It was a movie. It was filmed in Hollywood. They never got close to the real place. And yet as I walk on the Boulevard des Almohades I can't get the tune out of my mind. The name means romance, adventure, sacrifice, star crossed lovers.
I am here, in Casablanca.
The route I took was recommended by the hotel. There were a few interesting sites, and a lot of construction. I took a few pictures with my phone.
The colors were occasionally bright but the walk was on a busy street and I wanted local color. Good idea, but rookie mistake. You need to know the neighborhood and customs before you walk through them. Blvd Sour Jdid seemed like a good idea.
Kids were playing, but they stopped to stare. I remembered that pictures were frowned upon, so I put up my phone. I passed a herd of urban sheep surrounded by people who had to stop and stare. I detoured down a side road back toward my original route and came upon a loud neighborhood dispute.
They forgot about me as they stared at the combatants. I took a picture as I looked back from the main road. They were still yelling.
An old man stopped me. "Where are you from?" (in French).
I am an American.
What is your religion?
I don't talk about politics or religion.
You must be Christian. In my religion it is not like for Christians or Jews. It is not right for woman to be alone. They must be married.
It is not a good idea for a Western woman to walk alone in a Muslim country. Note to self.
My tour group starts tomorrow. Think I'll hang out at my hotel and have tea.
The world will always welcome...
oh well, as time goes by.