Semana Santa, Mr Charades & Mystery Food

We instantly loved Seville. The streets were beautiful and the lilac trees were in fragrant bloom. Finding our hotel turned in to a challenge...what else is new!?! We reserved a place in Seville a few months ago because we were visiting during “Semana Santa” (Holy Week) and during this time thousands of visitors flood to the city. We had a map and found the street we needed on the map- we have discovered that in Spain streets change names often- for instance at one intersection you are on “Joe Ave” and two intersections later it has turned into “Mary Boulevard”. This can be a problem- you have to pay attention at every corner, turn, intersection. The challenge finding our hotel in Seville was the fact that a procession was taking place on a street leading to the street we needed to be on. The processions are amazing! There are 59 processions in Seville during Holy Week where each church makes its way to the Cathedral. Some processions last 12-14 hours! Nazarenes carry crosses and candles while wearing hooded robes (strikingly similar to the attire of the hell-bound KKK) Often the Nazarene's are bare footed and do not remove their masks for the entire trip. The nazarenes are marching with ‘floats’- I don’t know what else to call them- but they are massive works of art- they are like sculptures. In each procession there are at least two floats- the first depicting a scene from the Passion and then one with the Virgin Mary in mourning. Accompanying the floats are bands playing passionate/sombre/dramatic music. Under each float are 40-60 men to carry the structure which can reach 2 tonnes!! Its all very interesting- so are the people in streets! There were people crying and reaching for the floats, people throwing confetti, all ages present. So, we run into a procession, and let me tell you also, these processions last for hours. We weren’t sure if we could cut through the Nazarenes...or if that is super bad. We did it anyway. But soon realized the street we needed was completely plugged with people! Ai-eeeee! We decided to drop our packs and watch the parade. We watched many processions during Holy Week- and they were so neat! But at the same time, they made navigating the streets a little tedious! While watching one procession, Steve asked a kid what he was eating, suddenly we were eating, laughing, sharing and learning with a lovely Spanish family. They were so kind and somewhat intoxicated, the kids tried out their english skills with us while Steve used his wide variety of body language and mediocre amount of Spanish skills to converse with them. 

Speaking of body language, Steve is the Master. He would be killer in Charades...he can make up body language for anything! Sometimes I get so embarassed that I just wander away like I don’t know this lunatic. For example, the post office- we KNOW the Spanish word for stamp, we approach the counter, and Mr. Charades says “Say-ohs por favor!!” whilst slamming his fist on the counter as if he is stamping the post card! I walk away- but the worker gets it and the deed is done. I have to admit, his charades do work. We went to an electronics store to get a headphone splitting device. Steve made the purchase with his fluency in Charades! The only words exchanged were si, non, por favor and gracias! As I watched this exchange of body language I was impressed- Steve came out of the store giggling and very proud of the purchase (only 1euro20!) I have suggested he take up sign language when we get home. 

I eventually acquired the head cold that occupied Steve in Fes...it was horrible... thankfully I didn’t have to eat tagine while feeling that bad! Poor Steve! 

We visited the Cathedral in Seville- it is the largest gothic Cathedral in the world and the third largest Cathedral (following St.Peters and St.Pauls) worldwide. Inside are numerous chapels and also the remains of Christopher Columbus. 

One night we ventured out to catch some Flamenco. As suggested by our spanish friends we went to a local pub for an impromptu performance. It was a great experience! We entered a cave-like pub and as Steve headed to the bar for drinks he told me to get seats and make some friends. I was more worried about the seat selection than friends, so I found a little table with some benches and chairs. Then a dude suggested I sit with him, I thought “oh- great- both missions accomplished- steve will be impressed!” So I sat and Steve came over with our jug of sangria. I introduced him to Hassan the non-english speaking plumber- our new friend. We quickly grew tired of Hassan. Our Spanish sucked and his english was worse. I excused myself to go converse with an American couple. By the time I returned to our table, Hassan was gone! Steve said he just wanted to pick me up but realized we were married so he moved on to greener pastures. Which was good because then a Canadian and a Brit sat with us and we had a great evening together. The Flamenco was not what I expected. On stage was a Man (the singer), a husky woman (the Dancer), and a guitar player. The man sang flamenco while the woman would clap to it- we didn’t get the beat though, it was always changing and never steady...then the women would get up and give ‘er. She had a stern almost angry look- I couldn’t tell if she was dancing to the music or if the music was playing to her moves! There was stomping and snapping and head flicking and arms swinging- I thought she might spit on the floor in between moves! At the end of the song (which was generally long) she would finally smile. It was great!

