يهز القصبة

That's Arabic for "Rock the Casbah"

I decided to go to Morocco after an invitation by Bianca to join her and her friend Serafina as trip security and photographer, which she told me was only half a joke.

We met at Termini to take the Leonardo Express to Fiumicino Airport for 14 Euro and not 5 minutes into the trip our stubbornness had a standoff over where to sit on the train.  Eventually I caved (I wasn't soft; her row had more leg room so it was a rational decision) and we were on our way.  There were two American college students across the aisle who struck up a conversation with us, though we quickly noticed our definitions of a good time and how to act in public were very different and I then stopped participating in the conversation.  I only bring this up because it was the first example of a recurring theme in our trip, the couple's retreat.  The guy across the aisle asked if this weekend was going to be a couples retreat for Bianca and me, to which we both reacted with eye rolls, laughter, and a no.  (This was actually supposed to be a couples retreat for Bianca and Serafina, i was just along for the ride)

We got to the airport early (I have a fear of arriving too late, as you know), changed our Euros to Moroccan Dirhams (Dh), to which it is about $1 US to 10 Dh, and made our way through passport control where the man flipped to a random page and hastily stamped somewhere without looking.

We booked the trip through Priceline so were flying on a real airline, Royal Air Maroc, whose planes are labeled in English on one side, and Arabic on the other.

Royal Air Maroc

We even had an in flight meal of beef tagine from Rome to Casablanca, where we caught a connecting flight to Marrakech.  (Both Marrakech and Marrakesh are accepted spellings).  In Marrakech there was a cab waiting for us at the door to take us to our hostel.  Oh yeah.  Hostel.  Not Hotel.  Bianca sprung that one on me 3 minutes before we got on the plane.  After throwing around some "honeys" and "dears" to antagonize Bianca, she wasn't enjoying my couples retreat humor.  As we were getting off the plane, bth our bags were back near my row and she was 2 rows forward so I grabbed both.  She asked for her bag, and I said, "No, I got it,"  to which she kind of squirmed, not getting the answer she wanted, so I added, "Does it emasculate you for me to be holding your bag?"  (I like to do the gentlemanly things, even just for my "friends who are girls," but Bianca doesn't so that created even more interesting situations.)

The hostel is called Riad Mama Marrakech and is owned by an American woman, Crystal, and her Moroccan husband.  Crystal was born and raised in NYC, studied at the American University in Paris,  and her travels brought her to Morocco where she has lived for the last 6 years.  We are shown a room with 6 beds, 3 on each side.  On the opposite side are two German men, and we have our own nook to ourselves.

Moroccan beds are low to the ground, really just mattresses on the floor, but nothing like mattresses in the US.

The next day we get up early around 7, eat breakfast, out the door by 8 (Marrakech is 1 hour behind Rome)  We had a typical Moroccan breakfast (can we just assume for the sake of savings words that everything we ate is typical Moroccan) of Moroccan crepes with honey, a pancake like thing, pita bread and eggs with paprika.  I didn't really like the pancake or the eggs (they had too much spice) but I ate it anyway because I'm in college (and just me) and I am not about to turn down a free meal.

Bianca and I walk to the Koutoubia Mosque (non-Muslims are not allowed to enter Mosques), continue on to a "cyber park" with free Wi-Fi and standing computer kiosks.  This better catch on in the US soon.  We also had our second variation on the theme with a Moroccan man that insisted we chat.  We talked about football, he assumed we were from London ("They" {people in Morocco I guess} can't distinguish between American and British accents so they assume we are all from London) but was surprised to find out we liked Roma) and said to something to Bianca about traveling with her husband, gesturing to me.  I laughed, she got frustrated.

It was a beautiful park as well.

We had to be back at the Riad to meet Serafina (we arrived a night before her), but we swung by the main square, Djamaa el-Fna, where we had our first experience of being westerners in a foreign land.  (Random thought.  If we are to define the world by east-west, why is Rome (over 1400km east of Marrakech) considered "West" and Marrakech, which is farther west than London, is not? Judeo-Christian bias?  Just things I think about.)

