Morocco

Several years ago, I chose to go to Morocco, mostly because I’d never been there before. The day I left, there were horrendous storms in the Midwest causing a lot of flight delays and cancellations. My flight out of Pittsburgh was hours late taking off and the delay cut a three hour layover down to five minutes. I didn’t think we’d ever make the connection. Luckily for me, there were five people on my plane who needed the same connection and Air Canada held the plane for us. We took off just minutes after getting in our seats.

Those of you who travel know that close connections result in one inevitable outcome: the luggage never makes it onto the connecting flight. This trip was no different. When I arrived in Morocco, I had only what I had put in my backpack. Previous experience had taught me well. I had pajamas, a change of clothes, extra undies, and the necessary personal hygiene items. I was better off than some of my fellow travelers.

Our hotel was two hours from the airport and, to make matters worse, the bus broke down on the way. By the time we had our room assignments, it was early afternoon. With a few hours to kill before our welcome dinner, some of my fellow travelers went to take naps. I, being just a few steps beyond normal, decided to check out the hotel spa. I was wanting to try a Moroccan Hammam before I went home and I was lucky enough to get an appointment for that afternoon.

We spent our first night in Rabat, the capital of Morocco . This may, or may not, be a picture of that town. I can’t remember which town it is but it was in Morocco!

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