I’m sure it wasn’t the soundtrack to Disney’s Aladdin, but it sure sounded like that’s what was playing over the Casablanca airport radio station. I expected belly-dancers to pop out from behind the potted palm trees at any minute.

At a restaurant table in Casablanca: French Dijon mustard, American Tabasco hot sauce and ketchup label in Arabic

As we transfered terminals, we went through “security” again. And yes – the quotation marks are intentional. The metal detectors were turned on, but not being used. Everyone beeped. No one cared. You just got a little pat down once on the other side of the beeping detector. Well, the men did at least. The women got a polite nod and a ‘Bon voyage, Madame’. If you were to go back there, I think you’d find my jaw still laying on the floor of the “security” check at the Casablanca Mohammed V Airport.

More on this later, but traveling as a married woman in a Muslim country is a completely new, although not unpleasant, experience. It’s going to take some getting used to. For sure.

We had a lovely late lunch of chicken tagine with olives and preserved lemons – not that we were really hungry, but who goes to Morocco and doesn’t eat tagine? I have to say: Air Maroc has the best airplane food I’ve ever had. Spicy, fragrant and delish. (Cheikh wasn’t such a big fan, but I like hot, spicy food. The chilled marinated zucchini salad was especially good for me/not loved by him.)

Then we made our way to the Little Senegal section or the airport: the boarding gate for flight 723 to Dakar. Stay tuned.