#7 Morocco, May 9, 2013

I got the CTM bus from Ouarzazate to Marrakech, a four-hour ride. The scenery was quite splendid—the Atlas Mountains here were very rocky and dry. There was a bit of farming—wheat, I believe, but I’m sure that was irrigated. Going through one small town, I saw a young man carrying a newly butchered goat.

After arriving, I got a taxi to the Djemma el Fna, the main plaza of Marrakech. This is the first town that I am visiting on this trip that I also visited in 1987—yes, I think there are a lot of changes. I had reserved a hostel in this neighborhood and had complicated instructions to find it, but I did! It’s nice to be back in a hostel with much more interaction with other travelers.

The Djemma el Fna is an ancient world-renowned central plaza like no other. It began in 1050 AD as a site of public executions. Ever since, it has functioned as an entertainment and trading center with jillions of people still watching (and giving coins to) gymnasts, snake charmers, story tellers, and musicians. The good part is that it is truly exotic and unique; the bad part is that it does have a ‘state fair’ atmosphere of attempting to empty visitors’ pockets by any means—they get mad and yell “F—U“ if you don’t give them enough coins. It also has the usual ‘animal cruelty’ specimens of screaming monkeys, captive pigeons, and turtles piled up in cages. It has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site; I think it has been enlarged since I first saw it in 1987. The exotic goods for sale are dentures and teeth, hennaing, and ostrich eggs. The more mundane things for sale are fresh-squeezed orange juice from many stands and then at about 5:00 PM, a whole bunch of food stands appear. They serve the usual Moroccan food, but there are also some interesting things such as snails and lambs heads. The whole place rocks with music and dancing with competing musical groups playing, dancing and singing.

The following evening I waited to eat my main meal until the food stands got going in the Djemma el Fna about 6:00. First I had a small bowl of snails; then I had some haria—bean soup; then my main course was half a lamb’s head, French fries and bread. A pretty intense meal, you’ll agree. These courses were all from different food stands, each having their specialty.

The weather is very hot, but not so hot that it interferes with sight seeing; however, I don’t last as long as I usually do, before taking a tea break or going back to rest. I did visit the Musee Marrakech and the Ali ben Youssef Medersa, established in the 14th C. as a world- class place of learning. And getting to these places involved long walks through the souqs, which is always interesting.

I walked a long way to the bus station and bought a ticket for Monday to go to Casablanca.  Then I taxied to see the Saadian Tombs, the legacy of one el-Mansour who died in 1603 after preparing a suitable resting place for himself.  They are pretty impressive with lots of carving, mosaics, and beautiful columns.

I consulted my old 1987 blog to look at the pictures to see if it looked like the Djemma el Fna was larger now, as it seemed to me.  Actually, it looked the same in the pictures.  I also reviewed having hired a tour guide named Sami.  I did remember that we had lunch together after touring the sights in a calache.  I noticed that I had recorded that we ate at the Tazi Hotel.  I remember having the pastilla and his having the kababs, which we shared.  I asked Abdul, the proprietor of the hostel where I’m staying if he knew the Tazi Hotel, and he did, and directed me to find it.  I had lunch there—pastilla, and asked at the reception of the hotel if they knew a guide from 1987 named Sami.  The clerk said that they remembered him well.  I asked if he were available now, and he replied, “He’s old now, and lives in the mountains.”  This may all have been BS, but it was fun to think that they really did remember him and that he was living in the mountains.  You can see his picture in my 1987 blog.  I, again, had the pastilla and enjoyed it a lot.

 

#6 Morocco, May 7, 2013

Well, that didn’t take long. I walked all around the ‘downtown’ of Er-Rachidia and was back at my hotel in 45 minutes! The town seemed to be quite spread out, but the centro was just a few blocks each way. I stopped in at the covered market at 9:20 AM, but nothing was doing yet—everything was still covered with tarpaulins. Morocco does not get going very early! Still it was worthwhile to stay here two nights as it gave me a chance to catch up on my laundry. In the mountains where I had been it took three days for a tee shirt to dry—cool and damp weather. In the desert in Er-Rachidia it was hot and dry, so I had a chance to wash all my clothes!

At the bus depot, I waited quite some time before I got the bus for Tinerhir, the jumping off point to the Todra Gorge, which promised beautiful scenery. I struck up a friendship with some fellow waiters—one had lovely henna designs on her hands.

