Here we are, well into the month of March and I am just getting around to post our pix and stories from Morocco and Barcelona.
Just to quickly update you all, we are presently in Adam's hometown, Midland, Ontario. We returned to Canada at the end of January, as our UK visas were running out.
We spent a few weeks visiting our friends and families in both Toronto and Midland - having belated birthday celebrations with mom, meeting our new little niece, Keyara and visiting with Thor and Fleureen, the new parents.
We also got to see my side of the family in Toronto and had a great few laughs. We met my newest cousin, Kaylee and saw how big little Maiya has gotten over the last year!
Then we drove Grandma Bernice down to Florida to help her (and us) escape from the winter blues.
We had a fabulous time with grannie once again - having lots of BBQs, doing crossword puzzles over morning coffee, basking in the warmth and sun, eating fresh fruit and avocados off grandma's trees and doing a little bit of house and yard work to earn our keep! We even celebrated our birthdays while in sunny Florida, with Adam getting in a game of golf (although it was quite a hazardous golf course!) and my requesting a BBQ feast on mine.
LOOK OUT BELOW!!!
We came back north and had a surprise visit with my dear friend, Dina - who came to town from Montreal with her band, Lake of Stew for a few gigs, which we enjoyed greatly with Ty, Rob and Aunty Ann too! Further north we headed, to do a little office work at Adam's mother's busy business and to have some more time with his family.
Soon, I will be flying west to reunite with my family, with Adam following after a little later. Okay...now finally on to Morocco and Barcelona!
I last left you with us visiting with Julio's mom in Madrid as we were getting ready to fly down to Rabat, the capital of Morocco. There are so many "no frills" cheap charter flight companies in Europe that we had to take advantage of being so close to Africa for the first time together.
We landed at the Mohammed V airport in Casablanca and took the train to Rabat, where a fellow UWC alumnus, Rachel, was to host us in her new home. The trains in Morocco were rather antiquated and we were amazed that they still ran!
Rachel came to meet us at the station and guided us through the busy streets of Rabat, while giving us some history and useful information about the culture and traditions.
(Thanks to Julio for this great shot!)
Morocco, in Arabic المغرب al-Maġrib, is a nation of great contrast. The three main cultures of Arab, Berber (the native people)and French can be seen in most aspects of Moroccan life, along with a touch of Spanish influence. Although Arabic is the official language, French remains in great use for commerce and economics and Berber is still spoken by 40% of the population. Modern high-rises sit nestled among short, stocky shacks in the hundreds. These tiny boxes for homes, that are falling to pieces, all have state-of-the-art satellite dishes mounted to the brittle walls and roofs.
Being a Muslim state, most people wear the traditional djellaba, long, loose-fitting hooded robes with full sleeves, however, modern fashions are readily seen especially among the younger generations.
Rabat, on the coast of the Atlantic ocean, as well as being at the mouth of the Bou Regreg river, is a port city - along with its sister city across the water, Sale. Having a population of approximately 2 million people and the home of all foreign embassies, Rabat is the second most important city in the country, after Casablanca (although we personally prefer Rabat to its larger counterpart).
Most major cities in Morocco have a fortressed, walled-in section called "Medina", meaning "city" or "town" in modern day Arabic. Within these walls, the townspeople live and have their markets and shops in a labyrinth of streets, going as far back as the 9th century. The narrow winding streets are generally free of vehicles and can be less than a meter wide, which made it rather difficult for invaders, as they could easily get lost and confused. There are often many smaller mosques, monuments and fountains within the medina, which are both a cultural and a tourist attraction.
Although we had never met, Rachel was gracious enough to host all three of us strangers into her home. We quickly bonded over our common UWC experiences and connected immediately with her and her friends and roommate, Jess. They took great care of us, showing us all around, taking us out for great food and even found a western bar for us to have a toast!
We visited their friend, Matt at his luxurious apartment, tiled in traditional blue and white ceramics, gazed out over the city and marveled at the number of satellite dishes in sight.
We spent a couple of days getting to know the city, only getting lost momentarily in the medina, visited the Hassan Tower, which was meant to be the world's biggest minaret and mosque but was never completed as the sultan died, and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V, with its ornate designs.
As we only had a week in al-Magrib, we had to move as quickly as possible. Easier said than done sometimes, we took the train once more back to Casablanca to see if the romance of the movie had some reality to it.
Sadly, movie magic was not to be found. Instead, we found an extremely polluted, over-populated slum of a city. We were rather shocked at the depravity around us, seeing as Casablanca is such a famous place and is the largest economic center for the country.
The overbearing amount of poverty and pollution was made ever more poignant with the looming shadow of the giant Mosque of Hassan II on the outskirts of town. The mosque is built on reclaimed land on a promontory, with almost half of its surface lying over the Atlantic ocean, which can be seen through the enormous glass floor that can accommodate 25,000 worshippers. Enough said. Hassan II is the second largest mosque in the world (after the one in Mecca) and has the tallest minaret, standing at 210 meters.
