Marrakech, and Thank God It's Over

Morocco had an adventure around every corner. It had a lot of cool things and awesome moments, but if we're being truthful I couldn't wait to get out of that damn country by the time we got back to Marrakech. It's just exhausting, constantly fending off touts, trying to not get horribly scammed, and always keeping an eye on everything around me to keep myself safe and my possessions secure. It's an experience and a half, I'm glad I went, and I might consider going back, but I'm happy to be out of there for now. 

Part of the issue with Morocco is just that as a tourist, there aren't a tonne of things to do. There are a few museums, and a medina tour, but once you're through those there aren't many traditional tourist attractions, and since sitting somewhere and relaxing with a book is considered an ideal time for people to approach and try to get you to give them money in some form, it's hard to find things to fill your day, unless you want to spend a large chunk of time chilling on the roof terrace of your hotel. Which we did do often, actually, but still - no one wants to sit around without leaving their hotel all day! Also most hotels don't have a lot of food options, so that isn't really possible anyway. 

Marrakech did have some cool things, not to mention an incredible number of opportunities to get lost. We went out on our first night to get to the main square, Djemma el Fnaa, and on the way encountered the main mosque of the area. 

We had dinner and fresh squeezed orange juice in the square, then settled in on a rooftop patio to watch the world go by. Djemma is famous for its entertainers - drummers, acrobats, snake charmers and trained monkeys are all around, performing for the crowd. On ground level, it was a bit overwhelming, but from above, it was gorgeous. 

Crowds start to form as dusk falls. 

The food stalls and entertainers. 

20 dirham worth of sweets - $2.50 Canadian!

The next morning, we finally got a chance to sleep in, then went to explore Marrakech. We took the tourist  bus, going to the biggest sites in the area, then got off at the Baha Palaces to hang out for a little while. 

The Saadian tombs. 

Turtle! At the tombs!

A mosque near the tombs. 

Part of the Palace. I tripped over the step around the fountain seconds after taking this picture. 

Tiled roof of the Palace. 

The inner courtyard. We hung out to read there for a few hours, and it was peaceful and cool! Until some German tourists sat on us, anyway. We spent the rest of the day wandering around, mostly keeping an eye out for good spots to sit and read for a while. It was a relaxing say, which was desperately needed before we departed on our Sahara trip. Also, that night we had the best sandwich I've ever eaten. It was amazing and too good to waste time with photos, and we ate there three more times before leaving. 

The next three days were spent on the Sahara trip, and when we got back we again spent a day sleeping in and taking it easy. Both of us weren't feeling great, but it seemed stupid to stay in all day on our last day in Morocco, so we dragged ourselves out of the room and went to the Musee de Marrakech, and the medersa next to it. 

It's a beautiful riad with a gorgeous courtyard that they inexplicably ruined with a gross plastic dome overhead. The lighting is terrible. 

The medersa is much nicer though. 

See? Bright, open courtyards work so much better. 

The medersa was cool, but we were both getting tired, so we decided to head back to the hotel for a bit to read and relax. It turned out to be a good choice, because that's when we found out that due to an air traffic controller strike in France, our scheduled 10 am flight had been cancelled, and we were booked onto a new flight to Casablanca, with standby status from Casablanca to Paris. Oh, and the new flight left at 6.35. In the morning. 

Our relaxing afternoon soon became a nightmare of calling around and rescheduling taxis, confirming seats on the second flight, and realizing we had to leave the hotel at 4.20 the next morning, which pretty effectively killed what little enthusiasm we had for going out again that evening. Still, we grudgingly went to the Djemma for one last lemonade before leaving Morocco. 

The morning was also pretty stressful; though we got to the airport on time and with little hassle, upon arriving at the check-in desk we were told our flight had been cancelled. It took forty minutes and three different people to finally communicate that yes, we knew the 10 am direct flight was cancelled, but we had ticket to Casablanca. We had emailed confirmation of those tickets too. Still, we were shuttled back and forth for a while before finally getting checked in and making our way to the gate. 

