Granada, Madrid, Morocco!
6.10.06
Today I spent most of my time at the internet café and doing laundry. Tons of fun. I created my own blog site that links off of the Worldtrippers site. The guys and I walked back to O’Neil’s again to watch the Football game. I texted Sophie to see if she wanted to meet up. So, I ditched the group and met her at a fountain at the intersection of Gran Capitan and Martinez de la Rosa. She was on her way to her friends birthday party, so we only had about two drinks of Tinto de Verano. We talked about so many things. I asked her about food and she said that she likes to cook. I asked what kind of things she likes to make. One thing she mentioned was Rabbit. I told her that people where I come from would find me a little weird if I caught the neighborhood rabbits and cooked them. She asked me if I’d ever eaten Horse. I guess you can get Horse meat from certain places in France. She wants to go study in England for her last year. She is Catholic like myself. I admire the w2ay she thinks about her religion. She prays everyday and goes to church every Sunday. She had a very cool Rosary ring that had notches on it and 1 cross. So you twirl the ring and say your Hail Mary’s. I tried to explain to her about Scientology and how Hollywood is full of some pretty different people. She asked me if most people in America practice this “Scientology” and I said no.
Sophie went to her friends and I walked her to an intersection before I split. Now here was a very interesting culture clash. When I went to say goodbye, she went for the double kiss on the cheek and I went to hug her. I could tell it was a little weird for her because the French apparently don’t hug to often. It is considered very intimate. I didn’t know this until Nithin told me later that night. In my culture, you wouldn’t think twice about it. Anyway, I said I’d call when I returned from our road trip and took off.
I walked back to find my roommates playing some kind of RISK card game, but they were using chips, fruit, and orange peels as their armies. It actually worked and began to make sense after a while. Looks like we have a new game to play!
I want to ask Sophie about the music she likes and if she could possibly teach me how to cook something. We’ll see.
6.11.06
Went to the park and laid out for a few hours. Got quite a nice sunburn because I fell asleep for about 4 hours in 100 degree weather. I’m going to seriously pay for that later down the road. I read my Vagabonding book, which I highly recommend to anyone interested in traveling. I decided to start acclimating myself to solo travel, since we’ll separate here in a little over a month. I decided to practice some of my new found wisdom and did a little vagabonding of my own around the city. I didn’t look at a map, I just started walking. I ended up next to some massive cathedral. I paused and brought out my electronic translator to try and find out how to say, “Where’s the grocery store?”
It’s amazing how the unknown and adventure makes you want to absorb the culture all around you. It gets you addicted. I was craving to start a conversation with someone. It’s amazing where a friendly smile and an “Hola” can get you. I walked down a narrow side street by the cathedral and paused to look at this artwork being sold on the sidewalk. He noticed I was admiring it and approached me. I said hello and commented him on the work. He explained to me that it was actually his friends work and his was over there on the other side of the street. I noticed the arwork was done with pastel and water colors and he seemed interested that I knew that. I asked if I could see some of his work, so he pulled me over to his blanket. He had cut up old soda cans to make a uniquely designed ash tray. I said it was very neat and after a while of talking with him I said goodbye and shook his hand. He told me to wait one moment and went to his bag to grab something. He gave me one of his soda ash tray’s and said it was a gift for me.
I ended up walking down many tiny ally ways and into some tiny Muslim areas. There were a ton of little shops with lots of Hooka’s and clothes. People were playing drums and Flamenco guitar in the alley way, and I saw a group of middle aged women Flamenco dancing to it in the street. I ended up at “The Arch” Tapas Bar and had a beer while I wrote in my journal a bit before heading to the internet café.
Later that day, I realized what an idiot I am for not putting on sunscreen. I looked like a foreign lobster. For dinner, Mr. Ryan and I walked to a Kabob shop on our way to meet Nithin, Mike and Aaron at a Flamenco Bar. I asked the guitar player there if he offered guitar lessons when he got down for a break. His name is Windy, and he gave me his number and said to call him when I returned. It is so inspiring to see and hear someone play this type of music. The ups and downs, all the different sounds that are made from one persons hand is amazing.
6.12.06
Took a bus to Madrid. We arrived and walked to our hostel, MAD. They have these weird electronic locks on your doors. You use these wrist watches as a key. When you hold them close to the door locks, they unlock. That night, we went to the hostel bar and started drinking Sangria. I met these two girls, one from Mexico and one from Canada. Kateleena and Anna. The told me all about the places they’ve traveled and gave me some good recommendations on Greece and Romania. Eventually our group randomly vanished, so Aaron and I walked to another hostel called Catz. I met plenty more Australians, Canadians, and Americans here. I was watching, standing outside, and these wasted American college guys were hitting on this group of German girls. I realized that if these guys were acting the way they did on a US college campus, they would probably fit right in, but out here, they appeared rude, ignorant, snobby, hot headed, and completely hammered. I couldn’t believe some of the comments ljkthey were saying to these girls, drunk and stumbling around. They would make American jokes that the girls would never be able to understand, but if they were American girls, those dudes would get slapped. The weird and ironic thing was that the girls appeared to like it! I’ve realized that as long as you’re different, entertaining, and funny, no matter how rude it might seem to me, they’ll find you interesting.
6.13.06
Woke up to the most excruciating sunburn itch of my life. I wanted to put my head through the freaking wall, just to take the pain off my chest. I rubbed aloe, cortison, and took an Asprin and it still didn’t do anything. I had to deal with that for a few hours and just listened to Nine Inch Nails, absorbed in my own misery. Wow that sucked.
I woke up later and walked to gat a Falafel and see some museums. It was closed, but I saw some of the neat architecture of Madrid. We eventually walked by some French soccer hooligans and secretly followed them to whatever bar they were heading to just to get in on the action of the French vs. the Swiss World Cup match. It was really neat sitting in that bar and listening to the Swiss guys chant and swear at the French guys and vice versa. I had a strange thought about my American accent. Being in Europe for a few weeks, I grew a sense of what I must sound like to them. When you’re out of your home environment, somehow you can relflect and hear and see things that you couldn’t before. I can’t really explain it, but Americans sound boring compared to all the other languages. But none the less, I like sounding different that everyone else.
6.14.06
Went to the Chocolateria San Gines for some Churro breakfast…un-freakin believable. They brought out 20 long churros, and you dip them in your own bowl of melted chocolate. Soooo good.
We split up and I ventured out to find an English bookstore. I took the metro for the 1st time by myself. It really wasn’t all that bad, you just had to make sure that the train you were getting on was going the right direction. The bookstore was old and dusty. I had to rummage through books to find an English one. I eventually setteled with Deception Point by Dan Brown.
I headed to my first museum visit of Europe, the Museo del Prado. It has works by Picasso, Goya, Carravagio, Velazques, Rafael, Reniot, Pussin, and many other famous painters. On my way I ran into some political rally in the streets outside the museum. Everyone was wearing green and every now and and then gunshots and cannons fired. I have no idea why. I had to work up the guts to walk across the street and get into the crowd. I eventually did, but couldn’t understand anything. I think it had something to do with the police being corrupt or something. I moved on to the museum.
There was a Picasso exhibition going on, but I decided not to wait in the line because I’ve seen Picasso and I didn’t have much time to spend there. I forgot how amazing some of these paintings are to see in real life and up close. They are simply magnificent. Some of them feel like they jump completely off the canvas at you. Some look dreadful and terrifying. Some spark emotions of something you’ve experienced in your own life. Some draw out fantasy’s and wonderful tales and stories. Some of the colors are so vivid that you question yourself how can there be such a magnificent color?! I spent a lot of time looking around and ended up missing our meeting time at the pub across town to watch the Espania match.
I find it interesting to see and notice how some of the painters drew inspiration from other painters. If you pay close attention, you can actually see similar features, gestures, objects, and even people in the paintings between various artists.
For dinner, Mike, Nithin and I wanted some real nice Spanish food. We went to this place called O’Pulpoa. I had a dinner with a salad, and six mini tapas dishes. I had duck pate paste, pickled sardines, spicy ham, cheese, brushetta, croquettes (cream filled tater tots with ham), and for dessert a bowl of sliced fruits and some kind of liquor.
Mission: Search for Danny Flappan.
We decided to hunt down Mikes little bro after sitting out on the roof of the hostel drinking Rum and Coke. We walked through the city to the hotel he was apparently staying at. Ryan was trying to ask the hotel lobby guys what room Danny was in, but the room was under the teachers name, which we didn’t know. It was quite confusing and we were getting nowhere until these three high school girls walked by. We asked them if they knew some KC guys in the hotel. They just happened to be staying right next door to them. The girls walked up the see if anyone was in the room, came back and told us they must be out somewhere. So the search continued. We pretty much hit every bar in the area looking for Danny. I think that the little amount of food we were eating was getting us drunk much quicker, so eventually Mr. Ryan was being very outgoing. We went to a Pirate bar, a Mexican bar, a Techno Bar and many more. Lossing track of our original mission, we just decided to get crazy and have fun. We ended up at this Kabob place which was delicious. Mr. Ryan was just talking away to all the guys in the place and being very funny. They all tried to guess where he was from. They thought he was from Poland, Switzerland, and France. Ryan finally said that he was Deutche, or German. One guy picked up on this and started talking to Ryan in German! But Ryan’s tactic here was to pre-learn the phrase…I’m not speaking German because I want to practice my Spanish…(in German.) And that’s pretty much all he knows! We were on our way out when the guys asked us where we were from again and Ryan said Berlin. Then the guy just started asking us all these questions in German. Ryan was like…uhhh, asta luego! And then we ran away.