On the way I saw camels several times in the desert landscape, which was beautiful in its own way. The young woman that sat next to me could speak English, which was helpful. She put her phone number into my phone and asked me to call her when I arrive at my next destination, which is Ouarzazate, pronounced wahr’ –zah-zaht’.

She warned me that the people in Tinerhir were ‘dangerous’ and not to go with anybody! Well, since I would have to take a taxi to my hotel in the Todra Gorge about 14 km from Tinerhir, this presented a problem. I sort of solved it by calling my hotel while I engaged the taxi, having the hotel man speak with the taxi driver. I thought that at least somebody would know who I was with if I disappeared into thin air. Actually, it turned out to be a shared taxi and the price, according to both the taxi man and the hotel man, was 20 dirhams. Off we went. When we got to my hotel, the taximan suddenly demanded 40 dirhams for some complicated reason that I couldn’t follow. Big deal—it was irritating, but 20 d = $2.50, and 40 = $5.00. Given the room bargain, which was 150 d = $18, and that included a private bathroom plus breakfast, plus dinner, this was not a big deal! Economics of travel are funny.

There were long and short walks that one could take in amongst the Todra Gorge, viewing the lovely scenery. In the summer many people camp here.

My hotel was within the gorge, and I could look out my window to see beautiful views. I got settled, had a glass of wine (I had brought two half-bottles of wine with me) and then had a lovely chicken tagine, salad, and bread for linner. After that I went for a short walk in the gorge, which was, well gorgeous!

The next day I got more serious about exploring and took a two-hour stroll, while other serious hikers and serious rock climbers did their thing. The nearby village provided internet services (none in hotel—in fact we only had electricity via a generator, a few hours in the evening) and offered some people-watching, too. This area was awesome and nicely accessible for me. Luckily the weather was perfect. When I got tired, I could sit on the rooftop terrace of my hotel and enjoy the views from there. What a lovely respite from heavy duty cities, buses, and traffic.

What luck!  I’ll have to remember my leaving the Todra Gorge and going to Ouarzazate when things don’t go so well, as I only waited five minutes in front of my hotel when a minibus going to Tinerhir appeared and I jumped on.  Then when I got out in Tinerhir, there was the bus that was going to Ouarzazate, which I jumped on!

When I got checked into my hotel in Ouarzazate, I wanted to quickly have linner at the place that Val, my friend from CA, had told me about.  It seems that Ben Kingsley (Gandhi, remember?) had eaten at the Douyria restaurant in Ouarzazate, leaving behind his recommendation for the restaurant on a napkin, which was now displayed on their website.  I had a lovely meal there of rabbit with crystallized lemon.  I get a kick out of  the salt and pepper at table always being salt and CUMIN, never black pepper!  Since I cleaned off the bones holding them in my hands, the tumeric made my fingers look like an avid nicotine addict!  The view of Ouarzazate from the restaurant was great!

Ouarzazate has made its reputation for movie sets, which have been used by some of our American high-flyers in movie making.  Apparently it has ‘played’ several other exotic locations in movies.  I got a yellow bus to go out into the country about seven km to visit the Atlas Film Corporation Studios.  The bus was kind of complicated—after I got on, I had to make my way to the back where a cashier was in a booth who accepted my cash and gave me a ticket.  Then when I got off in front, I gave the driver my ticket.

 The Studio was a huge layout a half-mile from the highway.  There was a hotel in the complex called the “Oscar Hotel,” where I bought my ticket for a tour of the studio.  There were sets from a Martin Scorcese film called, “Kundun,” about the life of the Dalai Lama.  There had been modern versions of both “Ben Hur” and “Cleopatra” that were made here.  We saw Cleopatra’s milk bath (without the milk) and Ben Hur’s war chariots.  A fake airplane from “The Jewel of the Nile,” starring Michael Douglas stood next to a fake sportscar which was used in an explosion, the tourguide said.  Some of the movies made here were French or German.  Their most recent was a German film called “The Physician.”  Quite a few of the characters or extras in these films were local Ouarzazate people.  I asked the tourguide if he had ever been in any films.  He said that he had; he had a degree in film making.  There were three wonderful Arabian horses cavorting in an enclosure.  The tour guide said that sometimes they have many, many animals here.

I walked back up to the highway again, and flagged a petit taxi that ply this route (Avenue Mohammed V).  They take three passengers at a time for which one pays five d.  Actually, I always seemed to get some change back from a five dirham piece, but the guidebook said it cost five dirham—a mystery.

I had the petit taxi drop me at the opposite end of the ciy at the Taourirt Kasbah, a beautiful complex, which got UNESCO protection after doing a gig as a backdrop in “Star Wars.”  (I visited places in Tunisia where “Star Wars” was filmed, too.)