We had an interesting eating experience on our first night in Seville. We were starving and so began the hunt for food. We have a rule that we should never let ourselves get to this stage of hunger. Not being familiar with Seville, it took some time to find and settle on an outdoor restaurant...it was busy which we take as a sign of good food. We saw someone eating a bocadillo (baguette sandwich) and thought that would be great! We sat down and ordered two glasses of sangria and bocadillo’s- the waiter said “no bocadillo’s” and gave us a menu. We started browsing the menu (no english) and the waiter returned with a huge jug of sangria. Now I was getting a little unpleasant. We couldn’t interpret much on the menu except for random words like “eggs”, “old cheese”, “fish” and “ham.” None of which sounded filling or appealing. I tried to order some bread out of desperation for more than just sangria in my system. The waiter said “No- bread only at breakfast”- what the hell???!! They eat bread all the time here!!! Agh! I’m so upset. Steve suggests “lets just have a liquid dinner!!” (apparently he has done this in Seattle with Mike G. when the restaurants were closed.) I give him the glare. He is laughing. I loose control and yell “Go buy us a damn bottle of water, dump it out, and fill it with this Sangria so we can get the hell out of here!!!!” The sangria boosted Steve’s courage and blurred his better judgment than to dual with the beast. He replied with laughter “just order old cheese!” I was soooo mad and hungry, I was ready to rip Steve's head off. We finally decided on some dish that had “eggs and peppers” in it. When we ordered it, the waiter (who I should mention spoke very little english) asked if we wanted it with calamari. No thanks...he left and we looked at each other- why would eggs have calamari? I was thinking this was going to be an omelette or something but now I’m not so sure...We are waiting...5 mins...10 mins... Our mystery food finally arrives WITH BREAD and it appears to be a mountain of deep fried batter with two fried eggs on the peak and a bit of red peppers at the base. I thought the mountain was just batter deep fried in fish flavored oil, but after googling the dish that night we learned it was some kind of tiny white fish...it wasn’t the best, but we just ate it. A french couple sitting near us had the same menu problems and the man came over to ask what we had ordered and what it was...we never went back to that restaurant. And then the accordion player who refused to leave our table until we paid up....ugh!

The Crazy Medina

I guess it depends on who you ask, but Steve and I preferred Fes over Marrakech. The vendors weren’t as pushy and it all seemed a little less chaotic. The medina in Fes was a maze of over 9000 streets. We read that its the largest urban area in the World where cars aren’t permitted. In place of cars there are donkeys transporting goods and hauling supplies. 

Steve’s head cold got pretty nasty and after a couple hours of exploring, he would have to rest.  In the medina streets there are color-coded signs marking various routes to different sites. One morning we decided to follow a route through the Medina that would take us to some gardens. We began to follow the signs, but there weren’t signs at every intersection so following the route became quite tricky. We had to back track numerous times and follow different paths, sometimes we would stumble upon the next sign and sometimes we would end up at signs we had already passed. After nearly two hours of navigating the Medina we made it to the Garden- which was closed for restoration! But what really got us laughing was the fact that these gardens were maybe a ten minute stroll from our hotel!! We spent all that time in the medina to end up almost back where we started...

There are several tanneries located in the Medina. We couldn’t find them, so when we heard a tour guide say “this way to the tannery” to his two tourists, we jumped on board and joined them. We weaved our way through the narrow streets and finally started ascending stairs in a building. We were each handed a handful of mint leaves to hold over our noses because the stench of the tannery can be repulsive. We entered a room stuffed full of leather purses. The next room was full of shoes. We emerged onto a balcony overlooking the tannery. The smell was present but it wasn’t too hot out so it wasn’t all that bad. Men were working away in the pits below us. Working in the tannery is considered the most difficult job in Fes. Each man is responsible for his hides for the entire tanning process. He chooses the hide, cleans it, dyes it, cuts it, stretches it, dries it...everything! Men working here are taught by their fathers. There are pits for preparing the hides (getting the fat and fur off)- the magic formula is pigeon poop and lime. Then there are pits for dying the leather. All the dyes are naturally derived from bark, poppies, indigo, etc. After some time here we went to an upstairs room packed full of leather jackets. I saw a stellar white jacket and had to try it on, the worker informed me it was a “Prada knockoff”...I wasn’t sure what kind of leather it was- they use camel, goat, sheep, and cow...it didn’t feel like cow. Could I walk around wearing camel? I don’t know, I guess I will never know...I left without the white jacket. Steve needed to rest so we tipped the tour guide and found our way (with some difficulty) back to the hotel. 

