Saturday, 12/29/12, 21:34 (GMT)
In huge Arabic hotel room
This was no doubt the coolest hotel I’ve ever stayed at. Nearly everything about it put a smile on my face. Hotels like the Zalagh Parc Palace are why I yearn to travel: I went my whole life not knowing that a place on Earth as cool as this existed, and then once I find it my mind is completely blown. There are places in the world that you find that leave you so captivated you have trouble writing it all down , and you know that no matter how the story is told no one is going to understand how amazing that certain place was.
The grandeur of the lobby of this hotel alone was enough to have me writing about it for days. But on top of the opulence was a layer of mystery we uncovered upon exploring the palace. While enjoying Wi-Fi and Vodka Redbull in the lobby, we heard rumor that there was no electricity on the 5th floor. There’s nothing I love more than an adventure, so we downed our drinks and embarked.
Let me tell you about the elevators in this joint real quick. There were 5 floors, and a roof. The elevators would tell us it was at the 15th floor, 23rd, -4th, 36°, or really whatever the hell it felt like. There were buttons to go up to 9 floors. As luxurious as this hotel was, it was equally janky. Anyway we left our cups in our rooms and left for the 5th floor.
Doors close, we press 5, we ride, doors open, pitch black. This wasn’t like “I turned the lights out and can’t see as well anymore” no this was like I cannot see shit blackness. It was so dark we couldn’t even orient ourselves; after walking a few feet away from the elevator, we realized we needed some form of light.
So there we were 5 minutes later with flashlights. Now that we had light, we realized that the 5th floor was just as beautiful decorated as the rest of the hotel, but without lights. It was completely dark, but with $1,000 vases and paintings all over the place. We trekked our way through the blackness, through lounges, conferences rooms, dining halls, balconies, and finally found a hallway with light. In an attempt to find the 23rd floor, we started climbing stairs. Somehow we found the roof.
I had been in Africa for less than 8 hours, and there we were squeezing our way through a blocked door onto the roof of our palace hotel, overlooking the slums and lit up minarets. In clear view was the gated entrance to the hotel with armed guards ready, gently reminding us that with adventure comes potential danger. The longer we stayed there in awe looking at the distant medina, our chances of walking away peacefully became lower and lower. So we trotted straight back down to the lobby, the Americans needed to tweet that out ASAP.
That is why I love traveling. That’s why I make an effort to save my money and someday buy a ticket to a new exotic place. I never know what I’m going to find abroad, that’s why it’s so much fun. Every place is like an Easter egg, you don’t know what’s there and what it’s like until you go.
After our rooftop escapade, Karen and I decided to roam on our own a bit more. We didn’t see much that was new to us, more stairs that lead nowhere, secret hallways, and barricaded passages. We decided to head for bed after one of the stairwells lead to a pile of furniture. Tables and chairs were stacked up from the basement, and piled up a flight or two into the stair well. We were tired and just rolled our eyes thinking, “Whatever Morocco, you do your thing.” On our way to the room we found another barricaded door, but this one was rattling due to how loud the music was being blasted on the other side.
Well that’s peculiar… It appears we have found a secret nightclub! After consulting with Enrique over the safety of having a drink in the secret nightclub, we made the conscious decision that we had to go.
Partying in Morocco is equally eye opening. The club was part of the hotel, a place where only the wealthy are accepted. The entrance to this place was like an ally of New York City, just looking at it made you feel unsafe. The closer you got to it the scarier it felt. It’s a good thing I’ve developed the habit of keeping my cool in stressful situations, because if not I’d have been shaking like a leaf. At the door were two or three huge bouncers; if you nodded confidently and acted like you belonged they didn’t come with any trouble. On the contrary, I’m sure they wouldn’t have allowed someone to enter that place on accident.
Once you’re past the bouncers you travel down a few flights of marble stairs to a truly underground world. The nightclub was as luxuriously decorated as the lobby of the hotel; complete with fancy gold columns, chandeliers, aquariums, and lounges with first class furniture. There were beautiful girls wearing sexy little dresses, making their rounds; they were prostitutes, and like the alcohol they weren’t cheap. They blasted the hell out of this Arabic music, and just like America they didn’t forget their lasers and strobe lights. And the final reagent to the most exotic nightclub in the world was a wait staff in tuxedos serving anything you ordered, including of course women and hash.
Karen had to hold on tightly to me, or else she would’ve been asked her price. I had to give a few stern looks at the local men whose quick glances turned into extended stares. I got quite used to it. Karen would just wrap around my arm and lie her head on my shoulder; and I’d get the message, find the son of a bitch, narrow my eyes and sit up a little straighter. Every single time, the man would just look somewhere else, and not look at Karen again. To them Karen was my property and they didn’t know if I was interested in selling my property or not. Once they knew I was not interested, they respected us.
The following night we went back to that nightclub. This time there were belly dancers and more prostitutes. Using the bathroom was a trip. There were no male/female symbols, no French, and obviously no English signage; just Arabic. I ended up having to ask a group of prostitutes which was which by pointing at me, then pointing at what I suspected to be the men’s room. They were very nice, and smiled and nodded. But then the thought crossed my mind, “Shit I better not have just bought someone.”
Luckily no one died either of those two nights. But that's definitely the closest I've ever been to the devil's playground.
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