Morocco 2005
You Don’t Want to go There!
The most interesting part of the drive occurred on the way back. the taxi was stopped at one of the many police roadblocks. I asked our driver what was happening.
“Ali Baba.”
“What does he mean, Dan?” Nazy asked.
“Ali Baba and the forty thieves,” I replied. “The police will want money. Can you avoid paying him?” I asked, Mohammed, our driver. (Note:There are many Mohammeds in Morocco, all them are taxi drivers.
“En Shalah.” (God Willing.)
Unfortunately, God wasn’t paying attention. While the negotiations continued, I decide to use my mobile phone to confuse Darius. I sent an SMS:
Stopped at police shakedown.
What?
Chains and Dungeons in future. Need money and ideas.
Why?
Bad Brake Light. Jail possible.
I was having fun, but Nazy saw the exchange an made me send a clarification to Darius.
In the end, it cost 30 dirham - paid directly to the policeman. Had he gone to court, it would have cost 300 dirham (and nothing for the policeman) so the solution was acceptable to both parties. I had a similar experience in Pagusa Springs, Colorado, so I conclude that there are many universal human concepts.
Back at the hotel with several thuya wood items, Nazy was suddenly coming to grips with a major challenge. There was, she said, only one thing to do..
“We need to buy another piece of luggage.”
“Won’t that attract attention of the customs agents in Zurich?” I asked.
Dan Boarding: Note bland extra luggage: 
“I’ll find something nondescript.”
The vacation was really fun. Marrakech was exotic. (It reminded Nazy of Iran.) As we were sunbathing at the hotel, Nazy and I realized that this was the first extended vacation that we had taken by ourselves in 28 years. We had had a few concerns about security before we left. Although we always felt safe in the city, all the major hotels had several military people patrolling the gate. There was even a guard on each floor of the hotel. But, even though both Nazy and I set off the alarm at the metal detector, the guards simply waved us through.
Walking past the guards at the customs station in Zurich was easy. But I was thinking of my Jellaba and I, Obi-Dan Kenobi, used ‘the force’.
Back home, Nazy asked me about the coming week.
“Well, dear, I leave for Amsterdam on Monday.”
“You don’t want to go there.”