6.15.06
Mike and I left to visit the midievil town of Toledo. It is about an hour South of Madrid by bus. I had no idea what the city was like. We got off the bus and all you could see was a city on the top of a cliff in the middle of the mountainous countryside. The first thing we saw after walking up one side of the massive hill. The city was completely walled in, so you had to walk under a large archway. The arch had this really cool double-headed eagle holding a shield carved into it. This thing was like 20 feet tall. Mike and I had no idea, but we apparently came to visit Toledo on one of the best days of the year to visit, Corpus Cristi. It is a Catholic holiday and this city was the former head of the Catholic Church in Spain for a few hundred years. After we walked through the gates, we went to this kabob shop and got a kabob. I began to unravel my delicious kabob when I heard drums and marching coming from up the road, so I ran up the street to see what was going on. There were soldiers marching down the street along with what seemed to be the entire town! They all got in buses and headed back out through the gate. Mike and I headed upward through very tiny alleyways, until we got a more open area. There were fresh flowers and tapestries hanging all over from the balconies above. People were dressed up in veils and nice clothing. The air was scented with flowers and fresh pine.
Pine leaves were strewn out all over the cobblestone streets. Mike and I could’ve been right in the middle of this celebration if we’d only arrived an hour earlier. But I guess you can’t always get what you want. We had no idea where to go or what to see, so we just walked. As we were walking, I came up to this intersection and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a massive gothic cathedral tower rising up somewhere in the distance. It totally took me by surprise. So I tapped Mike and said lets get over there! We eventually made our way through what seemed like a maze to the cathedral.
Especially with the flower petals and pine all over the walls and ground around it. The tapestries must’ve been hand made by the locals and they were so colorful.
Some had detailed designs and some had the city crest on it. We also visited the Iglesia de los Jesuites church there and climbed up to the bell towers. Now I know the meaning behind the phrase, “Holy Toledo!” The view was breathtaking. The entire city is surrounded by cliffs with a moat encircling it. There are about 4 or 5 bridges gapping the ravine. I highly recommend seeing this city to anyone traveling in Spain. It must’ve been a midievil stronghold in the dark ages. There were armored suits and swords everywhere. After a whole day of just walking around, we headed back to Madrid.
Our last meal in Madrid was at this Jambon (Ham) place, where they literally slice the meat off hanging pig legs right in front of you. Very appetizing. The taste takes a little getting used to, but it was ok. Our bus left at 10:30pm to Algeciras, where we would catch a ferry to Tangiers, Morocco. Uncomfortable bus rides are something that I’ll have to get used to, but I know that the discomforts of travel will pay off in the end.
6.16.06
I am currently writing this entry sitting on the deck of a boat traveling across the Gibralter Strait and I’m staring out at the coast of Africa.
I can’t really discribe the emotion that I’m feeling when I look at such beauty. It means a lot because of my grandmother, who recently passed on, has told me tales of the adventurous land that lies right before me.
I promised her that someday, I would come here and that promise is almost complete. The jagged mountains poke out of the hazy horizon and there is no telling what adventure awaits me there.
Of course, the first thing that happened once we got off was being hounded by taxi drivers. I exchanged my Euros for Durhams at the ATM machine. Just to get an idea, the currency exchange is 8 durhams to 1 euro. A nice taxi driver drove us to the train station and offered to drive us all to our first city Fes (pronounced Fez), but we decided to take the train. I instantly noticed the difference between a 1st and a 3rd World country. Sometimes I wonder what these people do with their social life. Do they have a social life? It sees like most people just walk around or ask you for money. Maybe I’ll find that out later. While in the train station, I found out what it feels like to be a complete outsider. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. I just kept thinking to myself, when I’ve seen a man or woman wearing robes and a veil in the U.S., I would always wonder where they were from. Well, I felt the same in their place. It wasn’t like people werer looking at me and thinking…kill the infidel…but seemed more curious and inviting. The train from Tangiers to Fes was about 6 hours with a stop over in Kacem. During the first ride, we were sitting, but during the second ride we had to stand 2 hours in a narrow isle. At least we got an interesting view of the countryside being so squished up abainst the window. At the train station, I had my first experience with the dreaded “squatty potty.” That’s the hole in the floor they call a toilet. They even have a nice bucket filled with water next to it to wash your ass with your hand…how pleasant. This is a great reason to bring your own toilet paper. I’ve read about some of the scams that people will try on you and even ran across a few of them. Once we arrived to Fes, we practically had to dodge the taxi drivers by running across the street. We walked to some hotel because we didn’t have any reservations anywhere. The first scam is a friendly young person will pretend to be your best friend and help you around in any way possible. They will eventually turn into an informal guide of some sort, and in the end they will demand that you give them money. We ended up walking to about 5 different hotels to compare prices and these so called “guides” were like freaking mosquitos. We eventually settled down at a decent hotel. The last guy said to me if I wanted to buy drugs off him, he has some good shit. I very kindly said no thanks.
It is awesome being able to practice my French because that is the official language here. I am beginning to feel a little depressed and missing home because this place is so different and unfamiliar with my life at home. Off in the distance, I hear a loud voice chanting Arabic over a loud speatker from a mosque. People are prayuing everywhere you go. It is very different. The food I’ve had so far has been excellent though. Both sandwiches contained olives, chicken, and curry…mmm.
I thought the showers in the college dorm rooms and fraternity house were bad, well this one beats all. I took a shower and tried not to touch any of the walls. It is tough to remind yourself to not let any water go in your mouth, even when you brush your teeth because you’ll get really sick. We got ready and took a taxi to the Medina, or the Old City. Now we are getting to see what Fes is really all about. We walked through this massive Arabic archway into the Medina. This is just inside the ancient walls and is a gathering of restaurants, shops, and street vendors. We walked a few shops down and stopped at Le Kasbah,…recommended in Lonely Planet. We were seated all the way on the top floor, rooftop terrace, 4 stories above the bustling Medina streets below.
What a great view. Looking down into the small streets and shops, then over your shoulder behind is an ancient Mosque, towering up into the red African sunset. The scents are overwhelming with burning wood from the fires below, hers and cooking kabob meat. I ordered a mint tea and it was sooo good. It came in a tall glass and is actually stuffed to the top with mint leaves and and stems, then filled with green tea to the top. The first taste just causes an explosion of taste in your mouth…you know that feeling when all your taste buds and nerves go off all at once. It tasted like a strong, sweet spearamint. Best tea I’ve ever had.
For dinner, I had the beef tangine. It is like a roast beef with potatoes, green beans, carrots, olives, and lemon peels all soaked in some kind of broth.
After dinner, we walked down the narrow Medina streets to look around. We must’ve had giant freakin bulls-eyes attached to our foreheads because we were being bugged every 10 seconds. “Do you have an official tour guide?” We decided that the next person who asked us that, we would all make up some language and confuse the hell out of them. I wanted to take some photos, but I didn’t want to risk having a swarm of people rush around me. One guy came up to us and said, “US breakdance, 50 cent, ya?! Aussie Aussie, call me Charlie Brown!” I had no idea what that guy wanted, besides our money. I ended up in this shop speaking French to this guy about a teapot. For my first haggling experience, I’d say I did pretty well. He wanted 120 durhams and I got him down to 60 durhams. I thou8ght it was funny because I pretended to be unsure about buying the kettle, so he gave me a calculator and said, “bon price,” good price. So I entered 12. He looked at me like I was some kind of nut wad. He said 12 would get me this, and pointed to one of the tiny legs of the teapot. Anyway, I had fun with the guy, and even if they seem upset or try to throw guilt on you, they are playing the game as well.
6.17.06
Today we walked around in the Medina again, this time during the day. I never realized how big it is.
It is made up of over 9,000 tiny streets and alleyways. Getting from the main city to the Medina was unbelievably hecktec. Guides were all over us. It actually was difficult to hold back and say, “get the hell away from us.” You really had to resist from punching someone in the face. Through trial and error, I realized by making it clear that “you are not our tour guide, we do not need a tour guide, and I have nothing for you,” seemed to do the trick. Once we got there we began walking down the street maze to somehow find relief from the constant begging and avoiding scams here and there. It was difficult to determine who was truly interested in you and who just wanted to screw you out of your money. After you figure out the technique most of these people used, I’ve figured out how not to be so noticeable.
We came across this small opening in one of the alleys and it turned out to be a hidden mosque. We asked the guy standing there if we could go in and he said only for 10 durham. So we went inside and walked around. It was a relief to get away from the people waiting outside to guide us. The architecture is just amazing. The amount of detail placed into ever square inch of the entire building just boggles my mind. As we left, we asked the guy at the door to take our picture.