Djamaa el-Fna - Daytime

Anyway, walking into the square we were bombarded with "Taxi?" "Hello, hello, hello, excuse me, nice price" "Henna?" "Sorry, sorry, low price."  It was not entirely new, as something of the sort was practiced in the leather market in Florence, but not to this magnitude and with such a difference in culture combined with my ignorance to what is acceptable, it was somewhat unsettling.  We quickly adopted the practice of avoiding eye contact, aided by wearing sunglasses at all times, and ignoring a lot of people.  Typically I would have not done that because it's rude, but the situation would just get worse if we bit on the invitations.  I also found out that Bianca is terrified of snakes, and there were a lot of snake charmers.  I was gonna have fun with this one.

After meeting Serafina back at the Riad, we set off on our whirlwind tour of Marrakech.  We saw palace ruins, a newer still intact palace, and Medersa Ben Youssef.  All extremely pretty, but I couldn't tell you a single thing about them.

Palace Badia

Palace Bahia

Medersa Ben Youssef

 After doing the touristy things, we dove head first into the souks.  I mentioned the square was stressful.  Now thing of doing that in an enclosed alleyway.  We peruse, but perusing brings on the shop keeper that badgers you with the few phrases he knows in English, to which if we actually wanted to participate we would respond in Italian.  (We rarely admitted to being American.  It was either British or Italian).

Everything, save food, can be haggled for in Morocco, and the starting price is often 200 Dh ($20 US) or higher, so we would start around 50Dh and if a deal was to be made it was 70 - 90 Dh at the absolute most.  Serafina is an EXPERT haggler, and though I would try my best, she often stepped in as my Papelbon and drop the price another 30 Dh.  Early on I was looking to buy a miniature wooden camel, and there were two shops directly next to each other, prices always identical.  I was ready to walk away, I wasn't interested for 80 Dh when Serafina who had been haggling with the shop next door turned and said, "I got it for 50."  You go girl.  Another time, when I was looking for a scarf and we were walking away from starting prices of 250 Dh, she got a guy down from 300 Dh to 80.

We ate lunch at the main square, each getting a different type of couscous and a coke (the bottles were glass and in Arabic) and paid 40 Dh each.  Food is really cheap and you get a lot of it.  After lunch we got some fresh squeezed OJ at one of the hundred carts for 4 Dh, yes that would be .40 cents.  One of the henna ladies came up to Bianca and pestered her about getting henna.  I turn away for one second and turn back to see the woman have a death grip on Bianca's arm, putting a design on her hand to which Bianca did not ask for and is resisting.  The woman then demands 200 Dh, Bianca says no, the woman gets upset, Bianca gives her 10 Dh, she leaves unhappy and I scrape the henna off with my school ID card, but it had already begun to set so Bianca is left with a semi-permanent reminder of a temporary feeling (It was also the butt of a few jokes over the rest of the trip).

That evening we walked out to "new Marrakech" outside the walls of the Medina and get to experience the Moroccan twist on everything European.  After relaxing for a bit, we head back to the riad, and then the main square for dinner, which is a totally different beast at night.

At night Djamaa el-Fna explodes.  There are street performers, games, fights, preachers, monkey acts (sadly we didn't see any of those) and a whole section of 130 different food stands, all competing for your money.

Djamaa el-Fna - Nighttime

I snuck this shot from the hip.

Before we made it to the food we looked at the performers, of one I took a photo and walked away only to be stopped by four men who held out a pan for money.  I wasn't aware of the cultural procedures, but I knew instantly I made a boo-boo.  I didn't have any change and I wasn't about to pay $2 for a photo I wasn't going to use anyway, so I did my best to express my ignorance, remorse, and showed him I deleted the photo.  I moved on to another spectacle, two men boxing.  I'm a big white man so I have no chance at blending in so of course the ring leader sees me, runs over with his hat outstretched and says in a harsh tone, "You look, you pay."  Oh come on.  I don't have any change and he isn't breaking his stare, so I bum 1 Dh from Bianca, drop it in the hat and turn away.

Now to the food stands.  Each stand has a sort of hype man trying to bring you in, stand number 117 had a good one.  "One One Seven is your way to heaven!  Don't go anywhere else. One One Six makes you sick, One One Five its a dive, Ninety-Seven he's just a D*****bag!"  He was quite memorable so we came back to his stand.  We ordered a bit of everything: kebab, couscous, vegetables, assorted fried fish.  With three more cokes it came to 250 Dh for the 3 of us.  That's a feast for $25.  I also sold Bianca to our waiter for 10 Dh.  She was offended, but I just wanted a another coke and didn't want to be accused of price gouging. 

