24,00 dh (US$3.50) for Hahne Coco Rice cereal
18,00 dh (US$2.50) for 2 quarts of Centrale skim milk
6,50 dh (US$1.00) for hazelnut milk chocolate candy bar
3,50 dh (US$0.50) for dark chocolate candy bar
28,00 dh (US$4.00) for a 500 g package of 3 color spiral pasta
8,50 dh (US$1.25) for a 500g pack of lintels
13,00 dh (US$2.00) for a large can of whole stewed tomatoes
3,50 dh (US$0.0) for a small can of tomato paste
17,50 dh (US$3.00) for TRIA???
1,60 dh (US$2.25) for 160g steak @ 100 dh per kilogram
Then we got a bunch of tomatoes, bananas, onions, peppers, carrots for 15 dh (US$2.00). Finally to round off the trip, one last trip to the liquor store--which thankfully reopened for 2 bottles of red wine, 2 bottles of white wine, 3 cans of cheap Moroccan beer, and 3 cans of Special Flag Moroccan beer for 204 dh (US$30).
Monday, June 30, 2008
Moving To New Place In Essaouira
(June 30 3:00 PM)
One of our follies was to decide to spend 2 weeks in Essaouira. Actually our original plan was to spend some time here, then go to Marrakech, then come back from the desert to the cool and nice Atlantic. So we prepaid a bit to get our place. Then we realized what we had done. Rather than give up our deposit, we decided to just make the best of 2 weeks here followed by some time in Marrakech. We have to return to Casablanca on the 19th anyway for Elena's flight, so we can decompress. Besides, I never got my burger (Norwegian, at your service) at Rick's Cafe. ;-)
So we moved from our more spacious but smellier place to our airier, but smaller place. It's quite the interesting sight. First, I am as tall as you can be to rent this place. Any taller, and I'd be bumping my head into beams and ceilings. It has 2 floors and is on the top of the building at the top of the steepest staircase I've seen here so far. The kitchen is well stocked with utensils, and there will be (hopefully) satellite TV. It is rather close to the location of our previous apartment.
Last picture of me at the first place:
One of our follies was to decide to spend 2 weeks in Essaouira. Actually our original plan was to spend some time here, then go to Marrakech, then come back from the desert to the cool and nice Atlantic. So we prepaid a bit to get our place. Then we realized what we had done. Rather than give up our deposit, we decided to just make the best of 2 weeks here followed by some time in Marrakech. We have to return to Casablanca on the 19th anyway for Elena's flight, so we can decompress. Besides, I never got my burger (Norwegian, at your service) at Rick's Cafe. ;-)
So we moved from our more spacious but smellier place to our airier, but smaller place. It's quite the interesting sight. First, I am as tall as you can be to rent this place. Any taller, and I'd be bumping my head into beams and ceilings. It has 2 floors and is on the top of the building at the top of the steepest staircase I've seen here so far. The kitchen is well stocked with utensils, and there will be (hopefully) satellite TV. It is rather close to the location of our previous apartment.
Last picture of me at the first place:
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Essaouira 11th Annual Gnaoua And World Music Festival
Well, the festival is over. This post is a recap of our festival experience. Ths festival started on Thursday, June 26 and ends Sunday, June 29. Almost everything is free.
Thursday night (June 26) we went to see some music at the stage by the port. It was mostly percussion and dancing. Not exactly melodic. There was a Korean group, Samulnori Molgae which did drumming and dancing with streamers accompanied by a sort of horn instrument. There was also a group called Baalil from Marrakech which was similar--percussion and dance. We watched as a man set up a little candy stand with a couple of cardboard boxes. As soon as he set up, we has swarmed by children buying candy bars subdivided into the squares that most candy bars are divided into. I guess it was 1 dh per square. Mothers were buying for their kids as well. A few minutes after him, a guy came with a basket with 6 types of nuts and a bunch of squares of newspaper. For 1 dh, you can get nuts in a paper tube. I got some peanuts from him. He did a pretty good business, too. Probably 2/3 of the people were Moroccan. Most of the women were in head scarfs. Some of the younger ones were in Western dress. It was nice to see all ages of locals out to see the festivities. Even some older people were out. The police were out in force--making sure nothing got out of hand. We were hoping to see the Eric Legnini Trio, but our energy levels faded and we headed home.
Here is the stage by the port--Moulay Hassan.
On Friday, we went to the Alliance Franco-Marocaine to watch a documentary about a Malian singer named ALi Farka Touré. It was in French so I didn't understand much. At least his songs were subtitled so I cold read the lyrics. Anyway, he is a popular Malian singer and the camera crew followed him around as he toured around and visited places and talked about his life. The lyrics to his songs were interesting. Almost like propaganda. Things like "fishermen should fish, farmers shoud farm, shepherds should lead their flocks, because that's their job, and work makes you happy" and "some people reject our way and that's why the rains stopped coming" and stuff like that. The small theater started to get hot, so I was happy when it ended.
A while later, we headed to the Pepsi stage on the beach to see what they had going on. They were trying to do sort of MTV Spring Break type stuff, but less sexy. Some Senegalese dancers were trying to teach a bunch of white tourists their dance for several minutes and finally they led them in their dance. Then the two dancers did their own dance by themselves. Then thw oddest display came on. A bunch of Moroccan male children came on stage. Two men lead them in essentially calistenics with their arms--arms up, arms down, arms out, arms in, repeat. Two other men, claiming to be the greatest Moroccan dancers did a bunch of stuff with their arms. One was pretty good. The arms up, arms down, arms out, arms in, thing went on for 20 or 30 minutes. It got pretty boring. It was more fun watching the crowd. With the festival we start to see women wearing less and less. I guess the girls from some of the European countries don't read up on what's apprpopriate to wear in Morocco. Anyway, we left because it didn't seem to be very interesting.
That night, we went to the stage by the port to see the Wayne Shorter Quartet. Unfortunately, we got there way too early and by the time he came on, we were pretty tired. While we were waiting we sat on a low concrete edge of a grassy area. A guy with a whistle was responsible for keeping people off the grass and Elena and I amused ourselves watching him try to do his job. A bunch of mothers with their small children were in our area. One tried to speak to me in French. Elena figured out he was asking "Comment t'appelle?" I told him "je m'appelle Mark". Eventually most of the kids left and then Wayne Shorter came on, so Elena and I moved closer. His music was good, but there were so many people moving around that I couldn't really enjoy it. It seems like the kind of music that you want to listen to in a club with a glass of wine or beer and close your eyes while listening to parts, but it wasn't possible to enjoy it that way in the current atmosphere. After a few songs, we headed home through the crowds.
Once home, we could still hear the music until the wee hours of the morning. The music probably wound up at 4 or 5am.
Saturday was the day I figured would be the big day. On our walk on the beach, we saw lots of people sleeping on the beach. There was only one tent and we guessed why when we saw a couple of police or soldiers hassling the tent residents.
Again, we went to the Alliance Franco-Marocaine to see a documentary called Made in Jamaica. They started showing the ALi Farka Touré film. Everyone was looking backwards to see if they were going to change it, then finally someone showed them the program and that were showing the wrong movie. Then they started the right movie, but it didn't seem to be from the beginning. In fact, it was from almost the end and they got through the ending credits before the people showing the film noticed. Finally they got it right and showed it from the beginning. Fortunately, it was in English with French subtitles. Which ws good because it is Jamaican English and subtitles would be necessary anyway. It was a raw, violent, and raunchy documentary about the music of the Kingston ghetto.
Elena wanted to go back at 5pm to see an Arbre à Palabres or something. It was an interview session hosted by RFI, a French radio network, that interviewed the musicians. So Elena watched that while I went off to the wine store (which was apparently closed).
At night we went to see Kimany Marley, the son of Bob Marley, at the largest stage by the Bab Marrakech. I told Elena that I didn'want to go too early so that I'd have the energy to watch the artist I wanted to see. But she dragged me out at 10pm to watch a full hour of Maâlem Hamid El Kasri. They seemed to be a crowd favorite. The people knew all their songs and cheered as each new 10 minute long song started. Young girls were dancing with each other and young boys were strutting around dancing sort of like chickens walking around a chicken coop for the most accurate description of their style.
Marley was supposed to come on at 11, but came on more like 11:45. Oh well. He was pretty good. But it was late so we listened to about 4 or 5 songs and headed home. It was after midnight and the streets were as crowded as ever. All the food vendors were selling food, people were packing every store. This festival must be like Christmas in America as far as the merchants are concerned. It must be their biggest weekend. For once, most of the smells are good--meat cooking over coals. Yummy.
Again, we listened to the music in the distance from our apartment until as late as it goes. Almost sunrise.
So that was the festival. Lot's of Westerners were in Morocco for it. A lot of white people with dreadlocks. How they got through customs and immigration, I don't know. I watched as a guy tried to sell a knitted hat in Jamaican colors with knitted dreadlocks to a uy with real dreadlocks. It was only 10 dh, so I was almost tempted to buy one, but who wants to go through customs in the US and have a Jamaican hat with fake dreadlocks?
Elena went to see a film at the Alliance Franco-Marocaine called Retour à Gorée. She said I should have seen it too. She said after seeing that, she's glad she decided to skip Senegal. Yikes!