We came to a small square opening among the tan sand colored maze. There was a fountain here where people could drink water from. I stopped and just observed people for a while, while the other guys looked at the map on how to get out of here. There was this opening of to one of the sides that was a chair factory. I went over and sat on the top front step and looked inside. There were children working and making chairs. I guess some would consider this child labor, but I think it was ok for them to do in there culture. It is an accepted thing here. There was this boy who was just sitting in a chair looking back at me. He took his fingers and brushed his chin, as if he had a beard and was pondering some question. It took me a minute to figure out that he was making fun of Aaron’s beard. I did it back and pointed to Aaron and he started laughing. He pointed at my camera and wanted me to take a picture of him. So I got one of him standing by one of his chairs. I took my camelback water tube and squeezed it to shoot water at him. He had no idea what it was and probably thought it was magic or something. He would laugh everytime I shot water out of my fingers with the tube. Even the older teenagers behind him were watching and laughing.
We continued on, dodging donkey carts here and there. The streets are so skinny, you pretty much have to exhale your breathe in order not to be squished by the donkey’s and the load their pulling. Children would run up and down the streets at lightning speed every once and a while, playing tag or some kind of game. The alley roof is covered with straw sticks to keep the sun out. Two little girls were following me down a tunnel carrying empty orange juice bottles filled with water. One dropped it and it rolled into the back of my foot. I turned around and said, “Bonjour!” They both giggled and ran away. I turned around about another block down the road and saw their heads peaking out of a side ally looking at me. Of course when they saw that I noticed them, they ran again.
I decided to sit and absorb the environment a little more, so I walked away from the group and went into this open area with about 8 large flat steps that spanned across the area. There were these pot makers banging on large pieces of metal to mold them into shape. I sat next to one guys large pot to eliminate the chance of me getting pick pocketed from that side. I was just writing in my journal, taking in the smells, and thoughts, when this kid on a rusty old bike came wheeling up to me and skidded to a stop right next to my face. He looked at me and said, “Je demande 2 durhams.” Meaning, I demand you give me 2 durhams. I looked at him and said, “demand?!” Then about 8 of his little friends all came over to me. One little girl held out her hand and introduced herself. She must’ve been about 8 years old. I said my name was Ryan, and they all followed after the girl, shook my hand and said their names. One of the little boys, probably about 4 years old actually tried to kiss me on the cheek! I kept laughing and leaning away from him.
The only way I could communicate to them was in French. One of them kept calling the kid on the bike “crazy,” and would do some kind of gesture and twist his hand from his head…kind of similar to our culture where we twirl our finger around our ear. So I played along with them. They asked me where I was from and I told them. Eventually the girl asked me to take a photo of them…I didn’t even have to ask! So I pulled out my camera and they all held hands. None of them were smiling though, so I pushed up my lips into a smile and they all smiled.
The guys making pots must’ve thought they were bothering me, so he yelled something at them and they all ran away. I walked back over to a corner where about 10 of them were standing there selling something. I knew they were selling boxes of gum, but I played dumb. I asked, “What are you selling?” They made a mouth motion telling me it was gum. I know that they had bought a large pack and distributed it through old gum packages, putting about 4 chicklet size pieces of gum in each package. I asked which kind tastes the best. One girl said orange, so I bought the orange. They kept raising the price on me, but I only paid them 2 durham. I took it and opened the box cautiously and paused, asking them, “It’s ok? You’re not lying to me?” They smiled and nodded their heads. I bit off a small piece, waited for a second, and then made a face like it was poisoned and grabbed my throat! They all thought that was hilarious. Then I did something I probably shouldn’t have and started giving the rest of the gum pieces to the kids who sold it to me. Before I know it, I had a swarm of children all around me saying, “Please, please Monsieur,” and held their hands up to grab the candy. I tried to split as many up as I could and didn’t have enough for all the children. An elder man with a cane came pushing through the crowd and said something to the kids that quieted them down. I said, “Merci,” and shook all their hands. It was funny because I would shake one kids hand, and then everyone else wanted to shake my hand. So like twenty little hands flew at me at once. I said, “Au revoir!” and walked off. The children were all so much kinder than the scammers awaiting us in the streets and allyways. It was such a relief to not be bothered by people who are pretending to be my friend. And just because I stopped to take in their culture and absorb made an effort to absorb their environment, I made 20 new little friends.
I met up with the guys and we continued. While everyone was bargaining, a guy approached me while I was leaning against a wall writing in my journal. Usually, I speak in French to keep people guessing where I’m from. So far, I’ve been a writer from Quebec, and a mountain climber from Switzerland, hahaa, I love it. He led us to the Tanneries of Fes (where they tan hides in pools of dye.) I was unsure and cautious at first that this guy wasn’t going to lead us down some alley to be jumped by his friends waiting for us. But every once and a while, it does pay to lend out a little trust. It of course paid off and he lead us to his leather shop, and took us up the stairs and on to the roof. You could see the workers down below standing in these mini pods filled with dye.
It smelled horrible, but it was another rare place to see the whole city from a rooftop. I bought a leather coin purse there to hold all of my extra change.
The streets started to get very busy around dusk. I found it incredible that we were the ONLY white people around. Girls would point at us and giggle as we walked by. Children would laugh and poke me, emulating my actions. More children came up to me somewhere else in the city and one kid was the same from before. He must’ve secretly followed me with a few of his friends. They asked me if they could have my “stylo,” or pen. I got it out and told them that they couldn’t have it, but I asked them to give me their hands. I knew that if I gave it to them, they would probably run off with it. So, instead, I asked what their names were and wrote it on the palms of their hands…even though they probably couldn’t read it because they use a different alphabet than the west. I had to phonetically write it down, but they couldn’t read it anyway. They thought that was so cool and then they ran off to show their other friends.
It got so crowded in the streets that there was almost no place to walk. I felt like such an outsider! We looked totally different than everyone! We took a taxi to the old Royal Palace and the gaurds were nice to let us walk out in front of the large courtyard.
We asked the guards where to watch the US vs Italy football match and they told us to walk into the main city and go to a café.
One thing I learned during my time here in Fes is to completely ignore your first impression of a place. What seemed to be a drab, run down city, full of people who wish to rob you of your money…I found a friendly, warm, and exotic place I never would’ve imagined. Now my eye’s have been opened to it.
We walked into the city and pushed our way to the back of a crowded café, ordered some Mint Tea and watched the game.
Afterwards, we walked to some random street café and had a very filling meal. I think some of the meat was liver and other unkowns, along with chicken and beef. We went back to the hotel to unlock and retrieve our bags, walked to the train station and chilled in the IBIS hotel next to the station. We ordered a bottle of wine, sat out on the back porch by the pool, and played a game of poker.
6.18.06
Well, the overnight train to Marrakech was cold, long, rainy, and uncomfortable. Once again, I’m taking it with a positive note because the discomfort will be outweighed by the experience in the end. We took a taxi to a side street near Dejnaa El-Fna, a massive open square at the heart of Marrakech. We began our hunt to find the cheapest hotel. Yet again, we were being constantly approached and pushed into staying at a place or buying something. We found a good place, after looking at 5 different hotels, near the square and started walking around the city.
I noticed that Marrakech is much more touristy than Fes. The prices for everything are much higher here. If you wander away from Dejnaa El-Fna however, you will find a more non touristy way of life. We briefly walked through across the open grounds, when two monkey trainers practically threw their monkeys on Mike. Nithin and I couldn’t help ourselves and began snapping photos because it was so damn funny.
Mike looked so pissed. The monkey even took his ice cream cone away. They tried to get Mike to pay each of them 200 durham! Mike got pissed and gave them 20 durham each and walked away. I noticed that in the plaza, practically every entertainer is there to scam you for your money, so watch out. Sadly, this is their way of life…ripping people off. The performers have scouts in disguise to see if anyone takes a picture, and then they demand you and hound you to give them money. They have tons of orange juice stands, freshly squeezed and very delicious. We decided to do some sight seeing before hitting the Soukes (all the markets and shops that are connected in a maze of allyways along the outside edges of the square.) We made our way to De Baaj Palace, which was the royal palace in the 1500’s. It is in complete ruins now due to the lack of preservation, but none the less was still cool to see. There were a ton of birds and cranes that took home in the tall walls of the ruins.
I approached these two girls that I overheard speaking English. Sara and Jen were on vacation from the US. Sara is a High School Teacher, and Jen is an Archeologist. We walked to the Tomb of San Bastion, where all the royalty was buried. The tombs were just these triangles sticking out of the ground. There were no markings or death dates. It all just seemed like one large piece of art. The five of us and our two new friends went to some rooftop terrace for some Tangiens and tea. I had another moment here where I mentally took a step back to realize I was so far away from my home, in a place so different, yet I’m still here enjoying myself with my friends and everything is ok. One of the cranes perched on top of a ruin directly across from us triggered this thought. I thought to myself…I’ve never seen this bird before. Against a red sunset and mosques towers rising above the horizon…I’m in Africa! Another reality check that hit me was that the Sahara Desert was just a few hours from here. I once heard that you can fit the entire continental United States inside the Sahara…that’s pretty big.
Later that night, we all met together at the edge of the square to walk among the crowd. There were storytellers, palm readers, musicians, snake charmers, monkey trainers, and food stands… not to mention the pick pockets.
