Youngs in Morocco: Rabat and other ramblings

2+ Weeks

Setting: Hotel guest computer access room

It's only taken one hour for me to change the language settings from Arabic to French... and then the keyboard to English. (Surprisingly I'm only slightly annoyed.) Amazing how motivation will conquer any hurdle.

One of the last hurdles that Dear Husband and I prevailed before his departure to India was a trip to Rabat (the capital) to blindly find the South African Embassy. This was an attempt to obtain a letter of residence change for customs. Our container has been sitting in the Port of Casablanca for about 2 weeks. Quite incredibly, nobody mentioned how important this document would be.

I say, 'blindly' because after hours of online research we never could pinpoint the location of the South African Embassy. Most roads in Morocco have a pre-existing French name, current Arabic name or are simply newly constructed. Google Maps has it's work cut out.

Amazingly we happened upon the place. (enter weak trumpet sound):

One place the South African government
did actually skimp on

My husband is a genius!

As slow as the wheels are to turn at the consulate there's one small comfort: I don't have to work there.

Unfortunately, the Moroccan security guard does. He felt our pain and, once again, displayed incredible Moroccan hospitality, even though he didn't speak a word of English.

Captive audience weighs in on whether their
parents WILL actually drink the tea.

While waiting and waiting and waiting, we discovered one of Rabat's major attractions.

A one thousand-year old incomplete mosque, started in 1195. The minaret is made of red stone and some 200 columns are left standing.

Contained within Hassan Tower are
asceding slopes so that a horse
rider could gallop to the top
for the call to prayer.
(Totally wheelchair accessible!)