Sunday, January 13, 2008

Layover Laughs (or The Lariam Delirium, not sure which)

[Casablanca, MORROCO @ 1731 GMT]

I am no stranger to nonsensical flight plans or long layovers. Once upon a time I actually flew from Indianapolis to Las Vegas to Los Angeles to Newark. There was a 20-or-so hour layover in Los Angeles. Not advised by the way.

So, here I find myself deliriously tired in Casablanca (as you all may have seen from my previous posts). After my time ran out, I managed to fight my way to the front of the transfer desks... twice. You see, in normal airports, there are things like signs, staff, lines. In Casablanca, such organization does not exist. [Heck, signs point all over the place to things and then when there is a crucial turn right before the stairs to the final destination, there is no sign. Maybe my exhaustion has blinded me and they don't usually see people who have been on three flights before arriving in Casablanca for yet another flight.] So, the frustrating thing about arriving to the front of the transfer desk is because once you are in front, that does not necessarily mean you will be helped. They really need a new supervisor or something in this airport to whip these guys into shape.

I can understand that my layover is ridiculously long and such, while others have a quick turnaround. The problem here is that there is a serious lack of organization. I noticed this the last time around, but miraculously made it through with about 15 minutes to spare before my next flight (I had a three hour layover). Heck, I got to the front of the line before people who were leaving in twenty minutes (twice) and I already had my boarding pass (thank you, HKI efficiency!!!)!!!! So, why was I at the transfer desk? Because I wanted to know what gate to go to... logical question right? Also, apparently if you have a transfer from Royal Air Maroc to Royal Air Maroc you can get a voucher for a restuarant in the airport (fat chance you'll find it though since it is not well labelled to get there). Unfortunately, since I was switching airlines. I did not qualify. Even though other staff members told me I was eligible for this and possibly some place to pass out that was not the floor or a cold uncomfortable airport chair (this is was one of another reasons I was at the transfer desk). I also wanted to make sure my luggage got checked okay. The guy didn't even look at my stubs and said it was fine even though there was a typo. I don't know what to say other than I hope my luggage gets there (not that you won't find out at the end of this post if I don't). All this was after wandering in and out of the "gates" area several times because I didn't know where to go (since I didn't know my gate number). The guards were ever so helpful (as in not at all). All of the staff kept pointing me back to the overcrowded transfer desk. Add all this to a mix of French, English and Arabic and shoving and shouting from many people (not me, I was too tired). So, just in general frustratingly tiring. And really, I am too tired to be frustrated, just vague shadows of frustration.

Worst 10 Things To Do During A 15-Hour Casablanca Layover
10. Sleep. Physically impossible, it is too shiny.
9. Try to use the mysterious Wifi advertised on every darned wall in the airport. (Have to pay for it and can't even get to the pay page anyway!!)
8. Try to understand the language people are speaking to you while you stare blankly at them.
7. Pay exorbitant money for nourishing substances.
6. Try to find an outlet in the airport for quickly decharging laptop.
5. Try to figure out how to get to the other side of the glassed off area where people are lounging semi-uncomfortably (as opposed to uncomfortably).
4. Pay exorbitant money for internet time.
3. Go to the restroom.
2. Drink tap water from the restroom. (NB: I didn't actually do this, but was strictly warned by one of my new acquaintances that I should not drink it... besides the fact that it smelled quite... unpotable.)
1. Go to the transfer/transit desk. Yes, I am pretty sure the frustration is not worth it. Don't go if you don't have to!

