Night Flight from Marrakech

RISSANI & MARRAKECH, MOROCCO -- April 10-11, 2006

After a long day of waiting around dusty Rissani and a nightmarish 14-hour bus ride, I am back in Marrakech. I have some decisions to make.

I have found myself in an increasingly difficult situation, where the boundaries between being a friendly traveller and doing what is in my best interest have been crossed and at times compromised.

I have had the growing concern that the young Moroccan I have been traveling with has plans to keep me here. Nearly everywhere I have gone -- literally with the exception of the hammam visit with his mother, and a couple of very short excursions on my own, I have been accompanied everywhere. I would hate to affix the wrong word to describe this situation, but concerns have been swelling within me, and I am feeling less and less comfortable.

I know it is time to make a break, so after a visit to the Jardin Majorelle this afternoon, I begin what turns into a 3-hour conversation with Monir about my decision to leave. It does not go well.

Back at his house, I am given a small window of time to do something drastic when he leaves to pick up a bottle of water from the market on the corner. I literally throw my belongings together and make a run for it. I know, this sounds Harrison-Ford-Fugitive-like and blown out of proportion. In all honesty, I have underexaggerated the situation here. And a sprint out of the door -- and out of town -- was entirely called for.

I was lucky that tonight was the festival for Mohammed's (hailed prophet of the Muslim religion) birthday, and the streets were absolutely packed with people. That was good news -- there was no chance I could be found. The bad news is that every hotel, guesthouse, and available bed was taken. I had few options at this point. I had used up my adrenaline, had been fighting a UTI and fever of over 100F, and was exhausted and in need of someplace to sleep.

I met two interesting young guys, Ali and Adir, also Moroccan, though one of them (Ali) had actually lived in Florida and Switzerland for the past 10 years. Fortunately for me, Ali spoke fluent English, and something told me I could trust him. I'm learning to listen to those gut-level intuitions. He had a car and was leaving Marrakech for Essouira (coastal town 3 hours away), and after weighing out all my options, I decided to join Ali and Adir.

About 15 minutes into our drive to Essouira, we pulled into the lot of a cafe/restaurant. I assumed we were all stopping for something to eat/drink, since Ali had mentioned we would stop before driving the rest of the way, so I left my bags in the car. But after Ali and I got out of the car, Adir sped off -- some errand to run before we left town. I was trying not to panick when, an hour later, Adir still had not returned. ALL of my belongings -- including my passport, my emergency cash, everything, were in that car. In my small backpack, which laid in the backseat were my iPod, my cameras, and other valuable items that would be easy to pilfer.

My only consolation was that Ali seemed concerned as well. We waited for what seemed like an eternity. The cafe closed down, and we were left just standing on the side of this desolate road as the night creeped on. I was seconds from demanding we take a taxi back to town and sort things out with the police, when suddenly Adir appeared.

My first instinct was to check my bag to find out what had been stolen. I tried to be inconspicuous as I unzipped its compartments. I was surprised -- and very relieved -- to find that everything was there, exactly where I had left it. It was at this moment that I realized I had found someone I could trust. And it was a good thing. Because over the next few days, I was going to need them.

~Melanie