I woke up this morning – result!
I made a very speedy exit at 7.00 discovering on the way that my bike had shared its tiny and very filthy garage with not only my very strange parking guardian but also three hardy souls who seemed to live there. A short distance later I passed yet another Mitsubishi lorry lying on its side. These lorries are always loaded to the sky and are frequently to be seen, loads still intact, lying down at the side of the road. I suspect that they just give up the unequal struggle as I’ve always seen them lying on a straight, not a corner as might be expected (or perhaps the elk test has moved from Scandinavia to Africa?). As I really didn’t want to ride home through Spain I got the shadiest character I could find to ‘ease’ my way into the secure airfreight area at Casablanca airport. With my fixer trotting importantly at my side, I rode up a muddy bank, between a couple of buildings and the full length of the loading dock. Hamid, the DHL manager, thought that my entrance, my brass neck and my request were all equally hilarious b
ut he took the time to explain, in perfect English, the theoretical processes I would have to go through to export dangerous goods under the existing legislation in Morocco. I had to reluctantly agree with him but he eased the disappointment by telling me to leave my bike in its highly illegal position on his loading bay and to take advantage of the excellent café. The shortest way home beckoned at the exit from the airport so I abandoned all that macho stuff and used the motorway right up the coast to an excellent hotel at Larache.
I made a very speedy exit at 7.00 discovering on the way that my bike had shared its tiny and very filthy garage with not only my very strange parking guardian but also three hardy souls who seemed to live there. A short distance later I passed yet another Mitsubishi lorry lying on its side. These lorries are always loaded to the sky and are frequently to be seen, loads still intact, lying down at the side of the road. I suspect that they just give up the unequal struggle as I’ve always seen them lying on a straight, not a corner as might be expected (or perhaps the elk test has moved from Scandinavia to Africa?). As I really didn’t want to ride home through Spain I got the shadiest character I could find to ‘ease’ my way into the secure airfreight area at Casablanca airport. With my fixer trotting importantly at my side, I rode up a muddy bank, between a couple of buildings and the full length of the loading dock. Hamid, the DHL manager, thought that my entrance, my brass neck and my request were all equally hilarious b
ut he took the time to explain, in perfect English, the theoretical processes I would have to go through to export dangerous goods under the existing legislation in Morocco. I had to reluctantly agree with him but he eased the disappointment by telling me to leave my bike in its highly illegal position on his loading bay and to take advantage of the excellent café. The shortest way home beckoned at the exit from the airport so I abandoned all that macho stuff and used the motorway right up the coast to an excellent hotel at Larache.
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