I've been waiting for the past month or so to get fully pumped. I thought the excitement would kick in once I asembled the bike and peddled out of the airport. But it didn't. I was in a daze, after not sleeping in 24 hours, with the night before that spent sleeping on a bench in the airport. It took me a full two hours to assemble the bike and pack it all up, and by the time I finished the cool morning had turned into blazing hot summer sun. Instead of heading 20km north to Casablanca, I headed south into depressing industrial and agricultural landscapes and eventually a small town. The Chalmette of Casablanca. Still in braindead autopilot mode I stopped at a bank to change money, and then one of the cafes for an espresso and fingers crossed for some sort of delicious breakfast food. The friendly waiter brought me over the standard stuff, and then spilled steamed milk on he table and me. No biggie. After some sitting and some caffeine I was starting to get my head in the game. I tried to pay my tab but the waiter refused to accept any money. As I rode through this strange and ugly town, with no main attractions, no notable architecture, along side mad-max style motor-trikes, donkeys, and people just going about their days, I finally broke out into a smile, which turned into laughing out loud at how rediculous my situation is. "What the fuck am I doing!?" I said out loud mid laugh. I quickly passed the town and with a mild tail wind just got to biking. Highlights include a tractor pulling a trailer full of people banging on drums, and a little kid walking down the street that reached out for a high five, which landed perfectly. I'm 50km into the trip. In the next little town, stopped for lunch at a very disappointing shawarma spot now as I'm typing this. I'll probably ride another 50km to a river which looks like promising hammock camping. Tomorrow I'll wake up to this new rediculous life, likely with a smile on my face. I think I'm going to drink a lot of coffee in Morocco...
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