The ultimate fraud
Our trip was not just about getting to know the country; frankly, we haven't seen much. If anything. However we experienced more than one could dream of; we met incredible people and had unbelievable debates with them, experienced the most unexpected and even scariest stories.
Since my biggest and longest journey was backpacking across the North India I do tend to compare Morocco with this country. The mentality of the people is similar, however Moroccans are calmer and businessmen are not as rude. India has got a big population of Muslims and I found the same Muslims in Morocco. Of course it is a different continent but the mentality is very similar.
It is very hard to explain the Arabic attitude. I am no expert nor I am trying to be one. I am writing only from my own experiences and those are influenced only by the few people who came into my life.
Every Arab is a Muslim. Muslims believe that it is important to love another being, moreover to do good deeds in order to be happy. Muslims are in fact not greedy people, they are very religious and the educated ones surprisingly open minded. We Europeans have this terrible prejudice about them which, sometimes, even proves to be true. I have indeed met Arabs who were cheats and liars and tried to scam me. On the other hand I still believe that Quran teaches its people well and that you can find a black sheep in every religion, in every nationality. People were born pure, without any prejudice or hate. We teach our children the violence and hatred and then are surprised why the fuck the world sucks.
Unfortunately I also came across some bad people in Morocco.
When me and Danka tried to get to the desert of Merzouga I did a little research beforehand. I read tips on how to stay safe and not to fall into a trap. Basically, if you are planning on getting to the Merzouga village, you need to get a bus to Rissani first. From there be very careful and try to get a public bus to the Merzouga village. Not to the dunes because that is in the middle of the desert.
If taking the taxi it costs 10 dirhams per head, however this is where I got scammed. Unfortunately, I didn't take my time to think and to check things (and I dared to call myself an experienced traveler!!), and trusted a taxi driver who offered to take us to the village for 10dh per head. I specifically pronounced that I wish to go to the village, not to the desert. He promised to take us to the village safely.
When we suddenly realized we are in the middle of the dunes I was very angry. The man wanted us to buy the 'package' – buying a hotel, a meal, ride on the camels, sleeping in the tent somewhere in a desert... 1200dh each. No freaking way I would give him this money! I quickly thought to myself 'I got to come out with a plan'. I started coughing, and complaining about my health:
“I need my medicines, I need a pharmacy...,” I cried. Danka quickly followed my game and tried to reason with the guide.
“Listen, obviously my friend is very scared and sick, but I'm sure we can make some deal,” she played her role brilliantly, pretending to be 'the good one'. The plan didn't work though. We ended up in a hotel the man was offering from the beginning. He was refusing to take us back to Rissani even though I didn't mind waiting in the car for the whole day if necessary.
Sitting in the hotel, we ate our breakfast. Very good breakfast.
“Well, it's gonna cost us 950dirhams (the final price Danka agreed on with the damn Arab) so at least eat it all!” I said and we were eating like crazy.
“Hello, how are you enjoying yourselves, girls?” A British tourist entered, holding his small camcorder and making a speech for his video. At first I was very surprised that somebody can actually be happy about being stuck in the middle of the desert! Then we understood the man is with a different guide and that he indeed got a very fair deal. Darn it, I got enough now!
Our trip was not just about getting to know the country; frankly, we haven't seen much. If anything. However we experienced more than one could dream of; we met incredible people and had unbelievable debates with them, experienced the most unexpected and even scariest stories. Since my biggest and longest journey was backpacking across the North India I do tend to compare Morocco with this country. The mentality of the people is similar, however Moroccans are calmer and businessmen are not as rude. India has got a big population of Muslims and I found the same Muslims in Morocco. Of course it is a different continent but the mentality is very similar.
It is very hard to explain the Arabic attitude. I am no expert nor I am trying to be one. I am writing only from my own experiences and those are influenced only by the few people who came into my life.
Every Arab is a Muslim. Muslims believe that it is important to love another being, moreover to do good deeds in order to be happy. Muslims are in fact not greedy people, they are very religious and the educated ones surprisingly open minded. We Europeans have this terrible prejudice about them which, sometimes, even proves to be true. I have indeed met Arabs who were cheats and liars and tried to scam me. On the other hand I still believe that Quran teaches its people well and that you can find a black sheep in every religion, in every nationality. People were born pure, without any prejudice or hate. We teach our children the violence and hatred and then are surprised why the fuck the world sucks.