Dinner

For dessert, we hit up the sweets cart that is pushed around the ring of food stands.  It's 30 Dh for a box you can fill with whatever you want from the cart.

Sweets cart.

Now the dark side of Marrakech is how poor the city is.  In the US and Europe I have been used to seeing people beg on the corners for a few cents, but Marrakech was different.  We didn't really see that happening, instead the kids were out, trying to sell trinkets.  I bring this up now because walking through the square with that little white box of sweets was a magnet for the kids.  It was really tough to see 5 to 12 year olds come up greet you with "Madame or Monsieur" point at the box, hold up one finger, and point to their mouths.

Back to the riad.  Go to bed early.

  
الصحراء الكبرى
(Sahara Desert)

We wake up at 6:15, breakfast at 6:30, and we are picked up by a shuttle at 7:00. 

The shuttle takes us to the main square and we have to change to a different van.  This is all fine and well until 10 minutes later when I realize my camera is not with me.  I bolt out of the van, and start looking for the one that brought me here.  Of the 5 vans parked, none of them are the one I am looking for.  I looked to one of the drivers for help and he tells me its around the corner to the left.  The next thing everyone sees is a big white man running through Marrakech.  The van's not there.  I run back.  All the drivers surround me to try to help, no one speaks English until finally a guy comes by and says he called the van and it's coming back.  At this point I'm doubting if my camera is even in this van.  I'm not worried about losing the pictures, I'm just worried what's gonna happen if I have to tell my dad my camera is somewhere in Morocco though I'm not sure specifically where it is.  The van pulls up, someone goes over, talks to the driver, and I see my camera handed out the window.  Words can not describe the relief I felt, so I'm not gonna try.  (Dad: It's ok, I'm sorry, I'll never do it again.)

Morocco has quite an assortment of landscapes.  Here is a quick overview from the drive out of Marrakech.  The first 50 km was through flat, sparse badlands with some rugged vegetation.  Then we took a right turn and suddenly were driving through the lush, green foothills of the Atlas Mountains.  15 minutes later we were in forested mountains, then the trees disappeared as the mountains got bigger, the tallest peaks covered in snow.  Down from the mountains we followed a river with grass and palm trees on the banks, but 100 yards out the land turned dry and barren.  It was a total of 4 hours to the city of Ouarzazate.  It's claim to fame is it is home to the Moroccan film industry which works in concert with Hollywood when desert scene is needed.  Movie such as Lawrence of Arabia, Cleopatra, Sahara, and Kingdom of Heaven were shot there.  (The gates of Jerusalem are still there). 3 hours past Ouarzazate we arrived in Zagora to buy water, use the bathroom and had the options to buy turbans (but they were too expensive) before we met the camels down the road. Map from Marrakech to Zagora

Camels.

My camel.

POV

Sunset

Camel train.

At the edge of the Sahara desert, we met three Moroccan guides with the camels and they began matching people to camels.  I don't know what criteria they were using, but I ended up with the most outspoken and uncooperative of the bunch.  Camels aren't really like horses, and when they get up off the ground it is surprising how high in the air you really are.  We set off into the desert, the sun setting to our backs and the big dipper coming into view ahead of us.  About an hour into the journey the sun had completely set and, barring a vacation Yosemite National Park, I had never seen that may stars in my life.  I saw stars I have never seen in my life.  My legs and butt were getting sore heading into hour two and there as no campsite in view when suddenly we went up a dune, hooked a right suddenly there were tents and bonfire.  I had no idea you could hide stuff like that in the desert.

Camp in the morning

Singing those campfire songs, oh I should have been a nomad.

We were shown to our own tent where we were given a minute to drop our stuff before we met out at the campfire.  In our group there were the three Americans (us), three women from Spain (the guides called them Spanga), Miguel from Mexico, living in Madrid, a French couple, and two women from Casablanca, so there were language barriers, but not blocking all avenues of communication, so let's call it a language maze. It was a really cool exercise in international communication because everything would be translated to French, Spanish, and English, with some Arabic and Italian being spoken as well.  Dinner was chick pea soup, chicken tagine, and oranges.  After dinner we were back to the fire to sing songs from each country (we sang New York, New York) and some star gazing.  I was exhausted and wanted to be up for the sunrise, so I hit the [camel skin blankets] early.

