Psycho Swiss
So, I was going to wait to go home to write all my cool and crazy anecdotes, stories and so on from my trip, but this couldn't wait, and maybe I won't be able to go home to tell it, at least no time soon or capacitated if the psycho is still around.
So, yesterday I arrived in Essaouira a little after the sun went down and walked to the hotel that Michael, an Irish fellow I met in Madrid and stayed with in Marrakesh recommended. I found the hotel quickly, got my room, put my luggage down and left to get on the internet and get some food. Before I left though, I noticed some really loud music coming from the room next door, and thought it rude, but figured the room's occupant would soon turn it down as it was still a bit early. When I returned from my excursion, I found the music was off and assumed the guy was gone so sat in my room working on my records when I heard the room next door to mine slam shut. I figured there was just some pissy guy next door. It was at about this time I had to go the bathroom, which in Moroccan hotels are communal and in this one was between our rooms. I went outside went to the bathroom and when I came out the fellow was leaving his room and looked at me with a menacing stare and one of deep anger. This fellow was big with blond hair and looked to be about 35 or so. Alarmed, I quickly got in my room and he starts speaking very loudly and hostily to me in French. I tell him I don't understand what he is saying and in English in a thick French accent he says
"What languages?"
I say to him "English and German," which he doesn't understand and I clarify in French "Anglais et Allemagne."
He steps in my room speaking more French and says in German in a thick accent again "vorstehst du mich?" I affirm that I do, at least that I understood that question and not the rest perhaps. It's at this point he starts to get in my face and yells at me. Not understanding him, I tell him to leave my room in a very stern voice he yells a few more times and swipes at my bags on the bed and pushes me and leaves. Soon after I hear him talking to the hotel clerk who is speaking to him in French, and coming to check the situation. He finally lures him away from my room and down the stairs. I close my door and lock it immediately following his exit, and hear him go downstairs. Now I'm quite frightened at this point, and wait a few minutes to finally go downstairs and talk to the clerk and ask him to call the police. The clerk assures me that he has taken the man to the police and it's now safe. I go back to my room close the door and lock it. I start to write in my notebook about the psycho Frenchman and as I'm a little ways into the story, I hear him yelling something to me inside. I hear the door, which I'm quite close to in my tiny room, being slammed from the outside. This happens three times and I see the flimsy door give way several feet and finally bust down.
The French guy comes into my room and now I'm standing bracing myself in a defensive position and yells at me asking where I come from. I tell him I'm American to which he responds that he doesn't believe me because I don't sound American and kicks my leg quite hard. I tell him that I am indeed American backing up the while as he advances intimidatingly toward me. He accuses me in a crypic and incomprehensible way of stealing his drugs while he was in the bathroom, and ripping him off. I couldn't quite understnad it all, and demanded that he leave my room. He looks at me with a terrifying stare and kicks me again, when a voice from the hall shouts and the Frenchman distracted goes to the hall and kicks the guy standing at the stairs. I take this as my opportunity to evacuate my room and hope that he follows the guy or leaves again. He comes back and this time I am near the corner of the hall he shouts at me again and pulls some object from his jacket pocket. This has me extremely worried because now there is a handle emerging. As he struggles to get the awkward object from his pocket he drops it accidentally on the floor. He bends over to pick it up and as he does I want to be as far from him as possible and run down the stairs as fast as I can and he swipes at me as I do and I shout
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!!"
I run down the steep and narrow stairs as fast as my legs will carry me falling down a few of them. When I reach the bottom of the stairwell a scruffy man with a blond beard and hair looking to be in his 40's says to me in an English accent he told me to get out of there when he heard the kicks at the door. And he ushers the clerk of the hotel to get the police immediately. He says that he went to the police about this lunatic two times before and they just dismiss him even though he's had outbursts that were similar though not as violent. As he explains all this to me I hear a thud coming from the stairwell and run out to see my front backpack is lying on the ground. A few moments later I hear another thud seeing my other backpack lying next to it and I hear what I presume are the rest of my belongings being scattered around the stairs in a violent manner. I don't dare go to the area so he can see me, and decide that though I'm in the company of this Englishman, his companion (another Englishman) and a few of the staff my best bet is to leave the hotel so that when the berserk Frenchman leaves I won't be in his sights for him to rage on.
I wait in a nearby shop and a few minutes later the hotel clerk gives me the sign that the man had left the building. I go back and talking to the two Englishmen I later learn are named Paul and Martin, discover that the man was Swiss and was psychotic causing everyone to leave the hotel save them for the last four days, where they were sleeping in fear. They told me he was Swiss and was due to leave three days before, but for whatever reason didn't. He destroyed the room he was staying in, and was doing a lot of drugs and they figured he was on opium laced with something. Apparently the night before I arrived he had been scammed on a drug deal and had run out of the hotel with a pen that he was going to use as a knife for the person who'd ripped him off, and this person, presumably had a resemblance to me and this is why he went ape shit on me.
I went back to the hotel checked my luggage which was a little damaged but otherwise okay and discovered some of the items from my room were missing. Eventually the police caught him, and had him in custody, we went down to the police station after Paul and I went to get a coffee and the maniac was ranting at the police even cowering them, but they finally got him detained. A while later they asked us if we wanted to press charges and asked to take a statement from us. The forms for the statement were strange and asked for irrelevent information like about our religion, income and parents' names. We filled out the form and slowly and probably inaccurately translated our accounts into Arabic, but at least the man was locked up for a little while. We went back to the hotel, talked a bit and went to sleep...
stay tuned for a short and less climactic conclusion, my time here is nearly out.