At about 5, we headed over to the Bab Marrakech to catch the music for the closing ceremony. But when we got there, they were already disassembling the stage. We went to see if the wine store was open (it was closed all weekend) and it wasn't and to see if they moved the closing ceremony to the Bab Doukkala. That stage was in the process of disassembly as well. So we headed over to the Moulay Hassan stage and voilá, there it was. We listened to the penultimate group. Then they ended. One group left. So far I hadn't been super impressed. I can't say the music was my kind of music. I enjoyed the spectacle more than the music. I enjoyed watching the Electrical office panic because of the blackout and plant generators all over the city which would up not being used because they solved the root problem. I enjoyed watching the girls who wore clothes that offend Moroccan sensibilities but conform well to American/European sensibilities. I enjoyed watching a city expand to double, triple or quadruple its size over a weekend and seeing how that changes the city. From today, the pace will return to a more normal pace. Elena and I are still here for another week before we go to Marrakech. We've been putting some stuff off until after the festival and its crowds.
But back to the final act. We waited for the set change and waited through a guy thanking everyone first in Arabic, then in French. Here we are waiting.
How about my cool scarf?
Then the music started. The National orchestre de barbés. They were excellent! The only band whose CD I want to buy. Elena and I were there dancing and moving to their wonderful music. The crowd was into them as well. The kitchen staff on the second floor of the tapas place on the plaza was into them as well--hopefully the tapas eating customers were too since they probably didn't get their food fast. Everyone was having a good time except a few kids who got knocked around by the police which was out in force. It was nice to go out on a high note. I hope I can find a National orchestre de barbès CD. If you ever see them on tour, go see them. If you Wayne Shorter in a jazz club, check him out, too. Now I just have to see if I can get a cheap T-shirt.
Thursday night (June 26) we went to see some music at the stage by the port. It was mostly percussion and dancing. Not exactly melodic. There was a Korean group, Samulnori Molgae which did drumming and dancing with streamers accompanied by a sort of horn instrument. There was also a group called Baalil from Marrakech which was similar--percussion and dance. We watched as a man set up a little candy stand with a couple of cardboard boxes. As soon as he set up, we has swarmed by children buying candy bars subdivided into the squares that most candy bars are divided into. I guess it was 1 dh per square. Mothers were buying for their kids as well. A few minutes after him, a guy came with a basket with 6 types of nuts and a bunch of squares of newspaper. For 1 dh, you can get nuts in a paper tube. I got some peanuts from him. He did a pretty good business, too. Probably 2/3 of the people were Moroccan. Most of the women were in head scarfs. Some of the younger ones were in Western dress. It was nice to see all ages of locals out to see the festivities. Even some older people were out. The police were out in force--making sure nothing got out of hand. We were hoping to see the Eric Legnini Trio, but our energy levels faded and we headed home.
Here is the stage by the port--Moulay Hassan.
On Friday, we went to the Alliance Franco-Marocaine to watch a documentary about a Malian singer named ALi Farka Touré. It was in French so I didn't understand much. At least his songs were subtitled so I cold read the lyrics. Anyway, he is a popular Malian singer and the camera crew followed him around as he toured around and visited places and talked about his life. The lyrics to his songs were interesting. Almost like propaganda. Things like "fishermen should fish, farmers shoud farm, shepherds should lead their flocks, because that's their job, and work makes you happy" and "some people reject our way and that's why the rains stopped coming" and stuff like that. The small theater started to get hot, so I was happy when it ended.
A while later, we headed to the Pepsi stage on the beach to see what they had going on. They were trying to do sort of MTV Spring Break type stuff, but less sexy. Some Senegalese dancers were trying to teach a bunch of white tourists their dance for several minutes and finally they led them in their dance. Then the two dancers did their own dance by themselves. Then thw oddest display came on. A bunch of Moroccan male children came on stage. Two men lead them in essentially calistenics with their arms--arms up, arms down, arms out, arms in, repeat. Two other men, claiming to be the greatest Moroccan dancers did a bunch of stuff with their arms. One was pretty good. The arms up, arms down, arms out, arms in, thing went on for 20 or 30 minutes. It got pretty boring. It was more fun watching the crowd. With the festival we start to see women wearing less and less. I guess the girls from some of the European countries don't read up on what's apprpopriate to wear in Morocco. Anyway, we left because it didn't seem to be very interesting.
That night, we went to the stage by the port to see the Wayne Shorter Quartet. Unfortunately, we got there way too early and by the time he came on, we were pretty tired. While we were waiting we sat on a low concrete edge of a grassy area. A guy with a whistle was responsible for keeping people off the grass and Elena and I amused ourselves watching him try to do his job. A bunch of mothers with their small children were in our area. One tried to speak to me in French. Elena figured out he was asking "Comment t'appelle?" I told him "je m'appelle Mark". Eventually most of the kids left and then Wayne Shorter came on, so Elena and I moved closer. His music was good, but there were so many people moving around that I couldn't really enjoy it. It seems like the kind of music that you want to listen to in a club with a glass of wine or beer and close your eyes while listening to parts, but it wasn't possible to enjoy it that way in the current atmosphere. After a few songs, we headed home through the crowds.
Once home, we could still hear the music until the wee hours of the morning. The music probably wound up at 4 or 5am.
Saturday was the day I figured would be the big day. On our walk on the beach, we saw lots of people sleeping on the beach. There was only one tent and we guessed why when we saw a couple of police or soldiers hassling the tent residents.
Again, we went to the Alliance Franco-Marocaine to see a documentary called Made in Jamaica. They started showing the ALi Farka Touré film. Everyone was looking backwards to see if they were going to change it, then finally someone showed them the program and that were showing the wrong movie. Then they started the right movie, but it didn't seem to be from the beginning. In fact, it was from almost the end and they got through the ending credits before the people showing the film noticed. Finally they got it right and showed it from the beginning. Fortunately, it was in English with French subtitles. Which ws good because it is Jamaican English and subtitles would be necessary anyway. It was a raw, violent, and raunchy documentary about the music of the Kingston ghetto.
Elena wanted to go back at 5pm to see an Arbre à Palabres or something. It was an interview session hosted by RFI, a French radio network, that interviewed the musicians. So Elena watched that while I went off to the wine store (which was apparently closed).
At night we went to see Kimany Marley, the son of Bob Marley, at the largest stage by the Bab Marrakech. I told Elena that I didn'want to go too early so that I'd have the energy to watch the artist I wanted to see. But she dragged me out at 10pm to watch a full hour of Maâlem Hamid El Kasri. They seemed to be a crowd favorite. The people knew all their songs and cheered as each new 10 minute long song started. Young girls were dancing with each other and young boys were strutting around dancing sort of like chickens walking around a chicken coop for the most accurate description of their style.
Marley was supposed to come on at 11, but came on more like 11:45. Oh well. He was pretty good. But it was late so we listened to about 4 or 5 songs and headed home. It was after midnight and the streets were as crowded as ever. All the food vendors were selling food, people were packing every store. This festival must be like Christmas in America as far as the merchants are concerned. It must be their biggest weekend. For once, most of the smells are good--meat cooking over coals. Yummy.
Again, we listened to the music in the distance from our apartment until as late as it goes. Almost sunrise.
So that was the festival. Lot's of Westerners were in Morocco for it. A lot of white people with dreadlocks. How they got through customs and immigration, I don't know. I watched as a guy tried to sell a knitted hat in Jamaican colors with knitted dreadlocks to a uy with real dreadlocks. It was only 10 dh, so I was almost tempted to buy one, but who wants to go through customs in the US and have a Jamaican hat with fake dreadlocks?
Elena went to see a film at the Alliance Franco-Marocaine called Retour à Gorée. She said I should have seen it too. She said after seeing that, she's glad she decided to skip Senegal. Yikes!
At about 5, we headed over to the Bab Marrakech to catch the music for the closing ceremony. But when we got there, they were already disassembling the stage. We went to see if the wine store was open (it was closed all weekend) and it wasn't and to see if they moved the closing ceremony to the Bab Doukkala. That stage was in the process of disassembly as well. So we headed over to the Moulay Hassan stage and voilá, there it was. We listened to the penultimate group. Then they ended. One group left. So far I hadn't been super impressed. I can't say the music was my kind of music. I enjoyed the spectacle more than the music. I enjoyed watching the Electrical office panic because of the blackout and plant generators all over the city which would up not being used because they solved the root problem. I enjoyed watching the girls who wore clothes that offend Moroccan sensibilities but conform well to American/European sensibilities. I enjoyed watching a city expand to double, triple or quadruple its size over a weekend and seeing how that changes the city. From today, the pace will return to a more normal pace. Elena and I are still here for another week before we go to Marrakech. We've been putting some stuff off until after the festival and its crowds.
But back to the final act. We waited for the set change and waited through a guy thanking everyone first in Arabic, then in French. Here we are waiting.
How about my cool scarf?