On one medina outing, Steve helped me pick out a little moroccan outfit and a camel for our Christmas tree...

I can’t pinpoint it, but at some point our bodies started rejecting Moroccan food. By the last day we couldn’t stand the thought of eating any more tajine...or any moroccan spices...and I was craving plain black tea with milk. We were getting a little “rumbly in the tumbly” and having the toilet nearby was necessary for both mental and physical security. I searched around for some ginger ale- what was I thinking??!! You can’t just go somewhere and get ginger ale! This is not a Safeway or 7-11! No pepto or apple juice either! We were hungry but feeling blah...We knew there was a Mcdonalds in Fes...we played with the idea of eating there. But it was our last night in Fes- our last meal in Morocco! How could we? But we did. And it was sooooo good! So, I write this with a little bit of shame...our first and last meals in Morocco were at McDonalds. As we were walking back to the Medina we passed the Palace walls and gates. I saw someone I knew! No way!!! It was the Chileans & Americans from the Sahara tour! We were all surprised to see each other again, and coincidently they were staying at our hotel! And coincidently they were not feeling too well either! They couldn’t eat anymore tajine’s! We gave them directions to McDonalds and they went there- the next morning they told us they planned to eat every meal at McDonalds until they left Morocco.

We boarded a train in Fes that would take us back to Tanger. We considerded spending a night in Tanger but read too many freaky stories about the dangers there. This meant we would do a 5 hour train ride and then recross the Mediterranean by ferry in one day. Just the thought of getting on the ferry again made me nervous. We decided not to eat anything but a piece of bread with marmalade for breakfast. We got on the train- which was filthy. Steve picked our seats- but then we noticed blood on them- maybe it was a fight, maybe a bleeding nose, but enough blood to not ignore (did you know hepatitis B remains active in dry blood for a week?!). We backed up a few aisles and found another seat. Not understanding anything about the train ride, we were lucky we only had to switch trains once and found a girl also going to Tanger. At the ferry terminal we were much more confident in buying tickets- while in line to buy tickets a dude came and tried to get us out of line to buy tickets somewhere else. Steve kept saying “no, this guy can help us”...We were on the 5pm ferry and were STARVING!! Nothing to eat all day...Steve went to the overpriced cafe and bought us chocolate cupcakes and doughnuts! I didn’t want to eat it for fear of getting sick again...but I couldn’t starve any longer! It was delicious but I was worried...The ferry ride turned out to be much smoother and shorter! It lasted 90 minutes, only hit a couple waves, and we kept distracted by playing chess. Steve is getting much better at chess - he has been playing against the computer and I’m sure he is memorizing the computers strategies! We landed in Algeciras- and it didn’t seem as bad as I remembered! We were very happy and excited to be back in Spain!

The Long Road to Fez

At the Rissani bus stop, our backpacks are promptly taken from us and stuffed into the underbelly of the bus- a ‘service’ for which we are required to pay a fee. I can man handle my own pack...but at least this person was working and earning money. Everyone is rushing like there is some kind of urgency for the bus to leave. So we get onboard without accessing our packs. All we have with us is our overnight bag from the desert. No music to listen to, no book to read, no pen and paper- just some contact solution and the travel pillow (for which I am truly grateful yet again). Steve is showing symptoms of what would soon develop into a full blown nasty head cold. The bus finally fills up (overcapacity of course) and we were on the road to Fez. This turned out to be an eleven hour bus ride. We didn’t know where the bus would stop or when it would leave a station, so the only two times we dared get off was when the bus driver turned off the engine. Then one of us would get off the bus to stretch or run in to the station to get water while the other guarded our seats. All we ate for this day was bread and marmalade for our breaky in the desert, two cookies each, and half a croissant. I hardly drank water for fear of having to use a bus station bathroom...At the stations, as passengers got on and off the bus, beggars and merchants got on - selling random items or asking for yours...

Eventually, a nicely dressed lady sits in front of us with a rice bag. We soon find out there is no rice in that bag! Chickens! Three live chickens are squished in the bag- she opens it up so they can breath and sqwak. We laughed so hard and I snapped a photo.

Seeing more of the Moroccan country side on the bus ride was great. It is remarkably diverse! In the morning we were in the desert and by the evening we were up in the mountains where there was still snow on the ground! 

We finally make it to Fez, and since being hardened by Marrakech, we put on our big kid faces as we exit the bus terminal and march through the entourage of waiting taxi drivers and in to the Medina. 