What a wonder!  I only saw a small portion of it, but it was sensational!  After climbing up and down many stairways and peeking into all sorts of chambers, I finally gave up in exhaustion.  This was almost right next to where the previous day’s restaurant, The Douyria, was located.  I crossed the street and flagged down another handy petit taxi to take me back to my hotel.

I see that Ouarzazate has many tourists compared to many of the other towns that I have visited.  It’s a pretty town and most of the buildings (except in the Kashab) look quite new. Tomorrow I shall bus on to Marrakesh.

#5 Morocco, May 3, 2013

I left Moulay Idriss by a Meknes city bus, which was designed for mostly strap-hanging, and so I had to stand all the way into Meknes, which took about a half hour. I found a young man and a woman who could speak a little English and asked them where I should get off to get a petit taxi to my hotel. They both got off with me, and helped me flag a taxi, and explain about my hotel—not a well-known place, I inferred. The Maroc Hotel, which I had read about in the LP and called to reserve, was just fine, in a very good location.  I was only about four blocks from the Bab el-Mansour, the gate at the Place el-Hedim, which is the huge plaza that represents the heart of the old city. Even this little cheap place ($12/night-private single) had sinks in the rooms (showers and toilets in the hall) and wifi! Still I had to provide my own towel, TP and soap—not a problem as backpackers all travel with these!

I visited the Meknes Museum, but alas, this is French-land and so there were no English explanations. It was still fun to see the jewelry and ceramics. Then I took a calache ride (horse and buggy in French) to see the city, but that was limited, too. There was a huge ferria going on and crowds of people were streaming to it. This had caused the police to cordon off many streets that apparently the ride would normally cover. Originally I had bargained the ride from 250 dirham to 150. An hour was promised but the ride only lasted 35 minutes since so many streets were unavailable, so I paid the man 100 dirham and that seemed to be satisfactory.

The Dar Jamai Museum was bigger and was housed in an even prettier building than the Meknes Museum.  Morocco is full of beautiful things!

By late in the afternoon on Saturday, the Place el-Hedim was teeming with buyers and sellers.  I’m not sure if this is always that way on Saturday, or if it was connected to the big crowds attending the ferria that I had seen in the morning.  It’s a huge square, with a huge gate.

I took the walking tour laid out in the LP Guidebook, which went through the souqs, some medina, and up to the north wall with the Bab Berdaine.  It wasn’t nearly as confusing as other medinas that I have visited, but that meant it wasn’t nearly as fun, either!  I did find a restaurant that I had been looking for—‘Mille et Une Nuits’—it took me awhile to figure out that this was about A Thousand and One Nights and not about Nuts!  The Berdaine Mosque seemed quite new, and the Bab Berdaine was very grand.  As always, it was just fun to poke around.  However, the weather had turned cold and windy so I returned to the hotel early.

On Monday, my 78^th birthday, I took a bus to the small town of Azrou.  When I checked into my hotel and presented my passport, as usual, the desk clerk wished me ‘Happy Birthday’ when he gave it back.  He had noticed my date of birth.  I celebrated by having a lovely (local) trout dinner with a bottle of wine.  Well, no, I didn’t drink the whole bottle but took the remainder with me.  As I was leaving, the waiter offered to wrap the bottle in a newspaper to uphold moral decency, I guess.  There really isn’t much alcohol in Morocco, at least that I can see.

I visited the Tuesday Souq, which brings people in from many towns and rural areas around Azrou.  It’s really a huge enterprise with everything on sale including animals, kitchen wares, clothes, produce, luggage and everything else you could think of.  Most interesting, though, were the people.  Most were very friendly to me.  In one case when a person indicated he didn’t want his photo taken, another man called out questioningly, “Francia, Espana, England?”  When I answered “A-mer-i-ca,” he gave me a thumbs up and indicated that I should be allowed to take a picture, which I did.

For some reason, boodles of white egret-like birds nest in the trees in Azrou.  When I get home I can determine exactly what bird this is.

Today I got the morning bus to Er- Rachidia, which is way down south in desert country.  A woman with a tattoo on her forehead was one of the passengers.  After about four hours of bus ride, we stopped at a town and consolidated bus loads—I was moved to another bus.  I sat next to a student who knew a little English, which is pretty scarce in these parts.  On the highway in the middle of nowhere we encountered some sort of parade or demonstration.  The bus ride went through beautiful desert scenery.  Two more hours and we were in Er-Rachidia.  I got a nice hotel right next to the bus station.  This appears to be quite a new town, judging by the buildings.  I shall do some exploring tomorrow before moving on the next day to the Todra Gorge.