Then the music started. The National orchestre de barbés. They were excellent! The only band whose CD I want to buy. Elena and I were there dancing and moving to their wonderful music. The crowd was into them as well. The kitchen staff on the second floor of the tapas place on the plaza was into them as well--hopefully the tapas eating customers were too since they probably didn't get their food fast. Everyone was having a good time except a few kids who got knocked around by the police which was out in force. It was nice to go out on a high note. I hope I can find a National orchestre de barbès CD. If you ever see them on tour, go see them. If you Wayne Shorter in a jazz club, check him out, too. Now I just have to see if I can get a cheap T-shirt.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Our Apartment/Our Lives In Essaouira
We are living in an apartment. It is owned by a German, apparently, as all the books and magazines in German indicate. It is on the top 2 floors of a building near the wall overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. It is a bit old and musty and falling apart. The kitchen is not so well stocked--there is not even a frying pan with a handle--just one without one. The fridge is missing a part between the fridge and the freezer, so our first watermelon got frozen on the top shelf. At least the beer is ice cold.
It has hot water for the shower, but the heater is a butane heater and it's inside. We noticed that when the doors are closed, a smell accumulates in the place. We figured out it was the butane heater so Elena rigged the window by it to open a little more than a crack. That helped a lot. I can't believe that we were essentially living in butane exhaust.
We went to get some incense and found the incense guy. He tried to sell us some other stuff for making stuff smell nice, and for some reason Elena wanted to buy it. So she bought a block of orange flower oil or something for 100 dh (US$15). Right after we left, she wondered why she bought it. The people were so happy we bought it that they gave us some other free stuff. But we've been burning incense ever since and that's nice. It makes the place a bit nicer.
We found a couple of "grocery stores". They are called suprettes here. Both are in the new town. One is a bit closer, but a bit smaller. It has prices on the shelves for about half the goods. The other is a bit further, but a bit bigger and doesn't have prices for any but a small handful of items. Both have horrible produce. The good produce is in the medina. But both offer bar code scanner controlled prices so you know you are getting a somewhat fair price--at least you are paying what everyone else pays. They aren't cheap, though. Elena paid 730 dh (like US$11) for a box of cereal.
We got a couple of scarves. We were able to negotitate because we were willing to walk away. So we got these 2 really nice scarves for 40 dh (US$6) each. I wanted to wear mine this morning when we went out, but we already looked like twins and Elena had hers on first.
We found this little store that sells little Moroccan treats. We've spent about US$12 so far. The treats are so yummy. Right around the corner is the Driss Patisserie which is famous and we need to try. They have bigger treats and one of these days I'll go there and try a bunch of their sweets.
We've been taking walks along the Atlantic in the morning. We go out past a sort of rocky thing south of the city. It seems to be the ruins of a small tower or something. A guy there asked me if I wanted to buy marijuana. I told him no. They have camels south of the beach that you can ride and as you walk toward them, even far away, people come up and say "bonjour! ça va?" Then they ask if you want a camel ride. No we don't. People do the rides and they don't look especially fun.
It has hot water for the shower, but the heater is a butane heater and it's inside. We noticed that when the doors are closed, a smell accumulates in the place. We figured out it was the butane heater so Elena rigged the window by it to open a little more than a crack. That helped a lot. I can't believe that we were essentially living in butane exhaust.
We went to get some incense and found the incense guy. He tried to sell us some other stuff for making stuff smell nice, and for some reason Elena wanted to buy it. So she bought a block of orange flower oil or something for 100 dh (US$15). Right after we left, she wondered why she bought it. The people were so happy we bought it that they gave us some other free stuff. But we've been burning incense ever since and that's nice. It makes the place a bit nicer.
We found a couple of "grocery stores". They are called suprettes here. Both are in the new town. One is a bit closer, but a bit smaller. It has prices on the shelves for about half the goods. The other is a bit further, but a bit bigger and doesn't have prices for any but a small handful of items. Both have horrible produce. The good produce is in the medina. But both offer bar code scanner controlled prices so you know you are getting a somewhat fair price--at least you are paying what everyone else pays. They aren't cheap, though. Elena paid 730 dh (like US$11) for a box of cereal.
We got a couple of scarves. We were able to negotitate because we were willing to walk away. So we got these 2 really nice scarves for 40 dh (US$6) each. I wanted to wear mine this morning when we went out, but we already looked like twins and Elena had hers on first.
We found this little store that sells little Moroccan treats. We've spent about US$12 so far. The treats are so yummy. Right around the corner is the Driss Patisserie which is famous and we need to try. They have bigger treats and one of these days I'll go there and try a bunch of their sweets.
We've been taking walks along the Atlantic in the morning. We go out past a sort of rocky thing south of the city. It seems to be the ruins of a small tower or something. A guy there asked me if I wanted to buy marijuana. I told him no. They have camels south of the beach that you can ride and as you walk toward them, even far away, people come up and say "bonjour! ça va?" Then they ask if you want a camel ride. No we don't. People do the rides and they don't look especially fun.
Festival and Power In Essaouira
Whew!!! Power is back! We were without power for about 48 hours. Which is a huge problem for them here in Essaouira because they are hosting the Gnaoua World Music Festival. In one way we were lucky. Elena booked her flight out of Morocco back home to her hometown to see her Mom just in time--just seconds before the power went out. Literally seconds--like 10 seconds. Whew!!! It took her a long time to find a reasonably priced flight. Were were trying stuff with Ryanair, etc, but we finally found a single flight. It has one problem--an overnight layover in Milan, but otherwise, perfect and only about CAD$350.
But after that, no power. There was a small restoration of power at night, and all were relieved, but it was shortlived. We had a little milk that Elena was able to move the next morning. But Our white wine and beer warmed up. We have a wheel of Camembert which got warm and is right now rechilling.
The last two nights, we used my rechargeable flahslight and lantern to read. It is nice to have those. They provide good light and are rechargeable by cranking or cell-phone recharger. Yay!!! They were definitely a good buy. I didn't expect them to be needed already in Morocco.
I went out to watch how the Moroccan Electricity company deals with the problem. They trucked in 3 (at least, maybe more) generators. They had everyrhing there. I think it was a major event for them. There was a guy in a dark blue suit ordering technicians around. People were laying wire high along the wall, they dug up at least 2 chucks of sidewalk where there were wires. A guy with some sort of sensor (Hall effect current transformer?) was trying to detect the presence of current near one of the holes in the ground. More Moroccan Electric trucks than you can shake a stick at.
Now it is almost 3pm. If the electricity hold out until 4pm, Elena gets a free scarf (we made a bet about the electricity). They are only 20 dh (US$3).
Today is the first day of the festival. Many foreigners are here. Their estimates for the number of people range up to 200,000. I don't see how they can fit that many people in this city which is not all that big. But, we'll see.
There are supposedly 9 outdoor stages. We've seen 4, one at each of the 3 gates, and one on the beach. Not sure where the other 5 are. There isn't much space for them--the place is small. Elena and I are not quite sure what to expect. But we are excited to have chanced upon this music festival. Elena doesn't like crowds, but she loves music, so we should have a pretty good time.
But after that, no power. There was a small restoration of power at night, and all were relieved, but it was shortlived. We had a little milk that Elena was able to move the next morning. But Our white wine and beer warmed up. We have a wheel of Camembert which got warm and is right now rechilling.
The last two nights, we used my rechargeable flahslight and lantern to read. It is nice to have those. They provide good light and are rechargeable by cranking or cell-phone recharger. Yay!!! They were definitely a good buy. I didn't expect them to be needed already in Morocco.
I went out to watch how the Moroccan Electricity company deals with the problem. They trucked in 3 (at least, maybe more) generators. They had everyrhing there. I think it was a major event for them. There was a guy in a dark blue suit ordering technicians around. People were laying wire high along the wall, they dug up at least 2 chucks of sidewalk where there were wires. A guy with some sort of sensor (Hall effect current transformer?) was trying to detect the presence of current near one of the holes in the ground. More Moroccan Electric trucks than you can shake a stick at.
Now it is almost 3pm. If the electricity hold out until 4pm, Elena gets a free scarf (we made a bet about the electricity). They are only 20 dh (US$3).
Today is the first day of the festival. Many foreigners are here. Their estimates for the number of people range up to 200,000. I don't see how they can fit that many people in this city which is not all that big. But, we'll see.
There are supposedly 9 outdoor stages. We've seen 4, one at each of the 3 gates, and one on the beach. Not sure where the other 5 are. There isn't much space for them--the place is small. Elena and I are not quite sure what to expect. But we are excited to have chanced upon this music festival. Elena doesn't like crowds, but she loves music, so we should have a pretty good time.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Second Day In Essaouira
We woke feeling refreshed for the first time in a long time. Whew! A 300 dh room better be good though. We had our usual morning coffee at 12 dh each. That's almost Montpellier prices for my coffee. Not for Elena's though. We went back to check out and a guy who wishes to remain anonymous told us he had an apartment we could look at too. So we did. His was better and cheaper. But we were already committed to the one. We met the manager just before noon with the guy who led us the places. He showed us how the keys work and we paid for 3 days in advance (900 dh). We want to minimize our stay in the current apartment and switch to the cheaper, better one.
Anyway, we had our place, so now to buy some stuff. But first we had to deal with the fridge which wasn't working. The wheel wasn't there, and you'd need a pair of pliers to move teh spindle. We didn't have pliers. The guy came over after a couple of phone calls (and a couple of 250 dh shwarmas) and started the fridge. So we went out for food.
