Cassablanca..
.. serveral years ago, with the parents (the city stinks, and there are piles of what must be sulphur in the harbour) which are all the things you need for a bad day. Add into the mix the fact it is very hot, and half the people are trying to rob you, oh and not to forget parents who are desperatly trying to speak spanish (which was learnt form a cd rom) to people whos language is french it becomes a nightmare. now walking back from the town centre to the port, trying not to get robbed as we got lost walking through some slum a crappy old citroen pulls up next to us, saying 'x' rupees for taxi lift to port, no thank you, 5 minutes later 'x' rupees to port, this goes on for about an hour, each time the price gets less, and the chap sounds more intimidating. finally my dad, being a plonker at the time, give in and agrees to the ride, the car looked bad on the outside, inside it was worse, held together with duct tape, holes in the floor where you could see the road and no seatbelts to hold you in, which ment grabbing hold of anything to stay still, while not falling onto the road through the hole everytime he jerked the car brakeing or changing gear, or swerving to miss small children, wild animals and other cars on the road, not to mention he wanted to have my sister in his mates taxi as there wasn't enough room, which didn't happen and she squeezed into the back with us. anyway blocked out alot of the 10 minute journey, and got out relived to be surounded by sulpur and swearing never to get into any kind of taxi again, which i haven't. the moral being mini cabs in Cassaclanca are the worst in the world, held together by duct tape and driven by crazy sister abducting perverts. (sorry to any mini cab drivers from cassablanca who don't fit this description, if you exist!)
(evil pete, Fri 28 May 2004, 11:51, Reply)