After eleven days in Morocco, it was time to leave for Portugal.
Our flight from Casablanca to Porto wasn't until later in the afternoon, and we arrived at the airport early.
Good thing.
What followed was one more travel saga.
The Baggage Problem
We were dropped at the airport at 12:50.
Our first task was to exchange our remaining Moroccan currency, but for some reason we needed our boarding passes before we could do that.
So we went to check in.
That's when we discovered that Shirley's bag weighed 26 kilos, three kilos over the limit.
Then we discovered another problem.
Our tickets didn't include checked baggage.
We eventually sorted everything out with the airline, consolidating our two roller bags into one 23-kilo bag and moving three kilos out of the medium checked bag. We also learned that we were limited to 12 kilos of carry-on luggage.
The baggage charges came to about $200.
It seemed crazy. There surely must have been a fare that included baggage for considerably less.
The Currency Problem
With the boarding passes finally in hand, we headed toward customs.
Then we remembered the Moroccan currency.
So we went back.
At the first currency exchange, we were told to return in 15 minutes.
The second told us the same thing.
The third finally exchanged our money.
Then we headed back toward customs.
By now, it was 2:30.
It had taken an hour and forty minutes just to reach the terminal.
The Scissors
Customs was easy.
Security almost was.
Shirley's bag got flagged because she had nose-hair scissors in it.
Security inspected them and let her keep them.
At this point, we were very glad we'd arrived early.
Surely we'd exhausted the day's minor mishaps.
We hadn't.
The Coke
We finally made it to the lounge and had about 45 minutes before we needed to leave for the gate.
While Shirley was getting a snack, a woman restocking the Cokes dropped a case.
One of the cans exploded.
All over Shirley.
After the luggage, currency exchanges and nose-hair scissors, Shirley was now standing in an airport lounge covered in Coke.
What I remember almost as much as the incident itself is how she handled it.
She cleaned herself up, came back to the table, and calmly told me what had happened.
Years ago, I couldn't help thinking, her stress level would have been higher and something like this might have become a big deal.
This time it was just another thing that happened.
And apparently a pretty funny one.
Finally, the Plane
From the lounge, we went to the gate.
Then onto a bus.
Then finally onto the plane.
No other problems.
There was nobody sitting in first class.
I found myself wondering how our travel agent had paired some of the most expensive hotels we'd ever stayed in with economy airline tickets.
Then our snack arrived:
A tuna sandwich, a cup of yogurt and a chocolate muffin.
After the Royal Mansour, it was quite a transition.
What We'll Remember
We'll remember being very glad we'd arrived at the airport early.
We'll remember opening suitcases at check-in and rearranging our possessions until we'd created the correct combination of kilos.
We'll remember discovering that our tickets didn't include baggage and paying about $200 to check it.
We'll remember trying three different places before successfully exchanging our remaining Moroccan currency.
We'll remember Shirley's nose-hair scissors getting flagged at security.
We'll remember finally reaching the lounge—and having a Coke explode all over Shirley.
We'll remember how calmly she cleaned herself up, returned to the table and told me what happened.
We'll remember the completely empty first-class cabin.
And we'll remember sitting in economy eating a tuna sandwich, yogurt and chocolate muffin after eleven days of beautiful Moroccan hotels and elaborate meals.
Mostly, we'll remember that getting out of Morocco required overweight luggage, an unexpected baggage charge, three currency exchanges, nose-hair scissors, an exploding Coke, a bus and finally an airplane.
Just another travel saga.
Goodbye, Morocco
Eleven days had given us several very different versions of the country.
Marrakech had been fascinating and intense.
The Atlas Mountains had been quiet and almost unnervingly exclusive.
Oualidia had given us the lagoon, an almost empty Atlantic beach and the realization that two-night stays were too short.
Casablanca had given us one of the most awe-inspiring buildings we'd ever entered.
We were glad we'd come.
We'd also learned quite a bit about how we wanted to travel.
And perhaps we were already changing a little ourselves.
Then we boarded the plane for Porto.
A few hours later, we'd discover just how different Portugal felt.