Thursday, October 14, 2010
In which I travel through several countries and have my purse stolen
It would appear that I am nearly as good at blogging regularly as I am about writing in a journal. Suffice to say that I have many journals that are 3/4 empty.
How to summarize the past several weeks?
Almost immediately upon our arrival in Spain, Kelsey and I decided we desperately wanted to be somewhere that everyone spoke English. It turned out her brother was going to be in London for work and we found some cheap tickets on Ryan Air, so off we went to Engand!
London was so wonderful. I've been fascinated by English history for a long time, and it was exhilarating to be in a city so full of the history that I had read about. Furthermore, English accents just make everything better. Seriously, if you are having a bad day, try speaking in (or even thinking in) an English accent. I guarantee your mood will improve!
We went to the Tate, walked by the houses of Parliament and Big Ben, over Tower Bridge, visited the Tower of London, drank copious amounts of tea, attended the National Portrait Gallery's evening hours, wandered around the British Museum looking at mummies , saw the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, walked through Hyde Park, and visited the lions in Trafalgar Square. I also went to an Evensong service ag Westminster Abbey that was truly incredible. The sermon itself wasn't anything special but the choir music was beautiful. As it echoed around me all the stresses and worry of travel began to seem rather insignificant. How could they not, when surrounded by hundreds of years of history? Just imagine all that cathedral has seen and there I was worrying about money!
At the National Portrait Gallery, I sat in front of Queen Elizabeth I's coronation portrait for ages. At a young age she inherited one of the most powerful kingdoms in Europe at a time when it was almost unheard of for a woman to rule in her own right. I imagine that we could all learn a lesson from her in sheer backbone and diplomatic savvy. If I could choose only one person, living or dead, to have dinner with, I think it would be Elizabeth.
Despite the cold and rain, I was quite reluctant to leave London. The more time I sound in Europe, the more convinced I am that I want to live here. London now tops my list with Paris as the two places I would move to in a heartbeat.
I don't feel Ike I "did" Madrid very well. I got the Prado and the Reina Sofia (museums) but I didn't see much of the city. It is easy to forget how exhausting constant travel can be, and I think I spent most of my time in Madrid recuperating a bit. Overall though, I seem to have bad luck in Spain. The last time I was there I was quite sick and an ATM ate my debit card.
This time, just 5 minutes after my arrival in Barcelona, my purse was stolen and my passport along with it. Looking back on it, I feel a bit stupid, I got out of the metro station at about 11:30 at night and immediately a man approached me to tell me I had something on my back. I thanked him and moved on. Then, just across the street, another man pointed out that I had something on my back and offered me a tissue and a place to sit. I thought that he had moved away down the street, so I took my purse off from across my shoulder and went to remove my jacket to see what was on it. I turned around for a second and my purse was gone. I didn't see anyone running so I couldn't definitely point to someone and yell for help. Two men did try to find it for me, but to no avail. Another man who spoke English happened to be walking by, and kindly walked me to my hostel.
At the hostel, people could not have been nicer. One of the employees immediately took my clothes to be laundered (the robbers really had sprayed something in a straight line down my back) and gave me € 20 since I had no cash or credit cards. Another girl offered to go with me to the consulate in the morning. I spent the next three days primarily in the consulate and at the police station making a report. I certainly could have gone and walked around Barcelona but after having my purse stolen I just didn't feel comfortable in the city. At the consulate, a nice couple, after hearing my story gave me €50 to make sure I could eat lunch and get back to the hostel and to a Western Union to pick up my money transfer. Another woman invited me to lunch at her house. So, in the end, although one bad thing happened, it really showed me how wonderful people can be. As for my passport, though I lost all my stamps, I did get to take a new picture, so on balance that one definitely comes out in my favor too!
Now I am in Paris staying with my host family and I truly couldn't be happier. The first day I got here I walked around with a grin on my face. I wandered by Notre Dame and spent a few hours reading in the garden, walked around Ile St. Louis, walked through the Marais and generally soaked up the joy I felt at being in one of my favorite places on the planet. Since then, I have eaten lunch in the Luxembourg gardens, spent some time in the world's second best bookstore Shakespeare and Company (Politics & Prose comes first but only by a hair, gorged myself on pain au chocolat and had a wonderful time catching up with Sophie and the girls. In short, I never want to leave. Like when I had to go after my study abroad was over, you will practically have to pull me kicking and screaming out of this beautiful, maddening city.
