On the Train, in Morocco
I love to travel by train. If I have been given a choice to choose of transportation mode, I would be glad to say loudly, “train”, as long as I had the time limit for my travel. Morocco has one of the easiest and cheapest transportation system that I found in the entire my traveling history. Most of big cities have the train access and its stations are located in the city center, makes it easy to reach by petite taxi, no matter where you stay. Since I was traveling to most of mainstream travel destinations, I didn’t have so much time to see how the other part of Morocco looks like. How their people live their life, or how life had treated them so far. Traveling by train gave me chances to see other part of the country. I could see how people starting their life in the morning, I observed how a young boy doing his best to calm his lambs on the way to savanna, I noticed a farmer driving his tractor. I loved to see all those things. And I let my imaginations went beyond them. To give you more views of the country side of Morocco, please enjoy the photos below.
Traveling to Morocco did not just fill my travel map pins, but also gave me another spiritual experience that I couldn’t describe by words. To sum up, I could say that during this trip, I met a girl named Helen, who gave me indirectly answers to the questions that I had looked for in the past few years. I met her by chance, at Tangier train station, when I was waiting for the night train that will take me to Marrakech. We did not talk that much since we went to different wagon, but her stories had strengthened what I had decided by heart.
Night train in Morocco is equipped with several sleeper classes. One wagon consists of some compartment where each compartment is equipped by four beds. The bed is also completed by bed sheet, pillow and blanket for each passenger. I shared my compartment with two ladies, one from Spain, and one from Morocco.
“So, what brings you to Morocco?” Spanish lady asked me. “I come here because of love”
“I just come to travel,” I answered. I also explained that I live in Congo, so I apparently did not travel that far, when she tried to imagine how long does the plane take me from Indonesia to Morocco.
When a Moroccan lady came to join us, she also asked me the same question and whether I do have friends in Morocco. When I told them that I traveled alone, both of them screamed out loudly, and said “Are you crazy?”
The Moroccan lady (named Laila) said that I am crazy because I am traveling alone, while the Spanish one agreed that I am crazy since I chose to live in the country where civil war was going on. They kept discussing about my craziness and other young people who nowadays chose to travel by themselves instead of having companions to travel with.
After getting bored to discuss how crazy I am, they changed the topics about some places that I had traveled, and they turned into nice compartment mates. We stop talking after a while, and decided to sleep, and agreed to switched the light off. I did not sleep immediately, instead, my head was full with so many thoughts about the life that I had pass before. I did not remember when I started to sleep, the next thing I knew was the conductor knocked our door to inform that we will arrive in Marrakech in one hour.
I said goodbye to Spanish lady, but Laila forced me to come with her to her taxi.
“You don’t know how dangerous Marrakech could be for solo tourist like you. The city is beautiful, but I can assure you, it is not the best one in Morocco. So, at least, let me drop you to your destination,”.
Laila asked the taxi driver to drop me at Djema el Fna, in front of caffe de Franc. According to her, that would be easier for the riad owner where I will stay in the next 5 days, to find me there.