It was pretty bright out when I woke up at 6, but the sun had not yet risen over the mountains, so I hurried out onto the dunes.

I wasn't wearing shoes and the sand was actually extremely cold, so I dug my toes in and they were warm in less than a minute.  The sunrise was washed out because of some haze, but the shadows it cast on the dunes were fantastic.  We had a light breakfast of bread with assorted jams, oranges, and coffee or tea before heading back over to the camels.  Try as I might to avoid my traveling partner from the night before, the guide who was trying to calm him saw me, smiled and motioned for me to get on.  I wasn't thrilled to be back on the same camel (I watched him be difficult for the 20 minutes before we left) but apparently he was too disruptive to be tied into the train with the rest, and I got a private tour of the Sahara, just me and my guide.  Side note, one of the guides proposed to Bianca and told her he could make her "Queen of the Desert."

Sunrise

My National Geographic moment.

Guides taking my camel for a walk to calm him down.

The camel ride back was a little shorter, but that was ok with me.  We piled back in the van and took the same road back to Marrakech, all of us dead tired.  Back in Marrakech you would have thought they were filming the sequel to The Day After Tomorrow.  Traffic was absolute gridlock, and people, mopeds, and bicycles were weaving in and out of traffic.  Turns out Friday (the day we saw the city) is "mosque day," and most people are at prayer, and we didn't see the true hustle and bustle of Marrakech.  Dinner was back at stand "one-one-seven," then back to the Riad for hookah, tea, and cards, bed early for the cab at 7am.

The travel day home was pretty uneventful until we arrived in Casablanca and the passport control help us up because the exit stamp was on the same spot as the entrance stamp and they didn't understand where we were coming from or where we were going.  Our flight from Casablanca also had engine difficulties, which we witnessed when the bus pulled up to the staircase and then drove away as they were opening the engine hatch.  Our theme of "couples retreat" hadn't surfaced in a while, but it reared its humorous head as we were getting on the flight.  Bianca and I were chatting with an elderly American couple as we were boarding the flight, and I noticed they had a lot of luggage so I offered to carry something up the stairs.  The woman turned to Bianca and said, "That's very sweet, you hold on to this one."

Next up:
Krakow, Poland March 23-25
The Griswold's, I mean Krzysko's European Vacation March 26-April 4

Donde. Esta. La biblioteca?

This was stuck in and outside my head all week. Listen to it before you read so you can have a more authentic experience of the post...  Cool song right?  I thought so too, except I only knew maybe the first two and a half lines so Sam and Victoria didn't share my enthusiasm...anyway.

Saturday (Day One)
Basically a total travel day.  Flight was at 5pm, but I had never been to Ciampino Airport (I didn't even know where it was) so I arrived at Termini at to get my scheduled 1:30 shuttle, leave an hour to get there (the provided estimate was 40 minutes), 2 hours, to check in, and some extra time in case I got lost.  But I arrived at Termini at 12 and caught the 12:20 shuttle, and got to Ciampino by 1, only to find it might as well be a dirt airstrip.  There were two "terminals" with eight "gates" each.  Both of those were in quotations cause its really just two rooms on either side of a hallway with doors leading out to the tarmac.  Boarding was cool.  We walked out the doors onto shuttles that dropped us off in front of the airplane which we had to board using the stair-truck.  12 year old me was freaking out with how cool this was.  I paid a little extra for the first row (I need a little more room on account of my long legs) and the flight was made infinitely more comfortable by it.

Walking off the plane in Barcelona was also pretty cool.  Have you ever had the feeling of being alone in a foreign country where you don't speak the language?  It was a little like that.  Though I noticed the signs were in two languages, Spanish and another I did not recognize.  Sam later told me it is Catalan, as in the Catalonia region they speak a different dialect.  It sounds like Spanish with a lisp, but the spelling isn't even remotely close.  I was able to book the room in the apartment where Sam and Victoria were staying for a reduced rate, since I was one person and the owner apparently liked Sam and Victoria already.  I followed the directions provided to the apartment, a 2 euro bus ride to Plaza di Espana, followed by a 10 to 15 minute walk down Av. de Paral.lel.  (A period is placed between two consecutive L's to denote they are not pronounced however they are usually pronounced in Spanish).  Upon arrival at the apartment, I was greeted, not by Milena my contact, but by her mother Pilar.