Morocco part 2

Our tour is a three day and two night excursion. Our tour group has maybe 20-25 people in it, however we are in a small van with five other people the rest of the group is in a bus-type van. Our driver is named Arasheed and Steve and I pile in the front seat with him. There are three Chileans and two Americans who are on Easter break from University in England- they are pretty hilarious and we are lucky to have shared the tour with them! Day one we drive into the High Atlas Mountain range. We don’t know which peak it is, but we know that one of them is Africa’s second highest (next to Kilimanjaro)- the mountains are fantastic but the ‘highway’ is a little out of shape! Narrow roads, hairpin turns, pot holes and no shoulder. We drive through small mountain villages- people are riding donkeys and hauling water out of wells with buckets. Women are washing laundry in the rivers.  There appears to be a lot of siesta- ing by groups o fmen in berber attire. As we are driving out of one village, I see a fluffy white and orange cat pouncing its way along the road, then it happens. Arasheed doesn’t see it and the cat hops out in front of the van- THUNK THUNK!! I do my half scream half gasp noise and wake up our snoozing tour companions who think we are driving off a cliff. Arasheed swerves to the side of the road and stops. He is looking in the riewview, I have tears in my eyes and I don’t turn around- which is a good thing, the Chileans tell me later the cat was trying to get up and then a truck ran it over again. Ugh. We continue on with the drive, from that moment on Steve and I point out animals lingering by the roadside...Arasheed laughs. Apart from dogs, cats, sheep, goats, donkeys and camels, we don’t really see any other wildlife. Not that I’m expecting to...

We get to Ait Benhaddou. We have 35mins to spend at the famous site. Arasheed says to walk to the river and we will find it. So we head down a village road lined with souvenir junk...we get to the river and there it is- across the bridge-less river! The river is wide and shallow but there are men there with donkeys to haul people to the other side. The braver people take their shoes off and walk across. Steve and I observe for a few minutes and realize that if you cross, there is nothing to do on the other side- people go up to the gates and slowly turn back and recross the river. We decide that seeing Ait Benhaddou thirty feet closer is not going to be a big deal and we hang out and enjoy it- and stay dry. Meanwhile the Chileans cross...one hobbles back to the van with a good size splinter in his foot at a 90 degree angle. Arasheed is not only the tour driver, he is the tour doctor and digs the splinter out while the rest of us take in the views of “morocco hollywood”. Yes, we are overlooking the sets where over 200 films involving deserts have been shot- including “Gladiator” and “Lawrence of Arabia”. The day ends in Dades Gorge where we stay in a hotel. The gorge is incredibly windy making the hotel rooms cold. There are no lights in the hallways and stairwells- they are lit by candles- I love it! I think of Faddah Oliver who would be running around blowing out the “fire hazards”.

We head to the dining room for dinner- it is a lounge type place with low couches full of cushions and lanterns lighting the room. We are eating our delicious moroccan soup and it happens. While the 7 of us are in mid conversation, out of the corner of my eye I see this HUGE Green spider crawling beside my arm on the table- AHH! I do my half scream half gasp and jump from my seat. Coco, beside me jumps at my gasp (Steve hasn’t moved an inch - he has spent 10 years with me and is desensitized to my yell/gasp)...our entire table goes into panic mode- the Americans don’t know what is going on. The entire dining room has turned to watch the drama at our table...Coco (who I think was more frightened than moi) hesitates and then lifts his foot to the table and steps on the beast. Everyone gasps...the spider is still alive and someone puts a glass over it. We call over the waiter and he takes the spider away, however there were some guts left on the table. Coco couldn’t stand it and folded the table cloth over the spot. I was on edge for the rest of the meal. Moments like these reaffirm my devout commitment to nightly ‘bug checks’ before bed. 

We sleep well and wake up early to shower. No towels. We didn’t want to use our travel towels and pack them wet, so on advice from our travel companions we used the pillow cases and bed sheets. The pillow case worked for me but steve is so hairy he had to roll in the bed after soaking his pillow case! Hahaha!

