By American Kabuki
(note this post will probably be expanded upon over the next few days)
Heather had invited me and D to come to Morocco for a visit in February. Air travel and lodging pre-paid. She said she wanted to return the energy in kind for the effort we had given to publish the OPPT articles. We didn’t really say much about the trip, as it hadn’t been finalized, and it eventually grew to quite a few more people. We didn’t announce the trip or when were going lest the publicity complicate the travel of so many people traveling at once to Tangier. And when the word did get out, Ben Fulford and Neil Keenan came up with some bizarre Indiana Jones story that we had fled to Ethiopia from CIA assassins and were looking for the Ark of the Covenant. But what the heck, their fiction was a good laugh when read about it from Tangier.
Heather, Bob (background) and Bill
I hadn’t flown anywhere since 2006. I really didn’t know what to expect from the trip. And I certainly didn’t have a clue how the mechanics of the UV Ixchange was going to come together (and that is still in progress). All I knew is I had to go and meet this woman and the online friend I had made but had yet to meet in person.
My flight out of San Diego on was on a nice new American Airlines jet that had onboard WIFI. Now why do airlines tell you turn off cellphones and laptops when they have WIFI on some planes and that operates at the same frequency and higher power than cell phones? I think it dates back to those seat back seat phones and profit if ask me, I don’t think has anything to do with logic. The flight was really rough, one of the roughest as far as turbulence goes that I have ever seen.
The flight from JFK to Barcelona was equally rough (and no WIFI!) and the seat leg room was bad, my knees were crammed up against the back of the chair, very uncomfortable for a 10 hour flight.
My flight to Tangier was also rough and bumpy. I think someone put pot holes in the sky for the entire trip, or was that just HAARP weather modification on overdrive? My flight arrived late. I missed Heather. I called. No answer, I think her phone battery had died. I waited and waited until the last set of taxi drivers felt sorry for me and asked if I wanted the last taxi into Tangier. I decide to take them up on it and headed off it to the sodium vapor lit night in what I can only describe as a night time scene from movie “The Green Zone”. It really looked like night time Baghdad! But I had an address and I wasn’t quitting until I found the place.
Men in long shirts standing in groups on corners in the dark starry night, store front signs and neon in squiggly Arabic letters. And this driver looked like some burly bald Mossad guy. What if the bankers sent him to bag and tag me? Strange thoughts went through my jet lagged head. And I have probably read too many articles on Rumor Mill News. They were completely crazy tired-out-my-gord thoughts. But everything is strange and disorienting after 22 hours of travel. And my driver was lost.
If I had to describe the average Moroccan it would be hospitable and endearing. Decent folks! They seem to love Americans too! At least someone does! They were, after all the first country America ever signed a treaty with. They even name streets after American States and Cities! There’s a Cafe named Boston!
After about a hour of zooming around this hills of Tangier in the pitch dark of night, I remembered Heather lived near a Cricket Field. When I said that, the driver knew where it was. When we got the the gate (many housing complexes are gated in Tangier) the guards didn’t know who Heather was. But I knew we were in the right spot. After a frustrating 20 minutes at the gate I remembered Heather’s husband’s named was Youseff, I asked my taxi cab driver to ask them in French if they knew Youseff, and suddenly they are all nodding “Youseff! Youseff!! Oui! Oui!” I found them! A few minutes later 6’4″ Youseff in his Italian leather jacket, signature pressed untucked white shirt and blue jeans walks out and chats with the guards. No wonder she married Youseff, he looks like he walked off a movie set!
The taxi dropped me off at Heather’s Villa, mine was next door, which honestly looked a lot like my home in San Diego. Not bad digs. few minutes later I met Heather, Youseff and Caleb, whose Villa I shared.