Unfortunately I also came across some bad people in Morocco.
When me and Danka tried to get to the desert of Merzouga I did a little research beforehand. I read tips on how to stay safe and not to fall into a trap. Basically, if you are planning on getting to the Merzouga village, you need to get a bus to Rissani first. From there be very careful and try to get a public bus to the Merzouga village. Not to the dunes because that is in the middle of the desert.
If taking the taxi it costs 10 dirhams per head, however this is where I got scammed. Unfortunately, I didn't take my time to think and to check things (and I dared to call myself an experienced traveler!!), and trusted a taxi driver who offered to take us to the village for 10dh per head. I specifically pronounced that I wish to go to the village, not to the desert. He promised to take us to the village safely.
When we suddenly realized we are in the middle of the dunes I was very angry. The man wanted us to buy the 'package' – buying a hotel, a meal, ride on the camels, sleeping in the tent somewhere in a desert... 1200dh each. No freaking way I would give him this money! I quickly thought to myself 'I got to come out with a plan'. I started coughing, and complaining about my health:
“I need my medicines, I need a pharmacy...,” I cried. Danka quickly followed my game and tried to reason with the guide.
“Listen, obviously my friend is very scared and sick, but I'm sure we can make some deal,” she played her role brilliantly, pretending to be 'the good one'. The plan didn't work though. We ended up in a hotel the man was offering from the beginning. He was refusing to take us back to Rissani even though I didn't mind waiting in the car for the whole day if necessary.
Sitting in the hotel, we ate our breakfast. Very good breakfast.
“Well, it's gonna cost us 950dirhams (the final price Danka agreed on with the damn Arab) so at least eat it all!” I said and we were eating like crazy.
“Hello, how are you enjoying yourselves, girls?” A British tourist entered, holding his small camcorder and making a speech for his video. At first I was very surprised that somebody can actually be happy about being stuck in the middle of the desert! Then we understood the man is with a different guide and that he indeed got a very fair deal. Darn it, I got enough now!
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| Merzouga. The only picture we have |
I followed the man and quietly told him our story:
“You see, Sir, we kind of got stuck in here. This is not what we wanted, and we are certainly not going to pay such a great amount of money. Could you please somehow help us out? Perhaps take us back to Rissani?”
The Brit immediately understood what is going on and tried to talk to his guide. The guide, a Berber, was a tall man with a dark face and good English. No help there though. All the guides know each other here and they all have their business. No one is allowed to interfere with other's business so if you are stuck with one guide, you are not going to get any help from anyone else.
“You see, Sir, we kind of got stuck in here. This is not what we wanted, and we are certainly not going to pay such a great amount of money. Could you please somehow help us out? Perhaps take us back to Rissani?”
The Brit immediately understood what is going on and tried to talk to his guide. The guide, a Berber, was a tall man with a dark face and good English. No help there though. All the guides know each other here and they all have their business. No one is allowed to interfere with other's business so if you are stuck with one guide, you are not going to get any help from anyone else.
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| The volcanic mountains |
I went to the toilets, totally ruined. How could I only do this to my poor cousin? I am supposed to be the one who knows how to travel....
As I was coming back to the restaurant, I found the Berber walking next to me. He looked at me worriedly and said:
“I'm really sorry...”
I didn't get it. Why would he be sorry? Are we in a danger?
“Why?,” I asked.
“I'm sorry you got stuck with that guide...”
I was puzzled. It seemed to me that the Berber knows our man and obviously he already expects trouble from him. What means this is not the first time this has happened. What means there is one idiot in the middle of the Rissani who cheats the tourists and I have to fall for his lies!
The worst part is that there were few signs all along. And yet I was not cautious enough.
I sat down next to my cousin and didn't know what to say. Then a man in a blue habit came and looked at us.
“Come, your guide is taking you back to Rissani.”
Really? I was perplexed. We quickly went out and walked to the car. Our guide started arguing to another man- his brother as we later found out- and the guy in a blue robe. Even though the discussion was in Arabic I could clearly understand that the blue man (who was most likely the owner of the hotel) was telling our guide to take us back to Rissani while the man didn't want to. I begged the owner to come with us.
