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