The Journey to Rabat
We headed to the bus station early in the morning and opted for a private company vs the state CTM as it was leaving right away. Unfortunately this meant the bus was not held to any specific standards, which made for more of an adventure. We were about half an hour late leaving as our conductor tried to drum up some more business with a posse of touts.
Noted while on the bus: A woman just got on the bus beside me. Her bag tipped over and black olives went tumbling down the isle, a river of thuds and bounces. She picked each one up and rolled them off her fingers into her bag. The old lady with the olives also carries a cell phone in her purse. How unexpected.
When we finally left, we continued to make sporadic stops picking up people as we went. Additional excitement came in the form of many loud shouting matches between the conductor and new passengers, the conductor and other station touts wanting a cut and the conductor and the driver. It was a complete gong show made all the more humorous by other annoyed passengers shouting their two bits when the bus stopped yet again for some reason, and laughing when the conductor took a rather vicious tongue lashing by an opinionated woman in the back. (We are learning that dramatic shouting matches are way of life in Morocco. We have yet to try our hand at the sport). We arrived in Rabat two hours late just as the sun went down. Thank goodness for the no hassle, convenient "petite taxis" which took us right by our hotel.
An interesting note: petite taxis run by the meter are only allowed in city limits, and are a different colour in every city (Fez-red, Meknes-light blue, Rabat - dark blue, Marakesh-tan).
Our hotel was a lovely little place, spic and span, simple, fairly cheap and had a balcony w/ a great view of the street and lots of sunshine.
Downside: lumpy beds = sore backs, cold showers = grumpiness
The Hunt for a Cameroonian Visa:
Our main reason for coming to the capital city of Rabat was to get a visa for the next leg of our journey - which we were told by the embassy in Ottawa would be fine to in another country. I'm sure you can see where this is going...
Our first taskwas to find the Cameroon embassy - adress Rue du Riff.
Attempt #1: hotel reception never heard of Rue du Rif and says a petite taxi will take us.
Attempt #2: stop a taxi, he tells us that it is only a 5 min. walk in that general direction(he waves).
Attempt #3: we walk in that general direction 5, 10, 15 min to no avail We ask a security guard and he gives us specific directions going back the way we came, first walking straight, then turning right for 3 blocks, then left...does not work. No Rue du Rif in sight.
Attempt #4: We stop another taxi, wondering if the embassy exists, and after much thought and deliberation he agrees to take us. We sit in silence for a 15 min. ride wondering if he is taking us to the suburbs to get jacked. We arrive at the gates of the poorly marked embassy. Relief, and gratitude. "Merci beaucoup!"
The embassy experience turns out to be more stress than expected. First we are told no right off the bat and then we gently plead our case with pounding hearts. "But it's for a wedding, we were told this would be fine, there must be something we can do... we already have our ticket."
"You already have your ticket?" Do we see a glimmer of compassion in her eyes? Perhaps. We are sent away with a list of difficult tasks to accomplish and heavy hearts.
1. Aquire letter asking for a visa on our behalf from the Canadian embassy.
2. Have fax sent to the embassy from our host in Cameroon.
3. Have a fax sent to the embassy showing proof of a hotel reservation in Cameroon
...along with numerous other photocopies.
We hustle to the Canadian embassy to find out the office is closed at 11:30 am. It is 12:00. Ah well. We catch a ride back downtown, find an internet cafe to send an sos to Guy (we are going to Cameroon for his wedding) and purchase a french/english dictionary to help us fill out our application forms. Pizza for supper and shrimp salad (as we are on the coast - though as of yet we haven't seen the ocean).
We are at the Canadian embassy the next morning at 8 a.m. Doors open at 8:30 and by 10:00 we have our letter in hand. Unfortunately our application must be dropped off at the Cameroonian embassy at 9:30. So we spend the rest of the day leisurely strolling the streets, sitting by the ocean watching surfers, exploring the old kasbah(fort), sipping mint tea, reading books...a lovely day.
The following morning we are at the Cameroon embassy at 9:30 sharp. We are now experts in directing many taxi driver here. We nervously wait on brown couches until the secretary takes our papers and money and disappears behind a door. Half an hour later she tells us to come back at 2:00. We ar hoping for the best, but don't want to push our luck. Meanwhile, we check emails to find out that Guy has more than come through for us, sending a letter signed by the Edmonton Police, booking hotels in Douala, and phoning the embassy in Paris. He's a good guy to know when you're in a bind! (Thanks Guy!) At 2:00 we arrive back at those brown gates, despite a short detour to the Mali embassy courtesy of our driver who insisted that he knew the way. We were right. At 2:05 we walked out, visas in hand, happy, happy people. Back to the internet cafe to spread the news.
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