Walking through the food stands reminded me of my days playing little league baseball. When I was standing out in the outfield, swarms of gnats would attack me. I couldn’t out run them because they would just float on over to wherever I moved to. I just had to accept that they are there and let them go about their business. So after dodging all of the chefs hollering and yelling for you to come over to look at their menu, one stand stood out. The guy joked with me, instead of pushing me toward his stand. He asked me if I wanted to try some “Moroccan Whiskey” and I jokingly hesitated and asked him if there were any eyeballs or monkey brains involved with that. He laughed and yelled at the cook to pour me a glass. I told him I had to go because we weren’t ready to eat yet. He said take the glass and finish it, just bring it back later! It was nice to have trust be used on me as a way to draw me to come back. Very clever on his part. It was a very strong gingery tea. I had to take it in sips because it was so strong. We walked to the Souks again to bargain. I noticed that bargaining is even affected by the time of day. At night, they make more money by jacking up the price because rich tourists will buy then. To get a cheaper deal, go in mid afternoon, when it isn’t busy, and they’re all tired. They are more likely to give you a deal than waste time bargaining.
We returned back to the food stand and had a blast. All the cooks at the stand cleared a table for us and clapped because we came back. I gave him the glass back and he said we could have free tea and water all night.
I was feeling a little daring, so I picked the most exotic thing on the menu…Pigeon Pie.
It was not very good, but now I can say…yes, I’ve eaten a Pigeon. After we ate, we all got this great picture of all of us standing up on the food stand with all the cooks.
We all wanted to drink, but for some reason you really can’t find alcohol in Marrakech. One of the cooks actually led us all the way across the plaza and way out of the way to a hotel that had a bar. We said thank you so much, and he went off on his way. So I tried my first Moroccan Beer, Flag. It was pretty good.
6.19.06
Today, I tried to see as much of Marrakech as possible. We walked to this government shop, which is a place people can go to get fair purchases. They all have set prices and there is no bargaining.
Everything here was good quality and was the exact same stuff being sold on the streets, but at third of the price they ask for. I was really interested in the Lamb skin lamps that they made. When you hold them up to the light, they glow beautiful colors. I came across this guy doing Arabic Calligraphy on the side of the steps. I asked him if he could write “Bon Voyage,” or good voyage, inside my journal. I explained to him about how we were world travelers and he said he would do it. I tipped him extra because he went out of his way to write it in my book. He wrote, “Bon Voyage, Marrakech.” Most of the day was spent walking around the Souks again and making purchases.
That night, we kind of split up and a few of us went to find somewhere to sit and chill. We found this roof top terrace a few blocks outside of the square that served Tea and fruit drinks. I had a strawberry shake. Yum. It was such a beautiful scene. There was a large mosque tower that was all lit up orange in the night sky right across the street from us. This once again made me realize where I was. You tend to get lost in your day to day interactions with your friends, and you forget that you’re on the other side of the world. The stars were bursting out of the sky. It was so perfect. We walked back and laid up on the rooftop of Sara and Jens apartment and just stared up at the stars and listened to the sounds of the Muslim city around us. One thing I noticed was that it was dead silent. I was in the middle of one of the largest cities in Morocco, yet I heard no honking cars, no yelling people, just silence and an occasional dog bark. Aaron took off early, so I had to walk home by myself.
Sorry Mom and Dad, I know you’d kill me if you saw the place I had to walk through to get back to my hotel. It was about 2:30am and the allyways were empty and dark. I told myself that if anyone approaches me just keep walking. I played it cool, like I wasn’t a rookie and I knew this city like it was my own back yard. I walked slow and not in a hurry, not to appear like I was scared. I walked by a few people that whispered… Hasheesh… which is a drug similar to Marijuana. That’s how they get your attention while not getting caught by the authorities, which I doubt would do anything to them anyway. I was offered drugs probably about five separate times on my way back. I was eventually approached by this one guy who asked me if I smoked and had a lighter. I couldn’t help him out, but he noticed that I wasn’t from around here. I was really cautious on the information that I gave him. I told him I was from Colorado. A place with a lot of Spanish influence. He eventually figured out I was from the US, and invited me over to his friend to have a drink with him. At this point, I was very cautious. I said I had to go because my friends are waiting for me around the corner. He said don’t worry man, I know you think I’m trying to hurt you but you can consider me your first friend in Morocco. I started to let down my walls a little at a time and walked over to the side of the street where his two friends were sitting. He introduced himself as Ali, and I told him my name was Ryan. People here have a hard time pronouncing my name because they say “R’s” differently. He said… “Ryan, like that movie with Tom Hanks…Saving Private Ryan,” and I said that’s it! He found that really neat and introduced me to his two friends. Ali told me that he is the owner of a restaurant called “The Sahra,” right across the street. I told him that I’d come by tomorrow and say hi. He handed me his drink that he took much pride in. He made it up himself. It was a Lemon Shwepps bottle mixed with Elisa, which is a Moroccan whiskey. I only drank it after he did to make sure it wasn’t drugged. It was really cool to meet these guys, and I am well aware that it was in a dangerous environment, but if you let your walls down every once and a while it can be rewarding. I hung out with them for about another hour, talking about all kinds of stuff. His friend was from some village South of here along the coast and was telling me that they were traveling there tomorrow for some massive African Jazz festival. If we weren’t leaving the next night, I’d would’ve been tempted to go with them. I asked Ali why some women here wear veils over their face, and some don’t. He told me that only the traditional old ladies where the veils. The young generation doesn’t do it because they are becoming more modern like Europe. Before I left, Ali told me that he considered himself “The Prince of Prince Street,” which was the street we were on. So now I can tell my friends that I drank on an empty street corner in a third world country in Africa with the “Prince of Prince Street.”
6.20.06
Today we took a taxi up into the Atlas Mountains, which separates the Moroccan mainland and the Sahara Desert. Our hotel guy set it up with one of his friends who is a taxi driver. We basically agreed to pay 100 durhams each for 6 hours of his time…which in reality, he was making a hell of a lot of money on us. We crunched in the back of the taxi. One person sat in the front and four in the back seat. It was a tight fit.
Once you got out of the city, we were driving on dirt roads. Every so often, we would come across a large hole in the ground that we would drive around. It took about an hour to get to the foothills. Our cab driver was telling us that it is very important that we understand that the mountains belong to the Berber, Native Moroccans, and not Arabs. They take enormous pride in being Berber, pronounced “Bear Bear.” They have their own language called Shi Haa, but not to many speak it anymore.
The mountains were very cool. It was neat to see a mountain range different from my home in Colorado. They were large sharp peaks with red soil and red rocks. There was a river running down the main canyon the road was going up. The people living here had built these thin wrickety bridges out of rope and wood that go over the roaring river below. I saw women and children washing their clothes below in the water.
We stopped at this very small village, with pretty much 2 or 3 houses in it. It was perched right on the edge of this cliff overlooking the valley below. I bought threw bowls from this Berber village. I was taking a photo of all the red ceramic shells piled up on the slide of the hill the house was perched on.
He was sitting up the hill in a little hut and waved to me to come up. He showed me his shop and all of the things he made. I bought them for 30 durhams, which is about 3 Euros.
We stopped and had lunch at this café across the river. I could tell that the taxi driver obviously knew the owner and was giving him business by bringing us here. It was kind of a joke though. They tried to make it seem all exotic by chaining monkeys to a tree by the tables. Our waiter was kind of a jerk too. When we tipped him 10 durhams, he got mad and asked for more! We pretty much said screw that and walked off.
We continued on to a village with a waterfall hike nearby. I found it to be such a large culture clash when you have tourists sporting their flashy cool gear walking through such a remote place. We were walking over the river bridge and children were singing some native song while washing their clothes.
The hike was pretty neat, but it was obviously geared towards getting tourists to buy things. On the way up, there were these fountains with cold drinks stacked up in a pyramid, and vendors selling goods on the side of the trail. Ohh well, it was still a cool experience.
The waterfall wasn’t spectacular, but the culture and the people are what made the trip here.
I walked by a few musicians dressed in robes on the way down which I thought was neat.
The ride back just sucked because it was such a tight fit for two hours. It still baffles me how many people try to rip you off! I’ve probably met about 10 people during our time here that you didn’t have to argue with for money. Even our taxi driver, who agreed that we would pay him 500 durham stopped in the waterfall village and said my friend here who is a guide will take you up to the waterfall. We strongly declared that we pay 500 only and not for both. It just sucks how you have to tell someone about 8 times that you don’t need a freaking guide. We are not complete idiots and can follow a trail to a waterfall.
Anyway, we went back to Marrakech and split up. Ryan and Aaron went to shop, and Nithin, Mike and I went to find some cheap street food. We walked into the most remote, non-touristy place we could find and ended up finding some pretty neat lamps on the street. A guy sitting near us noticed our interest and said to follow him. He led us through a busted door up into an actual lamp workshop above the streets. The smell was overpowering with dyes and paint fumes. Everyone up there must have been higher than a kite. All the workers were very nice and said they would make any color for us, right in front of us. We told him that we would come back because we already bought some, but we would go tell our friends. We never returned, but it was nice to see how the lamps were made.
So back to my exotic food story. Nithin, Mike and I continued wandering the streets for cheap food. We found this lady at a potato stand in the corner of some alleyway serving soup. It was the most delicious soup I´ve had the entire trip.
We headed back to the hotel to meet up. I decided to go and say hi to Ali “the prince” from last night at his restaurant. He brought us up to the very top of his restaurant and sat us down to watch the sun set over the city. We ordered a bunch of crepes since they aren´t that expensive. We finished up, said goodbye and that we´d recommend his restaurant to anyone heading this way. It was time to get ready for another full night and day of travel.