We keep driving and keep stopping for picturesque photo opportunities. The landscape is beautiful and diverse. We come to stop in a village where Arasheed tells us we are going to see a Berber family. A man meets us at the side of the road and leads us in to a lush green field. We are immediately bombarded by kids trying to sell us animals weaved out of grass and begging for money, pens, candy...anything you were willing to give they were willing to take. I had nothing to give and was getting rather annoyed with them. We were trying to keep up with our Berber guide on a path that was narrow and muddy. The guide finally shooed them away but they seemed to pop out of nowhere the entire time. This Berber family lives in the valley for six months- farming and weaving. In the summer they move with their livestock to the mountains where it is cooler. The fields are irrigated by trenches and the land is worked completely by hand and donkeys. We enter a casbah and are taken to the Berbers house. His sister is weaving carpets and we join her in a large room. The walls are covered by carpets she has made- we watch her and I develop a new appreciation for the amount of labour that goes into each carpet! Saying this, this style of carpet is not for me and I would not have a place in my house for one- ever. We are served Moroccan tea and chat with our host. Then the Berber guide starts to bring dozens of carpets in to the room, I didn’t get it at first, but it was the beginning of an extended sales pitch. No one was going to buy a carpet and we cast “how do we get the heck outta here” glances at each other every time he went to fetch more. It was awkward. The Berber tried different sales tactics, my favorite would have to be the guilt laden phrase “if you can find the room in your heart, you can find the room in your budget.” We politely tipped him and thanked him for sharing with us, we were promptly lead out of the casbah. 

We continue driving and the land becomes incredibly barren, hard, and dry. We drive past dozens of shops selling fossils- I even spot a vanity counter top with fossils in it. Apparently this part of the world was once an ocean. We turn off the highway and in a few minutes we catch our first glimpse of Erg Chebbi- the sand dunes! Arasheed chooses to drive off road because the dirt road is too bumpy...so we are cruising over the Sahara with the red hot chili peppers blaring (via an i-pod plugged into the tape deck). I have a huge smile on and Steve and I keep giving each other the “can you believe this?” look.

It is the late afternoon and the sand dunes are a warm orange color. Our camels await us. We pack an overnight bag and are given a blanket. The camel guide leads us to our camels, the camels smell and their fur looks matted and dirty. They are huge animals. There is no saddle, instead there is a blanket tied around the hump like a donut. The blankets we are to sleep with are laid over the hump. There is a handle made of rebar and the camels are tied together in a mouth to behind pattern. Steve gets on first- the camel is laying down, steve sits on the hump, and the guide pulls on the rope to the camels mouth. The camel is not graceful and it takes large sudden movements to get into a standing position. Steve is all shits n’ giggles- he is wearing a traditional Moroccan camel riding scarf and looks authentic yet hilarious. Its my turn. I’m nervous. I get on the hump and hold on tight- he swoops up- this is when I realize how massive they are! I am so high off the ground! No stirrups on camels...thankfully this is not a mountain climb day on one of Larry’s horses!

We are all on board and we head out into the dunes. Its awesome. There is nothing but sand and the occasional desert plant. We ride for an hour and a half. During this time Steve is complaining that the camel hump is sharp, but I think he is over exaggerating and being a wimp. We arrive at our camp which consists of five tents made out of berber carpets. We take our blankets off the camels and pick a tent which has enough mats and pillows for the seven of us. I am immediately thankful for bringing my headlamp out there (more sound advice from B’ner) and am one of the only ones with a light in the desert. The sun sets fast and the rest of the tour group finally arrives. We sit around tables chatting and drinking tea. Our hosts play music on drums and we are starving. Dinner is finally served- Tajine and bread! Surprise! It is a communal meal with no plates- only forks. I scarf down three tajine sandwiches. For dessert we have oranges- typically moroccan :) We visit a little longer and admire the desert night sky, soon after we head to the tent. My bug check obsession pays off when Steve and I shake nine half dead moths out of his blanket! Ewww! I tie my scarf around my head super tight so no bugs can get in my ears or in my hair. We cuddle up and sleep surprisingly well!

The next morning we missed the sunrise but we didn’t care- I think the color of the dunes were more vibrant in the evening anyway! We were back on the camels, except this time I was on Steve's camel with the sharp hump. Steve was not being a wimp, this camel had a boney hump and was extremely uncomfortable. I wanted to jump off and walk. It didn’t matter how I shifted my weight, it hurt. We finally de-cameled and went for breakfast. Tea served with Bread and marmalade- again. Moroccan specialty! We loved the Sahara experience! 

The last day of the tour was allocated to drive back to Marrakech. We didn’t want to go back that way, so Arasheed dropped us off at the bus station in Rissani. We said goodbye to our tour companions (they were going back to Marrakech and then on to Casablanca) and thanked Arasheed for the fun time. We boarded the bus bound for Fes!

