Day 214
Day totals: 12 hrs, 33 .1 kms

Over the last couple of months I've been scurrying around Morocco, finishing up Superhikes and exploring regions in every corner of the country. Ouarzazate Region... Amzrit... Dades... Ziz... Tanger... Fes... Tafraoute... I can now put a period at the end of each of the and say I've fully explored each region.

One region that still feels unfinished is--ironically--right where I live. The Casablanca Superhike is already some 500 kilometers long--but it still needs to be a good bit longer before it'll feel "finished": it needs to stretch all the way south to El Jadida, and all the way north to Kenitra, thus connecting all the cities of Morocco's Megapolis.

The problem is, well, I got mugged a couple months ago here and had my camera stolen. This experience (and the complete lack of concern of the police afterwards) really changed my attitude towards Casablanca--and even threatened to cast a shadow on my Morocco adventure as a whole . Up until then, I'd sort of convinced myself that I could go anywhere in Morocco and nobody would harm me because, 1. I'm a foreigner (and police and locals always rush to the aid of foreigners) 2. I'm clever and street smart. 3. I'm just a really lucky dude.

Well, that all changed one evening as I was waiting for a collective taxi by a busy road near the bus station of Oulad Ziane on my way back from a day trip. In a matter of minutes I lost that whole happy-go-lucky attitude towards travel. I tasted first hand how cruel and dangerous this world can be.

This can be a turning point in the life of a traveler adventurer. Once you get robbed and attacked, you realize how easy this can happen. Then the next time you head out, you're thinking "I wonder if this is going to happen again today". Once you get that thought in your head, traveling stops being fun. And if it stops being fun, well, what's the point in doing it?

So a traveller has to figure out a way to psychologically cope with this harsh new reality . Some might do this by studying new self-defense tactics, by convincing themselves they have some sort of divine protection, trusting in the law of probability, or simply by analyzing "what went wrong" and promising themselves to never be in that exact same situation again.

And me? Well, I use a tactic I call "global compartmentalization". Basically I divide the world into sections (My "regions"). So if something really bad happens in one region, I don't say "the world is an evil, dangerous place", I say "this REGION is a dangerous place". Then I just avoid that region as much as I can for a while, and enjoy and continue to be relaxed and carefree about the rest of the world. I used this tactic after my series of misadventures in Egypt in 2011 and it worked quite well.

So, since I've already divided Morocco into 11 regions, I can just write of the Casablanca Region as "dangerous", and continue to enjoy the rest of the country .

Only problem? Well, I really want to finish this Superhike before I leave Morocco in a couple of months.

So I decide to strike a compromise. I'm going to continue with my Superhike, but this time with no guitar, no camera, minimal cash in my pockets--basically nothing to lose if I get robbed again. That means I won't be able to add new towns along the way. That's fine. This is a stripped-down, very basic Superhike now. No parkbench concerts. No new towns added. Not even really trying to discover anything new. Just get from point A to point B as quickly as possible.

The Rich and the Poor

So off we go. First Mission in Stripped-down Mode: walk from Tamaris (the farthest on the southern coast I got way back in 2008) to El Jadida, an important city a 100 kilometers away. Part of that will be through quiet coastal countryside, which should be fairly safe . But another part will be through a questionable "takeover zone" where what was the land of poor farmers is gradually being taken over and turned into luxurious beach home stretches.

The inequality here couldn't be more stark. You've got the poor, original farmers of this region still living here in scrappy litte houses... the fancy, walled beach house complexes, with the prices boldly advertised. "Your beach house, ONLY 800,000 Euros!" I can't help but wonder what's going on in the head of the poor farmer as he realizes he'd need several lifetimes to make that much money.

Now, perhaps there are some poor folks here who have been able to take advantage of this situation, sell their land at an inflated price, and use that money to buy a house or even start a small business. But I kind of doubt there are very many original residents of this area that are feeling warm fuzzy feelings seeing all these wealthy people moving in and taking over this area .

Yep... pretty soon I come across a big, tall guy who asks me for money... A little later, another fellow seems to me trailing me, then asks me the time (a very common ploy) then calls me over to come talk to him. I scurry along. Yeah, I want to get past this area as quick as I can.

Finally I reach the town of Sidi Rahal, and heave a sigh of relief. This town is more of a mix of upper and middle class--with fancy beach house, but also middle class Casablanca folks who have moved out here for the cheaper prices and to get away from the noise of the city. There's a nice row of eateries heading towards a rocky beach, then a little fishing port where you can buy and eat freshly cooked fish... a couple of well maintained parks... Nice... School just got out and there are crowds of kids about along the main highway, giving the feeling of a town that's alive and has a future.

I sit down to enjoy a pizza, and just relax and enjoy the vibe a bit .

On down the road, the highway narrows, and suddenly all the upscale developments disappear. All there is is open countryside, farmland and an occasional humble abode. But, strangely I feel much safer now, even though if something were to go wrong here, there'd be no one to come to my aid.

See, typically, places where everybody is "poor" are safe--in these place people are just focused on working and living their lives. It's the places where the rich and poor are snuggled right up against each other that you feel that tension and smoldering resentment...

I continue on, enjoying the peaceful landscape. There are still a couple more isolated upscale developments, so this area is probably not going to be peaceful for long... Finally I figure it's about time to call it a day. Wave down a collective taxi and head back to Casa. Next time I'll pick up right where I left off.