Today I spent most of my time at the internet café and doing laundry. Tons of fun. I created my own blog site that links off of the Worldtrippers site. The guys and I walked back to O’Neil’s again to watch the Football game. I texted Sophie to see if she wanted to meet up. So, I ditched the group and met her at a fountain at the intersection of Gran Capitan and Martinez de la Rosa. She was on her way to her friends birthday party, so we only had about two drinks of Tinto de Verano. We talked about so many things. I asked her about food and she said that she likes to cook. I asked what kind of things she likes to make. One thing she mentioned was Rabbit. I told her that people where I come from would find me a little weird if I caught the neighborhood rabbits and cooked them. She asked me if I’d ever eaten Horse. I guess you can get Horse meat from certain places in France. She wants to go study in England for her last year. She is Catholic like myself. I admire the w2ay she thinks about her religion. She prays everyday and goes to church every Sunday. She had a very cool Rosary ring that had notches on it and 1 cross. So you twirl the ring and say your Hail Mary’s. I tried to explain to her about Scientology and how Hollywood is full of some pretty different people. She asked me if most people in America practice this “Scientology” and I said no.
Sophie went to her friends and I walked her to an intersection before I split. Now here was a very interesting culture clash. When I went to say goodbye, she went for the double kiss on the cheek and I went to hug her. I could tell it was a little weird for her because the French apparently don’t hug to often. It is considered very intimate. I didn’t know this until Nithin told me later that night. In my culture, you wouldn’t think twice about it. Anyway, I said I’d call when I returned from our road trip and took off.
I walked back to find my roommates playing some kind of RISK card game, but they were using chips, fruit, and orange peels as their armies. It actually worked and began to make sense after a while. Looks like we have a new game to play!
I want to ask Sophie about the music she likes and if she could possibly teach me how to cook something. We’ll see.
6.11.06
Went to the park and laid out for a few hours. Got quite a nice sunburn because I fell asleep for about 4 hours in 100 degree weather. I’m going to seriously pay for that later down the road. I read my Vagabonding book, which I highly recommend to anyone interested in traveling. I decided to start acclimating myself to solo travel, since we’ll separate here in a little over a month. I decided to practice some of my new found wisdom and did a little vagabonding of my own around the city. I didn’t look at a map, I just started walking. I ended up next to some massive cathedral. I paused and brought out my electronic translator to try and find out how to say, “Where’s the grocery store?”
It’s amazing how the unknown and adventure makes you want to absorb the culture all around you. It gets you addicted. I was craving to start a conversation with someone. It’s amazing where a friendly smile and an “Hola” can get you. I walked down a narrow side street by the cathedral and paused to look at this artwork being sold on the sidewalk. He noticed I was admiring it and approached me. I said hello and commented him on the work. He explained to me that it was actually his friends work and his was over there on the other side of the street. I noticed the arwork was done with pastel and water colors and he seemed interested that I knew that. I asked if I could see some of his work, so he pulled me over to his blanket. He had cut up old soda cans to make a uniquely designed ash tray. I said it was very neat and after a while of talking with him I said goodbye and shook his hand. He told me to wait one moment and went to his bag to grab something. He gave me one of his soda ash tray’s and said it was a gift for me.
I ended up walking down many tiny ally ways and into some tiny Muslim areas. There were a ton of little shops with lots of Hooka’s and clothes. People were playing drums and Flamenco guitar in the alley way, and I saw a group of middle aged women Flamenco dancing to it in the street. I ended up at “The Arch” Tapas Bar and had a beer while I wrote in my journal a bit before heading to the internet café.
Later that day, I realized what an idiot I am for not putting on sunscreen. I looked like a foreign lobster. For dinner, Mr. Ryan and I walked to a Kabob shop on our way to meet Nithin, Mike and Aaron at a Flamenco Bar. I asked the guitar player there if he offered guitar lessons when he got down for a break. His name is Windy, and he gave me his number and said to call him when I returned. It is so inspiring to see and hear someone play this type of music. The ups and downs, all the different sounds that are made from one persons hand is amazing.
6.12.06
Took a bus to Madrid. We arrived and walked to our hostel, MAD. They have these weird electronic locks on your doors. You use these wrist watches as a key. When you hold them close to the door locks, they unlock. That night, we went to the hostel bar and started drinking Sangria. I met these two girls, one from Mexico and one from Canada. Kateleena and Anna. The told me all about the places they’ve traveled and gave me some good recommendations on Greece and Romania. Eventually our group randomly vanished, so Aaron and I walked to another hostel called Catz. I met plenty more Australians, Canadians, and Americans here. I was watching, standing outside, and these wasted American college guys were hitting on this group of German girls. I realized that if these guys were acting the way they did on a US college campus, they would probably fit right in, but out here, they appeared rude, ignorant, snobby, hot headed, and completely hammered. I couldn’t believe some of the comments ljkthey were saying to these girls, drunk and stumbling around. They would make American jokes that the girls would never be able to understand, but if they were American girls, those dudes would get slapped. The weird and ironic thing was that the girls appeared to like it! I’ve realized that as long as you’re different, entertaining, and funny, no matter how rude it might seem to me, they’ll find you interesting.
6.13.06
Woke up to the most excruciating sunburn itch of my life. I wanted to put my head through the freaking wall, just to take the pain off my chest. I rubbed aloe, cortison, and took an Asprin and it still didn’t do anything. I had to deal with that for a few hours and just listened to Nine Inch Nails, absorbed in my own misery. Wow that sucked.
I woke up later and walked to gat a Falafel and see some museums. It was closed, but I saw some of the neat architecture of Madrid. We eventually walked by some French soccer hooligans and secretly followed them to whatever bar they were heading to just to get in on the action of the French vs. the Swiss World Cup match. It was really neat sitting in that bar and listening to the Swiss guys chant and swear at the French guys and vice versa. I had a strange thought about my American accent. Being in Europe for a few weeks, I grew a sense of what I must sound like to them. When you’re out of your home environment, somehow you can relflect and hear and see things that you couldn’t before. I can’t really explain it, but Americans sound boring compared to all the other languages. But none the less, I like sounding different that everyone else.
6.14.06
Went to the Chocolateria San Gines for some Churro breakfast…un-freakin believable. They brought out 20 long churros, and you dip them in your own bowl of melted chocolate. Soooo good.
We split up and I ventured out to find an English bookstore. I took the metro for the 1st time by myself. It really wasn’t all that bad, you just had to make sure that the train you were getting on was going the right direction. The bookstore was old and dusty. I had to rummage through books to find an English one. I eventually setteled with Deception Point by Dan Brown.
I headed to my first museum visit of Europe, the Museo del Prado. It has works by Picasso, Goya, Carravagio, Velazques, Rafael, Reniot, Pussin, and many other famous painters. On my way I ran into some political rally in the streets outside the museum. Everyone was wearing green and every now and and then gunshots and cannons fired. I have no idea why. I had to work up the guts to walk across the street and get into the crowd. I eventually did, but couldn’t understand anything. I think it had something to do with the police being corrupt or something. I moved on to the museum.
There was a Picasso exhibition going on, but I decided not to wait in the line because I’ve seen Picasso and I didn’t have much time to spend there. I forgot how amazing some of these paintings are to see in real life and up close. They are simply magnificent. Some of them feel like they jump completely off the canvas at you. Some look dreadful and terrifying. Some spark emotions of something you’ve experienced in your own life. Some draw out fantasy’s and wonderful tales and stories. Some of the colors are so vivid that you question yourself how can there be such a magnificent color?! I spent a lot of time looking around and ended up missing our meeting time at the pub across town to watch the Espania match.
I find it interesting to see and notice how some of the painters drew inspiration from other painters. If you pay close attention, you can actually see similar features, gestures, objects, and even people in the paintings between various artists.
For dinner, Mike, Nithin and I wanted some real nice Spanish food. We went to this place called O’Pulpoa. I had a dinner with a salad, and six mini tapas dishes. I had duck pate paste, pickled sardines, spicy ham, cheese, brushetta, croquettes (cream filled tater tots with ham), and for dessert a bowl of sliced fruits and some kind of liquor.
Mission: Search for Danny Flappan.
We decided to hunt down Mikes little bro after sitting out on the roof of the hostel drinking Rum and Coke. We walked through the city to the hotel he was apparently staying at. Ryan was trying to ask the hotel lobby guys what room Danny was in, but the room was under the teachers name, which we didn’t know. It was quite confusing and we were getting nowhere until these three high school girls walked by. We asked them if they knew some KC guys in the hotel. They just happened to be staying right next door to them. The girls walked up the see if anyone was in the room, came back and told us they must be out somewhere. So the search continued. We pretty much hit every bar in the area looking for Danny. I think that the little amount of food we were eating was getting us drunk much quicker, so eventually Mr. Ryan was being very outgoing. We went to a Pirate bar, a Mexican bar, a Techno Bar and many more. Lossing track of our original mission, we just decided to get crazy and have fun. We ended up at this Kabob place which was delicious. Mr. Ryan was just talking away to all the guys in the place and being very funny. They all tried to guess where he was from. They thought he was from Poland, Switzerland, and France. Ryan finally said that he was Deutche, or German. One guy picked up on this and started talking to Ryan in German! But Ryan’s tactic here was to pre-learn the phrase…I’m not speaking German because I want to practice my Spanish…(in German.) And that’s pretty much all he knows! We were on our way out when the guys asked us where we were from again and Ryan said Berlin. Then the guy just started asking us all these questions in German. Ryan was like…uhhh, asta luego! And then we ran away.