Stay tuned—

#4 Morocco, April 25, 2013

More Medina, this time to walk a looong ways into its interior to see their superlative

Kairaouine Madrassa, Mosque (biggest in Africa) and University. This was established in 859 and may be the oldest university in the world, although I think I’ve heard that said about others, too. Unfortunately non-Muslims may not enter so one can only photograph it, peeking in at the gate—even then, pretty impressive. I also saw Madrassa el-Attarine, the Zawiya Moulay Idriss mosque and the Place as-Seffarine where the metal workers make wonderful pieces. The Moulay Idriss had a pole at head-height to keep out donkeys, I was told. I visited the Najjarine Museum of Wooden Arts and Crafts. The beautifully restored 14th C. building (a Fundug—caravanserai) kind of overshadowed the crafts, but they were nice, too.

Then a trip to the leather tanneries was a bit underwhelming. I was shown postcard pictures with many bright colors of dyes filling the pits where they dye the leather, but today there wasn’t much color. I had been escorted up many stairways by a man with a leather shop (fair enough) to view the tanneries. He gave me a sprig of mint because of the bad smells. I didn’t find the smell bad (I grew up on a farm) nor did I buy any leather goods from my escort—sorry. Still, Moroccan leather is world famous and so the tanneries were worth seeing.

After all of this in two or three hours, I had to go back to my hostel and rest. Not only is it a lot of walking (up and down hill, too) but one has to be so alert all the time, plus your senses are assaulted (in a good way) every second by something that demands your attention. Twice I saw people drinking out of a drinking water vessel with its common cup. It’s really fun to just poke about and see what one can see. A waist high bronze camel was for sale—wouldn’t that be fun to take home?!

That evening I attended another of the Sufi Music Festival doings—this time there was a group from Istanbul. There were three instrumentalists, seven singers, three drummers and four dancers. These are the ‘Whirling Dervishes’ although they whirl kind of slowly. Still, the dizziness eventually puts them in a trance, which for them is a religious experience. Without understanding the subtleties of the music and dance, 45 minutes seemed enough.

The Jewish Quarter—the Fez el-Jdid—was established in the 14th C as a refuge for Jews. They were protected by the sultan, and repaid him by fighting for him. The architecture is so different from the rest of the Medina, with their wooden balconies overlooking the street. Then on the way there and back, I could see a number of storks flying around the ancient walls.

A group of American students were staying at the hostel and Sunday evening they celebrated somebody’s birthday. The proprietor of the hostel invited me earlier;  I only stayed a short time, but as I was reading in bed, I was treated to lovely music with singing, guitar and bongo drums.  There seems to be a lot of students from many countries here in Morocco for a ‘foreign experience.’  A few nights earlier a group came through and one of the girls was from Macalester College in St. Paul—my alma mater.

Moving on from Fez (and I really loved that city) I got a bus to Meknes and then a grande taxi to the small hill town of Moulay Idriss, named for a great-grandson of Mohammed.  Again there was beautiful scenery all the way.  Moulay Idriss was lovely and gave me a chance to see Moroccans au natural.  However, since it is built on a hill, there was lots of up, up climbing to do with my pack, which left me plumb tuckered.  Then my dorm was on the third floor of the hotel, with a Terrasse on the fourth floor, so all in all, I had a devil of a workout!  But what lovely accommodations!  Each bed had an electric blanket and a comfy duvet.  We must be at quite an elevation here—it is cool and windy.

The (included) breakfast was delicious: a carafe of coffee, a carafe of hot milk, a banana, three kinds of bread, and a bowl of each of butter, jam, olives, dates, sugar cubes, and olive oil.  It’s a good thing I’ve had lots of exercise!  This fortified me to see the town—the Mausoleum, whose green roof shows from the panoramic views, and the pretty entrance—non-Muslims cannot enter.  I also climbed and climbed to see the only round minaret in Morocco and then repaired to the main plaza for a mint tea and people-watching.  Clearly Moulay Idriss runs on donkey power—they are everywhere, carrying everything and everyone!