I wish you all could be here with me. Despite how happy I am here, after more than a month on the road I do feel a twinge of homesickness. It will be wonderful to sleeo in my own bed with a room all to myself when I get home in late November! I just realized I have an extra pain au chocolat here! Homesickness gone.
Bisous!
How to summarize the past several weeks?
Almost immediately upon our arrival in Spain, Kelsey and I decided we desperately wanted to be somewhere that everyone spoke English. It turned out her brother was going to be in London for work and we found some cheap tickets on Ryan Air, so off we went to Engand!
London was so wonderful. I've been fascinated by English history for a long time, and it was exhilarating to be in a city so full of the history that I had read about. Furthermore, English accents just make everything better. Seriously, if you are having a bad day, try speaking in (or even thinking in) an English accent. I guarantee your mood will improve!
We went to the Tate, walked by the houses of Parliament and Big Ben, over Tower Bridge, visited the Tower of London, drank copious amounts of tea, attended the National Portrait Gallery's evening hours, wandered around the British Museum looking at mummies , saw the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace, walked through Hyde Park, and visited the lions in Trafalgar Square. I also went to an Evensong service ag Westminster Abbey that was truly incredible. The sermon itself wasn't anything special but the choir music was beautiful. As it echoed around me all the stresses and worry of travel began to seem rather insignificant. How could they not, when surrounded by hundreds of years of history? Just imagine all that cathedral has seen and there I was worrying about money!
At the National Portrait Gallery, I sat in front of Queen Elizabeth I's coronation portrait for ages. At a young age she inherited one of the most powerful kingdoms in Europe at a time when it was almost unheard of for a woman to rule in her own right. I imagine that we could all learn a lesson from her in sheer backbone and diplomatic savvy. If I could choose only one person, living or dead, to have dinner with, I think it would be Elizabeth.
Despite the cold and rain, I was quite reluctant to leave London. The more time I sound in Europe, the more convinced I am that I want to live here. London now tops my list with Paris as the two places I would move to in a heartbeat.
I don't feel Ike I "did" Madrid very well. I got the Prado and the Reina Sofia (museums) but I didn't see much of the city. It is easy to forget how exhausting constant travel can be, and I think I spent most of my time in Madrid recuperating a bit. Overall though, I seem to have bad luck in Spain. The last time I was there I was quite sick and an ATM ate my debit card.
This time, just 5 minutes after my arrival in Barcelona, my purse was stolen and my passport along with it. Looking back on it, I feel a bit stupid, I got out of the metro station at about 11:30 at night and immediately a man approached me to tell me I had something on my back. I thanked him and moved on. Then, just across the street, another man pointed out that I had something on my back and offered me a tissue and a place to sit. I thought that he had moved away down the street, so I took my purse off from across my shoulder and went to remove my jacket to see what was on it. I turned around for a second and my purse was gone. I didn't see anyone running so I couldn't definitely point to someone and yell for help. Two men did try to find it for me, but to no avail. Another man who spoke English happened to be walking by, and kindly walked me to my hostel.
At the hostel, people could not have been nicer. One of the employees immediately took my clothes to be laundered (the robbers really had sprayed something in a straight line down my back) and gave me € 20 since I had no cash or credit cards. Another girl offered to go with me to the consulate in the morning. I spent the next three days primarily in the consulate and at the police station making a report. I certainly could have gone and walked around Barcelona but after having my purse stolen I just didn't feel comfortable in the city. At the consulate, a nice couple, after hearing my story gave me €50 to make sure I could eat lunch and get back to the hostel and to a Western Union to pick up my money transfer. Another woman invited me to lunch at her house. So, in the end, although one bad thing happened, it really showed me how wonderful people can be. As for my passport, though I lost all my stamps, I did get to take a new picture, so on balance that one definitely comes out in my favor too!
Now I am in Paris staying with my host family and I truly couldn't be happier. The first day I got here I walked around with a grin on my face. I wandered by Notre Dame and spent a few hours reading in the garden, walked around Ile St. Louis, walked through the Marais and generally soaked up the joy I felt at being in one of my favorite places on the planet. Since then, I have eaten lunch in the Luxembourg gardens, spent some time in the world's second best bookstore Shakespeare and Company (Politics & Prose comes first but only by a hair, gorged myself on pain au chocolat and had a wonderful time catching up with Sophie and the girls. In short, I never want to leave. Like when I had to go after my study abroad was over, you will practically have to pull me kicking and screaming out of this beautiful, maddening city.