First call, the wine store. It's outside the medina. We got 6 cans of Budweiser for 120 dh and a bottle of wine for 4 dh. No more Budweiser for me. Sheesh! It's just wine from now on.
We got some fruit: 25 dh for a watermelon (seems to be the season) and 15 dh for other fruit. We got some vegetables for a few dh. Mixed spice for 3 dh. Cous cous for 6dh. I got some meat--Elena refused to go near the meat because she was afraid she wouldn't want to eat it. I don't remember how much it cost--I was trying to figure what animal it was being cut from.
We came home and Elena rested while I worked on my blog. Then we ate. It wasn't our best meal, but it was OK. We had wine, at least. We'll need cumin, salt, and pepper. Then we watched Moroccan Idol for a while and eventually fell asleep.
Anyway, we had our place, so now to buy some stuff. But first we had to deal with the fridge which wasn't working. The wheel wasn't there, and you'd need a pair of pliers to move teh spindle. We didn't have pliers. The guy came over after a couple of phone calls (and a couple of 250 dh shwarmas) and started the fridge. So we went out for food.
First call, the wine store. It's outside the medina. We got 6 cans of Budweiser for 120 dh and a bottle of wine for 4 dh. No more Budweiser for me. Sheesh! It's just wine from now on.
We got some fruit: 25 dh for a watermelon (seems to be the season) and 15 dh for other fruit. We got some vegetables for a few dh. Mixed spice for 3 dh. Cous cous for 6dh. I got some meat--Elena refused to go near the meat because she was afraid she wouldn't want to eat it. I don't remember how much it cost--I was trying to figure what animal it was being cut from.
We came home and Elena rested while I worked on my blog. Then we ate. It wasn't our best meal, but it was OK. We had wine, at least. We'll need cumin, salt, and pepper. Then we watched Moroccan Idol for a while and eventually fell asleep.
First Day In Essaouira
We got our stuff and escaped the throng. We weren't sure if there was space in our place, but this display was reassuring (to me at least). Elena wanted to take a taxi (we didn't exaclty know where we were on the map because there are multiple bus stations), but instead of taxis, there were old men with blue licensed push carts. So we hired a guy and piled our luggage into his cart. He slowly walked toward the exit off the bus station. A kid asked what hotel we were going to and I told him and showed him on the map. The kid told the old guy where we were going, but he didn't say anything that sounded like our hotel. Well, at least, we headed on and actually entered the medina. I liked it immediately. There was nice looking stuff and price tags (takes the pain out of negotiating). Also there were a lot of Westerners. The medina was clean and quiet. There was even a bunch of vans with stuff indicating they were filming a movie called "The Last Templar." I can see how a movie about the Knights Templar might have scenes in a nice clean medina like this. It was a nice medina. Most medinas are filled with men talking to each other in such a way that you can't tell if they are fighting or not. But, all of a sudden, Elena turned to me and said that she changed her mind about our first choice hotel and wanted to stay outside the medina. I tried to point out that the medina was nice compared to the other ones--quiet, nice stuff. But she didn't like the old looking buildings. Just then an old guy on a bike who had showed me his card at the bus station approached me again. He told me about the place he was representing--the Maison des Coleurs, a place owned by a German. We agreed to take a look if we didn't like the hotel and we was content to follow us. We passed by his place first and Elena took a look. She liked it enough, but we decided to go on and see the other place as well. The guy took us there. Except, it wasn't the right place. The kid had given him bad instructions. The owner of Georgio Armani Berber straightened things out and we got to the right place. But when Elena it from the street, she decided that the Maison des Coleurs was the place to stay. So we went back and got a room.
The Maison des Coleurs is an interesting place. It is painted all different colors and themes. The bedding is nice and colorful. The furniture is funky and colorful. It was about 4 floors wrapped around a central courtyard. Each room is glass with colorful curtains looking out to the courtyard. We got room 4, with a "private" shower and toilet. I put private in quotes because it's all a little exposed to the courtyard. People may be able to occasionally catch voyeuristic glimpses of exhibitionist shower takers if they know where to stand. It's the sexiest thing in this otherwise very unsexy country. If I ever make a return trip to Morocco, I would totally try to find it again. It's half romantic, half fun. It's a long way from Seattle, but otherwise, it would be a fun place to have a big gathering of friends who want to go to an exotic place.
The guy who led us to the Maison des Coleurs then told us about an apartment. Once we got settled in, we went to take a look. It was nice, so we decided to take it starting the next day. But first, we needed to get back and rest. The bus trip had taken a lot out of us.
I took a cold shower. Elena asked the guy about the hot water so he fixed it and she took a hot shower. (That's the difference between a guy who adapts himself to his environment and a woman who adapts her environment to suit her.) Then we rested a bit. Whew! Finally, we went out to a place that is evidently in both Routard and Lonely Planet. It was called Restaurant Les Alizés. You choose a fixed 950 dh menu with a choice of entrée, plat, and dessert. Elena had the house salad, chicken tagine, and flan. I had harira, goat tagine, and fruit cocktail. It was yummy. We also got a 90 dh bottle of wine. We were very happy. I joked that the reason Elena earned this dinner was that I made her ride the bus with the poor Moroccans. The staff all disappeared right at the end so it took us a while to get out, during which Elena yawned a dozen times. By the time we got home (right around the corner), we were both ready for a deep sleep. And we slept deep and long. After several days of not sleeping well and a bus ride on a non-tourist bus, it was the perfect conditions for sleeping. I heard some people come in briefly come in. But, other than that, it was dark, silent, cool, and comfortable. Not that it would be if there were other guests, but it was pretty quiet. They only have 7 rooms.
The Maison des Coleurs is an interesting place. It is painted all different colors and themes. The bedding is nice and colorful. The furniture is funky and colorful. It was about 4 floors wrapped around a central courtyard. Each room is glass with colorful curtains looking out to the courtyard. We got room 4, with a "private" shower and toilet. I put private in quotes because it's all a little exposed to the courtyard. People may be able to occasionally catch voyeuristic glimpses of exhibitionist shower takers if they know where to stand. It's the sexiest thing in this otherwise very unsexy country. If I ever make a return trip to Morocco, I would totally try to find it again. It's half romantic, half fun. It's a long way from Seattle, but otherwise, it would be a fun place to have a big gathering of friends who want to go to an exotic place.
The guy who led us to the Maison des Coleurs then told us about an apartment. Once we got settled in, we went to take a look. It was nice, so we decided to take it starting the next day. But first, we needed to get back and rest. The bus trip had taken a lot out of us.
I took a cold shower. Elena asked the guy about the hot water so he fixed it and she took a hot shower. (That's the difference between a guy who adapts himself to his environment and a woman who adapts her environment to suit her.) Then we rested a bit. Whew! Finally, we went out to a place that is evidently in both Routard and Lonely Planet. It was called Restaurant Les Alizés. You choose a fixed 950 dh menu with a choice of entrée, plat, and dessert. Elena had the house salad, chicken tagine, and flan. I had harira, goat tagine, and fruit cocktail. It was yummy. We also got a 90 dh bottle of wine. We were very happy. I joked that the reason Elena earned this dinner was that I made her ride the bus with the poor Moroccans. The staff all disappeared right at the end so it took us a while to get out, during which Elena yawned a dozen times. By the time we got home (right around the corner), we were both ready for a deep sleep. And we slept deep and long. After several days of not sleeping well and a bus ride on a non-tourist bus, it was the perfect conditions for sleeping. I heard some people come in briefly come in. But, other than that, it was dark, silent, cool, and comfortable. Not that it would be if there were other guests, but it was pretty quiet. They only have 7 rooms.
Casablanca To Essaouira
We woke up in Casablanca tired and warm. Though the damage was done, I tracked and crushed three blood-filled mosquitos--Elena's blood must be avenged! We went out for a nice coffee and made out plans about how to handle the day. We made one more trip to the internet cafe and Elena looked at stuff about Essaouira while I just tinkered around a bit.
Then we headed to the hotel to check out. A cab took us on a very harrowing ride with several close calls. The taxis here leave no margin for error. None at all. I've almost been hit a few times trying to cross the street. And just as you might expect, there are many many one legged people running around (I guess I shouldn't say "running"). I've never seen so many one legged people as in Casablanca. I suppose they could have been injured in various ways, including maybe even the 2003 bombings or from stepping on mines in the conflict with Western Sahara separatists. But I can't help but think they mostly got their feet run over in traffic accidents. Anyway, the cab got us there for only about 17 dh.
I knew Elena didn't like the look of the station. The CTM station was almost attached to the Sheraton, but this was a chaotic station. Already, French had become a language not used--and barely usable. A guy carried my bag. The ticket vendors aren't behind a window, but out circulating in the crowd with little books containing pink sheets all stapled together. They write out a ticket for you and mark the price (70 dh each). You pay the guy. Then all you get is a pink slip of paper that doesn't seem to have enough information to be a ticket. But it is. We found our bus. It would be a little over an hour. It leaves at noon and it was 10:50 am or so. I waited in our seats on the bus while Elena waited outside.