So, yesterday I arrived in Essaouira a little after the sun went down and walked to the hotel that Michael, an Irish fellow I met in Madrid and stayed with in Marrakesh recommended. I found the hotel quickly, got my room, put my luggage down and left to get on the internet and get some food. Before I left though, I noticed some really loud music coming from the room next door, and thought it rude, but figured the room's occupant would soon turn it down as it was still a bit early. When I returned from my excursion, I found the music was off and assumed the guy was gone so sat in my room working on my records when I heard the room next door to mine slam shut. I figured there was just some pissy guy next door. It was at about this time I had to go the bathroom, which in Moroccan hotels are communal and in this one was between our rooms. I went outside went to the bathroom and when I came out the fellow was leaving his room and looked at me with a menacing stare and one of deep anger. This fellow was big with blond hair and looked to be about 35 or so. Alarmed, I quickly got in my room and he starts speaking very loudly and hostily to me in French. I tell him I don't understand what he is saying and in English in a thick French accent he says
"What languages?"
I say to him "English and German," which he doesn't understand and I clarify in French "Anglais et Allemagne."
He steps in my room speaking more French and says in German in a thick accent again "vorstehst du mich?" I affirm that I do, at least that I understood that question and not the rest perhaps. It's at this point he starts to get in my face and yells at me. Not understanding him, I tell him to leave my room in a very stern voice he yells a few more times and swipes at my bags on the bed and pushes me and leaves. Soon after I hear him talking to the hotel clerk who is speaking to him in French, and coming to check the situation. He finally lures him away from my room and down the stairs. I close my door and lock it immediately following his exit, and hear him go downstairs. Now I'm quite frightened at this point, and wait a few minutes to finally go downstairs and talk to the clerk and ask him to call the police. The clerk assures me that he has taken the man to the police and it's now safe. I go back to my room close the door and lock it. I start to write in my notebook about the psycho Frenchman and as I'm a little ways into the story, I hear him yelling something to me inside. I hear the door, which I'm quite close to in my tiny room, being slammed from the outside. This happens three times and I see the flimsy door give way several feet and finally bust down.
The French guy comes into my room and now I'm standing bracing myself in a defensive position and yells at me asking where I come from. I tell him I'm American to which he responds that he doesn't believe me because I don't sound American and kicks my leg quite hard. I tell him that I am indeed American backing up the while as he advances intimidatingly toward me. He accuses me in a crypic and incomprehensible way of stealing his drugs while he was in the bathroom, and ripping him off. I couldn't quite understnad it all, and demanded that he leave my room. He looks at me with a terrifying stare and kicks me again, when a voice from the hall shouts and the Frenchman distracted goes to the hall and kicks the guy standing at the stairs. I take this as my opportunity to evacuate my room and hope that he follows the guy or leaves again. He comes back and this time I am near the corner of the hall he shouts at me again and pulls some object from his jacket pocket. This has me extremely worried because now there is a handle emerging. As he struggles to get the awkward object from his pocket he drops it accidentally on the floor. He bends over to pick it up and as he does I want to be as far from him as possible and run down the stairs as fast as I can and he swipes at me as I do and I shout
"GET AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!!"
I run down the steep and narrow stairs as fast as my legs will carry me falling down a few of them. When I reach the bottom of the stairwell a scruffy man with a blond beard and hair looking to be in his 40's says to me in an English accent he told me to get out of there when he heard the kicks at the door. And he ushers the clerk of the hotel to get the police immediately. He says that he went to the police about this lunatic two times before and they just dismiss him even though he's had outbursts that were similar though not as violent. As he explains all this to me I hear a thud coming from the stairwell and run out to see my front backpack is lying on the ground. A few moments later I hear another thud seeing my other backpack lying next to it and I hear what I presume are the rest of my belongings being scattered around the stairs in a violent manner. I don't dare go to the area so he can see me, and decide that though I'm in the company of this Englishman, his companion (another Englishman) and a few of the staff my best bet is to leave the hotel so that when the berserk Frenchman leaves I won't be in his sights for him to rage on.
I wait in a nearby shop and a few minutes later the hotel clerk gives me the sign that the man had left the building. I go back and talking to the two Englishmen I later learn are named Paul and Martin, discover that the man was Swiss and was psychotic causing everyone to leave the hotel save them for the last four days, where they were sleeping in fear. They told me he was Swiss and was due to leave three days before, but for whatever reason didn't. He destroyed the room he was staying in, and was doing a lot of drugs and they figured he was on opium laced with something. Apparently the night before I arrived he had been scammed on a drug deal and had run out of the hotel with a pen that he was going to use as a knife for the person who'd ripped him off, and this person, presumably had a resemblance to me and this is why he went ape shit on me.
I went back to the hotel checked my luggage which was a little damaged but otherwise okay and discovered some of the items from my room were missing. Eventually the police caught him, and had him in custody, we went down to the police station after Paul and I went to get a coffee and the maniac was ranting at the police even cowering them, but they finally got him detained. A while later they asked us if we wanted to press charges and asked to take a statement from us. The forms for the statement were strange and asked for irrelevent information like about our religion, income and parents' names. We filled out the form and slowly and probably inaccurately translated our accounts into Arabic, but at least the man was locked up for a little while. We went back to the hotel, talked a bit and went to sleep...
stay tuned for a short and less climactic conclusion, my time here is nearly out.