I wish you all could be here with me. Despite how happy I am here, after more than a month on the road I do feel a twinge of homesickness. It will be wonderful to sleeo in my own bed with a room all to myself when I get home in late November! I just realized I have an extra pain au chocolat here! Homesickness gone.
Bisous!
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Important lessons learned while traveling
1. Always be sure of the time. This includes being aware of the fact that you may be moving from one time zone to another. Especially important when it comes to catching trains*
*Kelsey and I have missed two trains now because we did not follow the above rule. The first time, we did not take into account that there would be a time change between Morocco and Spain because they seemed to be on roughly the same line of longitude. We got off the ferry at Tarifa in Spain, congratulating ourselves on timing that trip perfectly to coincide with the departure of the last train of the day. Learning that it had already left was not a nice surprise. Hello bus travel. The second time, I had already changed my iPad to London time, which is an hour behind Spain. We missed the last train from Granada to Madrid. Hello bus. Arrived in Madrid at 2 am, still had to pay for the stupid hostel, left for the airport at 3:30, got on our plane at 6:30. And that is how two very tired/ semi-delirious girls arrived in London!
2. Always double check your gate/ platform/ general point of departure, no matter what the ticket agent tells you and how confident he/she may seem*
* Kelsey and I nearly missed our traun from Fez to Tangiers because the ticket agent told us platform 5, when in reality the train left from platform 4. We caught the train, and thus began what shall ever be known as The Endless Train Ride from Hell
One hour in, two men emerged from beneath our seats in the compartment.. All of a sudden they just appeared from under the seats, wriggling out of a space that can't have been more the 8 inches high. Kelsey was wearing a skirt. They were skipping out on fare. Then there was the 19 year old mother of atwo year old and a new born whose husband (who usesd to bewt her) had abandoned her and she was trying to take her baby to stay with her sister in Fez so she could get some work. She had already left the two year old with her mother in Fez. She didn't even have the money to be in the train, so Kelsey and I ended up giving her the equivalent of $10 she needed. It was so horrible to see this young woman, already with two hound children and absolutely no options because her husband had left her and she lived in a country where that was her fault and basically made her a prostitute. Then there was the young Moroccan man who couldn't understand why I wasn't married yet and why I hadn't thought about having children. When I finally told him I would Iike a girl, he replied " in Morocco we don't want girls". I had no idea how to respond. Then the train broke down and the lights went out a couple of times. Awesome. Finally, the taxi driver wanted 100 dirham to take us to our hotel. The reasonable price was 25 dirham. Then we got to the hotel and our sheets weren't clean and the room was filled with mosquitos. So we switched rooms. The restaurant was closed by the time we got there, and we were starving so we wanted to order a pizza. The place we called said at they wouldn't deliver to the hotel. Instead, we had to pay a taxi driver to go get a pizza for us. He came back with the wrong one. It had meat on it so Kelsey couldn't eat it. The next day, we missed the last train to Granada. Asklfjhsdlifuhsrglkjsdbvlsruh
3. Never force a zipper. It. Will. Break. And you will be without one fairly important pocket in your suitcase. Good luck trying to get that fixed when you are moving cities/ countires every few days. Seriously, any suggestions?
4. In general, whatever can go wrong, wlll. See rules 1,2, and 3 above
5. Always, always, always have a map. Even if you have looked up how to arrive at your destination before hand, rule number 4 goes into effect and you will get lost.
6. You will always have too many clothes but not enough money. Train fare from the airport to the city center £22. Taxi from the closest metro station to the hostel £9. Hostel for a week £60. Metro ticket for the week £16. Groceries £20. Gloves and tights to wear under jeans
because London is having an unexpected cold snap £10. Surviving in London for a week on my approximately $50 remaining USD?
Priceless!!!
More to follow as we continue to make mistakes along the way!
*Kelsey and I have missed two trains now because we did not follow the above rule. The first time, we did not take into account that there would be a time change between Morocco and Spain because they seemed to be on roughly the same line of longitude. We got off the ferry at Tarifa in Spain, congratulating ourselves on timing that trip perfectly to coincide with the departure of the last train of the day. Learning that it had already left was not a nice surprise. Hello bus travel. The second time, I had already changed my iPad to London time, which is an hour behind Spain. We missed the last train from Granada to Madrid. Hello bus. Arrived in Madrid at 2 am, still had to pay for the stupid hostel, left for the airport at 3:30, got on our plane at 6:30. And that is how two very tired/ semi-delirious girls arrived in London!