Top 10 Things To Do During A 15-Hour Casablanca Layover
10. Strike up a conversation with someone who had to run to the restroom while waiting in the crowd by the transfer desk. Alternatively, give bad directions in French. Alternatively, give away your plastic bottle collection (from all the other layovers).
9. Watch the cleaning people wash the windows and wonder why the airport is so clean every where except the restrooms.
8. Figure out exactly how you can spend the change you got in dirhams so that you don't have anymore and also that you are no longer hungry or thirsty.
7. Try to find anything in the airport (AKA window shopping/wandering around dazed). Whoever designed this airport must have been loonier than the guy who designed the South Houses. At least there, I can understand the old numbering scheme, not the new one though.
6. Watch the escalators as they mysteriously change speed from fast to slow to fast again. (I thought I was delusional, but really all of the escalators slow down and speed up again. I think it has something to do with solar power.)
5. Go through security. Multiple times. Explaining that you are American and not name-that-Asian-nationality.
4. Change socks and discover that the new socks are unmatched.
3. Consume nourishing substances, multiple times, preferably things you saved from previous flights. Warning: this causes the second worst thing to do during a 15-hour Casablanca layover!
2. Pay exorbitant money for internet time.
1. Watch a guy carrying the giant raw leg of cow that will be your next schawerma sandwich. Mmmm...

Well, here's hoping that the next 5 or so hours are as wonderful as the last 10 have been!

[Ouagadougou, BURKINA FASO]

Well, I intermittently slept uncomfortably. Where I really mean, I would fall asleep for about five minutes and then wake up hoping that I had slept longer when I really hadn't, darn that shininess!

Around 8 PM, all of the flights that showed up on the board were flashing that they were boarding. This was not the case, nor were gates announced on the board. Luckily, by this time through a combination of nagging and wandering I had found out that my gate was at gate 22. Chatted with a couple of Guineans in my butchered sleep-deprived French. Smiled at some kids. Felt exhausted.

Anyway, to top off my Casablanca experience, as everyone was preparing to board the plane, a nice neat line was automatically formed by the people who wanted to get on the plane without instruction. When they finally started boarding, airport staff actually told people about halfway down the line to move to the front. Most people thought they would open up both boarding machines and have two nice neat lines. What did they really want? They wanted us to crowd around the one open boarding machine and squeeze our way through regardless of who was there first. Completely and utterly inane. That and the fact that people were switching seats like crazy on the plane and some guy didn't have a seat for a short while. The staff was generally rude e.g. telling a guy with a small child that said small child did not have a seat when his small child in fact did have a paid-for seat. They made him get his ticket out and everything. Also, some other guy was being told by two staff people back and forth different information right in front of us about some misplaced items from his previous flight. Yeah, no applause for Royal Air Maroc.

I am still in love with Qatar Airways service and food. On top of it all, last time around I am pretty sure I was really in economy (since my seating and food type arrangements were the same), the boarding passes were on business class paper because the staff at Casablanca is again incompetent. Either way, Qatar Airways rocks. Royal Air Maroc not so much.

Amazingly, my luggage made it safely all the way from Taipei. Well, sort of, one of the locks was mysteriously opened but at least it didn't look like anything was missing. I mean who really wants to steal a 3-pound jar of peanut butter or spandex?

Conclusions:
1. Don't fly through Casablanca again unless absolutely necessary!
2. Get enough sleep and figure out what to do in Casablanca before getting to said city if yet another ridiculously long layover ensues. Alternatively, be rich enough for business class so that one can sit in the nice comfy lounges.
3. Try not to take four consecutive flights ever again.
4. Using a bathroom while carrying all of your carry-ons since there are no hooks and the floor is wet and you haven't made any nice friends in the airport yet is rather difficult, but doable.
5. Find another way to take Qatar Airways again that doesn't involve Casablanca.

On going back to life in the Faso... I have missed constant internet connection like nobody's business. That and cute shoes are probably two of my top picks for trivial things that I miss. At the same time though, I will be relieved to go back to my simple life of mangled French mathematics and Scrabble. Though I will be considerably more busy this term (already behind at school! though I did leave exercises for the first week. The poor suckers won't know what hit them if they didn't finish their exercises.), finish up the world maps at my school, and I am self-appointed PCV Asian Lunar New Year cook or something like that, so I hope to be back online again end of January/beginning of February. I also want to visit some cool people like my third nearest neighbor Babette and help her with her tree-planting project. 80 K bike ride sounds like fun! And, I want to check-out Koudougou possibly during spring break. Thoughts are out there, though plans are always bound to change. This time around, I really promise to try to take pictures though as I now have a normally functioning camera!