Pilar was extremely friendly and welcoming, she showed me around the apartment and told me the girls were not there (they were across the street at the market and would return in 10 minutes).  When they did, we walked down Paral.lel to find some food and settled on tapas.  Remember how I don't know Spanish?  That's difficult for me because I hate being helpless. Victoria doesn't know Spanish, and Sam is a few years removed from learning the language, but we looked to her for our communication.  She took responsibility for ordering our food, (the only thing I understood was "Hamburguesas"), and we got patatas bravas (potatoes with spicy sauce), tortilla de patates (potato omelet), and chorizo (Spanish sausage).

Sunday (Day 2)
Sunday morning we got up early, and Pilar helped us with making breakfast.  She gave us sliced chorizo and tomatoes, bread to toast, oil to pour on the toast, and coffee or tea depending on preference.  We decided to walk down to the beach, about a 15 minute walk, and as we got closer I kept getting and Orlando, FL vibe.  There were a lot palm trees, fountains, modern art, and soft, tropical sunlight.  We perused a Sunday market, walked along the marina, and headed on toward the beach, where the girls took off their boots (we all misjudged the temperature) and we walked along the shoreline.  Losing track of time was pretty easy and we stayed on the beach and a jetty coming out from it for around an hour.

Barcelona beach.

The language barrier kept me from playing.

From the breakwater.

Typical Sam.

After the beach, Katherine recommended a place to eat that served bacon and egg on top of french fries, so naturally we went there.  As tempting as that was, I decided to order my first paella which proved to be a daunting task.  Paella is a hot dish of rice, vegetables, and whatever meat you choose.  Looks like this:

Before.

After.

I also had my first experience with sangria.  We ordered sangria cava, which is Sangria made with Spanish bubbly wine, as opposed to sangria rojo made with red wine.

The restaurant was a few blocks from the famous Sagrada Familia, so we figured why not go visit.  Construction began in in 1882, suffered delays because of Gaudi's death (the architect) and the Spanish Civil War, but as since recommenced and the projected completion date is set for 2028.  I was first exposed to the Sagrada Familia when people shared photos from their trip to Barcelona early in the semester.  Honestly, I thought I was an ugly church and the spires and facades gave me an eerie and almost sinister feel.  That opinion changed, however, after my visit to the church.

Still under construction.

The Passion Facade.

The Nativity Facade.

Columns of different heights and stone, along with the ceiling (pictured below), give the appearance of gazing up into a forest.

The ceiling.  The four icons on the large red columns (porphyry) are the symbols of the four evangelists.

Stained glass in the apse.

One last look.

After the Sagrada Familia we wandered toward the Casas, homes also designed by Gaudi, only finding one before we decided to turn in for the night.

Monday (Day 3)

Monday morning we decided to check out Park Guell up the mountain from the sea, another one of Gaudi's works.  The park sits on the side of a small mountain and offers a wonderful view of Barcelona and the Mediterranean Sea.  We took the metro, then transferred to a bus (it took us to a while to find it in the large Catalunya plaza), only to find at the end of the bus trip that the metro ran along the same road.  You would think finding a large park in a relatively flat city on a hill would be easy, but as one moves up the mountain from teh beach, there are numerous, small canyons and gorges separating neighborhoods. Yes, we got lost.  We eventually found ourselves at the back entrance to the park and located a posted map, but had no idea how big the park was, only that it was up hill both ways.  Luckily the park wasn't that big so the walk was only ten minutes and we were rewarded with a fantastic view of Barcelona.

View from the top.

View from the middle section.  (That area be seen in the lower right hand corner of the photo above.)

Outside wall.

After the park we took a walk down "Old Town" Barcelona, but it didn't really have that feel.  It was most just shops and such.  I bought socks.  We turned in for an early siesta and met up later by the beach to find something for dinner.  For some reason we were surprised to find almost everything closed and those places that were open were sparsely populated.  After walking around for over an hour, we finally settled on a place and ordered a bunch of tapas.  I was looking to try as much paella as possible, so we all decided to split one.  Unfortunately it was over seasoned and inedible, but the night was not be be a failure; the waiter (who didn't speak English) really liked Sam.  He wasn't her type, but she enjoyed the attention (though she won't admit it).