2. Always double check your gate/ platform/ general point of departure, no matter what the ticket agent tells you and how confident he/she may seem*
* Kelsey and I nearly missed our traun from Fez to Tangiers because the ticket agent told us platform 5, when in reality the train left from platform 4. We caught the train, and thus began what shall ever be known as The Endless Train Ride from Hell
One hour in, two men emerged from beneath our seats in the compartment.. All of a sudden they just appeared from under the seats, wriggling out of a space that can't have been more the 8 inches high. Kelsey was wearing a skirt. They were skipping out on fare. Then there was the 19 year old mother of atwo year old and a new born whose husband (who usesd to bewt her) had abandoned her and she was trying to take her baby to stay with her sister in Fez so she could get some work. She had already left the two year old with her mother in Fez. She didn't even have the money to be in the train, so Kelsey and I ended up giving her the equivalent of $10 she needed. It was so horrible to see this young woman, already with two hound children and absolutely no options because her husband had left her and she lived in a country where that was her fault and basically made her a prostitute. Then there was the young Moroccan man who couldn't understand why I wasn't married yet and why I hadn't thought about having children. When I finally told him I would Iike a girl, he replied " in Morocco we don't want girls". I had no idea how to respond. Then the train broke down and the lights went out a couple of times. Awesome. Finally, the taxi driver wanted 100 dirham to take us to our hotel. The reasonable price was 25 dirham. Then we got to the hotel and our sheets weren't clean and the room was filled with mosquitos. So we switched rooms. The restaurant was closed by the time we got there, and we were starving so we wanted to order a pizza. The place we called said at they wouldn't deliver to the hotel. Instead, we had to pay a taxi driver to go get a pizza for us. He came back with the wrong one. It had meat on it so Kelsey couldn't eat it. The next day, we missed the last train to Granada. Asklfjhsdlifuhsrglkjsdbvlsruh
3. Never force a zipper. It. Will. Break. And you will be without one fairly important pocket in your suitcase. Good luck trying to get that fixed when you are moving cities/ countires every few days. Seriously, any suggestions?
4. In general, whatever can go wrong, wlll. See rules 1,2, and 3 above
5. Always, always, always have a map. Even if you have looked up how to arrive at your destination before hand, rule number 4 goes into effect and you will get lost.
6. You will always have too many clothes but not enough money. Train fare from the airport to the city center £22. Taxi from the closest metro station to the hostel £9. Hostel for a week £60. Metro ticket for the week £16. Groceries £20. Gloves and tights to wear under jeans
because London is having an unexpected cold snap £10. Surviving in London for a week on my approximately $50 remaining USD?
Priceless!!!
More to follow as we continue to make mistakes along the way!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Last Days in Morocco
This morning I woke up, without the aid of an alarm clock, around 8 am. Clearly, the world is about to come to an end. However, while we all wait for that to happen, I can tell you all about my last days in Morocco.
I much prefer Fez to Marrakech for several reasons. 1) I do not constantly feel that death by donkey and/or crazed motorcyclist is imminent. 2) The shop keepers are much nicer here 3) The city itself! All of Morocco, to me, seems a very strange mix of past and present, and nowhere is this more apparent to me than in Fez. In the medina, you often feel as though you have stepped back in time as you wander through increasingly narrow streets with buildings leaning precariously on all sides (indeed, the general philosophy of Fez, as I have taken to calling it, seems to be "prop and pray" when it comes to the aging structures of the medina). Truly were it not for the locals talking away on cell phones and tourists with enormous cameras, one could almost be in the Middle Ages. That, at least, is what I have taken to imagining. Then, just a short (hair- raising, death- defying) taxi ride away, you are confronted with all the grit and grind of the glaringly modern Ville Nouvelle. Although I haven't managed to capture it on my camera yet, I hope you will take my word for it that there are few stranger sights than that of a woman covered head to toe by the veil and layers of fabric zooming by you on a motorcycle.
Just inside Bab Barjeloud, one of the main gates dividing the old city from the new, there is a wonderful little place called Café Clock. Owned by an older British gentleman and housed inside what was a water clock tower back in the 14th (I could be wrong on that date) century, Café Clock is a wonderful refuge from the hustle and bustle of the streets. Too bad you have to get there by going through a small meat market! Wow, it is almost enough to make the most ardent meat lover turn vegetarian. Today, I turned away just in time to avoid seeing a chicken get its head cut off! It nearly, but not quite, ruined my appetite for the delicious ricotta cheese pancakes with caramelized bananas I had for lunch. Tonight, we went back there to listen to live drum music and I even braved the camel hamburger! It was quite flavorful, but I felt a little strange about eating it given that I had been riding a very live camel just a few days prior.