While waiting, dozens of people come onto the buses one or two at a time and sell everything from cold beverages to gum, to music tapes, to sunglasses, booklets, candy, sandwiches with fries, and pastries. Actually that list just might be exhaustive. I bought some gum from a guy for 1 dh.
Elena got some water from a store inside. While she was getting water, the bus moved. I hoped she wouldn't panic, but she probably didn't even notice it was in the neighboring place when she got back. A couple of guys who were managing the luggage asked me for 5 dh. I asked why. He said to watch it. It sounded vaguely like something between a threat and a joke. So I gave him 10 dh. Only a Euro. It made him happy. And kept my luggage safe.
It was hot, no doubt about it. The bus had little prospect of air conditioning. It was starting to fill up. Finally right around noon, it got full. Elena came on next to me. We were the only non-Moroccans on the bus. I told Elena she should be happy because I was showing her something most tourists don't get to see, but she prefered to look at the empty half of the glass. ;-) It had 2 TV monitors showing which Arabic songs were playing. They were ong songs--about 40 minutes to an hour each. 002.mp3 was 55:00 minutes, for example. The AC was in fact a modified version of the famous WD-55 AC (that's Windows Down 55 mph for the unknowing)--WU40 (Windows Up 40 mph). Not so good. There was a slight bit of circulation. But not much.
After about an hour, the bus stopped on the side of the road and the driver and his assistant went out and got something out of the compartment outside. They appeared to be fixing something. They came back and got a length of wire and went back. When they finished, the driver's hands were covered in something black--like he dipped them in oil. People seemed confused. Finally the driver came back on and we started out again. Elena and I certainly didn't want to get stuck in a bus in the desert. We were worried.
The bus went through all sort of little villages. Most of them had someone wanting to unload. Sometimes someone came on and the assistant to the driver wrote up a pink ticket. About half way through, we stopped at a rest stop. It was nice to get some fresh air. A few beggars asked for money, but I didn't give any. Elena gave a little girl some bread. Some people ate and then we headed on.
Again, more stops in little villages. I shouldn't really call them stops. The bus driver doesn't really ever apply the brakes. The bus is always moving a little--sort of like on many gondola systems. He starts to accelerate while his assistant is still outside, then the assistant runs to the door and gets on just in the nick of time.
Six hours after our "Adios, Casablanca!", we finally got to Essaouira. The bus was flooded with people trying to drum up business for their riads and apartments--much like in Mykonos.
Then we headed to the hotel to check out. A cab took us on a very harrowing ride with several close calls. The taxis here leave no margin for error. None at all. I've almost been hit a few times trying to cross the street. And just as you might expect, there are many many one legged people running around (I guess I shouldn't say "running"). I've never seen so many one legged people as in Casablanca. I suppose they could have been injured in various ways, including maybe even the 2003 bombings or from stepping on mines in the conflict with Western Sahara separatists. But I can't help but think they mostly got their feet run over in traffic accidents. Anyway, the cab got us there for only about 17 dh.
I knew Elena didn't like the look of the station. The CTM station was almost attached to the Sheraton, but this was a chaotic station. Already, French had become a language not used--and barely usable. A guy carried my bag. The ticket vendors aren't behind a window, but out circulating in the crowd with little books containing pink sheets all stapled together. They write out a ticket for you and mark the price (70 dh each). You pay the guy. Then all you get is a pink slip of paper that doesn't seem to have enough information to be a ticket. But it is. We found our bus. It would be a little over an hour. It leaves at noon and it was 10:50 am or so. I waited in our seats on the bus while Elena waited outside.
While waiting, dozens of people come onto the buses one or two at a time and sell everything from cold beverages to gum, to music tapes, to sunglasses, booklets, candy, sandwiches with fries, and pastries. Actually that list just might be exhaustive. I bought some gum from a guy for 1 dh.
Elena got some water from a store inside. While she was getting water, the bus moved. I hoped she wouldn't panic, but she probably didn't even notice it was in the neighboring place when she got back. A couple of guys who were managing the luggage asked me for 5 dh. I asked why. He said to watch it. It sounded vaguely like something between a threat and a joke. So I gave him 10 dh. Only a Euro. It made him happy. And kept my luggage safe.
It was hot, no doubt about it. The bus had little prospect of air conditioning. It was starting to fill up. Finally right around noon, it got full. Elena came on next to me. We were the only non-Moroccans on the bus. I told Elena she should be happy because I was showing her something most tourists don't get to see, but she prefered to look at the empty half of the glass. ;-) It had 2 TV monitors showing which Arabic songs were playing. They were ong songs--about 40 minutes to an hour each. 002.mp3 was 55:00 minutes, for example. The AC was in fact a modified version of the famous WD-55 AC (that's Windows Down 55 mph for the unknowing)--WU40 (Windows Up 40 mph). Not so good. There was a slight bit of circulation. But not much.
After about an hour, the bus stopped on the side of the road and the driver and his assistant went out and got something out of the compartment outside. They appeared to be fixing something. They came back and got a length of wire and went back. When they finished, the driver's hands were covered in something black--like he dipped them in oil. People seemed confused. Finally the driver came back on and we started out again. Elena and I certainly didn't want to get stuck in a bus in the desert. We were worried.
The bus went through all sort of little villages. Most of them had someone wanting to unload. Sometimes someone came on and the assistant to the driver wrote up a pink ticket. About half way through, we stopped at a rest stop. It was nice to get some fresh air. A few beggars asked for money, but I didn't give any. Elena gave a little girl some bread. Some people ate and then we headed on.
Again, more stops in little villages. I shouldn't really call them stops. The bus driver doesn't really ever apply the brakes. The bus is always moving a little--sort of like on many gondola systems. He starts to accelerate while his assistant is still outside, then the assistant runs to the door and gets on just in the nick of time.
Six hours after our "Adios, Casablanca!", we finally got to Essaouira. The bus was flooded with people trying to drum up business for their riads and apartments--much like in Mykonos.
Casablanca--Second Full Day
We woke up feeling far from refreshed. The long and short of it is that we woke up tired. We went to get some coffee and even then we were tired. But Elena always wants to push on. So we headed down to see the Arab League Park and the Sacred Heart Church. The park is nothing special. The courthouse and some government buildings are there. But pretty unexciting. A lot of pigeons and a demonstration of some sort (the signs, placards and banners were all in Arabic). The church was interesting. It is apparently no longer a church. The architecture is a mix of Christian and Muslim. It looks like a church but with all the geometric patterns adored by the Muslims. A very un-Christian following of the second commandment. Then when we got inside, no pews--a Coca Cola vendor instead. And the wings held an exhibit of Rembrandt reproductions. It was nice to see the high quality photographs of Rembrandt's works. But certainly a bit outside what I had originally expected.
Next we went to a place in Routard where Elena got a fried egg tagine. I was feeling pretty tired so we headed home. On the way home, we found a nice street with all kinds of nice shops and, more importantly an internet cafe. We took a nap, but Elena wasn't keen on staying in the room. So we went out to the internet cafe and spent 2 hours just surfing.
We had a not so nice siesta. It seemed like we had no choice but to just wait in Casablanca. And wait. And wait. For what? To eat again, I guess.
Then it was time to head to eat again. We wanted to eat at a an Italian place called Le Trica. They supposedly had big salads and wine. Sounds good to us. We couldn't find it though. We're not sure if it's gone or what because the locations of the icons on the ROutard map in that area are all off a bit (including the Cup's Café and East-West Hotel). I wanted to eat at another slightly more expensive looking Italian place with no other customers and Elena wanted to eat a packed cafe. So we went to the packed cafe--the Cup's Café. I wasn't happy because they didn't have beer or wine and they didn't have my first choice on the menu. So instead of cheese lasagna (45 dh), I had the spaghetti Bolognaise (38 dh). Then we found out why it was so crowded. They had a TV and Germany was about to play Portugal in the Euro 2008 soccer tournament or something. So we watched a bit of soccer including 2 German scores--cheered by half the room. I spent the first 10 minutes thinking that the red team was the Germans and the White team was the Portuguese.
I wasn't happy. Neither was Elena. We planned to get some ice cream at the Venetzia ice creamery. But we ultimately had to return to our grungy hotel in a Casablanca downtown that is dirty, run down, old, and smelly. Then I remembered that one of the cities people often visit is Essaouira. I never brought it up because I didn't have any idea how to say it, but I looked it up in the guide. According to the guide, there are no vehicles allowed in the medina--i.e. no pollution. I handed the book to Elena and told her to read. She read and started to look happier and refreshed. "OK! I want to go here!" she said with a smile. OK. We paid about 100 dh and headed through a veritable Little Italy for ice cream. Along the way we found the Casablanca twin towers.
The ice cream shop is in a part of Casablanca that doesn't look a thing like where our hotel was. You could say our hotel is in Harlem and the ice cream shop is on Park Avenue. The people are completely different. You would have a hard time placing them in the Morocco we've visited. The head scarfs almost completely gone--replaced by sexy girls in tight sexy jeans and shirts from Zara and all the big name stores. Elena couldn't constrain herself and got 2 balls--chocolate and strawberry. I got one ball of créme brûlée (but it was a big ball. Excellent! Delicious. We were high on ice cream and the notion that the next day we would go to a new city with hopefully more to offer.