6.15.06
Mike and I left to visit the midievil town of Toledo. It is about an hour South of Madrid by bus. I had no idea what the city was like. We got off the bus and all you could see was a city on the top of a cliff in the middle of the mountainous countryside. The first thing we saw after walking up one side of the massive hill. The city was completely walled in, so you had to walk under a large archway. The arch had this really cool double-headed eagle holding a shield carved into it. This thing was like 20 feet tall. Mike and I had no idea, but we apparently came to visit Toledo on one of the best days of the year to visit, Corpus Cristi. It is a Catholic holiday and this city was the former head of the Catholic Church in Spain for a few hundred years. After we walked through the gates, we went to this kabob shop and got a kabob. I began to unravel my delicious kabob when I heard drums and marching coming from up the road, so I ran up the street to see what was going on. There were soldiers marching down the street along with what seemed to be the entire town! They all got in buses and headed back out through the gate. Mike and I headed upward through very tiny alleyways, until we got a more open area. There were fresh flowers and tapestries hanging all over from the balconies above. People were dressed up in veils and nice clothing. The air was scented with flowers and fresh pine.
Pine leaves were strewn out all over the cobblestone streets. Mike and I could’ve been right in the middle of this celebration if we’d only arrived an hour earlier. But I guess you can’t always get what you want. We had no idea where to go or what to see, so we just walked. As we were walking, I came up to this intersection and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a massive gothic cathedral tower rising up somewhere in the distance. It totally took me by surprise. So I tapped Mike and said lets get over there! We eventually made our way through what seemed like a maze to the cathedral.
Especially with the flower petals and pine all over the walls and ground around it. The tapestries must’ve been hand made by the locals and they were so colorful.
Some had detailed designs and some had the city crest on it. We also visited the Iglesia de los Jesuites church there and climbed up to the bell towers. Now I know the meaning behind the phrase, “Holy Toledo!” The view was breathtaking. The entire city is surrounded by cliffs with a moat encircling it. There are about 4 or 5 bridges gapping the ravine. I highly recommend seeing this city to anyone traveling in Spain. It must’ve been a midievil stronghold in the dark ages. There were armored suits and swords everywhere. After a whole day of just walking around, we headed back to Madrid.
Our last meal in Madrid was at this Jambon (Ham) place, where they literally slice the meat off hanging pig legs right in front of you. Very appetizing. The taste takes a little getting used to, but it was ok. Our bus left at 10:30pm to Algeciras, where we would catch a ferry to Tangiers, Morocco. Uncomfortable bus rides are something that I’ll have to get used to, but I know that the discomforts of travel will pay off in the end.
6.16.06
I am currently writing this entry sitting on the deck of a boat traveling across the Gibralter Strait and I’m staring out at the coast of Africa.
I can’t really discribe the emotion that I’m feeling when I look at such beauty. It means a lot because of my grandmother, who recently passed on, has told me tales of the adventurous land that lies right before me.
I promised her that someday, I would come here and that promise is almost complete. The jagged mountains poke out of the hazy horizon and there is no telling what adventure awaits me there.
Of course, the first thing that happened once we got off was being hounded by taxi drivers. I exchanged my Euros for Durhams at the ATM machine. Just to get an idea, the currency exchange is 8 durhams to 1 euro. A nice taxi driver drove us to the train station and offered to drive us all to our first city Fes (pronounced Fez), but we decided to take the train. I instantly noticed the difference between a 1st and a 3rd World country. Sometimes I wonder what these people do with their social life. Do they have a social life? It sees like most people just walk around or ask you for money. Maybe I’ll find that out later. While in the train station, I found out what it feels like to be a complete outsider. Surprisingly, it wasn’t too bad. I just kept thinking to myself, when I’ve seen a man or woman wearing robes and a veil in the U.S., I would always wonder where they were from. Well, I felt the same in their place. It wasn’t like people werer looking at me and thinking…kill the infidel…but seemed more curious and inviting. The train from Tangiers to Fes was about 6 hours with a stop over in Kacem. During the first ride, we were sitting, but during the second ride we had to stand 2 hours in a narrow isle. At least we got an interesting view of the countryside being so squished up abainst the window. At the train station, I had my first experience with the dreaded “squatty potty.” That’s the hole in the floor they call a toilet. They even have a nice bucket filled with water next to it to wash your ass with your hand…how pleasant. This is a great reason to bring your own toilet paper. I’ve read about some of the scams that people will try on you and even ran across a few of them. Once we arrived to Fes, we practically had to dodge the taxi drivers by running across the street. We walked to some hotel because we didn’t have any reservations anywhere. The first scam is a friendly young person will pretend to be your best friend and help you around in any way possible. They will eventually turn into an informal guide of some sort, and in the end they will demand that you give them money. We ended up walking to about 5 different hotels to compare prices and these so called “guides” were like freaking mosquitos. We eventually settled down at a decent hotel. The last guy said to me if I wanted to buy drugs off him, he has some good shit. I very kindly said no thanks.
It is awesome being able to practice my French because that is the official language here. I am beginning to feel a little depressed and missing home because this place is so different and unfamiliar with my life at home. Off in the distance, I hear a loud voice chanting Arabic over a loud speatker from a mosque. People are prayuing everywhere you go. It is very different. The food I’ve had so far has been excellent though. Both sandwiches contained olives, chicken, and curry…mmm.
I thought the showers in the college dorm rooms and fraternity house were bad, well this one beats all. I took a shower and tried not to touch any of the walls. It is tough to remind yourself to not let any water go in your mouth, even when you brush your teeth because you’ll get really sick. We got ready and took a taxi to the Medina, or the Old City. Now we are getting to see what Fes is really all about. We walked through this massive Arabic archway into the Medina. This is just inside the ancient walls and is a gathering of restaurants, shops, and street vendors. We walked a few shops down and stopped at Le Kasbah,…recommended in Lonely Planet. We were seated all the way on the top floor, rooftop terrace, 4 stories above the bustling Medina streets below.
What a great view. Looking down into the small streets and shops, then over your shoulder behind is an ancient Mosque, towering up into the red African sunset. The scents are overwhelming with burning wood from the fires below, hers and cooking kabob meat. I ordered a mint tea and it was sooo good. It came in a tall glass and is actually stuffed to the top with mint leaves and and stems, then filled with green tea to the top. The first taste just causes an explosion of taste in your mouth…you know that feeling when all your taste buds and nerves go off all at once. It tasted like a strong, sweet spearamint. Best tea I’ve ever had.
For dinner, I had the beef tangine. It is like a roast beef with potatoes, green beans, carrots, olives, and lemon peels all soaked in some kind of broth.
After dinner, we walked down the narrow Medina streets to look around. We must’ve had giant freakin bulls-eyes attached to our foreheads because we were being bugged every 10 seconds. “Do you have an official tour guide?” We decided that the next person who asked us that, we would all make up some language and confuse the hell out of them. I wanted to take some photos, but I didn’t want to risk having a swarm of people rush around me. One guy came up to us and said, “US breakdance, 50 cent, ya?! Aussie Aussie, call me Charlie Brown!” I had no idea what that guy wanted, besides our money. I ended up in this shop speaking French to this guy about a teapot. For my first haggling experience, I’d say I did pretty well. He wanted 120 durhams and I got him down to 60 durhams. I thou8ght it was funny because I pretended to be unsure about buying the kettle, so he gave me a calculator and said, “bon price,” good price. So I entered 12. He looked at me like I was some kind of nut wad. He said 12 would get me this, and pointed to one of the tiny legs of the teapot. Anyway, I had fun with the guy, and even if they seem upset or try to throw guilt on you, they are playing the game as well.
6.17.06
Today we walked around in the Medina again, this time during the day. I never realized how big it is.
It is made up of over 9,000 tiny streets and alleyways. Getting from the main city to the Medina was unbelievably hecktec. Guides were all over us. It actually was difficult to hold back and say, “get the hell away from us.” You really had to resist from punching someone in the face. Through trial and error, I realized by making it clear that “you are not our tour guide, we do not need a tour guide, and I have nothing for you,” seemed to do the trick. Once we got there we began walking down the street maze to somehow find relief from the constant begging and avoiding scams here and there. It was difficult to determine who was truly interested in you and who just wanted to screw you out of your money. After you figure out the technique most of these people used, I’ve figured out how not to be so noticeable.
We came across this small opening in one of the alleys and it turned out to be a hidden mosque. We asked the guy standing there if we could go in and he said only for 10 durham. So we went inside and walked around. It was a relief to get away from the people waiting outside to guide us. The architecture is just amazing. The amount of detail placed into ever square inch of the entire building just boggles my mind. As we left, we asked the guy at the door to take our picture.
We came to a small square opening among the tan sand colored maze. There was a fountain here where people could drink water from. I stopped and just observed people for a while, while the other guys looked at the map on how to get out of here. There was this opening of to one of the sides that was a chair factory. I went over and sat on the top front step and looked inside. There were children working and making chairs. I guess some would consider this child labor, but I think it was ok for them to do in there culture. It is an accepted thing here. There was this boy who was just sitting in a chair looking back at me. He took his fingers and brushed his chin, as if he had a beard and was pondering some question. It took me a minute to figure out that he was making fun of Aaron’s beard. I did it back and pointed to Aaron and he started laughing. He pointed at my camera and wanted me to take a picture of him. So I got one of him standing by one of his chairs. I took my camelback water tube and squeezed it to shoot water at him. He had no idea what it was and probably thought it was magic or something. He would laugh everytime I shot water out of my fingers with the tube. Even the older teenagers behind him were watching and laughing.