 

Today I hiked out of town for an hour to visit Volubilis, an old Roman ruin.  Luckily for most of the way it was downhill.  The ruins were quite extensive, first settled by the Carthaginian traders in the 3^rd C. BCE.  Rome took over in 40 AD and most of the structures remaining were built in the 2^nd and 3^rd centuries.  There were arches, fountains, olive presses, mosaic floors, columns—one with a mother stork and two babies—toilets, and remains of many other buildings.  The Romans pulled out in about 280 AD, but Berbers, Jews, Syrians and Greeks continued to live here and speak Latin (!) until Islam arrived in about the 8^th C.  The city was inhabited until the 18^th century when there was a strong earthquake and its marble was plundered for palaces in Meknes.  The wind that we had been having for two days had finally abated and so the weather was perfect for my outing.

What goes down must come up—luckily I managed to snag a taxi for the return trip to Moulay Idriss.  By this time my feet had had enough!  I had a lamb tajine for dinner followed by a restful tea with mint on the main plaza, all the while admiring this lovely little town.

Tomorrow I shall move on to Meknes.

#3 Morocco, April 18, 2013

Getting to Fez was quite a challenge. Upon inquiry, I discovered that the two large bus companies’ buses went to Fez at 8:30 and 10:00 PM, which made the arrival time in Fez at 2:00 or 4:00 AM! The desk clerk in Al Hoceima said that there was a small bus company that went at 9:30 AM—ah, much better. I taxied over to the bus depot the day before to buy my ticket (best practice here in Morocco). The young woman, speaking in a mixture of Spanish, French and sign language, told me that the bus went at 10:00 AM and that I should buy my ticket the next day when I got on the bus. When I reported this to the desk clerk, he looked skeptical; sure enough, on Sunday when I went to the bus depot, the young woman now said that the bus would not be going today. Now what?! After conferring with a man, she said I could go to Targuiste and get a bus to Fez from there. In light of the language problems, each of these communications took a long time and many repeats to be sure I was understanding correctly.

The bus for Targuiste was leaving immediately so I boarded. Given the unreliability of the young woman, I was not certain that this would all work out!

We arrived about 10:15 AM; I hung out in the little café in the bus depot. When I tried to find out when the bus for Fez would come, I got, “two hours—11 and half; if no bus then two hours, 1 and half.” These numbers were not adding up very well, but!—much to my surprise, the bus going to Fez did arrive at 1:30!

We had a beautiful drive over the Atlas Mountains. There were many trees in bloom and wild flowers decorating the scenes. A young man sat ahead of me who could speak a tiny bit of English. I was sitting next to his mother, I think. At one very disreputable-looking town, he told m that this was the drug capital of Morocco! Local Color!

Late in the afternoon, dreading having to find the hostel in the dark, I called the hostel and got Assiz. The problem is that the taxis can only go a little ways into the Medina, where this hostel is located, and then you have to walk this way and that to find the hostel. He said to call him when I got to the bus depot and he would come and pick me up! Yay! When I arrived and tried to call, for some reason I couldn’t make the number ring. I tried several times. Then I noticed that I had a message, so I attempted to get that. (You’ll remember I’m not very good at this.) Well, suddenly my phone, which I had bought a few years ago in Ethiopia, was in French! I tried again, GOT him, and was quite relieved. I described myself and we agreed to meet in front of the depot.

I had forgotten to ask what kind of car he would be arriving in. In a few minutes, a motorcycle screeched to a stop and Assiz stuck out his hand, introducing himself. I climbed aboard with my pack, and off we roared, through the horrible traffic. There were cars and pedestrians all over the place—we even bumped one pedestrian a little. Luckily, we arrived safely at Assiz’s very lovely hostel—an old family home fully restored.

The hostel was fully booked out with 36 guests. There was a pair of American twins from Kentucky! In the morning we all had breakfast in the Living Room, which was nice. Later I did a little exploring in the Medina, but not so much that I would get lost, which is easy to do.

For linner, I was surprised when I asked if a restaurant served wine, and the waiter said that they did! I waited and waited, and finally he brought a CocaCola bottle with red wine in it—I think this was strictly against regulations. And it wasn’t too good, but it was an adventure. Later that evening Assiz asked his friend to drive me to the ‘Marjane’ (supermarket) as that is the only place one can buy wine in Fez. I bought two bottles of Ksar vin rouge, but they didn’t have an opener. I had bought one in Al Hoceima, but it didn’t work, so I left it there. Abdullah (my driver) described the ‘Moroccan’ way to open a bottle of wine. It seemed to involve heating the top with a cigarette lighter, then ‘two spoons;’ then rub it this way—and the cork will come out! I thought I’d better get an opener, which later I did.