We get on the overnight train to Marrakech. Our “couchette” cabin consists of two bunk beds and a window. Steve and I are on the top bunks and an Arabic boy named “Ali” and his mother occupy the bottom bunks. Ali is very entertaining, maybe 4 years old with a big smile eating a happy meal. A man comes around with a sheet, blanket, and pillow for each passenger. I prophylactically pop a gravol and tuck myself in, Steve is asleep in no time...I only wake up a couple times through the night- overall a restful sleep! :) A restful night is exactly what you need before getting to Marrakech.

We arrive the next morning in Marrakech. We have joined forces with the two American girls we met in the train station-Jana and Rayna. We catch a cab to the medina, the girls have reserved a hostel room near the Medina, Steve and I have no reservations so we follow them to their hostel to see if we can get a room too. After winding our way some distance through dark and narrow medina streets we find the hostel and enter. The owner is behind the counter but laying in bed in a cubby hole. He opens his curtain and indicates the rooms aren’t ready and says to come back in an hour or two. He lets us leave our packs on the floor of his office/bedroom. We walk all the way back out to the center of the medina and start to wander around the streets. We meet a british guy at the bank machine- and he eventually joins up with us for the day. After meeting the hostel keeper, having a glimpse of the place, and walking the long dark alley-like street to its location, we begin to reconsider staying there. We check out some other places and find a hotel that is slightly more expensive, but centrally located and pretty clean- with private bathrooms. We all agree it is a better place and decide to stay there. We make our way back to the hostel and pick up our packs with no problems- phew. By this point we are all a little hungry. We go to a cafe for some omlettes and toast- and our first moroccan tea. The tea is delicious. I don’t know exactly what is in it, but it is more viscous than water- but not as thick as honey. It is full of large mint leaves and very sweet. We spend some time wandering the market stalls and quickly learn how aggressive the vendors are. “Excuse me, Madame, come in my store, excuse me, sorry, just look etc”. There is no such thing as browsing here. You look you buy- or at least that is the impression you give! If you look at something they say “I give you good price” but we have heard how overpriced things are here. Eventually I see a canvas painting I like- I simply enter the store and the negotiations begin. I should also mention that while looking in the store I knock over a porcelain dish displaying small canvasses, it hits the floor with a ‘thunk’ and I think I broke it...shit oh shitballs- now I feel obliged to buy something! Steve helps me negotiate- actually he takes the lead because we both know I’m too weak. The canvas price starts at 440 dirham, after ten minutes of negotiations and leaving the store twice, we pay 150 dirham...Steve later tells me the dish I knocked over was already broken. 

The medina square is full of entertainers/con-men, food vendors, and orange juice stands. The food vendors are selling beautiful apricots, dates, figs, olives, and nuts. The orange juice is freshly squeezed and costs only 3 dirham (approx 50 cents) for a tall glass. The con-men are charging 100 dirham to charm a cobra snake out of a basket while having your photo taken. Steve got scammed with that! There are men with monkey’s on leashes but we have seen enough of them and steer clear. There are many musicians and henna artists. The square is busy but we find out later its not rush hour yet! The majority of women are wearing head scarves which makes Steve all anxious about me getting one and wearing it :) I can’t find one I like but I finally spot a huge pile of scarves spread out on plastic on the street- locals are digging through the pile so I join in on the action. I find the perfect one! Only 20 dirhams and its all mine!

That night we go to the square and it is packed with even more food, entertainers, locals, and tourists. We browse by the food stands they have set up to see what is for dinner. I take one look at the roasted sheep heads with the tongues hanging out and loose my appetite. We are being yelled at “eat here!” “I’m the best!” “Free drink here!” Its packed and chaotic. There is thick smoke from the cooking and bright light bulbs dangling everywhere. It smells and is loud. We escape the craziness and head for a cafe on the side of the square. I have moroccan soup- which is fabulous! Similar to tomato vegetable soup with chickpeas and other unidentifiable goodies in it. Steve has his first Tajine. Tajine is a moroccan dish (obviously) containing a meat and vegetables cooked in a tajine dish- ah...here is a link! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tajine

We head back to the square and observe the action some more. We try some ginger cake and ginger tea from a desert stall, it is spicy and like nothing I’ve ever had before! The night sky is clear and Jana gives us a great little lesson on astronomy and constellations (she is in that field). We are tired. We say our goodnights and head to bed. 