We continued on, dodging donkey carts here and there. The streets are so skinny, you pretty much have to exhale your breathe in order not to be squished by the donkey’s and the load their pulling. Children would run up and down the streets at lightning speed every once and a while, playing tag or some kind of game. The alley roof is covered with straw sticks to keep the sun out. Two little girls were following me down a tunnel carrying empty orange juice bottles filled with water. One dropped it and it rolled into the back of my foot. I turned around and said, “Bonjour!” They both giggled and ran away. I turned around about another block down the road and saw their heads peaking out of a side ally looking at me. Of course when they saw that I noticed them, they ran again.
I decided to sit and absorb the environment a little more, so I walked away from the group and went into this open area with about 8 large flat steps that spanned across the area. There were these pot makers banging on large pieces of metal to mold them into shape. I sat next to one guys large pot to eliminate the chance of me getting pick pocketed from that side. I was just writing in my journal, taking in the smells, and thoughts, when this kid on a rusty old bike came wheeling up to me and skidded to a stop right next to my face. He looked at me and said, “Je demande 2 durhams.” Meaning, I demand you give me 2 durhams. I looked at him and said, “demand?!” Then about 8 of his little friends all came over to me. One little girl held out her hand and introduced herself. She must’ve been about 8 years old. I said my name was Ryan, and they all followed after the girl, shook my hand and said their names. One of the little boys, probably about 4 years old actually tried to kiss me on the cheek! I kept laughing and leaning away from him.
The only way I could communicate to them was in French. One of them kept calling the kid on the bike “crazy,” and would do some kind of gesture and twist his hand from his head…kind of similar to our culture where we twirl our finger around our ear. So I played along with them. They asked me where I was from and I told them. Eventually the girl asked me to take a photo of them…I didn’t even have to ask! So I pulled out my camera and they all held hands. None of them were smiling though, so I pushed up my lips into a smile and they all smiled.
The guys making pots must’ve thought they were bothering me, so he yelled something at them and they all ran away. I walked back over to a corner where about 10 of them were standing there selling something. I knew they were selling boxes of gum, but I played dumb. I asked, “What are you selling?” They made a mouth motion telling me it was gum. I know that they had bought a large pack and distributed it through old gum packages, putting about 4 chicklet size pieces of gum in each package. I asked which kind tastes the best. One girl said orange, so I bought the orange. They kept raising the price on me, but I only paid them 2 durham. I took it and opened the box cautiously and paused, asking them, “It’s ok? You’re not lying to me?” They smiled and nodded their heads. I bit off a small piece, waited for a second, and then made a face like it was poisoned and grabbed my throat! They all thought that was hilarious. Then I did something I probably shouldn’t have and started giving the rest of the gum pieces to the kids who sold it to me. Before I know it, I had a swarm of children all around me saying, “Please, please Monsieur,” and held their hands up to grab the candy. I tried to split as many up as I could and didn’t have enough for all the children. An elder man with a cane came pushing through the crowd and said something to the kids that quieted them down. I said, “Merci,” and shook all their hands. It was funny because I would shake one kids hand, and then everyone else wanted to shake my hand. So like twenty little hands flew at me at once. I said, “Au revoir!” and walked off. The children were all so much kinder than the scammers awaiting us in the streets and allyways. It was such a relief to not be bothered by people who are pretending to be my friend. And just because I stopped to take in their culture and absorb made an effort to absorb their environment, I made 20 new little friends.
I met up with the guys and we continued. While everyone was bargaining, a guy approached me while I was leaning against a wall writing in my journal. Usually, I speak in French to keep people guessing where I’m from. So far, I’ve been a writer from Quebec, and a mountain climber from Switzerland, hahaa, I love it. He led us to the Tanneries of Fes (where they tan hides in pools of dye.) I was unsure and cautious at first that this guy wasn’t going to lead us down some alley to be jumped by his friends waiting for us. But every once and a while, it does pay to lend out a little trust. It of course paid off and he lead us to his leather shop, and took us up the stairs and on to the roof. You could see the workers down below standing in these mini pods filled with dye.
It smelled horrible, but it was another rare place to see the whole city from a rooftop. I bought a leather coin purse there to hold all of my extra change.
The streets started to get very busy around dusk. I found it incredible that we were the ONLY white people around. Girls would point at us and giggle as we walked by. Children would laugh and poke me, emulating my actions. More children came up to me somewhere else in the city and one kid was the same from before. He must’ve secretly followed me with a few of his friends. They asked me if they could have my “stylo,” or pen. I got it out and told them that they couldn’t have it, but I asked them to give me their hands. I knew that if I gave it to them, they would probably run off with it. So, instead, I asked what their names were and wrote it on the palms of their hands…even though they probably couldn’t read it because they use a different alphabet than the west. I had to phonetically write it down, but they couldn’t read it anyway. They thought that was so cool and then they ran off to show their other friends.
It got so crowded in the streets that there was almost no place to walk. I felt like such an outsider! We looked totally different than everyone! We took a taxi to the old Royal Palace and the gaurds were nice to let us walk out in front of the large courtyard.
We asked the guards where to watch the US vs Italy football match and they told us to walk into the main city and go to a café.
One thing I learned during my time here in Fes is to completely ignore your first impression of a place. What seemed to be a drab, run down city, full of people who wish to rob you of your money…I found a friendly, warm, and exotic place I never would’ve imagined. Now my eye’s have been opened to it.
We walked into the city and pushed our way to the back of a crowded café, ordered some Mint Tea and watched the game.
Afterwards, we walked to some random street café and had a very filling meal. I think some of the meat was liver and other unkowns, along with chicken and beef. We went back to the hotel to unlock and retrieve our bags, walked to the train station and chilled in the IBIS hotel next to the station. We ordered a bottle of wine, sat out on the back porch by the pool, and played a game of poker.
6.18.06
Well, the overnight train to Marrakech was cold, long, rainy, and uncomfortable. Once again, I’m taking it with a positive note because the discomfort will be outweighed by the experience in the end. We took a taxi to a side street near Dejnaa El-Fna, a massive open square at the heart of Marrakech. We began our hunt to find the cheapest hotel. Yet again, we were being constantly approached and pushed into staying at a place or buying something. We found a good place, after looking at 5 different hotels, near the square and started walking around the city.
I noticed that Marrakech is much more touristy than Fes. The prices for everything are much higher here. If you wander away from Dejnaa El-Fna however, you will find a more non touristy way of life. We briefly walked through across the open grounds, when two monkey trainers practically threw their monkeys on Mike. Nithin and I couldn’t help ourselves and began snapping photos because it was so damn funny.
Mike looked so pissed. The monkey even took his ice cream cone away. They tried to get Mike to pay each of them 200 durham! Mike got pissed and gave them 20 durham each and walked away. I noticed that in the plaza, practically every entertainer is there to scam you for your money, so watch out. Sadly, this is their way of life…ripping people off. The performers have scouts in disguise to see if anyone takes a picture, and then they demand you and hound you to give them money. They have tons of orange juice stands, freshly squeezed and very delicious. We decided to do some sight seeing before hitting the Soukes (all the markets and shops that are connected in a maze of allyways along the outside edges of the square.) We made our way to De Baaj Palace, which was the royal palace in the 1500’s. It is in complete ruins now due to the lack of preservation, but none the less was still cool to see. There were a ton of birds and cranes that took home in the tall walls of the ruins.
I approached these two girls that I overheard speaking English. Sara and Jen were on vacation from the US. Sara is a High School Teacher, and Jen is an Archeologist. We walked to the Tomb of San Bastion, where all the royalty was buried. The tombs were just these triangles sticking out of the ground. There were no markings or death dates. It all just seemed like one large piece of art. The five of us and our two new friends went to some rooftop terrace for some Tangiens and tea. I had another moment here where I mentally took a step back to realize I was so far away from my home, in a place so different, yet I’m still here enjoying myself with my friends and everything is ok. One of the cranes perched on top of a ruin directly across from us triggered this thought. I thought to myself…I’ve never seen this bird before. Against a red sunset and mosques towers rising above the horizon…I’m in Africa! Another reality check that hit me was that the Sahara Desert was just a few hours from here. I once heard that you can fit the entire continental United States inside the Sahara…that’s pretty big.
Later that night, we all met together at the edge of the square to walk among the crowd. There were storytellers, palm readers, musicians, snake charmers, monkey trainers, and food stands… not to mention the pick pockets.