Hassan II is also one of the very few mosques in the world that allows "infidels" to enter - only with expensive guided tours, of course. The detail and designs of the Zellige (Moroccan mosaic) are beautiful and impressive, as are the giant doors along the walls - truly large enough even for the gods. (Bad, infidel, bad!)
We wandered around the main streets of Casablanca, passed "Rick's Cafe" without stopping, bustled along the sketchy medina and made our way back to Rabat for the night. We were fully disenchanted with the place and felt as though we needed our lungs pumped from the fumes and exhaust of Casablanca.
We decided to head north with rumours of mountains in the distance. We hopped another train, this time to the town of Fes, the fourth largest city in Morocco. The famous medina of Fes el Bali, the old-walled city, has been a UNESCO World Heritage site since 1981 and is one of the largest in the world, with over 9500 streets all in a maze formation.
After finding an inexpensive hotel to book into and wandering the streets for a while, we hopped a cab and made it to the old medina just before sunset and found ourselves a nice restaurant - outside seating to watch the crowds go by. We feasted on Morocco's famous dishes of "tajine" (usually meat and vegetables slowly cooked in a ceramic shallow bowl with a cone shaped lid that aids to keep the moisture and juices in) and the nation's staple of couscous!
After dinner, we opted for a "faux-guide" (a false guide) to take us around the medina as it was getting rather dark and did not want to wander ALL 9500+ streets by ourselves. We were led to various historical monuments and sights, with no shortage of stops in local shops - leather, blankets, rugs, shoes...you name it, we stopped there. Of course, we had been warned about these guides basically being "street-hustlers" but we enjoyed our tour and even the informative talk from our personal hustler. We stopped to rest in a "cafe" for a typical drink of mint tea - fresh mint leaves crushed into a black or green tea, doused with sugar or honey for a powerful drink. We loved these mint teas and had them pretty much daily.
Fes is also famous for its many tanneries - we managed to have a night tour of one, where we smelled the "dye aromas" for ourselves.
(I ended up with the softest new leather coat and my own pair of "baboush" slippers too!) Apparently, they use real saffron for the yellow dye of the "balgha", the traditional pointy slippers for men and pigeon feces for a white dye!
We found a local bar for a night cap and made our way back to our room (remember: it being a Muslim country, alcohol is pretty much banned and hard to come by - although in the cities, there are usually a few spots to quench an infidels' thirst). The night was unfortunately long, as the mosquitoes were merciless, and both Julio and I suffered through the buzzing and biting all night. (Lucky Adam didn't hear one single buzz or suffer a single bite. Having me next to him works better than any insect repellent, apparently.) We woke up the next morning amidst a ton of dead mosquito corpses, having rolled restlessly all night, to catch a bus out of town. As some of you may already know, I am a bug magnet and happen to be allergic to all sorts of bites. Fes, in particular, has rather nasty bugs. Within 24 hours, I had an array of very itchy, burning, infected bites (I counted 28 in total) and could no longer see or move very much. Over the next few days, these bites became monstrous blisters and I had to go on antibiotics and antihistamines to survive.
Caution: Gruesome pictures below.
The above picture is about a day after we left Fes. The picture below is a few days later as the boils formed.
Needless to say, I was not a happy camper and these bites made the rest of the trip a little more difficult.
However, as we left Fes, my allergic reaction to the bites had not become full blown yet, and we took a rickety old bus to Chefchaouen, even further north. Along the way, we stopped in the middle of a very arid nowhere to have lunch at a "food stand". This stand had lamb carcasses hanging out in the open, flies everywhere, a large BBQ open flame style, and you could line up for your order of raw meat (by weight) and give it to the "chefs". This place probably would never pass any health and safety inspections, but then...things are different in Morocco.
Our bus journey was mostly uneventful, although getting ONTO the bus was quite an ordeal. Some of you may have experienced being hassled and constantly harassed as a tourist target to spend money on something you do not need. Being a tourist in Morocco beats all other such experiences. You could not WALK 5 meters without multiple people trying to get money from you - whether they are trying to give you directions to the bus station obviously in front of you, or they would like to you buy something from their accessories' stand, or simply trying to show you the "sights" or to their hotel, it seemed nearly impossible to avoid getting harassed for money. It became such a frustrating constant, that we found ourselves having difficulty trusting the kind stranger that truly wanted to offer up some help. That being said, we return to our ordeal of getting on a bus from Fes to Chefchaouen:
We had taken a taxi to the bus station (which turned out to be only a few minutes away...but we somehow took the scenic route there), when the taxi driver decided to announce to the hoard of young men standing around that we were taking the bus to "Chefchaouen". Immediately, we had 3 guys trying to lead us to the correct window to buy our tickets. Now, not one of us can speak or read Arabic, but all three of us were more than capable of functioning in French, let alone read the romanized letters stating the various destinations. We tried politely to decline the various offers of help and eventually simply tried ignoring them. This was only partly successful as a couple of them continued to follow us all the way to the bus line and loitered around to try and get money from us. We were not too impressed with such attitudes but were even less happy when the bus porter tried to extort money for our day packs to be placed in the under-carriage (which we had wanted to carry on with us but were adamantly refused). They tried to charge us almost the equivalent of our actual ticket cost for each bag, that was being forced to go under. We obviously argued the fact and in the end, paid approximately the same as the locals for our "checked bags".