Me in the Doha airport. It is shiny, too. But not as offensively as CMN (which is actually quite pretty aside from the disorganization and restrooms, don't have any pictures though because I figured it would be weird for the strange 15-hour layover tired person to walk around taking pictures all over the airport).

And now back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Saturday, January 12, 2008

Tired in Casablanca

If I were a braver and less confused soul, I would probably be wandering around in the city. Unfortunately, I am even downright confused about which terminal I am in and the ground staff isn't being terribly helpful. I decided to shell out some big bucks for internet that I found here hidden in some remote corner of this mystery terminal. And after my time is up I am going to try the transfer counter again because I am just tired and confused and want to sit relatively near where I will be boarding for the next 14 or so hours.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Service Interrupted (2)

A week ago on Friday, we had the first of our last three ceremonies (which I have been able to attend). Traditionally, every seven days, there is a ceremony. Though, in modern times, this is occasionally abbreviated. Last Friday, was the seventh seven day ceremony. If you do the math, this means that the seven day periods were abbreviated.

Before that, though, there were many activities to be had. Each morning after paying our respects to my grandfather, my family was busy planning for both the small and big ceremonies. As I mentioned earlier, we bring offerings each morning such as fruit, my grandfather's favorite snacks, etc. This is not burned in offering, but large amounts of paper money and the paper lotuses are. Last Saturday, we had an additional ceremony to wish my grandfather good health in the afterlife, as well as to give him his home and seemingly a ton of sacrifical money. You can see a photo below of the house that we had constructed. Not included in the photo are representations of some of his favorite activities (mah-jongg and fishing). The model house was quite large and fully furnished. I say was because Saturday night we burned it in offering. Since it was large, and also the immense amount of sacrificial burned, we used the temple's incinerator as opposed to the traditional firepot.

 


On Monday, was the official ceremony for all of the people who aren't in the immediate family. Before it started, I took a bunch of pictures of the flowers and drinks that people sent. In return for attending a funeral, a towel is given to the attendee. I don't have any pictures of that.

   


This ceremony lasted quite a while and my brother and I were part of the procession even though we are "outside" grandchildren (i.e. we do not carry the name of our grandfather since he was our maternal grandfather - we were clothed in a manner to indicate this though I don't have any photos of that). One of the most difficult parts was seeing my grandfather lying in his coffin. After everyone paid their respects (which involved lots of incense, kneeling and bowing on lots of people's parts), we saw him again. However, everyone who wanted to see him one last time saw him with us and my grandmother. It was so strange because less than a year ago I saw him alive. There really are no words to describe how I feel about it. As poor as his health had been in recent years, my family was not ready or really expecting this to happen.

We escorted the coffin outside to the hearse. All of his "direct" family (except my grandmother and me) went to accompany his body to the funeral home that will house his ashes until my family is ready to transport them to the temple they have elected on the south side of the island. I went with my grandmother to help her with the offerings and prepare for their arrival. Afterwards, we paid our respects once again. We "washed" ourselves. The rest of my relatives went back to the temple, while my first aunt and I took care of burning the last of the sacrificial money for him. There was a lot left and we were burning out of our improvised offering cauldron - a rather large mixing bowl on the rooftop of my grandparents' apartment building. Being rather windy, and with a rather large stack of ceremonial cash to go through. This took us all the way through to dinner time since it was just my aunt and me.

After the services, most of my relatives left for home within the days following. My brother and I went to see my paternal grandmother yesterday after paying respects to our namesake my paternal grandfather at his temple on the south side of the island, and then visiting the technical school he founded and my dad's childhood home.





I think my grandma looks great for someone who is turning 97 this year. You can also see the quality of my camera with these photos. It stitches panoramas for me fairly well. It's got loads more megapixels, but I don't know if this is necessarily an advantage.

Well, back to your regularly scheduled programming starting Sunday.