At sundown we spent time on the terrasse, which is up on top of the building. I had brought some sweets, which we shared. There’s quite a mixture of nationalities here in this hostel, but luckily for me, they all speak English. There were a few minor construction projects going on to get ready for a busy summer, I think.

“Into the Medina!” I hired Midi, a young 20-year-old to guide me around the Medina for a couple of hours.We saw old Madrassas, fountains, bakeries, beautiful houses, a kindergarten, a beautiful plate store (since they would ship to the USA, I actually got to negotiating until I caught myself!) and a Berber Pharmacy, where I bought two tiny bottles of oil of jasmin and oil of myrhh. (Much more suitable than the plates!)

Midi found me a cork puller, so I tried out my Ksar wine in the hostel with another guest before eating my linner. All was satisfactory.

Tuesday night the proprietor of the hostel went about changing the room configurations. The small room with four bunk beds that I was in became a single room with a double bed. Luckily, I was able to take that room, which I will have throughout my stay of about 11 days altogether. This is the best of both worlds—the interaction of the hostel but a private room and bath! The price difference is about $15 vs. $30.

Wednesday I explored the Medina on my own. The LP had a self-guided tour layed out which included the Madrassa Bou Inania, which was built in 1357. In the meantime, of course one has to watch out for all manner of traffic, including donkeys carrying cargo. I enjoyed seeing two old caravanserai called Fondouk Kast Smen and Fondouk Tazi. One is mentioned by Leo Africanus in the 16th C. saying it dealt in the sale of honey, butter, olive oil and dried salted meat that were kept in beautiful ceramic vessels. Too bad, even though the products are the same, they’re now kept in blue plastic barrels.

I managed to keep from getting lost and even found a restaurant that Midi had shown me yesterday, that I was eager to try since they served pastilla made with pigeon, not chicken—which is mostly used nowadays. I marked its location and after going back to the hostel to rest and also to have a glass of my Ksar Rouge, I walked back to the Restaurant Laanibra. According to Midi, it was very famous. It was in a beautiful old house, not unlike my hostel. I did have the pastilla, which is very good but quite sweet (powdered sugar and cinnamon on top of the crust) so a little goes a long ways. An expensive treat, but well worth it.

That evening I attended a Sufi Music Concert. They’re having a week-long festival—this one involved one singer and about eight instrumentalists. The music was interesting, but a little of this goes a long ways, too. I had a very nice conversation with a couple from Montreal that sat next to me. We all ducked out, as did many people, after a good sampling of the music.  Still it was fun to interact with the crowd and get a sampling of Sufi music.

#2 Morocco, April 13, 2013

On my last day in Tetouan I first had my ‘French’ breakfast and then spent much of the day walking around, absorbing the atmosphere. This town was the capital of the ‘Spanish Protectorate’ from 1912 until 1956 and so has a distinctly Spanish character. I was told that when the Spanish kicked out the Moors and the Jews in 1494, many came here, so there are also heavy Moorish influences.

I walked through the Medina again to the Bab el Okla (Gate) and visited the Artisanal School. This is a craft school where masters teach apprentices traditional crafts. They weren’t working that day because it was Sunday.  There were many treasures on display, including a silver hand of Fatima.

Near this gate was the Riad Saada Palace Restaurant, which was quite hard to find, but I persevered! It was a gorgeous restaurant, which caters mainly to groups, I gather, and
there were none that day. I was the sole patron, sitting among all these riches of sumptuous ceilings, carvings, mosaics, chandeliers and rugs. The food was not great since they obviously were not prepared for any groups, but they made do with bean soup, a nice salad, bread and shish kabobs. For dessert there were scrumptious cookies with mint tea. What a setting for dining! On the way back through the Medina, I topped off my dinner with three huge dates stuffed with walnuts— yum!

Since the hotel clerk had suggested that I go early the next day to get a bus to Chefchaquen, my next destination, I got to the bus station at 8:30 AM. Too late—the 9:30 bus was full, and I had to wait until the 11:30 bus. While waiting, I did find an internet nearby.

The drive in the lovely sunshine through small mountains was beautiful. By 1:30 I was in Chefchaquen, a pretty mountain town. I bought my ongoing bus ticket to Al Hoceima for Thursday so things would go more smoothly, but it turned out that it left at 6:00 AM. So it goes. I got a petit taxi to the Medina, then walked to find the Yasmina hotel, which the LP had recommended. I went to eat, learning that only one hotel in the vicinity served wine, which I had with my dinner. It turned out that the red wine was all gone, so I had the white. Don’t ever do that in Morocco! It was the worst wine I’ve ever tasted—well maybe I remember some equally as bad in Fairbourne, Wales in ’85—so I became a
teetotaler while in Chefchaquen. I think I remember this from when I was in Morocco in ’86 or ’89—whenever it was.