“I cannot. But don't worry, he will take you safely.”
At this point I felt safe. I thought we have won. We sat in the car and kept quiet the whole time. Danka was staring out of the window and didn't say a word. I wasn't sure what am I suppose to say to make her feel better. I believed everything is going to be fine. Perhaps this trip will be costly, maybe they will even steal our cameras, but I knew we are going to survive. So I didn't worry. I just felt terrible for letting Danka down. I could not see her face but I could feel her desperation. I looked down on her sweaty fingers. I knew she was scared, very scared. But I still did not know what to say. It's all my fault...
As I was coming back to the restaurant, I found the Berber walking next to me. He looked at me worriedly and said:
“I'm really sorry...”
I didn't get it. Why would he be sorry? Are we in a danger?
“Why?,” I asked.
“I'm sorry you got stuck with that guide...”
I was puzzled. It seemed to me that the Berber knows our man and obviously he already expects trouble from him. What means this is not the first time this has happened. What means there is one idiot in the middle of the Rissani who cheats the tourists and I have to fall for his lies!
The worst part is that there were few signs all along. And yet I was not cautious enough.
I sat down next to my cousin and didn't know what to say. Then a man in a blue habit came and looked at us.
“Come, your guide is taking you back to Rissani.”
Really? I was perplexed. We quickly went out and walked to the car. Our guide started arguing to another man- his brother as we later found out- and the guy in a blue robe. Even though the discussion was in Arabic I could clearly understand that the blue man (who was most likely the owner of the hotel) was telling our guide to take us back to Rissani while the man didn't want to. I begged the owner to come with us.
“I cannot. But don't worry, he will take you safely.”
At this point I felt safe. I thought we have won. We sat in the car and kept quiet the whole time. Danka was staring out of the window and didn't say a word. I wasn't sure what am I suppose to say to make her feel better. I believed everything is going to be fine. Perhaps this trip will be costly, maybe they will even steal our cameras, but I knew we are going to survive. So I didn't worry. I just felt terrible for letting Danka down. I could not see her face but I could feel her desperation. I looked down on her sweaty fingers. I knew she was scared, very scared. But I still did not know what to say. It's all my fault...
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| Atlas in the background |
We reached the city and I could see a bus. Then a rikshaw. People. I knew we are safe. We might need to stay a night in Rissani but what does it matter. There are people, there is a transport, there will be hotels. We are safe.
We got off the car in the front of the bus station. Since it was national holidays the guide tried to persuade us that there is no way for us to go to Marakesh tonight. He could provide a van though. He was already bargaining about the price, but I just wanted to get rid of him.
“I don't trust him, let's just leave it. We don't need him anymore, we are in the city, ” I said to my cousin but she was still questioning the fact that he might be our only way to survive the night.
As we were chatting, haggling, fighting, a car with the British appeared. I was thinking about them before and since I knew they will be coming this direction I thought we might as well be lucky and meet them again. So we did. Yes, there is someone up there watching over me :) Now I knew for sure that all is OK.
The Berber started fighting with our guide, and at some point I thought they might get into a physical fight. The Brit suddenly pushed Danka into the car. He took her bag and so I figured to take my backpack off as well. There were lot of shouting, pushing, arguing, and finally we gave the guide some money so he would shut up. He did not want to accept what we were offering, he was still asking for the full price of 950dh. Somehow we ended up sitting in the car, holding the doors tight so the guide would not be able to open them. The Berber got in and quickly started the engine. The car moved and this was the end of a scary story. Fortunately, the scariest one we had.
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| Danka and our new friend from the UK |
I really feel sorry for you, he is such a damn fucking guide .
ReplyDeleteSorry, i don't agree with you when said that " Every Arab is a Muslim." because there are many people are Arab but they are non-Muslim, one of them is my friend ;)
" Not every Arab is a Muslim and not all Arabs are Muslims "
I absolutely agree with you, this was such a strong statement. But the point was that it was from my own experience, my own opinion. And I wanted it to be a strong statement. And in a sense also to show how prejudiced we are.
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