Casablanca was a short hop, less than half an hour, and when we landed we had a good window to get to our gate for the flight to Paris - now confirmed as well, by the way. We got to the gate with about twenty minutes to kill, and all was well. For about, well, twenty minutes, when they got on the PA to announce that our flight was delayed. Or something. We tracked down a guy to see what was going on, and were eventually told that our flight had been pushed back from 8.20 to 13.00. Or 13.30. Or 14.00. But maybe 11.00. Or some time like that. No one had any clue when we were going to leave, so we wound up sitting in the Casablanca airport, staring at the sign that still read "8.20 to Paris - boarding" and hoping we wouldn't miss the announcement when it eventually did come. For bonus points, we were nearly out of dirham, and the credit card system in the airport was broken, so between us we could buy about half a cup of tea. 

Finally, at about 11 am, there was an announcement and a flurry of activity at our gate, so we rushed down to check and found our plane was boarding. It was slow going, but eventually our flight did leave at around 11.40, and we made it to Paris without much further excitement. The only good thing about the whole experience was that there was an EasyJet flight for Paris at the next gate. It was supposed to leave at nearly the same time, and we were jealous when they boarded and we couldn't. The jealousy evaporated when we saw that they were still sitting there, fully loaded, when we finally left three hours late. At least we weren't on that flight!

Side-Trips from Marrakech: the Sahara!

Upon asking, absolutely everyone we met who had been to Morocco told us that their favourite experience had been a tour of the Sahara, so naturally we had to make such a trip part of our visit. We asked around in Fez, but no one could give us an itinerary that really matched our interests or price range, so we wound up waiting until we got to Marrakech to book something. We took a three-day tour, and there was a lot to see and do! Also a lot of sitting on the bus. Like, a lot a lot. Anyway. 

We left our hotel at seven am, and after some confusion regarding what tour we were on, and a lot of seemingly random driving around the city picking up other people, we were off. The first leg was about a four-hour drive to a Berber village, with a couple of viewpoint stops along the way. 

 Not exactly what you expect Morocco to look like, is it?

The Berber village was actually pretty cool, although it was a lot of uphill walking in direct sunlight on a 40 degree day. The city was picturesque, and our guide told us it's been featured in movies like Gladiator and shows like Game of Thrones. Actually, I think he told us that part at least five times. Eventually I just wanted to shout, "We get it! Can we look for some freaking shade?"

I'm not sure what episode it was in; they were here last year so it should be this season?

Unfortunately things only got hotter from there, and we spent the rest of the day sweating in the van, at viewpoints, and occasionally at rest stops where we would have happily paid $10 for an ice cream. No ice cream was forthcoming, but nice views were abundant. 

Reminds me of Red Rock Canyon. 

Berber villages are sprinkled all around; some still have families living there!

We stopped for the night at a little hotel in the middle of nowhere, with big rooms and shockingly uncomfortable beds. We were served a mostly-edible dinner before heading off for the night. 

Look at that spoon! It's practically a corn cob pipe! Also it was really hard to eat from. 

In the morning, we were taken to a farming area and given a tour of the crops and techniques used in the valley. We were also shown a lot more carpets than anyone might reasonably want, followed by an incredibly awkward silence while no one purchased one... After that, it was off to an oasis in the desert, a natural spring that feeds the valley and lets people live in the area. 

And goats!

Kind of a neat spot!

Finally, once we had had lunch and settled back in to the van, we were in for a very long drive to get to... The Sahara desert!

Look, look! That's it!

Our rides there, taking it easy. 

My camel had a nose ring, a palindromic number, and was super lazy. He's my spirit animal. 

My view for the next hour or so. 

Jesse seems to be managing too. 

Camels! Not actually very comfortable!

The other camel train behind us. 

It goes on for a long way. 

We rode for about an hour to a desert camp, which I really ought to have taken a picture of. There, we ate dinner and listened to some drumming before hitting the hay. There were spots in the tents, but it was a beautiful, clear night, so everyone camped out in the clearing so we could see the stars. It was like a giant slumber party with 15 people whose names we didn't even know - everybody called each other by their country. Anyway, that was great until there was a sandstorm, and we made the excellent decision to drag our stuff back into the tent. In the morning, there was a centimetre of sand accumulated over the whole clearing, so that seems to have been the right choice. 

This morning, they woke us crazy early to take us back to the hotel via camel. We had a quick breakfast, then packed back into the van for a long day of driving back to Marrakech - about eleven hours. We just got back an hour ago, and we have another day here before we fly to Paris on Tuesday. It'll be nice to walk a little tomorrow, and not be in a van all day... 