The next day I explored the Medina after having breakfast at a wifi café! The wifi was pretty slow, but hey, pretty nice!

I’m not too concerned about eating too much in this town since virtually every step is steeply uphill and then steeply downhill. The Medina is charming, and it’s fun to just look and look. I came to a place where they were drying and combing sheepskins. Otherwise, the people-watching was fun, too. There was a pretty mosque, but unlike many other Muslim countries, in Morocco non-Muslims are not permitted to enter.

I’ve had two conversations about the ‘new’ king. Actually he has been king for 13 years. One person said he was very popular with the poor as he had set about building infrastructure and hence created many jobs. He also emphasized that there was now much more freedom of speech. The other person said that there was still much corruption and the poor people were not happy. Still, it sounds like/looks like they are making progress.

After more than a week in Morocco, I finally got my phone to work. I had bought a SIM card in the Tangier airport, but when I called hotel numbers listed in the LP, they wouldn’t work. I discovered that the area codes had changed since my old LP had been printed; adding a ‘5’ finally got results. Soooo, I successfully called a hotel in Al Hoceima for a reservation.

I visited the small Kasbah with its pretty garden. Later I ate my dinner on the sixth level of a restaurant overlooking the Plaza. Then I enjoyed photographing the colorful local scene. There were dyes for sale to be used for hennaing designs on hands and forearms. This used to be done only for weddings, but now I did see a couple of women on the street with the designs.

The next morning by the dawn’s early light, I was waiting for my bus to go to Al Hoceima. I had walked in the dark through the plaza to the Petit Taxi stand (thank goodness there was one waiting!) making good use of the little flashlight that I got from Quetzal for Christmas. I taxied to the bus depot. Boarding buses is always so disorganized in Morocco, but we were finally underway at 6:35 AM.

We drove through high mountains with beautiful scenery, but saw some farming
operations, too. There was snow on one of the mountain peaks. During one rest stop,
many of the bus patrons washed and drank out of a pretty fountain. Finally after 6 1⁄2 hours, we descended to the Mediterranean and into Al Hoceima. The E’Toille du Rif
Hotel that I had reserved now turned out to be called the Villa Florido (!) and later when I taxied to the Club Nautique for linner, that turned out to now be called the Chafarima! What’s with all the name changes? After linner, I took a turn around the port—this is a fishing town. There were beautiful vistas ‘down below,’ looking up toward the town perched on the cliffs.

The next day I tried to buy my onward bus ticket. The two main companies’ buses both left in the evening, therefore arriving Fes about 2:00 AM! I did manage (with help from my hotel people) to get a ticket on another bus that leaves at the sensible time of 9:30 AM. I also got their help on an important issue—finding lamb tagine. Apparently it is considered ‘old-fashioned.’ The more modern restaurants have moved on to beef,
sandwiches and pizzas. The clerk did point out a ‘public’ restaurant (no name) about a block away that does serve lamb tagine, which I tried out later in the day.

I also located a liquor store (a rare commodity) and bought some wine and a cork puller, which the clerk ran across the street to buy for me. Luckily the ‘public’ restaurant was only a half-block from my hotel, so I had a nice glass of wine in my room, then followed up with lamb tagine at the public restaurant, which was quite disappointing—mostly fat.

I’m enjoying this hotel which is located smack dab in the middle of the Plaza. There’s lots of activity (and noise, which I don’t mind) day and evening. Last night they even turned on the pretty fountain.

I’ll be going to Fes (sometimes spelled Fez) tomorrow. This is the main city of Morocco with a 700-year-old Medina where I’ll be staying in a hostel.

#1 Morocco, April 7, 2013

I (finally) arrived in Tangier, Morocco on Tuesday, April 2nd, having stopped in Chicago and Madrid. My last leg was on Ryanair, a cheapie. When boarding I was required to stuff my (large) camera into my pack—one bag, strictly enforced! It really didn’t fit but I put some things into my pockets and made do. There were no seat assignments—I could see why everybody lined up 20 minutes before boarding time as everybody had carryon since Ryanair charges 50 euro per checked bag. They also charged for all food and beverages. Still, their fares are low, so that appeals to me!

