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50 Hour Bus ride from Hell
Essaouiora, Morocco
May, 2003
"Essaouira is only two days away," I thought as we pulled out of Galeini Bus Station in Paris. I had been in Paris for a fantastic month living at the Bookstore and biking around with Captain Christoph and Anita. With the big festival at Shakespeare and Company a month and a half away I decided to take a quick run down to Morocco to surf for a month. The bus was only half full and I figured that this was going to be the best ride ever. Little did I know what crazy events were yet to occur.
When we arrived in Tours, the only other pickup point on our way to Morocco, there was a zoo of people waiting to get on. Everyone pushed and shoved their way on, in an orderly fashion, and soon we were on our way again. A kindly old gentleman sat next to me. He was dressed in western clothes and was probably around Seventy. We exchanged some small talk in French and soon after he was asleep. He was on his way back to Casablanca after visiting his son in Tours. He had the best disposition of anyone on the bus. Throughout our journey, he always had a smile on his face. Even when he was sleeping.
The first night was not very cold and by morning we were in Southern Spain. We watched a really old and crappy Charles Bronson film, you could barely hear the sound track and all I can say is that it was terrible. This driver was really moving. By 1:00 PM we were waiting for the ferry at Algeciras. The last time I came down we didn't get to the ferry until 5:00 PM. We had to wait two hours before boarding the ferry so I went to the cafeteria and got my last ham and cheese sandwich that I would enjoy for the next month.
The ferry ride over the straights is always great. I bought my traditional bottle of gin from dudy free, got a soda from the vending machine and went up on the deck to enjoy the fantastic view of Gibraltar and North Africa. As I sipped my Cocktail, I met a two other passengers who were on my bus. Sara was about 24, half Moroccan and half French, spoke 4 languages well, grew up in Casablanca but later moved to France, went to Tourism school and was now returning to Casa to work for a 5 star hotel. Really cool and attractive. Marian was a Polish lady who had been working in an office in Paris for the last three years and decided to take a week holiday in Morocco before returning to Poland for the first time in 10 years. She was about 50 and was in a good disposition taking photos and smiling. Like me, she was on her way to Marrekech. It is odd for someone to take a week holiday and spend four of the days on a bus, but I wasn't going to bring that up. I would end up hanging out with Sara and Marian for the rest of the ride. We all sat together and talked about Morocco as the sun set along the North African Coast.
As we approached Tangier Sara and Marian went off to round up their bags and I stayed on the deck and watched the docking procedures. It was a warm evening and there was still a bit of light on the horizon. Looking towards the lights of Tangier in the distance I breathed in deeply realizing I was almost back in magical Morocco.
Soon we were all off the boat and back on the bus waiting in line for customs. The last time I took the ferry there were about 15 busses and we just boarded and drove right through. This time there were only 3 busses and they stopped and searched each one. When the Duane got to our bus and began to look in the side storage compartments all the Moroccans on the bus stood up and went to that side of the bus to watch. They kept on pointing and laughing I guess saying something like, "Ah look, now he's looking in your crap." Some seemed concerned but most were joking. The kid in the seat across form me asked me how many bottles I had and I told him two. He laughed and said no problem. The guy standing in the seat in front of him looked back and said, "Americano, for you 10 bottles is OK!" and everyone around him laughed. The Duane poked around for about 45 minutes and finally we were back on the road. Soon out of Tangier we stopped for Dinner at a Cafe.
When we got off the bus I met up with Sara and Marian and we went inside to eat. Sara went over and ordered some kefta and brochettes and I went and got water and bread. As I was going to the counter I looked up and noticed a baby being held by pretty lady, she looks familar, wait, there's the king standing next to her! The king has had a son! The new king has been born! I was really excited but everyone else in the cafe didn't seen to notice so I didn't make a big fuss. I returned to our table with the goods and Sara and Marian were watching the TV. "The king has had a baby, a boy, I think," I said to them a bit unsure of myself. They were both surprised. Then Sara pointed her ear towards the TV for a few moments, looked at me dryly and said. "No, I think your right." A bit odd, I thought, that none of the Moroccans seemed to care.