Fez

You know, thinking about it now I'm not sure we ever saw anyone wearing a fez in Fez. They were certainly for sale, but maybe only for silly tourists? 

Our first night in Fez was simple and relaxing, a much-needed reprieve after the hectic and stressful day. We ate an excellent dinner at a restaurant just a couple of minutes away from our hostel, and then took mint teas near the medina gates and watched the incredible variety of people making their way to and from the market. Also, got a lecture from a Moroccan gentleman seated next to us about how women can't be doctors, as it's too disgusting for them. They can, however, be nurses, you'll be pleased to know. That was a fun conversation. 

In the morning, we went out on a medina tour, with a nice lady sent to us by a guy we met on the train. She was great, and took us all around the medina, showing us lots of stuff we'd never have found on our own and keeping us from being hopelessly lost at every turn. The medina is a whirling mess of sights and sounds, people and animals, and more merchandise (and touts!) than you can really believe. It's a fascinating place. 

One of the medina gates. It's essentially impossible to get a picture without a bunch of people visible; even the postcards have people in them!

The narrow streets of the medina - good for lots of shade, so it's actually quite cool!

There are no cars in the medina (the streets are too narrow for them most of the time anyway) so people use donkeys to transport goods. A shout of "balak! balak!" was often our only warning of a loaded donkey - sometimes with cart - bearing down on us. 

The river, separating the Tunisian part of Fez from the Andalusian. 

Doors to a medersa, which is an Islamic school. It seems to usually be open to the public, but we weren't able to enter as students were writing exams. 

Inside of another medersa. 

The tanneries were quite a sight! We were repeatedly warned of the smell, but it wasn't actually terrible. The whole process was explained, and then we were guided through miles of leather shops...

Jesse got a turban tutorial at a textiles shop. He assures me he isn't nearly as annoyed as he looks in the picture. 

We had lunch at a little place our guide took us to. They took us into the kitchen to taste everything before we picked our meal. The tagine was great, but the best part was the sauces they gave us with the bread. The small, yellowish dish just above my tagine was some kind of carmelized onion, and I could have eaten it with every meal. 

The carpet shop was in the restored home of a famous Islamic poet and scholar. It had some beautiful tile work all around. 

These men are going to try and sell us some carpets momentarily. When that fails, they'll try to convince to start a carpet-importing business. That didn't go so well either. 

The tour finished in the late afternoon, and we relaxed in the hostel for a bit before going for a walk up to a viewpoint over the city. 

Nearly all of that is the medina - enclosed in walls and carless!

Dinner that night was also a local restaurant:

$10 worth of tagine and salad for dinner... Paint me blissfully happy. Although I made the mistake of ordering the mixed salad instead of the Moroccan salad - pro-tip: the Moroccan salad is much better. 

We spent one more day in Fez, but we took it pretty easy and didn't venture too far. We had dinner at the famous Clock Cafe (I forgot to take a picture, but can report that camel is delicious!) and relaxed at the hostel for a while. In the morning, it was time for a train for Marrakech, so we went to bed early and, with the help of a sleepmask and earplugs, woke up rested and ready for the next leg. 

Granada, Gibraltar, and Onwards

(My posting order is pretty much fubared - who would have thought Internet access in Morocco would be less than spectacular? - so this is a few days late. Please excuse any anachronistic sentences!)

I really wanted to include a third "g" in that title but just couldn't come up with anything. In fairness, I may have heat stroke, so my higher functions are at least a little compromised. 

We arrived in Granada Thursday afternoon, ready to tackle the town supposed to contain "Spain's most beautiful monument". Unfortunately, we were less ready for a town in the middle of a week-long festival including road closures, reduced hours, and thousands of extra people in the streets. What was supposed to be an eight minute bus ride to our hostel turned into a thirty minute detour, followed by a 20 minute walk without any real knowledge of where we were or where we were going. And of course, nothing was open to ask directions. Ah, travel. Still, with a combination of skill, determination, and dumb luck (mostly the last one), we found our hostel, set down our bags, and went out to explore Granada. 

First, we went to Alhambra, to see if it could hold up to the claims. We couldn't actually enter - you have to book times to get in, and our tickets were for the morning - but lots of the grounds are free, and there are some nice views to be had from there. Not to mention cats. Lots of cats.