The next day’s mission is to find a tour to take us into the Sahara and then on to the city of Fes. There are several tour companies around the medina and takes only one stop to sign up for one. We will leave the next day...we have the most delicious bannock type break with honey for breakfast with the american girls and say our goodbyes (they are leaving that morning by train). We spend a few hours wandering through the residential area of the medina where we see artisans hard at work and people shopping at local vegetable stalls. Overall, we found Marrakech to be somewhat chaotic and crazy but a good time. Although the hassle by merchants was way too extreme, we felt safe there.

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Most of the same photo's are on facebook as well...

Barf Bag Por Favor

We planned to leave Algecerias by ferry- arriving in Tanger, Morocco. Getting ferry tickets is a different concept here- and after our experience I have a little more appreciation for BC Ferries. There are ticket selling kiosks and hole in the wall shops lining the streets in Algecerias...nothing really appeared to be official...so we left our packs in our room and set out to buy our tickets. We were walking towards a building that we thought looked most respectable and professional. We didn’t make it to the door (the place looked closed when we got up close anyway) before we were approached by 5-6 ticket hustler dudes. “Tickets- you need tickets- come this way my friend!” Before I could get two words out (which would have been “hell no”) Steve was off with his new friend and I was following them to the hole in the wall place which probably belonged to his uncle or some cousin... Ugh, I just shook my head. He ushered us in to the first shop- they didn’t have the tix we wanted. We were looking for tickets on the slower ferry because: A) it would mean less time to kill in Tanger before our train departed; B) I had read that the fast ferries can get a little rough in the waters; C) we thought it might be a little cheaper; and D) we thought what the heck- we don’t get to sail on the mediterranean very often so lets enjoy it! So Steve’s friend brought us to another ticket selling shop. This guy wanted to sell us fast ferry tix only- and when we said we wanted the slow one he pointed towards the terminal...when we left the store (ticketless) Steve’s friend said “commission”- Steve replied “we have no tickets!” Then he said “commission!” Steve patted him on the back and said “You’re a nice guy, but we have no tickets” and we hurried away.

Steve suggested we walk to the terminal and get tickets there. This ended up being the best idea- no pressure from people on the street and no hidden commission. We went to the slow ferry ticket selling booth. The price for the tickets was 44 Euro each- this cost more than the fast ferry!! That didn’t make sense to us, so instead of questioning any of it, we bought fast ferry tickets for 33 Euro each. The terminal itself was clean and safe so we waited for our 1500 sailing. The ferry departed late, around 1600hrs, which was fine with us because it was only supposed to take 45 minutes. At first the ride was pretty smooth so we walked around the boat and then sat and read our books. There was no outside deck but the inside had a cafe, washrooms, giftshop, etc. The waters started to get a little rough, I started to feel a little queezy so I put my head down on the table. The waters got rougher and I felt worse. I could hear people laughing and saying “woohoo” as the waves got bigger. I contemplated taking my gravol but I didn’t want to be drowsy and I thought we should almost be to the other side anyway. Before long, I was too nauseated to lift my head and look for land ahoy. I blindly dug through my purse for my stash of gravol but couldn’t find it. By this point I was getting cool and clammy. “Steve can you get my gravol and a barf bag?” He just had to ask “are you sure you need it? I don’t want you to be tired and grouchy” AGH!!! I couldn’t even respond because I was so nauseated, I wanted to deck him. He thought I was being a wussy. It felt like eons before he dug through my pack and got my precious pink pill and emptied a little ziploc out for me. The waves get worse, I start to inhale up the wave and exhale down the wave. I try to meditate, I try to find a happy place, I imagine I’m curled up on Brandi’s couch as she makes the buttermilk pancakes...but the boat keeps rocking. The laughter has stopped, its not fun anymore. There is some kind of psychedelic music playing over the speakers that sounds like the cd is skipping, it is driving me nuts. I can hear people vomiting and children crying. I thought about my dad and how the sound of someone tossing their cookies makes him yak! A lady came to our table and asked Steve “is she ok?” He replies “oh, so-so”. I can’t lift my head. The lady puts two nice sized barf bags on the table. I was thankful but deep down I wanted a lady to come to the table offering syringes loaded with stemetil or maxeran. The gravol didn’t have time to take effect, I grabbed a bag, head still on table, opened it up and started heaving. Steve tried to rub my back but it only made me move around more...I could still hear others barfing. I started to feel better but still couldn’t move. My barf was berry flavored from a granola bar I ate earlier, my wonderful husband redeemed himself by taking my bag of pink berry barf to the garbage. I got the next bag ready as a precaution. The water was still rough. Steve narrated the scene for me...”about 1 in 3 are ralphing, people are laying on the floor behind us barfing, the mens washroom is a free for all for barfers....” How much longer could this go on?! Eventually the waves went from up and down to a side to side motion. My body is still prepping itself to be sick and I can’t lift my head off the table...I start crying, I want it all to end. Steve says “I don’t feel so good.” I’ve never seen Steve toss his cookies before and I want to help him like he is helping me but I know I can’t move. I tell him to take the bag if he needs it...but then I think back to his attitude about getting my gravol and I think to myself ‘get your own barf bag sucker’...eventually the boat stopped rocking. I turned my head to the side and saw two women enter the mens bathroom with buckets of cleaner. I could smell the bleach...I laid there watching them, I could feel berry barf crusted on to my chin and lips but I didn’t care. People lined up to get off the boat...I cautiously went to the washroom to freshen up and we disembarked. Thankfully, Steve never did get sick and he took care of me. The “fast ferry” ended up taking 3 hours and was a horrible experience, but oh well- we made it to Morocco!!!