A stop at the internet cafe to try to check schedules was needed. The train was convenient but 380 dh for a ticket. Another site showed 3 buses taking 6 hours to get there--one at 7am and the other two at 5pm--all costing about 110 dh. I didn't feel up to waking up that early and I didn't want to show up in a city on Friday night with no reservations at 11pm at night. As far as where we would be tomorrow, we don't make plans that far ahead. But all was not lost, there is another bus station that has the buses used by the locals. The buses aren't as good or comfortable, but they are cheaper and run about every hour to Essaouira. So we went to bed. As far as where we would be tomorrow, we don't make plans that far ahead. We had the same choices again on the window. We let the mosquitos in to get the cool air. We slept horribly. One more night like this, and it will be the end of a beautiful friendship.
Next we went to a place in Routard where Elena got a fried egg tagine. I was feeling pretty tired so we headed home. On the way home, we found a nice street with all kinds of nice shops and, more importantly an internet cafe. We took a nap, but Elena wasn't keen on staying in the room. So we went out to the internet cafe and spent 2 hours just surfing.
We had a not so nice siesta. It seemed like we had no choice but to just wait in Casablanca. And wait. And wait. For what? To eat again, I guess.
Then it was time to head to eat again. We wanted to eat at a an Italian place called Le Trica. They supposedly had big salads and wine. Sounds good to us. We couldn't find it though. We're not sure if it's gone or what because the locations of the icons on the ROutard map in that area are all off a bit (including the Cup's Café and East-West Hotel). I wanted to eat at another slightly more expensive looking Italian place with no other customers and Elena wanted to eat a packed cafe. So we went to the packed cafe--the Cup's Café. I wasn't happy because they didn't have beer or wine and they didn't have my first choice on the menu. So instead of cheese lasagna (45 dh), I had the spaghetti Bolognaise (38 dh). Then we found out why it was so crowded. They had a TV and Germany was about to play Portugal in the Euro 2008 soccer tournament or something. So we watched a bit of soccer including 2 German scores--cheered by half the room. I spent the first 10 minutes thinking that the red team was the Germans and the White team was the Portuguese.
I wasn't happy. Neither was Elena. We planned to get some ice cream at the Venetzia ice creamery. But we ultimately had to return to our grungy hotel in a Casablanca downtown that is dirty, run down, old, and smelly. Then I remembered that one of the cities people often visit is Essaouira. I never brought it up because I didn't have any idea how to say it, but I looked it up in the guide. According to the guide, there are no vehicles allowed in the medina--i.e. no pollution. I handed the book to Elena and told her to read. She read and started to look happier and refreshed. "OK! I want to go here!" she said with a smile. OK. We paid about 100 dh and headed through a veritable Little Italy for ice cream. Along the way we found the Casablanca twin towers.
The ice cream shop is in a part of Casablanca that doesn't look a thing like where our hotel was. You could say our hotel is in Harlem and the ice cream shop is on Park Avenue. The people are completely different. You would have a hard time placing them in the Morocco we've visited. The head scarfs almost completely gone--replaced by sexy girls in tight sexy jeans and shirts from Zara and all the big name stores. Elena couldn't constrain herself and got 2 balls--chocolate and strawberry. I got one ball of créme brûlée (but it was a big ball. Excellent! Delicious. We were high on ice cream and the notion that the next day we would go to a new city with hopefully more to offer.
A stop at the internet cafe to try to check schedules was needed. The train was convenient but 380 dh for a ticket. Another site showed 3 buses taking 6 hours to get there--one at 7am and the other two at 5pm--all costing about 110 dh. I didn't feel up to waking up that early and I didn't want to show up in a city on Friday night with no reservations at 11pm at night. As far as where we would be tomorrow, we don't make plans that far ahead. But all was not lost, there is another bus station that has the buses used by the locals. The buses aren't as good or comfortable, but they are cheaper and run about every hour to Essaouira. So we went to bed. As far as where we would be tomorrow, we don't make plans that far ahead. We had the same choices again on the window. We let the mosquitos in to get the cool air. We slept horribly. One more night like this, and it will be the end of a beautiful friendship.
Casablanca--First Full Day
I woke up after our first night in Casablanca to find Elena bringing me coffee on a tray. Yay!!! That is to say, I needed some coffee to wake up because we didn't sleep well at all. The Hotel Gallia is on a street with a motorcycle repair shop and repairing motorcycles means starting engines and revving the engines. Also, it is right next to the night club Molassas. Fine if you want to drink a beer, but though I enjoyed the smooth Lionel Richie they started with, the music got old pretty fast.
The man who works at the desk is the sweetest guy, though. It pained us to check out, but we had to. To where, though. Elena had her heart set on the Central Hotel just by the Grand Mosque in the Medina. So we set out midmorning to snag a room before the checkout time on our current hotel. Since it was Wednesday, we didn't anticipate too much problem. We walked along, then I did something dumb. Rather than continue following the streets, I thought I saw the minaret of the Grand Mosque so I started leading us toward it. Bad strategy. It led us into the medina and once in a medina, minarets become harder to follow the closer you get to them. Anyway, we eventually worked our way to the mosque. Then we realized we had found the wrong mosque--we had found the Hassan II Grand Mosque which is the second largest in the world after Mecca. We soon recovered and found ourselves at the Central Hotel. Booked up. Completely.
Elena, for some reason, liked the area though, so we decided to check out the youth hostel which was just on the same square. The manager od the place seemed to regard us as suspeicious characters and had us come back in a bit. The rooms that met her paper criteria, had no windows. I thought they would be hot, but Elena was worried about her clausterphobic fears. So we decided to go back and maybe check out a hotel we had seen the day before, the Mon Reve. We had a bit of the problem--the guy didn't want to show us the room until afternoon. But we didn't want to wait. Oh well. We waited right next door at a sort of Cafe Yamine annex where we got a Salad Niçoise for 10 dh, a plate of fries for 5 dh and 2 drink for about 8 dh for a total of 35 dh. If the math doesn't seem to add up, it's because they have "plat de frites" and "friture á plat" or something. The first is 5 dh and is what we wanted. The second was 50 dh and not what we wanted. The guy asked us "fish? fish?" Elena said yes. I wanted to figure out what he was asking but Elena insisted he was trying to tell us the the salad has tuna. So when the wrong plate showed up, it wasn't a surpise. That's why I let him rip us off.
Anyway, we got our room, 23. I thought it would be cool to get 22 in Casablanca, but even 22 isn't exactly a winner. The rooms are OK, but not air conditioned. The windows open to a non-street area, but mosquitos come in.
We took a needed nap and went out to eat. There is a pizza place around the corner from our hotel, between La Bodega and Brasserie Bavaroise, that serves pizza cooked in wood-fired ovens. Elena wanted meat so she got chicken kebabs (grillade), and I got a the second most expensive pizza on the menu weighing it a 38 dh. It was supposed to have salami and stuff. But when our food arrived, I didn't get the pizza I thought I had ordered. Maybe she misunderstood me? I was curious to see what the bill would say. If the bill had my pizza, then they were trying to rip me off. If it had the vegetarian pizza, then she just misunderstood. Her tip depended on it. The bill came, I looked, and the 38 dh pizza was on there. So no tip for her. The difference in price of the pizzas was her tip. It goes to the owner, I guess. Too bad, because I liked the pizza and would have tipped her, but the place is as honest as the day is long.
With our stomachs satisfied, it was time for a drink at Rick's Cafe. Rick's Cafe is near the water in a three or our story building. It has a few Casablanca posters, but mostly tries to create a bar/restaurant like Rick's Cafe Americaine--very formal wait staff, clean, etc. Though, I do think that I would be shocked to find gambling going on there. We got there just as the sun was going down behind the medina. Next time we should leave a half hour later when the sun is already behind the buildings, oh well. So we got there and the guy at the door opened it for us. Then we asked for a table for 2. We got the best table (I am descended from Germans and would have taken it anyway). Unfortunately, it was not close to the ladies--there was only one other party in the place. We had gone all the way up to the top floor where there was a terrasse. Sitting on the terrasse, enjoying a (finally) cool ocean breeze, we ordered a 50 dh Budweiser and a 75 dh half bottle of wine. I can't remember the last time I paid €5 for a beer. Sheesh. But the waiter brought over lots of little beer snacks, nuts, little pate on puff pastries, raisins, etc. It sort of took the sting out of getting ripped off.
When we were almost done with our wine, we got a €4 chocolate mousse. (Actually Elena wants me to point out that "we" didn't order it--but that "she" ordered it and I ate half of it. Because she is always willing to share unlike me who gets mad when she drinks one of my expsensive beers even though she doesn't like beer.)
Here I am ready to eat it.
We snapped this shot with the self timer. Very nice, eh?
As we paid and left and descended through the floors, we saw that in the mean time, it had filled up. The even had music that we weren't aware of. They were apparently filming something that night as well--so said a sign at the reception. I think it was an anniversary since the opening of Rick's which itself was opened, I think, on the 60th anniversary of the release of the movie.
