he met and made these “come on” gestures. And every time he went into an office to talk about my situation, no-one tried to explain to me what the hell was happening. They were speaking Arab, and no-one tried to translate what they were saying. Finally, I followed the man into the cellars of the airport, where I could report the missing (creepy place). And that was it. He barely looked at me and, finally, said something in French: I had to talk to Royal Air Maroc.
He left me alone in the middle of the night. I was stressed, tired, scared and without a penny. What the hell was I supposed to do?
I thought about spending the night at the airport, but some men were looking at me in a weird way so… well. No. My contact in Errachidia suggested that I could take a train at 4 a.m., travel for 5 hours and than take a bus. But I just wasn´t in the mood for other troubles.
So finally my SO was adorable and from the other part of the Globe, he booked a room with his card in a nearby hotel. And this is how I spent my first 5 hours in Morocco.