Attempted Stoning...

We meet a cabbie named Abdul near the ferry terminal and he agrees to drive us to the train station for 5 Euro. He happily welcomed us to Morocco and tried to convince us to hire him for a tour of Tanger. I told him I just barfed my way across the mediterranean so we weren’t interested. He didn’t press the issue ;) An interesting fact here, although we travelled directly south of Spain, Morocco is two hours behind Europe! So when we got off the ferry at 1900 hours we had to change our clocks to 1700. We still didn’t have any Dirham, and Abdul eagerly traded us some Dirham for Euro’s. We went to the ticket counter at the train station to book our “couchette” in the overnight train to Marrakech. We didn’t have enough Dirham for the tickets and they wouldn’t accept Euro or Visa. The employee at the counter directed us to a cash machine inside the station. Steve inserted his card and it said “communication error”, his visa wouldn’t work either-Shitballs! We considered changing all of our Euro to Dirham, but we couldn’t be sure we could access money when we got to the South. Thankfully the two hour time change gave us an advantage and we headed into Tanger to find a bank. It was still light out and the streets were busy so I didn’t feel scared at all. We walked past a McDonalds and saw a sign for a “McArabia!” Hahahaha! Our priority was money and our stomachs weren’t ready for food so we kept walking. As we were walking down the sidewalk on a busy road, a little boy approached us and started walking with us. He said “ One Dirham? One Dirham?” Steve responded “Dirham? Nah” and the boy said “One Dirham, boom-boom, One Dirham, boom-boom” and Steve was laughing and saying “boom-boom?” The warnings from Brandi rang through my head- “do not engage!” I thought oh shit, Steve is engaging. I said “Steve stop engaging” but Steve was laughing and thinking this little puppy eyed boy was funny. I thought to myself- we don’t even have Dirham coins! I had to take control- I looked at the boy who was by now hanging off Steves arm and sternly said “No Dirham, You go away!” I felt like a wicked witch. He gave me the ultimate glare and probably cursed me to Allah. But he went away. I turned around only to see the little puke pick up a golf ball sized rock and wind up to throw it at me. He looked at me and lowered his arm (about 15 feet away) then he raised it again, I said Steve that little shit is trying to hit me with a rock, so we both turned around and he threw the rock but it didn’t even get near us- then he ran away. Little shit. A short walk later and we found a bank with a cash machine. We inserted the card and crossed our fingers- success and relief!!!

We headed back towards the station and agreed to just eat at the Mcdonalds as it would be dark soon and there wasn’t a whole lot around for food. Besides, Steve had to sample the McArabia! We stopped near the beach to take a couple photos because I’d be embarrassed if our first picture in Africa would be in a McDonalds!! The McArabia was some sort of paddy (meat unknown- possibly lamb?) inside a folded piece of bread (similar to Naan bread) with bbq sauce. Steve enjoyed it very much. I had a McChicken- and it was better than the McChicken at home! We got back to the train station and finalized our tickets by paying for them :) Steve went to use the washroom and came back to report “those are the cleanest bathrooms I’ve ever seen!” So I thought this was awesome news and went to use the facilities and freshen up. The bathrooms were super nice- and they had pink toilet paper! I left the bathroom only to find an old women sitting outside the entrance demanding money for using the bathroom...I didn’t know what to give and I only had Euro coins, so I gave 20 cents in Euro. They must have been on a break when Steve used it and when I entered...Anyways, a little while later, two girls came up to us to ask if we knew what the acceptable amount was for the toilets- and this is how we met our first travel friends.