Tomorrow, we will catch a mid-afternoon train to Tangiers just four hours north of here. We will spend the night there before catching an early ferry over to Algericas, Spain, at which point we will continue on to Granada. Since we are leaving Morocco about a week early, we have some extra time on our hands and are trying to decide between a long weekend in either London or Rome. Comments or suggestions? I know, I live a hard life.
A few of you let me now recently that you have enjoyed reading what I've written so far- I'm so glad! I was fairly convinced I was writing to myself half the time and now I feel so much less of a loser haha! You all couldn't have let me know this earlier, hmmm?
Good night!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
I much prefer Fez to Marrakech for several reasons. 1) I do not constantly feel that death by donkey and/or crazed motorcyclist is imminent. 2) The shop keepers are much nicer here 3) The city itself! All of Morocco, to me, seems a very strange mix of past and present, and nowhere is this more apparent to me than in Fez. In the medina, you often feel as though you have stepped back in time as you wander through increasingly narrow streets with buildings leaning precariously on all sides (indeed, the general philosophy of Fez, as I have taken to calling it, seems to be "prop and pray" when it comes to the aging structures of the medina). Truly were it not for the locals talking away on cell phones and tourists with enormous cameras, one could almost be in the Middle Ages. That, at least, is what I have taken to imagining. Then, just a short (hair- raising, death- defying) taxi ride away, you are confronted with all the grit and grind of the glaringly modern Ville Nouvelle. Although I haven't managed to capture it on my camera yet, I hope you will take my word for it that there are few stranger sights than that of a woman covered head to toe by the veil and layers of fabric zooming by you on a motorcycle.
Just inside Bab Barjeloud, one of the main gates dividing the old city from the new, there is a wonderful little place called Café Clock. Owned by an older British gentleman and housed inside what was a water clock tower back in the 14th (I could be wrong on that date) century, Café Clock is a wonderful refuge from the hustle and bustle of the streets. Too bad you have to get there by going through a small meat market! Wow, it is almost enough to make the most ardent meat lover turn vegetarian. Today, I turned away just in time to avoid seeing a chicken get its head cut off! It nearly, but not quite, ruined my appetite for the delicious ricotta cheese pancakes with caramelized bananas I had for lunch. Tonight, we went back there to listen to live drum music and I even braved the camel hamburger! It was quite flavorful, but I felt a little strange about eating it given that I had been riding a very live camel just a few days prior.
Tomorrow, we will catch a mid-afternoon train to Tangiers just four hours north of here. We will spend the night there before catching an early ferry over to Algericas, Spain, at which point we will continue on to Granada. Since we are leaving Morocco about a week early, we have some extra time on our hands and are trying to decide between a long weekend in either London or Rome. Comments or suggestions? I know, I live a hard life.
A few of you let me now recently that you have enjoyed reading what I've written so far- I'm so glad! I was fairly convinced I was writing to myself half the time and now I feel so much less of a loser haha! You all couldn't have let me know this earlier, hmmm?
Good night!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Fez, Tangiers
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Riding a Camel is Not Comfortable
If you are considering coming to Morocco with romanticized visions of train travel from city to city in your head, you should definitely reconsider. After five hours on the train from Marrakech to Fez, I was done. Too bad I still had a little over two hours to go!
But, I should start from the beginning. My last days in Marrakech ranged from terrible to awesome. Terrible because Moroccan food reaaaally does not agree with me (this, ladies and gentlemen, is when you wish you were staying in a hotel with a bathroom attached to your room instead of in a hostel with the bathroom located a floor above you!)
Awesome because I met some wonderful people and got to spend a night in the Sahara and ride a camel!
The group of people I was hanging out with drew cards on a bet to see who had to try the sheep's brain for sale at some of the market stalls for dinner that night. Thankfully, I did not draw the low card! The man at the stall gave the whole sheep's head a hard sell, but in the end we stuck to our guns and only ordered one brain. The cook fished it out from a huge pot of liquid, appearing for all the world Iike a mad scientist, and handed it over on a plate. I was not brave enough to take a bite (especially with my puny stomach) but apparently it tasted a little like pâté. Still, yech! We walked around the square and saw a man dancing to some gnawa music with a live rooster on his head! Somehow, he didn't even seem so out of place!
