The life and times of a happy go lucky blogger in London
lost in translation
Categories: travel

When we flew to Casablanca, I was caught up in the whole romance of it all. In the back of my mind was the movie; Humphrey, Ingrid, Sam and all those wonderful characters who smoked and drank throughout the black and white block buster.

Since we don’t have ‘an airline ticket to romantic places’ anymore and we just have e-tickets, I was unable to drool over a slim jim envelope, but still I clung to the confirmation email: HRW to Casablanca. It just sounds fabulous doesn’t it?

We were advised to arrive at terminal two three hours before our flight, not my usual timing, but I didn’t want to take any risks with Miniminx in tow and we’ve had two lucky escapes with Easyjet so I wanted a stress free flight.

We arrived at Casablanca and disembarked to join another flight to Ouarzazate. We waited and waited and waited.

I drank coffee to stay awake. Then more coffee, then more. The next flight remained unannounced and I could tell from my meagre understanding of French it was cancelled on the flightboard, but no one would confirm it.

We continued to wait and then, I drank more coffee. I was unsure whether to laugh or cry when I noticed the very funny little pun which emblazoned the coffee shop. Yes, Jet Laag’s. Well, I suppose it could be worse. What if they called it Sick Baag’s?

jet lag

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