When the meat arrived, Marian was looking a bit pale. We both dug in, but she was looking at the food suspiciously. Sara smiled, asked what was wrong, assured her that the food was good, handed her some bread and then continued to eat. Marian had a couple bites, but was pretty freaked about the meal. After the 45 minute break, we all boarded and started heading south towards Rabat. I started to doze when all of the sudden the driver locked up the brakes and we skidded into a little truck.
Everyone starts freaking out. The guy in the seat across and up one starts yelling. Then a lady starts screaming and crying. The guy who is yelling then gets up and goes to the back door and begins to pound. He continues to yell. Sara told me later that he was swearing at the driver accusing him of driving recklessly. Five more guys get up a go over to the door and start pounding. They are all yelling. Then the Driver comes back on and calmly shouts something, and then all the men shout back as they return to their seats. The old guy next to me just smiles and looks at me saying, "They are all crazy, you know that!" As soon as things on the bus seemed half way calm the driver opened the door and we all got off.
We had sideswiped the little truck and the bus and truck were still connected. The bus's windshield was broken and there was some minor damage to the right front side. The little truck had a giant crease on the left side and it's engine was still running. I got my camera out and took some pictures. After about 30 minutes of standing there, arguing about whose fault it was, blocking the road, the police finally arrive. They do the normal police things, talk the drivers, witnesses, put chalk on road, etc. The little truck's engine was still running. So after about an hour and an half, the gang finally decides to move the damaged vehicles off the road. The bus driver gets in, starts the engine and backs up freeing the little truck. Some guy jumps in the truck, engine still running, and drives away! The police don't seem to care but the bus drivers are fuming! They yell to the truck, and then to the police, but the guy doesn't stop and the truck is gone. Then, in a strange twist, the police take the two bus drivers get into a police car and take off. All the passengers can't believe it. Now we are all standing on the side of the road, next to a little village south of Tangier and the police and the Bus drivers are all gone. We are dumbfounded.
I see Sara and Marian sitting on the curb a bit down the street so I go over and talk to them. Sara is in a fine mood, smoking a cigarette and talking about how things like this happen all the time in Morocco, it's good that no one was hurt, and we just have to patient. Mariam is speechless. She stands up, says, "This is Crazy!" and goes back on the bus. I ask Sara about what everyone was saying on the bus and she fills me in. Most of the people were yelling that the bus driver was driving to fast. The guys at the front of the bus, who saw the accident, were yelling back that it was the little trucks fault because he cut us off. Then they were all yelling to let us off the bus.
After about 15 minutes the police drop the bus drivers off and leave. The bus driver says something and Sara translates as, "We must wait for a Supertours Official, but he will be there soon and we will be on our way." Then, really bizzare, a Moroccan lady, cell phone in hand appears at the back door of the bus screaming and crying. Not really screaming, but singing in a very high tone and very loud, like a very gutteral bird. She gets off the bus and prostrates herself in front of the drivers while crying and singing. The drivers say something quick, and then completely ignore her. I look at Sara and say, "Now what was that all about!" I figured maybe she was sick or dying or something really bad. Sara scoffs and says, "She is upset because she is going to be late." Then Marian gets off the Bus, she seems a little upset, and comes over and whispers to Sara. Sara gets up and as they walk to the bushes she looks back at me as says, "She drank too much at the cafe." I guess thats a nice way to put it!
When the Supertours Official arrives he talks to the drivers, a few of the passengers who witnessed the accident and then when he goes back to the drivers they point at me and he starts to walk over. Sara is back and looks at me and says, "What do they want from you." I assure her that I have no idea.
He walks up and says in French, "Sir, do you have a photo of the accident." I say yes and get out my digital camera and show him what I have. One of my pictures shows the back end of the truck and noticing the license plate, he gets excited. I zoom in and show him the close up of the plate. He says, "Excellent, I must have a copy of the photo." I assure him, no problem, just give me and address and I will send it to you. This causes a bit of a problem, no one seems to have an address, finally they figure one out and soon after we are all getting on the bus.