I taxied from the airport to the parking lot of the Hotel Continental in the Medina (historic walled center with rabbit warrens for streets) as instructed by the hostel. The streets are about 6-8 feet wide and crooked, which the taxi navigated for a couple of blocks. I walked from the parking lot, lurching and jerking a little, but found my hostel, The Melting Pot. It was in an old house (four floors) with nice ambience and pleasant guests.

After getting settled I managed to walk all the way through the Medina to a restaurant recommended by Hamsa, the desk clerk. I couldn’t find it but found another that served wine—not many do in this Muslim country—and had a lovely duck dinner with two glasses of excellent Moroccan red wine.

The next day I again walked through the Medina to the Grand Socco, the big gate and fountain at the entrance to the Medina. I visited St. Andrew’s church, an old Anglican leftover, and stood on Le Terrasse, in front of the pretty police station. Walking around in the Medina was fun—there was lots of local activity as well as quite a few tourists. I stopped for coffee at the Petit Socco, a small plaza that used to be the hangout for druggies, brothels, and other lowlife, but has now been made presentable for the tourists. I visited a good-lookin’ market, running between the raindrops that fell, but didn’t spoil my fun. The touts were out in full force, but I found that if I totally ignored them and had no eye contact with them, they moved on and left me to my own devices.

Tangier, which they spell Tanger, is quite an exotic city. It has a long history of being invaded by everybody because of its strategic location at the entrance to the Mediterranean. From 1912 until 1956 it was an “Interzone” city, (like Berlin during the Cold War) being governed by Italy, Spain, Britain, Portugal, Holland, Belgium, France and the USA. The Beatniks spent some time here Cookie, including your friend Alan Ginsburg, and then when Morocco got its independence in 1956, it was again a part of Morocco.

Thursday I made the rounds of three museums. The first was the American Legation Museum, with the history of Morocco being the first country to recognize the new USA back when. A painter named James McBey painted his servant girl, Zobra—nice. Then on to another that had early photos of Tangier (not so interesting). Next, on to the Casbah, although I had to make do without Charles Boyer. The Casbah was the old sultan’s palace, quite splendid. The Romans were here too, of course, so there was a pretty mosaic floor from the 4th C. AD from Volubilis.

Dinner was in a pretty old palace building. The prix fixe included soup, a briq, (pastry filled with chicken and veggies topped with cinnamon and powdered sugar), chicken with couscous and a pastry, finished off with sweet mint tea.

I enjoyed this hostel. Wednesday night there were an Aussie couple, two German girls, three Canadian girls and I drinking good Moroccan wine and chewing the fat. Thursdaynight we had two Spanish girls, a Mexican man (from Chihuahua!), and the same two Aussies—more Moroccan red wine!

On Friday the Aussie couple, Chris and Emma, and I got a taxi to the CTM bus station to take a bus—

for me to go to Tetouan, and for them to go to Chefchaquen, where I’ll go after a few days. I couldn’t find a hostel listed for this town, and when I asked the desk clerk at the Melting Pot Hostel for a recommendation, he said that I was the first guest that wanted to go there! Another guest spoke up and said that she had gone there. She had stayed with friends, but recommended the Pension Bilbao, so I decided I would try that when I arrived, which I did.

My room in the Hotel Bilbao has a sink, shower but no toilet (which is across the hall) and hot water only in the mornings unless you ask. I decided I needed badly to do laundry so resolved to do it in cold water. After awhile, the water became hot. Evidently the proprietor heard me running water and turned on the hot! Now, if only my clothes dry during the next three days!

I had lamb tagine for linner (lunch/dinner) along with bean soup, bread and olives (provided) and some ever-good Moroccan red wine. While I was eating the rain stopped and the sun reappeared. This hotel is located on a lovely pedestrian street, which I explored more fully the next day. Before linner I used an internet café—my hotel does not have wifi, nor did the internet café. When I used their computers, I discovered that they had French keyboards, which are somewhat different from ours, which makes typing a little difficult.

The next day I ventured into the Medina, being careful not to become lost, never to be found! It was a beehive of commercial activity with people in traditional dress all the way up to the ‘cool dudes’ with the latest hairstyles. There were a surprising number of jewelry shops, considering that this town gets very few tourists. I visited the Museum of Archeology within the Medina, which mainly concentrated on Roman remains.

Linner that day was mixed seafood with veggies and wine, soup, olives and bread—a satisfactory repast. All the streets are lined with coffee shops. I think the capacity must encompass most of the male population, who sit in the coffee shops much of the day.

This is a charming town—stay tuned—

Carol