Walking through the food stands reminded me of my days playing little league baseball. When I was standing out in the outfield, swarms of gnats would attack me. I couldn’t out run them because they would just float on over to wherever I moved to. I just had to accept that they are there and let them go about their business. So after dodging all of the chefs hollering and yelling for you to come over to look at their menu, one stand stood out. The guy joked with me, instead of pushing me toward his stand. He asked me if I wanted to try some “Moroccan Whiskey” and I jokingly hesitated and asked him if there were any eyeballs or monkey brains involved with that. He laughed and yelled at the cook to pour me a glass. I told him I had to go because we weren’t ready to eat yet. He said take the glass and finish it, just bring it back later! It was nice to have trust be used on me as a way to draw me to come back. Very clever on his part. It was a very strong gingery tea. I had to take it in sips because it was so strong. We walked to the Souks again to bargain. I noticed that bargaining is even affected by the time of day. At night, they make more money by jacking up the price because rich tourists will buy then. To get a cheaper deal, go in mid afternoon, when it isn’t busy, and they’re all tired. They are more likely to give you a deal than waste time bargaining.
We returned back to the food stand and had a blast. All the cooks at the stand cleared a table for us and clapped because we came back. I gave him the glass back and he said we could have free tea and water all night.
I was feeling a little daring, so I picked the most exotic thing on the menu…Pigeon Pie.
It was not very good, but now I can say…yes, I’ve eaten a Pigeon. After we ate, we all got this great picture of all of us standing up on the food stand with all the cooks.
We all wanted to drink, but for some reason you really can’t find alcohol in Marrakech. One of the cooks actually led us all the way across the plaza and way out of the way to a hotel that had a bar. We said thank you so much, and he went off on his way. So I tried my first Moroccan Beer, Flag. It was pretty good.
6.19.06
Today, I tried to see as much of Marrakech as possible. We walked to this government shop, which is a place people can go to get fair purchases. They all have set prices and there is no bargaining.
Everything here was good quality and was the exact same stuff being sold on the streets, but at third of the price they ask for. I was really interested in the Lamb skin lamps that they made. When you hold them up to the light, they glow beautiful colors. I came across this guy doing Arabic Calligraphy on the side of the steps. I asked him if he could write “Bon Voyage,” or good voyage, inside my journal. I explained to him about how we were world travelers and he said he would do it. I tipped him extra because he went out of his way to write it in my book. He wrote, “Bon Voyage, Marrakech.” Most of the day was spent walking around the Souks again and making purchases.
That night, we kind of split up and a few of us went to find somewhere to sit and chill. We found this roof top terrace a few blocks outside of the square that served Tea and fruit drinks. I had a strawberry shake. Yum. It was such a beautiful scene. There was a large mosque tower that was all lit up orange in the night sky right across the street from us. This once again made me realize where I was. You tend to get lost in your day to day interactions with your friends, and you forget that you’re on the other side of the world. The stars were bursting out of the sky. It was so perfect. We walked back and laid up on the rooftop of Sara and Jens apartment and just stared up at the stars and listened to the sounds of the Muslim city around us. One thing I noticed was that it was dead silent. I was in the middle of one of the largest cities in Morocco, yet I heard no honking cars, no yelling people, just silence and an occasional dog bark. Aaron took off early, so I had to walk home by myself.
Sorry Mom and Dad, I know you’d kill me if you saw the place I had to walk through to get back to my hotel. It was about 2:30am and the allyways were empty and dark. I told myself that if anyone approaches me just keep walking. I played it cool, like I wasn’t a rookie and I knew this city like it was my own back yard. I walked slow and not in a hurry, not to appear like I was scared. I walked by a few people that whispered… Hasheesh… which is a drug similar to Marijuana. That’s how they get your attention while not getting caught by the authorities, which I doubt would do anything to them anyway. I was offered drugs probably about five separate times on my way back. I was eventually approached by this one guy who asked me if I smoked and had a lighter. I couldn’t help him out, but he noticed that I wasn’t from around here. I was really cautious on the information that I gave him. I told him I was from Colorado. A place with a lot of Spanish influence. He eventually figured out I was from the US, and invited me over to his friend to have a drink with him. At this point, I was very cautious. I said I had to go because my friends are waiting for me around the corner. He said don’t worry man, I know you think I’m trying to hurt you but you can consider me your first friend in Morocco. I started to let down my walls a little at a time and walked over to the side of the street where his two friends were sitting. He introduced himself as Ali, and I told him my name was Ryan. People here have a hard time pronouncing my name because they say “R’s” differently. He said… “Ryan, like that movie with Tom Hanks…Saving Private Ryan,” and I said that’s it! He found that really neat and introduced me to his two friends. Ali told me that he is the owner of a restaurant called “The Sahra,” right across the street. I told him that I’d come by tomorrow and say hi. He handed me his drink that he took much pride in. He made it up himself. It was a Lemon Shwepps bottle mixed with Elisa, which is a Moroccan whiskey. I only drank it after he did to make sure it wasn’t drugged. It was really cool to meet these guys, and I am well aware that it was in a dangerous environment, but if you let your walls down every once and a while it can be rewarding. I hung out with them for about another hour, talking about all kinds of stuff. His friend was from some village South of here along the coast and was telling me that they were traveling there tomorrow for some massive African Jazz festival. If we weren’t leaving the next night, I’d would’ve been tempted to go with them. I asked Ali why some women here wear veils over their face, and some don’t. He told me that only the traditional old ladies where the veils. The young generation doesn’t do it because they are becoming more modern like Europe. Before I left, Ali told me that he considered himself “The Prince of Prince Street,” which was the street we were on. So now I can tell my friends that I drank on an empty street corner in a third world country in Africa with the “Prince of Prince Street.”
6.20.06
Today we took a taxi up into the Atlas Mountains, which separates the Moroccan mainland and the Sahara Desert. Our hotel guy set it up with one of his friends who is a taxi driver. We basically agreed to pay 100 durhams each for 6 hours of his time…which in reality, he was making a hell of a lot of money on us. We crunched in the back of the taxi. One person sat in the front and four in the back seat. It was a tight fit.
Once you got out of the city, we were driving on dirt roads. Every so often, we would come across a large hole in the ground that we would drive around. It took about an hour to get to the foothills. Our cab driver was telling us that it is very important that we understand that the mountains belong to the Berber, Native Moroccans, and not Arabs. They take enormous pride in being Berber, pronounced “Bear Bear.” They have their own language called Shi Haa, but not to many speak it anymore.
The mountains were very cool. It was neat to see a mountain range different from my home in Colorado. They were large sharp peaks with red soil and red rocks. There was a river running down the main canyon the road was going up. The people living here had built these thin wrickety bridges out of rope and wood that go over the roaring river below. I saw women and children washing their clothes below in the water.
We stopped at this very small village, with pretty much 2 or 3 houses in it. It was perched right on the edge of this cliff overlooking the valley below. I bought threw bowls from this Berber village. I was taking a photo of all the red ceramic shells piled up on the slide of the hill the house was perched on.
He was sitting up the hill in a little hut and waved to me to come up. He showed me his shop and all of the things he made. I bought them for 30 durhams, which is about 3 Euros.
We stopped and had lunch at this café across the river. I could tell that the taxi driver obviously knew the owner and was giving him business by bringing us here. It was kind of a joke though. They tried to make it seem all exotic by chaining monkeys to a tree by the tables. Our waiter was kind of a jerk too. When we tipped him 10 durhams, he got mad and asked for more! We pretty much said screw that and walked off.
We continued on to a village with a waterfall hike nearby. I found it to be such a large culture clash when you have tourists sporting their flashy cool gear walking through such a remote place. We were walking over the river bridge and children were singing some native song while washing their clothes.
The hike was pretty neat, but it was obviously geared towards getting tourists to buy things. On the way up, there were these fountains with cold drinks stacked up in a pyramid, and vendors selling goods on the side of the trail. Ohh well, it was still a cool experience.
The waterfall wasn’t spectacular, but the culture and the people are what made the trip here.
I walked by a few musicians dressed in robes on the way down which I thought was neat.
The ride back just sucked because it was such a tight fit for two hours. It still baffles me how many people try to rip you off! I’ve probably met about 10 people during our time here that you didn’t have to argue with for money. Even our taxi driver, who agreed that we would pay him 500 durham stopped in the waterfall village and said my friend here who is a guide will take you up to the waterfall. We strongly declared that we pay 500 only and not for both. It just sucks how you have to tell someone about 8 times that you don’t need a freaking guide. We are not complete idiots and can follow a trail to a waterfall.
Anyway, we went back to Marrakech and split up. Ryan and Aaron went to shop, and Nithin, Mike and I went to find some cheap street food. We walked into the most remote, non-touristy place we could find and ended up finding some pretty neat lamps on the street. A guy sitting near us noticed our interest and said to follow him. He led us through a busted door up into an actual lamp workshop above the streets. The smell was overpowering with dyes and paint fumes. Everyone up there must have been higher than a kite. All the workers were very nice and said they would make any color for us, right in front of us. We told him that we would come back because we already bought some, but we would go tell our friends. We never returned, but it was nice to see how the lamps were made.
So back to my exotic food story. Nithin, Mike and I continued wandering the streets for cheap food. We found this lady at a potato stand in the corner of some alleyway serving soup. It was the most delicious soup I´ve had the entire trip.
We headed back to the hotel to meet up. I decided to go and say hi to Ali “the prince” from last night at his restaurant. He brought us up to the very top of his restaurant and sat us down to watch the sun set over the city. We ordered a bunch of crepes since they aren´t that expensive. We finished up, said goodbye and that we´d recommend his restaurant to anyone heading this way. It was time to get ready for another full night and day of travel.
posted by Brandle at 12:36 PM
1 Comments:
Ryan, the stories about you and the kids made me smile and almost cry. Your trip is incredible!!
-erin
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