That night and the next day I was sick sick sick! In the morning, the hostel said they didn't have any more rooms available for the following night. At this point, one of the zippers on my suitcase had broken and I still felt on the verge of throwing up with every movement so I had just about had it. Luckily, I must have looked sufficiently terrible because the front desk magically found a free bed for me when I asked again. I spent the day taking it easy and was so grateful for the help of my fellow travelers. They did everything from moving my luggage to my new room to checking in on me throughout the day to making special trips to get me some bland food! I may have to start believing in humanity's kindness again at this rate!
That night we went to a Moroccan/ Thai fusion restaurant as we were all so sick of Moroccan cuisine that it wasn't even funny. The restaurant, in typical Moroccan fashion, was quite swank but getting there was a bit dodgy! At that point, I would have given my right arm NOT to eat a tajine or couscous so I didn't really care.
The next morning, I has planned on leaving Marrakech for Meknès, but the group I was with convinced me to come with them to the desert instead. So, I woke up at 6:39 am to head out on a 9 hour can ride into the Sahara. The ride took us through the Middle Atlas mountains. I have never seen such twisty roads in all my life. You may remember that I mentioned that Moroccans are CRAZY drivers. Our driver kept exclaiming "regardez les montaignes! Les montaignes magnifiques!" and pointing to them as we careened around hairpin turns, switching lanes when the car in front of us was going too slowly. I have never prayed so hard in all my life!
On the way there, we saw villages made almost entirely of mud and straw, sheep herders, and the ubiquitous Coca-Cola sign. We stopped by a female-run argan oil cooperative and at an impressive kasbah where they filmed some scenes from Gladiator (chedk out the link to my photos as I've added a bunch of new ones including one of me and my camel!).
Nine loooong hours later, we arrived at our destination. From there, we got on camels for an hour and a half ride to our campsite. Camels are way way bigger up close than they seem at the zoo and they stink to high heaven! Additionally, they have very wide backs and an uneven gait, meaning that you will never ever enjoy a comfortable camel ride. We walked through a spattering of rain (!) to our campsite as the sun set. By nightfall, we had reached the traditional Berber tents in which we would stay the night. They had brightly colored carpeted walls and interiors and were large enough to sleep 10 comfortably. Our guides made us a delicious dinner and we traded stories with them about our homes and they told us about their lives as nomads. One guide was astonished to hear I only had one sibling, probably because he was one of ten!
We spent the rest of the night lying on the dunes and looking up at the sea of stars while the guides played drums and sang. It may have been more than a tad contrived, but it was still beautiful and memorable. I have never seen so many stars in all my life. We woke at dawn and ate a quick breakfast before hopping back on our camels. The ride home was just as long, but thoroughly enjoyable as I fended off good natured teasing about the States (I was finishing up A Room With A View on the ride back and the Brits asked me if I needed help understanding proper English).
Upon arriving at the hostel I took what has to be the best shower of my life and we headed out for dinner and drinks in celebration of our last night in Marrakech. So, although the city has many many disagreeable aspects, on the whole I had an excellent time filled with lovely people and tons of learning experiences.
I caught my train to Fez in true Malinick fashion with just minutes to spare, and then endured the seven hour journey north. I met up with Kelsey and her host sister from the village, Zhor, last night. She is a really sweet girl about our age, and through a mixture of French, English, and Arabic, we manage to understand each other. She made Kelsey a beautiful rug and brought me a lovely pillowcase embroidered on one side with two tiny camels! Today, we went to see the famous tanneries of Fez. I cannot even begin to describe the smell off those places. It was truly gag inducing but also interesting to see how leather is processed. The white vats you see in the photos are what they first place the skins to prepare them and the colored ones are the various dyes.
You couldn't pay me enough to eat another tajine or any more couscous, so we found a Thai restaurant in the Nouvelle Ville. Now I am back at my hotel just outside Bab Barjeloud (one of the gates into the old city) and ready to collapse. I hope you all are well. Eat a hamburger for me!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
But, I should start from the beginning. My last days in Marrakech ranged from terrible to awesome. Terrible because Moroccan food reaaaally does not agree with me (this, ladies and gentlemen, is when you wish you were staying in a hotel with a bathroom attached to your room instead of in a hostel with the bathroom located a floor above you!)
Awesome because I met some wonderful people and got to spend a night in the Sahara and ride a camel!