Reminds me of the Interior. Or I guess the Interior reminds me of it?

It was a nice spot, and we hung out there until it started to get dark, whereupon we headed back down the mountain for some tapas. Granada is one of the only places that serves free tapas with a drink order, and we took full advantage of that. We also wandered around the Arabic markets some, and I bought a scarf for Morocco's sun and mosques. That was about all we could handle for one day, so we returned to the hostel and called it a night. 

In the morning, we rose "early" (according to the American students in our room), and by early, I mean at about 10.00... Though the room was fine, and five of the six of us went to bed at the same time, I had my worst night's sleep so far (hopefully ever) that night. It was sort of a never-ending debacle; every time I would get close to falling asleep, some new noise would wake me up, including but not limited to:

- waking up to the sound of my glasses hitting the tile floor some time after 2.00 am, and being secure in the knowledge I had no hope of finding them until the morning, when I could turn the light on - and put my contacts in

- people sitting out front and having a loud, 30+ minute conservation at 4.30 AM

- our German roommate sleeping through one alarm (a babbling brook), then the next (a Billy Talent song, no joke) for close to ten minutes. I finally woke him to tell him to shut it off. He did, and then went back to sleep - why set an alarm?

- the American students' alarm going off three times, at which point I finally got out of bed. 

We've made a few private bookings now...

Anyway, once we were up and out, we had a really good hostel breakfast to start things off, and with the caffeine we so desperately needed we were a little more functional. Our first stop was the cathedral where the kings and queens of Castile are buried, which seemed small and unobtrusive, but when later viewed from above proved to be an enormous site. 

An overhead view of the cathedral. It's the giant thing in the middle of the photo. 

After the cathedral, we took the tourist bus back to Alhambra, which I am pleased to say deserves at least some of its reputation. I'll let the pictures do the talking. 

Please excuse the photos - I'm not a particularly good photographer to start with, and most of these were captured in a 5-second window while the view was mostly touristless. Hopefully some of the Alhambra's beauty shows through!

It was breath-taking, and we spent most of the day there. Once we were finally done, it was nearly 6.00, and thanks to the holiday, most spots were closing. We ran some errands, where we accidentally found the tea market - it smelled amazing, and I really wish I could have bought some teas there, but I don't want to haul them around for two more months! - made some dinner (sausages, cheese and tomatoes on a baguette, and it was delicious!) and ended off the night with a cup of coffee and some tasty fresh churros. Then we went to bed early, to rise at 5.30 for a day of travelling and day-tripping. 

Our train left Granada for Algeciras at 6.50, and four hours later we were disembarking for a quick 30 minute bus to Gibraltar. After some confusion, we crossed the border (welcome to the UK!), ditched our luggage at the airport (£8, cash only, euros not accepted - thanks for the pounds Mom!), crossed the runway and then promptly managed to get lost in the 5 km long colony. This time we had a map, though, so we were soon sorted out and headed towards the cable car up "the Rock". 

We had a quick lunch on the terrace, or tried to until a monkey raided Jesse's bag and stole all of our fruit, and then wandered down the hill, taking in the views and trying to avoid the monkeys that were all over the place. Jesse was nearly bowled over when one monkey attacked another, which made it flee in his direction, cementing our shared opinion that monkeys are devious, evil little shits that we never want to be near. Seriously guys, monkeys suck. 

I was going to caption this something along the lines of "sure, they look cute..." but they don't really, do they? They look like schemey little bags of shit. The look the bottom one is giving me is definitely saying, "You're lucky I'm so lazy. If you were closer, I'd probably try to eat your face. But you're far enough away that that seems like work, so thank your gods I'm lazy as sin."

The views, on the other hand? Decidedly less sucky. 

We wandered down the hill slowly, finding St. Michael's Cave (which is just kind of... There? As a tourist trap, I guess?) and a zoo, which was great, and then eating a quick ice cream before leaving Gibraltar and resuming our onward voyage. 

This cave is a cave. We were mostly happy for the chance to be inside, where it was cool and damp, for ten minutes or so. Which now that I think about it might be the point of the cave?

This is a turtle eating an apple. You could hear the apple crunching as he took bites. Just look at him and tell me it isn't the happiest turtle you've ever seen. He's so happy! I'm so happy because he's so happy! 

