I fasted for Ramadan last year. A month without eating or drinking during the day, and at night, the food consisted of sweets and candies and juices that served to provide energy for the next day. Everything is closed all day, and throughout the night, people wander the streets. Nobody works during Ramadan. Needless to say, I decided to travel to America this year. Knowing the way things work in Morocco, I decided that the best route to take would be the 8:30 CTM bus directly from Er Rachidia to Casablanca, and then to wait in the airport for about 8 hours until my flight was to leave at 6:30. I have been waiting in airports before, so this was no problem, and it would be welcome to know that I got there in time. I walked to the CTM station and bought my ticket. It was July 26th.
"Hello. I would like to buy a ticket to Casablanca on August 2nd."
"August 2nd is during Ramadan. You're traveling?"
"Yes. To America."
"Okay. Here's your ticket."
I went home, glad that I would be able to make it to America so easily. The day came, and I made my way through the street to the CTM station half an hour early. My suitcase dragged behind me, and my laptop banged against my side. I made my way to the CTM station, where I saw two men who sat in front, occasionally beginning to nap. I walked into the CTM station and asked them when the bus would arrive.
"What bus?"
"The bus that goes to Casablanca this morning at 8:30."
"There is no bus that goes to Casablanca today."
I showed them the ticket that I had bought the week before. They laughed to each other and pointed at me and to the ticket. I realized that I was on the verge of a blackout, I began to get tunnel vision, my breath suddenly stopped, and I began to mutter to myself without realizing it, something about the two men who stood in front of me and various methods that they needed to be destroyed. I had to get out of the CTM station, and fast. I found myself walking from the CTM station to the souk bus station. There was a reason why I preferred to ride via the CTM station instead. Souk buses don't run on schedules, bus simply begin their journey with a final destination in mind. It may stop at any village or city, or it may simply travel straight through. It may travel the direct route to the final destination, or it may simply meander through cities in the opposite direction, depending on who got on the bus at the time. I had to take a bus from Er Rachidia to Marrakech, and then find a way to Casablanca myself. This souk bus in particular, in order to get to the northern city of Marrakech, had to first travel southwest to Beni Milal, and then northeast to Marrakech, making what could have been an eight hour trip into a ten or eleven hour one.
I'm happy to say that the bus did leave Er Rachidia on time. However, due to the fact that a lot of people were so tired due to not eating during Ramadan, they had to stop for longer periods of time at the cities they stopped in. For instance, a stop in Midelt, which usually lasts about fifteen minutes, had to last about forty-five minutes so the driver could take a brief nap. What should have been a half hour stop in Beni Milal became an hour and fifteen minute nap break. I looked at my watch in Beni Milal and realized that had they not changed their mind about the CTM bus (they are apparently allowed to simply change their mind as to whether or not a bus does or does not have to work.) I would have been nearing Casablanca at this time. Instead, I found myself traveling to the other side of the country in order to find a way to get to Casablanca. I realized that I had to take a train from Marrakech to Casablanca if I were to get there at all. I checked the times and realized that the last train leaves Marrakech at 9. I had a few hours to get there, and at least would be able to get to Casablanca at around midnight, which would give me a little time to rest in the airport.
I felt that, until I discovered that sunset would occur a half an hour outside of Marrakech at 8. The bus stopped at a small cafe outside of Marrakech and everyone got out, eager to devour the food prepared. Granted, the food was delicious, but I couldn't eat very well knowing that due to the complete unaccountability of travel schedules, I may not be able to get to America at all. We had reached almost 12 hours on what could have been a ten hour trip, or a seven hour trip had the CTM buses ran. I managed to shove some sweet food and soup down and ran back to the bus.
I finally reached Marrakech at about 8:45. I had fifteen minutes to get to the train station. I ran out of the bus station and to the taxi stand, but I found that surprisingly, this series of taxis were in strike. Why they were on strike I do not know, but what I did know was that I was beginning to black out again, and I needed to get away from these people as soon as possible, otherwise, my actions would lead me to a place I really did not want to go. Luckily, I found a cameo, a tricycle type vehicle with the equivalent of a red rider wagon attached to the back. I threw my stuff into the back and hopped in. The man was wearing a New York hat, and I immediately felt like Indiana Jones traveling through the streets of Tokyo.
"Short round, get me to the train station, now!"
I threw dirhams at him, and in my fantasy, I imagine him shouting, Okay Dr. Jones, hold onto your potatoes! The traffic was heavy in the city, and the driver dodged the traffic and wove into and out of the cars. We ran through red lights and stop signs in order to get to the train station. I looked at my watch. It was 9. I heard the sound of a whistle and leapt out of the cameo. My roller suitcase was upside down, but at that point I didn't care. My laptop banged against my side, and my stomach began to turn on itself. I reached the platform just as the train began to roll out of the station. Normally, if a train starts to move, that means it was missed. But in Morocco, One only missis the train once it has finally left the platform. I sprinted to the nearest door, pulled it open, threw my laptop into the train, and then my suitcase, and then I pulled myself into the train just as the platform dropped from my feet. For a moment, one foot dangled outside the train,but I pulled my body into the train, fell to my knees, and threw up sweets and soup all over the floor. I knew that I would finally get to Casablanca with a little time to spare.
I then realized that most other volunteers tell me to travel just before Ramadan instead of during it. Now I knew why.