The group of people I was hanging out with drew cards on a bet to see who had to try the sheep's brain for sale at some of the market stalls for dinner that night. Thankfully, I did not draw the low card! The man at the stall gave the whole sheep's head a hard sell, but in the end we stuck to our guns and only ordered one brain. The cook fished it out from a huge pot of liquid, appearing for all the world Iike a mad scientist, and handed it over on a plate. I was not brave enough to take a bite (especially with my puny stomach) but apparently it tasted a little like pâté. Still, yech! We walked around the square and saw a man dancing to some gnawa music with a live rooster on his head! Somehow, he didn't even seem so out of place!
That night and the next day I was sick sick sick! In the morning, the hostel said they didn't have any more rooms available for the following night. At this point, one of the zippers on my suitcase had broken and I still felt on the verge of throwing up with every movement so I had just about had it. Luckily, I must have looked sufficiently terrible because the front desk magically found a free bed for me when I asked again. I spent the day taking it easy and was so grateful for the help of my fellow travelers. They did everything from moving my luggage to my new room to checking in on me throughout the day to making special trips to get me some bland food! I may have to start believing in humanity's kindness again at this rate!
That night we went to a Moroccan/ Thai fusion restaurant as we were all so sick of Moroccan cuisine that it wasn't even funny. The restaurant, in typical Moroccan fashion, was quite swank but getting there was a bit dodgy! At that point, I would have given my right arm NOT to eat a tajine or couscous so I didn't really care.
The next morning, I has planned on leaving Marrakech for Meknès, but the group I was with convinced me to come with them to the desert instead. So, I woke up at 6:39 am to head out on a 9 hour can ride into the Sahara. The ride took us through the Middle Atlas mountains. I have never seen such twisty roads in all my life. You may remember that I mentioned that Moroccans are CRAZY drivers. Our driver kept exclaiming "regardez les montaignes! Les montaignes magnifiques!" and pointing to them as we careened around hairpin turns, switching lanes when the car in front of us was going too slowly. I have never prayed so hard in all my life!
On the way there, we saw villages made almost entirely of mud and straw, sheep herders, and the ubiquitous Coca-Cola sign. We stopped by a female-run argan oil cooperative and at an impressive kasbah where they filmed some scenes from Gladiator (chedk out the link to my photos as I've added a bunch of new ones including one of me and my camel!).
Nine loooong hours later, we arrived at our destination. From there, we got on camels for an hour and a half ride to our campsite. Camels are way way bigger up close than they seem at the zoo and they stink to high heaven! Additionally, they have very wide backs and an uneven gait, meaning that you will never ever enjoy a comfortable camel ride. We walked through a spattering of rain (!) to our campsite as the sun set. By nightfall, we had reached the traditional Berber tents in which we would stay the night. They had brightly colored carpeted walls and interiors and were large enough to sleep 10 comfortably. Our guides made us a delicious dinner and we traded stories with them about our homes and they told us about their lives as nomads. One guide was astonished to hear I only had one sibling, probably because he was one of ten!
We spent the rest of the night lying on the dunes and looking up at the sea of stars while the guides played drums and sang. It may have been more than a tad contrived, but it was still beautiful and memorable. I have never seen so many stars in all my life. We woke at dawn and ate a quick breakfast before hopping back on our camels. The ride home was just as long, but thoroughly enjoyable as I fended off good natured teasing about the States (I was finishing up A Room With A View on the ride back and the Brits asked me if I needed help understanding proper English).
Upon arriving at the hostel I took what has to be the best shower of my life and we headed out for dinner and drinks in celebration of our last night in Marrakech. So, although the city has many many disagreeable aspects, on the whole I had an excellent time filled with lovely people and tons of learning experiences.
I caught my train to Fez in true Malinick fashion with just minutes to spare, and then endured the seven hour journey north. I met up with Kelsey and her host sister from the village, Zhor, last night. She is a really sweet girl about our age, and through a mixture of French, English, and Arabic, we manage to understand each other. She made Kelsey a beautiful rug and brought me a lovely pillowcase embroidered on one side with two tiny camels! Today, we went to see the famous tanneries of Fez. I cannot even begin to describe the smell off those places. It was truly gag inducing but also interesting to see how leather is processed. The white vats you see in the photos are what they first place the skins to prepare them and the colored ones are the various dyes.