We're in Tarifa tonight (at an actual hotel! with a bathroom and everything! I'm SO EXCITED!) and we're leaving for Morocco tomorrow, so it's goodbye to Spain for now. I'll miss you, endless cheap yet excellent wine, delicious ham, and ludicrously good looking people! 

Mrehba Morocco

We were loathe to leave our wonderful, comfortable Tarifan hotel, but we staggered out of bed to catch the 11.00 am ferry from Tarifa to Tanger. We got to the terminal with no problems, and once we determined that everyone in a group was worse than useless (standing in the way of the cashier, blocking the passport lanes without proceeding through, blocking the luggage drop-off, etc), we set sail for Africa. The ferry was supposed to be 35 minutes long, and shortly after we departed we were invited to sit in the business class lounge, which seemed like a good sign for our trip. Things started to fall apart shortly afterwards. 

As the ferry docked at 12.05 (twenty minutes behind at almost exactly an hour for the crossing), we grew nervous about our ability to catch the 1.00 pm train to Fez, so we lined up early and jostled our way around every twist and turn so we'd be amongst the first off the boat. It would have worked perfectly, if only we'd heard the announcements (muted to the point of being inaudible in business class) on the ferry saying we needed to have our passports stamped on the boat. We bolted back up the stairs, found the customs bureau, and promptly settled in to wait for the immigration officer, who was obviously taking his break. Twenty minutes of waiting goes by; I'm resigned to our fate of catching the 5.00 train, while Jesse seems to think we might make it yet. Finally, he comes back, we're admitted to Morocco, and we run back off the ferry and to catch a taxi. It's 12.40 as we clamber in, ask the price (24 dirham, plus a 5 dirham tip for the guy who "helped" us load our luggage), and then ask the taxi driver to take us to the train station. I ask if we might make the 1.05, and he says "perhaps"; maybe there's hope yet! Plus, if we don't make it, the driver says he can take us one little tour of some of the tombs around Tanger. I guess that wouldn't be so bad!

It's a ten minute drive, and as we pull up, I jump out of the cab to buy tickets while Jesse pays the driver and gets our bags. I end up waiting in line, heart pounding, as I watch the two people in front of me buy their tickets. Finally, it's my turn, and I tell him - two tickets for Fez. 310 dirham, and I pull out my credit card - no, no, no, cash only. That's fine, we met a nice Canadian couple in Gibraltar who had some dirham left over, so we bought it from them - but it turns out I only have 280 dirham. Jesse arrives and tells me that the driver changed our fare to €10 from 24 dirham (about $3 Canadian), but we're in a hurry, so oh well. I'm processing this as I run to the ticket machine the clerk indicates, where I can supposedly pay with a card, but of course there are two people standing in front of it, arguing about the fare. I cross my fingers - 12.55! - as Jesse goes to the bank machine to get cash just in case. This ends up being the case, as he's able to pay before I can, and at last we have tickets for the 1.05 train!

We rush from the cashier to read the platform number, and are trying to figure out how to get there to run for the train, when a security guard asks us where we're going. We tell him, and he says the train isn't in yet. How could the train not have arrived yet? It leaves in five minutes! He points up at the giant clock just over our heads, where the hands have just ticked over to... 12.00. We lost an hour between Spain and Morocco. 

Honestly, we were too relieved to feel anything else, including embarrassment, and we were happy to wait the extra hour to catch our five hour train to Fez. It was an inauspicious start, but things have gone well since, and though I'm sure we're paying white-people prices for everything, well, we are white people, so what can you do? Also for obvious reasons, I was somewhat too harried to take any pictures on this leg, so you'll have to wait for your first glance of Fez later. I'll try to get that one up soon -assuming I can ever access the Internet again!

Africa

Standing on the terrace at the top of the Rock, I looked across the way, and realized I could see it. 

Africa. 

It's Africa you guys. 

AFRICA

I'm going there. 

Tomorrow. 

Africa, you guys. Tomorrow. Africa. 

Holy shit, AFRICA. 

You guys, I am excite. 

(Also I said nearly all of that out loud when I saw it - Jesse thinks I'm an idiot - but now that I've written it down the word Africa just looks wrong. A-fri-ca? Africa!)