I felt for something else... Arriving in Morocco and not jumping into the wild adventure with a Grand Taxi. It was early, the sun gave the impression that everything was whitewashed, and there she was: the bus to the "Centre".
We looked at each other and on a fresh and clean morning like this you could still step into this adventure. Was it indeed a greater adventure than a taxi where a door all of a sudden actually opened and then with some luck closed and kept close during your trip? No, this was OK we decided.
"You pay when you get off," the chauffeur was screaming to all of us getting on the bus and this immediately created a feeling of recognition.
The famous expression "pay what you want" was revealed to me by a Moroccan who told me this was a way to get much more out of it than they ever dared to ask, and this ''pay'' but in the end seemed to me to go out into this same Moroccan direction.
Perhaps it was working on a kind of point system? The ride made it clear that he certainly deserved his 2 euros. Frequently he stopped and shouted something to someone in which I could tell that he suggested that a person should get off at the next stop. Sometimes with some extra persuasion because it was also clear that his instructions were not always shared, sometimes there was some hesitation and a conscious person could still negotiate to yet make it to another stop.
When I myself wanted to get off, this was clearly a very suspicious act looking at the expression at the drivers face.
Whether I knew where I went? Whether I was sure it was here that I wanted to get off.
No, I did not know, but also at the next stop I would not know. I did not know where I was nor where I was going to.
There was however a clear reason for my sudden decision to pause my bustrip! To my amazement we just had passed a Carrefour supermarket. At home, this fact can not persuade me but despite the many places in Morocco that I had seen, this was the first supermarket ever!
Would they also sell Zwan TV sausages? I wondered. It seemed unlikely, but I knew with great certainty that there would be a separate department'' La Vache Qui Rit''.
This belief had grown from the fact that every Medina in Morocco approximate and according to a personal opinion had almost as many signs of La Vache as there were like pictures of the king.
I suspect that this first thing was a kind of worship that had grown through the years and nobody still knew where it had started.
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| somewhere she will show up and smile La Vache |
Where this love for the cow came from was not clear and also completely unimportant, it was a fact and this fact was made clear in every city. She looked, not always as bright as she should but when one hit another corner there she was looking at you with that stupid grin as only La Vache can. Sometimes her laughter was completely peeled of or bleached by the sun and she would look at you with 1 eye through the narrow streets of the Medina as if God saw you.
But that obviously could not be the fact because we were in the realm of Another!
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