Moroccan crossing

Beautiful day-long visit of Fez medina left us amazed, loaded of local products and exhausted. I'm still the best subject of jokes about getting lost but now everyone knows me. Also after my Moroccan outfit, which may be made public at some point.

Never-ending ride from Fez to Marrakesh today.

Going across the mid-Atlas, pit stop at the Moroccan Swiss city of Ifrane, posh ski resort, when Allah sends snow; then lunch at Khenifra, allegedly the city with the most beautiful women in Morocco (none was around to check).

Chakib took the occasion to explain that the frontier police uses monkey squads against drug smuggling. Didn't say if they wear the fez hat while on duty.

He also explained that baby girls get earrings at the beginning of their... career. We're still a bit wondering.

Asked whether, after Tunisia took Craxi in the 90s, Morocco would be willing to take some other Italian prime minister, Chakib politely declined, thanking us with the typical Moroccan gesture of the "umbrella".

For the rest of the ride, the possibility was explored for a tour member to seduce the tour leader via the use of pistaches.

New year's eve dinner in Marrakesh tonight.

Yalla yalla

20 hours trip with aborted landing as if playing 'Air Control', here starts the new African adventure, close-by. Welcome to Casablanca.

The start is immediately blessed by good luck, in the form of a half kilo post-christmas-dinner bird poop.

Afterwards, meet Chakib, our local guide. Non-stop talking while taking us from a place to another, telling old jokes and incredible stories about his country, where cities have at least 1 million extra inhabitants than official figures and where Islam empowers women and teaches sex education.

There must be something with African guides and their making up stories, remembering Isack 'o pallonaro.

But he came to rescue me after I got lost in the middle of the Fez medina, the highlight of the day - the rescue action as much ad the medina itself.

To be continued...

Flying stories - Golden Autumn

Some days you can't take it, some days they are just fine. Your co-passengers, that is.

This Autumn flight home was a lucky one (well, besides the delayed train, the neverending queues, the final run to gate 59 etc. etc.).

Today, as a starter, I got 5 very nice Leuveneses (Lovanienses?) who took care of me to make sure we jumped the queue at the security check all together. They also tried to delay the plane so that I would miss my connection and stay in Milan with them to go to the Opera all together. We all made it to the plane eventually, so it looked like a very good start.

After a bit of humans-watching directed to a lovely pair cool daddy-cool boy, ended up with sweet 60+ old elegant couple interested in knowing Brussels stories ("how do they see us Italians in Brussels?" Ahem... next question, please?) and taking care of each other like they just fell in love.

Me, I was just showing off, by pretending to be able to read in sequence: a book in Spanish, the Economist, a Telecom report in French

Flying stories - part 1

Flying home is always en enriching experience.

Now, besides observing the different kinds of people flying to Milan, Rome or Naples (omg), there's a lot of learning about the world.

For example, landing in Linate today was like landing in a parallel universe. It was not the Linate I'd known for years. Where were all my shops? Where was the big café? I did not even have to re-do the security checks when on transit. Did I get stuck in some kind of Abre los ojos situation?

One thing is certain though: even in this parallel universe, there are parents not missing a single hand waving of their offsprings, jumping at the minimal suspicion of a potential wish on the verge of being formulated. Usually they are sitting next to you.