Now that was a strange three hour detour. I was happy to be back on the road, but also glad that I got to experience so many odd sights and sounds as we sat there on the side of the road. When we were finally moving, the old man next to me looked over, smiled and shaked his head. I looked back and nodded. Soon we were both fast asleep.
I barely awoke when we arrive in Rabat and when we got to Casablanca in the Morning I got off the bus to say farewell to Sara. She gave me her number and told me to call if in Casa and I invited her to visit me in Essaouira. After we left the station we went to one of the main squares in town and the drivers explained that we should go wait at the cafe for a half hour and they were going to get a new bus. There were only about five of us left, including Marian, so we all walked over to the cafe. I sat down with Marian. She was not looking well.
She looks over and very concerned she says "This country is crazy, I want to leave, do you think I can get a bus back to Paris tonight?" I explain that the country is a little crazy, but it is really nice and safe and that its more crazy to get back on the bus for two more days. Nothing doing. I tell her that she could come to Essaouira where is very mellow and I could show her around. Nope. She said that she does not feel comfortable in Morocco and wants to leave immediately. I say ok, whatever, and drop it. I felt sorry that someone could reject a country after only 4 hours. I guess it wasn't the best 4 hours.
The new bus was actually back on time and we boarded and begin to head toward Marrekech. To top this incredible trip off, about half way to Marrekech, with over 100 KM to go, the bus loses its clutch. So then we can only use third gear, max speed of about 60KPM and have to stall at every stop. A really rough ride. This was really too much for Mariam. She went to the back of the bus and got sick. When she came forward she made me promise not to leave her in Marrekech until she had a way home. I didn't know what to say. When we arrive at the Supertours, station I noticed a bus boarding and figured it was going to Essaouira. What luck! Normally I take a petite taxi into town and then take the local bus which takes twice as long a Supertours.
When I get off our bus I find out that the other bus is going to Essaouira, is leaving soon, and I need to go run and buy a ticket. But, on my way, I'm stopped by a Supertours guy who asks me if I'm the one with the photo of the accident. I say yes, and he says the Chef wants to see me so please follow. "But I must catch this bus to Essaouira," I told him. "The bus will go no where without you," he quickly replied and escorted me to the back of the station. I showed the Chef the photo and he was very happy. We went through the whole email thing again, the Chef running around asking everybody the email for Supertours. A few minutes later he came back with an email address. I told him that I must get on the bus to Essaouira and that it was already late.
He said, "Of course, I know, you ride for free for the photo." I thanked him and went back out to the bus. When I got to the bus the driver asked me for my ticket. I said I didn't have one so he pointed me towards the office. I go to the office and the guy says, "Yes, no problem, 50 Dirham." This is typical Moroccan run around. I was about to pay, but I did mention the chef said I could go for free. So he says he will go find the chef. The bus is now 20 minutes late and I'm feeling a little bad. I say don't worry about it, but he insists and runs out of the office. The driver starts honking. Then I see the ticket guy go over and yell at the Bus Driver. Everything is always madness. The the ticket guy walks slowly back to the office, taking his time, talking to a few guys on the way, and tells me I can board the bus. I ask him for my ticket that is still in his hand. He crumbles it up, throws it in the trash and says, "You don't need a ticket."
I walk out to the bus. At that moment I remember Mariam, where has she been this whole time? I'm feeling a little bad like I abandoned her. Before I get to the bus I hear a Taxi's horn and look over to see Marian. I run over to see whats going on. She was getting a ride to the train station and she said she would be in Spain by late evening. I wished her a good and safe trip and she was off. The bus driver was now honking at me.
When I boarded the bus, the driver looked at me and then quickly turned his head away. The passengers seem pretty agitated. The passengers on Supertours going to Essaouira are almost all tourists so they expect promptness of schedule. I smile at everyone and whisper "Sorry" as I walk down the aisle to find an open seat. Could three busses in a row break down???? No, we made to Essaouira fine.
Now that was one long, crazy, exciting, frustrating, fantasticly furious bus ride!!!
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