So we went back to our room where we tried to sleep. Not easy. The choice was between open window with cool air and mosquitos and closed window with dead air and no mosquitos. We chose mosquitos (an easy choice for me as they only bite Elena). At least it was quiet, but the sleep itself was pretty bad, unsatisfying, and tiring. Elena had me kill a mosquito who was quickly replaced. Elena will disagree strongly with me on this point, but it is good to stay in a mosquito infested room with Elena because there is something about her that makes them flock to her. I didn't get bitten at all. Elena got several bites.
The man who works at the desk is the sweetest guy, though. It pained us to check out, but we had to. To where, though. Elena had her heart set on the Central Hotel just by the Grand Mosque in the Medina. So we set out midmorning to snag a room before the checkout time on our current hotel. Since it was Wednesday, we didn't anticipate too much problem. We walked along, then I did something dumb. Rather than continue following the streets, I thought I saw the minaret of the Grand Mosque so I started leading us toward it. Bad strategy. It led us into the medina and once in a medina, minarets become harder to follow the closer you get to them. Anyway, we eventually worked our way to the mosque. Then we realized we had found the wrong mosque--we had found the Hassan II Grand Mosque which is the second largest in the world after Mecca. We soon recovered and found ourselves at the Central Hotel. Booked up. Completely.
Elena, for some reason, liked the area though, so we decided to check out the youth hostel which was just on the same square. The manager od the place seemed to regard us as suspeicious characters and had us come back in a bit. The rooms that met her paper criteria, had no windows. I thought they would be hot, but Elena was worried about her clausterphobic fears. So we decided to go back and maybe check out a hotel we had seen the day before, the Mon Reve. We had a bit of the problem--the guy didn't want to show us the room until afternoon. But we didn't want to wait. Oh well. We waited right next door at a sort of Cafe Yamine annex where we got a Salad Niçoise for 10 dh, a plate of fries for 5 dh and 2 drink for about 8 dh for a total of 35 dh. If the math doesn't seem to add up, it's because they have "plat de frites" and "friture á plat" or something. The first is 5 dh and is what we wanted. The second was 50 dh and not what we wanted. The guy asked us "fish? fish?" Elena said yes. I wanted to figure out what he was asking but Elena insisted he was trying to tell us the the salad has tuna. So when the wrong plate showed up, it wasn't a surpise. That's why I let him rip us off.
Anyway, we got our room, 23. I thought it would be cool to get 22 in Casablanca, but even 22 isn't exactly a winner. The rooms are OK, but not air conditioned. The windows open to a non-street area, but mosquitos come in.
We took a needed nap and went out to eat. There is a pizza place around the corner from our hotel, between La Bodega and Brasserie Bavaroise, that serves pizza cooked in wood-fired ovens. Elena wanted meat so she got chicken kebabs (grillade), and I got a the second most expensive pizza on the menu weighing it a 38 dh. It was supposed to have salami and stuff. But when our food arrived, I didn't get the pizza I thought I had ordered. Maybe she misunderstood me? I was curious to see what the bill would say. If the bill had my pizza, then they were trying to rip me off. If it had the vegetarian pizza, then she just misunderstood. Her tip depended on it. The bill came, I looked, and the 38 dh pizza was on there. So no tip for her. The difference in price of the pizzas was her tip. It goes to the owner, I guess. Too bad, because I liked the pizza and would have tipped her, but the place is as honest as the day is long.
With our stomachs satisfied, it was time for a drink at Rick's Cafe. Rick's Cafe is near the water in a three or our story building. It has a few Casablanca posters, but mostly tries to create a bar/restaurant like Rick's Cafe Americaine--very formal wait staff, clean, etc. Though, I do think that I would be shocked to find gambling going on there. We got there just as the sun was going down behind the medina. Next time we should leave a half hour later when the sun is already behind the buildings, oh well. So we got there and the guy at the door opened it for us. Then we asked for a table for 2. We got the best table (I am descended from Germans and would have taken it anyway). Unfortunately, it was not close to the ladies--there was only one other party in the place. We had gone all the way up to the top floor where there was a terrasse. Sitting on the terrasse, enjoying a (finally) cool ocean breeze, we ordered a 50 dh Budweiser and a 75 dh half bottle of wine. I can't remember the last time I paid €5 for a beer. Sheesh. But the waiter brought over lots of little beer snacks, nuts, little pate on puff pastries, raisins, etc. It sort of took the sting out of getting ripped off.
When we were almost done with our wine, we got a €4 chocolate mousse. (Actually Elena wants me to point out that "we" didn't order it--but that "she" ordered it and I ate half of it. Because she is always willing to share unlike me who gets mad when she drinks one of my expsensive beers even though she doesn't like beer.)
Here I am ready to eat it.
We snapped this shot with the self timer. Very nice, eh?
As we paid and left and descended through the floors, we saw that in the mean time, it had filled up. The even had music that we weren't aware of. They were apparently filming something that night as well--so said a sign at the reception. I think it was an anniversary since the opening of Rick's which itself was opened, I think, on the 60th anniversary of the release of the movie.
So we went back to our room where we tried to sleep. Not easy. The choice was between open window with cool air and mosquitos and closed window with dead air and no mosquitos. We chose mosquitos (an easy choice for me as they only bite Elena). At least it was quiet, but the sleep itself was pretty bad, unsatisfying, and tiring. Elena had me kill a mosquito who was quickly replaced. Elena will disagree strongly with me on this point, but it is good to stay in a mosquito infested room with Elena because there is something about her that makes them flock to her. I didn't get bitten at all. Elena got several bites.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Sickness
It was good that we did the walk around Fez in the morning. Because when the afternoon hit, so did Montezuma--I guess Montezuma is wandering ther shores of Tripoli. I had the runs in the morning, but I didn't feel any the worse for it. Now, I felt bad. He decided to try to take out a pizza. So we went to a pizza parlor in the Routard guide. Fortunately, they did takeout, so we brought back a 60 dh (US$9) chicken pizza. I had 2 slices and Elena had 6. I also got a couple of beers. By then I was dead tired so I went to sleep.
I stayed in bed and developed a high fever. I had a horrible sleep--feverish dreams, other clients making noise, uncomfortable pillow, inability to find a good temperature.
I woke up dead tired. Elena wanted me to try to have something to eat--bread mostly--just to try to calm my very unsettled stomach. So we went down to the breakfast room. I sat down to a crepe type thing, some bread, yogurt, juice, and tea. I ate a slice of the crepe and then a sip of tea. Then I started seeing stars. I wanted cold air on my face. But no place to get it. "I want to go back to the room." Is the last thing I remember while trying to maintain consciousness. I came to with Elena behind me holding me up and the waitress coming with warm sugar water. The hotel manager came and asked if we needed a doctor. No, I know exactly what's going on and I don't need to pay a doctor to tell me what I already know. Elena and the waitress held me up as we walked to our room. I fell on the bed while Elena went back to get stuff we left on the table.
It was very scary for Elena. Her knees were shaking. She was worried that I would die or something. But it takes more than a case of the runs to kill me. It doesn't take more than a case of the runs to lay me up in bed, though. Over the rest of the day Elena tried to keep herself occupied by reading Generation X in French, going out to the markets, getting some dinner for us, and going on a short guided tour of the medina.
Elena kept trying to make me eat. After I passed out, she had me chew on the crusts of baguettes. But now all that was left was a chocolate bread, slightly burned and already hard. I tried as hard as I could to eat it, but I wasn't enjoying it at all. Elena told me to consider it medicine. Then she went out to bring back dinner.
The dinner was as good as can be under the circumstances. She got us chicken paninis with french fries. My stomach was pretty unsettled, and frankly, the one thing I would have eaten if I were by myself would have been a McDonalds Hamburger (there's one on Hassan II half way to the Royal Palace). I didn't want exotic. I didn't want new. I wanted something I could taste, chew, swallow, and not worry about what the hell it was. The panini and fries almost fit the bill. The fries were perhaps made with a slightly different oil? The chicken had some spice in it that I couldn't place. It was 95% OK, but the other 5% still bothered me a little bit. At least, it was good enough that I was able to get it all down without much effort.
When Elena got back from her guided tour, the highlight of which was the motorcycle ride through the streets, she told me I wasn't missing much. There'll be a medina in Marrakech, anyway.
The next night I slept better. Much better. My stomach was unsettled still but I feel like the infection part is over. We had breakfast in the same place. I tipped the woman 20 dh. After breakfast, we went out for a walk since it was an especially cool morning (for the desert). Very refreshing. We just walked down Hassan II. Again, as we were walking, I saw a guy in front of us stop, turn to the side, and wait for us to pass him. We started off with the standard "what country are you from?" I told him I was American. He asked if I knew Charlie Brown. Of course, everybody knows Charlie Brown. Then he said something I didn't quite catch--something like "Tour around Charlie Brown." He was trying to impress me with his knowledge of American pop-culture. Ha!!! Charlie Brown? Now if, instead, he had asked "do you know Peter Griffin?" I would have been impressed. He fed us the "I'm a student with some free time" line that the Routard guide warned us about--the line used by many faux guides. He was persistent, but we made it clear that we just out for a walk and didn't want to do any sightseeing--just enjoy the cool air. So he faded back and wished us a good trip.