You couldn't pay me enough to eat another tajine or any more couscous, so we found a Thai restaurant in the Nouvelle Ville. Now I am back at my hotel just outside Bab Barjeloud (one of the gates into the old city) and ready to collapse. I hope you all are well. Eat a hamburger for me!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Location:Avenue de La Liberte,,Morocco
Thursday, September 9, 2010
This crazy city
After living here in Marrakech, I think it is safe for me to say that this city is certifiably insane. The utter lawlessness that prevails on the roads here means being alert at all times to the speeding motorcycles, donkey drawn carts, horse drawn carriages and cabs. The "streets" are narrow, winding, and usually unmarked, making it very easy to get lost and/or flattened by the odd passing donkey or motorcyclist. The souqs (markets) are packed to the gills with shoes, fabric, scarves, spices, knock off purses (!), and pretty much anything else you can imagine.
The shopkeepers call to you as you walk along, trying to catch your eye with their goods. The best example I can give of what it is like shopping here is this: yesterday Kelsey and I were browsing the souqs, not really interested in buying anything. One shopkeeper called out to us "qu'est ce que tu cherches?" (what are you looking for?) I replied "Rien" (nothing), to which he responded "quel couleur de rien?" ( what color of nothing?)! You haggle for absolutely everything of the cost of your cab ride right on down to the price of a water bottle.
As you all know, I have very little sense of direction, but I think even the most accomplished navigator would get lost here. The other day Kelsey and I were lost for over an hour as we wound our way through the souqs in the hopes of finding a museum (I finally found it the next day after getting very detailed directions from the hostel staff). We passed through the leather working, metal working, cloth dying, and rug selling districts respectively before accidentally chancing on the museum only to find that it was closed due to the abbreviated Ramadan hours! Luckily, at this point, a very nice French couple lead us back to the right path and pointed us in the direction of the main square, Djemaa el Fna.
During the day, the square is populated by stands selling fresh squeezed orange juice, snake charmers, men with trained monkeys, women trying to give you henna tattoos ( for the low low price of 500 Durham or about $62!!), and of course motorcyclists making the mad dash across the square. At night, dozens of impromptu restaurants pop up shortly after sunset. These stands with picnic tables in front of them sell delicious food at incredibly low prices. I have eaten at them the past several nights and have had great meals!
Needless to say, it can all be a bit overwhelming, especially when coupled with temperatures in the 90s. Finally, though, I feel that I have acclimated a bit, and it helps that my hostel is a wonderful little oasis. I'll be here for the next four days working on my thesis while Kelsey is in a rural village that she visited during her study abroad time here. Then, I will continue about 7 hours north to Meknès before meeting her again in Fez on the 17th!
The shopkeepers call to you as you walk along, trying to catch your eye with their goods. The best example I can give of what it is like shopping here is this: yesterday Kelsey and I were browsing the souqs, not really interested in buying anything. One shopkeeper called out to us "qu'est ce que tu cherches?" (what are you looking for?) I replied "Rien" (nothing), to which he responded "quel couleur de rien?" ( what color of nothing?)! You haggle for absolutely everything of the cost of your cab ride right on down to the price of a water bottle.
As you all know, I have very little sense of direction, but I think even the most accomplished navigator would get lost here. The other day Kelsey and I were lost for over an hour as we wound our way through the souqs in the hopes of finding a museum (I finally found it the next day after getting very detailed directions from the hostel staff). We passed through the leather working, metal working, cloth dying, and rug selling districts respectively before accidentally chancing on the museum only to find that it was closed due to the abbreviated Ramadan hours! Luckily, at this point, a very nice French couple lead us back to the right path and pointed us in the direction of the main square, Djemaa el Fna.
During the day, the square is populated by stands selling fresh squeezed orange juice, snake charmers, men with trained monkeys, women trying to give you henna tattoos ( for the low low price of 500 Durham or about $62!!), and of course motorcyclists making the mad dash across the square. At night, dozens of impromptu restaurants pop up shortly after sunset. These stands with picnic tables in front of them sell delicious food at incredibly low prices. I have eaten at them the past several nights and have had great meals!
Needless to say, it can all be a bit overwhelming, especially when coupled with temperatures in the 90s. Finally, though, I feel that I have acclimated a bit, and it helps that my hostel is a wonderful little oasis. I'll be here for the next four days working on my thesis while Kelsey is in a rural village that she visited during her study abroad time here. Then, I will continue about 7 hours north to Meknès before meeting her again in Fez on the 17th!
Location:Rue Dabachi,Marrakesh,Morocco
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