Once on the crowded bus, we bumbled northward and saw a few good sights.
If we had thought our bus was a slow or old form of transportation, we could hardly compete with the amount of mules and ponies slaving away.
We also saw some rather unique ways of travelling. Not recommended by doctors.
Chefchaouen, locally known simply as "Chaouen", is situated in the heart of the Rif Mountains, nestled between two mountains and has its name derived from the shapes of the two mountain tops - horns of a goat. Literally, "Chef Chaouen" means "look at the horns"!
(Thanks for this shot too, Julio!)
Famous for its hashish and for its sky-blue and whitewashed walls, Chaouen is a popular European tourist destination, being only a short ferry ride and trek from Spain. There in the north, you can hear Spanish spoken among the locals, as well as the tourists.
We found a very affordable hostel, within the old medina, with beautiful mosaic tiling in the common areas and meandered around before settling for a cozy restaurant for more tajine!
After the hustle and bustle of the larger cities, Chaouen was a welcome change, with its relaxed pace and its soothing blue surroundings.
Typical of most medinas, there were shops for all that can be imagined. Particularly enchanting were the spice shops!
The next day was a write-off for me as I had to stay in bed from the bite infections and allergies, but Adam and Julio braved the downpours to explore the town and to bring me food! During their wanders, they came across a Mother Theresa look-alike!
The local men coming down the steps from prayers at the mosque...
A mother and child walk through magical blue archways...
We were sad to leave such a quaint haven, but had to hurry south again in order to catch our flight out of Marrakesh. We took a very early morning bus back to Rabat to have a final visit with Rachel, Jess and their friends before hopping our last Moroccan train down to Marrakesh. Thanks again to Rachel and Jess for hosting us!
We all had a great time with you and your fabulous crew!
Our train down to Marrakesh was actually a pleasant trip, being not overcrowded and the scenery was drastically different from the north. Suddenly, we were plunged into the world of red sand and desert dunes, heading towards the Sahara and the Atlas mountains (which we will have to return to Morocco another time to see!).
As we pulled into the Marrakesh train station, it felt as though we were in a totally different Morocco than we had been - the train station was shiny, modern and new and very luxurious compared to all the others we had seen. We hailed a "petit taxi" (which only travel within cities, whereas the "grand taxi" would travel intercity) and were dropped off in the center of the medina.
All medinas have several "doors" or entrance ways, some of which are large enough for traffic, and some are only small enough for pedestrians.
We succumbed to another "guide" that dragged us all around the market and medina to find a suitably cheap hostel. Finally, after settling in, we ventured out for our last supper before heading into the night market stalls. After feasting as we had, we sadly had to turn down the tempting dish of snail soup.
We took our time, although it was raining once again, to look through many stands and shops for souvenirs and gifts.
After a long day of travelling, we called it a night and woke up early to catch the start of the morning market. The market in the Marrakesh medina was probably the most interesting and varied of them all. We certainly wished we had a bit more time to explore.
As we had been advised, we took every opportunity to have freshly squeezed orange juice while in Marrakesh, which was wonderfully scrumptious. We also delved into the fresh dates and nuts readily available at multiple stands...
We had very little time before we had to make our way to the airport, but we managed to catch a few glances at the local wares. Here, we met a friendly perfume and fragrance peddler. (We had been certain he was selling strange herbs, bones and roots for medicine...but were completely wrong!)
As we were leaving the old medina, we were stopped by some men with some poor chained monkeys and before we knew it, they had two monkeys on Adam's shoulders - no matter that we protested or not. Of course, once the monkeys touch you or you take a single picture, they charge you an arm and a leg....luckily, haggling and standing your ground still works internationally.
We took yet another petit taxi and were once again amazed as we arrived at the airport of how modern and impressive things could be.
We flew safely back to Spain, feeling as though we had seen a great deal, and yet so little of a fascinating country. Having travelled to many places around the world, I can honestly say that Morocco gave me the greatest culture shock of all and although there were some truly trying times (especially regarding being harassed not only as a tourist but as a woman), I would love to return to experience the daunting Sahara desert and do the many beautiful walks of the Rif and Atlast mountains.
A quick reunion with Josephine (Julio's mother), sharing our stories and pictures of Morocco, and a sad farewell with Julito, we took an overnight bus to Barcelona...the last stop before returning to the UK.
Please stay tuned for the adventures of Adam and Estella in Barcelona!