Tuesday (Day 4)
Tuesday was a pretty lazy day.  We walked through Plaza de Espana and up around an art museum with beautiful grounds.  We hung out there for a couple hours, just soaking in the sun.  Lunch was back at the same place as the first day, and then we went back to the old section and wandered some more.  The highlight of Tuesday was that Pilar made us homemade paella, and it was the best paella in Spain.  She even set us a table and gave us a bottle of wine.  We turned in early, the girls had to leave at 7 am for a flight to Paris, and I was leaving later in the day back to Rome.

Wednesday (Day 5)
Woke up early to say goodbye to Sam and Victoria, then back to bed, woke up at 9, ate breakfast, and set out to mail my post cards.  Now I had learned many words in Spanish in my 4 days, so after following Pilar's directions I went to the tobacco store, smiled at the nice old lady behind the counter and said, "dos stampas par United States."  She didn't speak English, but showed me which stamps to put where (there were more than one), and gave me a sweet smile and "adios!" when I left.  I departed for the airport with plenty of time to spare, and so much I waited 2.5 hours before I could check in 2 hours before my flight.  Big day of waiting.  The bus ride back to Rome was like coming home FROM school FOR spring break.  Rome sweet Home.

Florence, Night and Day

Early train to Florence at 9am and Termini McDonald's still didn't have breakfast (I'm not bitter).

Florence was a small little town with a bunch of churches, I guess that's to be expected.  We arrived an hour or so before our check in time at our apartment so we wandered the streets a little, a settled on the wall looking over the river.

I miss rowing.

So there's this website called AirBnB.com where you can find people renting out rooms or entire apartments all around the world.  It's a favorite among study abroad students because its cheap like a hostel, but not a sketchy, and usually as comfortable as a hotel, but not as pricey.  We (and by we I mean not me) found an apartment that ended up, split 7 ways, 25 euro for the night.  It was a couple blocks from the train station, and when we reached the door, our neighbors on the call box were identified as "Dirty Drew and the Boys."  Oh Boy.  This was not really a concern to me personally, but something told me that Dirty Drew and his boys would be interested in our apartment with say... 6 girls and 1 guy.

For lunch, Katherine led us to place across the river for a great hamburger, but the place was full, so we went to the pizza joint next door.  I ordered pizza wurstel e pattatine fritte.

Yes that would be hot dogs and french fries.  On my pizza.

After lunch, we walked up to the Piazzale Michelangelo, which I heard and witnessed as the best view of Florence.

Next stop was the Duomo (Above, center).  The dome was closed by the time we got over there, but the campanile was open, and offered a view of the dome as well as Florence.  It's 6 euro and a long tight staircase to the top.  I know I'm out of shape, but this climb damn near killed me.  Also medieval architects did not have people my size in mind when designing this structure.

Staircase

View up the center of the campanile.

Recognize this?

Sunset from the campanile.

After the campanile we relaxed at the apartment for a bit, and then headed out for dinner.  The first few places were wicked expensive, but we found a nice place with outdoor seating and the best gnocchi of my life.  Also red wine.  Mi piace some vino rosso.  The entertainment for the night was a visit to "Space," the happening discoteche in Florence.  It wasn't so happening the night we went, the guy/girl ratio was waaaaaay off, but I was the only guy in the group and I wasn't going to leave my girls alone, though they weren't having the best time either.


Sunday was our last day; it was just a quick one night trip, but we made sure to do as much of Florence as possible.  Sunday morning we visited the leather market, which was more or less just walking down a street trying to sneak peeks at the merchandise, for if you were seen looking at an item a man came up to you exclaiming, "Hello, hello, I have nice price."  I managed to get a good price on a belt, 20 euro down from 35, but my real quest was for a shoulder bag.  I didn't get the haggle gene from my dad, so I took my friend Katherine who seemed to have it and man would I have been up a creek with out her.  The price of the bag was 150 (obviously marked up), but something about my gender tells me the male shop owner would not have been as willing to budge off 110 down to 90 if he were dealing with me directly.  My point is, thank you Katherine.

Travel Advice: Florence is a cool city, and very doable in a day if you get up and start your day before 11 am.