We had decided to take the train to Casablanca. The guy at the hotel said they leave at 11, 1 and 3. So headed over at noon and got the 12:50 train. The price of first class tickets was a whopping 155 dh, even more than the price on the longer ride from Tangier. The second class tickets were about hald as much. I decided on first class since I was still not feeling well and I didn't want to deal with all the problems that come from not travelling in the first class car. Of course even the first class car had problems, the AC went out after a while and it got hot. Also, for some reason, the Moroccan railroad company doesn't put up signs visible from the windows of the train that tell what station you are in. I mean, how hard can it be to put up a few signs?
Finally, a girl overhearing our conversation told us where Casablanca was. It's a good thing she did, otherwise, there is no way of knowing where in the hell you are.
We unloaded and came to our first choice hotel, the Hotel Gallia via taxi. Elena had to see 3 rooms. We'll probably not stay here another night. The rooms are OK, but no TV, they open right on a busy street, no AC, and the attached bathroom/shower is separated from the bedroom by a shower curtain instead of a door.
I rested a bit and then we headed out for a tagine with kefta and egg for Elena and a hotdog panini for me. They were really cheap, 17 dh for Elena's and 10 dh for mine. Elena got a dessert from another place, but it wasn't good. So far the section of Casabanca we are in is extremely polluted with exhaust fumes and everything else imaginable. Hopefully, tomorrow we can walk to the Atlantic Ocean and see a better side of Casablanca.
I stayed in bed and developed a high fever. I had a horrible sleep--feverish dreams, other clients making noise, uncomfortable pillow, inability to find a good temperature.
I woke up dead tired. Elena wanted me to try to have something to eat--bread mostly--just to try to calm my very unsettled stomach. So we went down to the breakfast room. I sat down to a crepe type thing, some bread, yogurt, juice, and tea. I ate a slice of the crepe and then a sip of tea. Then I started seeing stars. I wanted cold air on my face. But no place to get it. "I want to go back to the room." Is the last thing I remember while trying to maintain consciousness. I came to with Elena behind me holding me up and the waitress coming with warm sugar water. The hotel manager came and asked if we needed a doctor. No, I know exactly what's going on and I don't need to pay a doctor to tell me what I already know. Elena and the waitress held me up as we walked to our room. I fell on the bed while Elena went back to get stuff we left on the table.
It was very scary for Elena. Her knees were shaking. She was worried that I would die or something. But it takes more than a case of the runs to kill me. It doesn't take more than a case of the runs to lay me up in bed, though. Over the rest of the day Elena tried to keep herself occupied by reading Generation X in French, going out to the markets, getting some dinner for us, and going on a short guided tour of the medina.
Elena kept trying to make me eat. After I passed out, she had me chew on the crusts of baguettes. But now all that was left was a chocolate bread, slightly burned and already hard. I tried as hard as I could to eat it, but I wasn't enjoying it at all. Elena told me to consider it medicine. Then she went out to bring back dinner.
The dinner was as good as can be under the circumstances. She got us chicken paninis with french fries. My stomach was pretty unsettled, and frankly, the one thing I would have eaten if I were by myself would have been a McDonalds Hamburger (there's one on Hassan II half way to the Royal Palace). I didn't want exotic. I didn't want new. I wanted something I could taste, chew, swallow, and not worry about what the hell it was. The panini and fries almost fit the bill. The fries were perhaps made with a slightly different oil? The chicken had some spice in it that I couldn't place. It was 95% OK, but the other 5% still bothered me a little bit. At least, it was good enough that I was able to get it all down without much effort.
When Elena got back from her guided tour, the highlight of which was the motorcycle ride through the streets, she told me I wasn't missing much. There'll be a medina in Marrakech, anyway.
The next night I slept better. Much better. My stomach was unsettled still but I feel like the infection part is over. We had breakfast in the same place. I tipped the woman 20 dh. After breakfast, we went out for a walk since it was an especially cool morning (for the desert). Very refreshing. We just walked down Hassan II. Again, as we were walking, I saw a guy in front of us stop, turn to the side, and wait for us to pass him. We started off with the standard "what country are you from?" I told him I was American. He asked if I knew Charlie Brown. Of course, everybody knows Charlie Brown. Then he said something I didn't quite catch--something like "Tour around Charlie Brown." He was trying to impress me with his knowledge of American pop-culture. Ha!!! Charlie Brown? Now if, instead, he had asked "do you know Peter Griffin?" I would have been impressed. He fed us the "I'm a student with some free time" line that the Routard guide warned us about--the line used by many faux guides. He was persistent, but we made it clear that we just out for a walk and didn't want to do any sightseeing--just enjoy the cool air. So he faded back and wished us a good trip.
We had decided to take the train to Casablanca. The guy at the hotel said they leave at 11, 1 and 3. So headed over at noon and got the 12:50 train. The price of first class tickets was a whopping 155 dh, even more than the price on the longer ride from Tangier. The second class tickets were about hald as much. I decided on first class since I was still not feeling well and I didn't want to deal with all the problems that come from not travelling in the first class car. Of course even the first class car had problems, the AC went out after a while and it got hot. Also, for some reason, the Moroccan railroad company doesn't put up signs visible from the windows of the train that tell what station you are in. I mean, how hard can it be to put up a few signs?
Finally, a girl overhearing our conversation told us where Casablanca was. It's a good thing she did, otherwise, there is no way of knowing where in the hell you are.
We unloaded and came to our first choice hotel, the Hotel Gallia via taxi. Elena had to see 3 rooms. We'll probably not stay here another night. The rooms are OK, but no TV, they open right on a busy street, no AC, and the attached bathroom/shower is separated from the bedroom by a shower curtain instead of a door.
I rested a bit and then we headed out for a tagine with kefta and egg for Elena and a hotdog panini for me. They were really cheap, 17 dh for Elena's and 10 dh for mine. Elena got a dessert from another place, but it wasn't good. So far the section of Casabanca we are in is extremely polluted with exhaust fumes and everything else imaginable. Hopefully, tomorrow we can walk to the Atlantic Ocean and see a better side of Casablanca.
Monday, June 16, 2008
First Morning In Fez
We woke up ready to see Fez. I was pretty tired, but we had a breakfast (included with the room) of orange juice, coffee, bread, and yogurt. Then we were on our way. Our plan was to find the Pension Dalila mentioned in the ROutard guide. They said it is near a mosque and not so touristic which appealed to Elena until I reminded her of the implication of sleeping near a mosque--the muezzin calling you to prayer at odd hours with the amp on the loudspeaker set to the Spinal Tap 11.
So we headed out and found the tourist information center. It was closed. So we headed up Hassan II to the Royal Palace. We snapped a few pictures. Fez is certainlu much prettier than Tangier.
We went around the right of the palace and down a few meters passing by bulk food stores including even things ike macaroni and popcorn in the same big bags as cous-cous and lentils. Before long, we found a gate with a road leading north. We went through and found ourselves surrounded by little cothing booths. All sorts of pretty dresses and even a ew booths for men's robes. We continued through the covered (whew!) market and exited the other side where we found signs in English pointing to the old medina. We followed it and had a few more photo opportunities.
Here I am with "the two babs" (an Arabic pun with Office Space reference).
If the medina is a clock, we were at about 9 o'clock (Bab Mahrouk) and we wanted to get to about 1 o'clock. So we went along seeing the walls of the Kasbah, taking a short-cut through the tombs of the Merinides where some kids tried to throw at us. The cemetary had a well and people were coming to draw water. Seems odd to drink water from a well of a cemetary. The graves are interesting. Whitewashed and sort of above ground. The graves in New Orleans are above ground because the coffins woud otherwise float up when it floods, but I can't imagine that is a problem in Fez. We passed the Bab Guissa and took another shortcut to the section of the medina without Babs--just roads. It was certainly less touristic. Lots of donkeys and locals doing local stuff. We found the Pension Dalila easy enough, but Elena didn't like the area, so we decided not to stay there. Elena and I have an agreement. I'll pay the first 150 dh of any hotel, and she's responsible for the rest. That way if she has an incentive to keep her standards as low as possible. They are certainly higher than mine, though.
It was getting pretty hot. The shade was actually quite comfortable, but it's hot in the sun. And the sun was approaching it's highest point which meant the shaded area along the walls was shrinking to nothing. So we got a red Petit Taxi. We asked the driver about how much to the Place Mohammed V. He said aboout 15 dh. So we went with him. Great driver. He cut off anybody and everybody to get us there fast. In the end it was 13.80 dh, but I gave him 16 dh for his daring aggressiveness behind the wheel. Only a little over US$2. While in the cab, we realized how much we had walked. We got a cold water and came back to our room.
It's a little better with with the touts here. People come up to us occasionally to help us, but not as often as in Tangier and they are not persistent. The only persistent guy was a guy who gave us some advice and then tried to sell us leather bags which were indeed quite pretty and nice. He showed us the array of color and told us which colors come from which dyes. His first price was 200 dh (US$30), but when we weren't interested we dropped to 150 dh (US$22), when we still weren't interested we dropped to 100 dh (US$15). He told us it was the low season (it is) and that he's trying to scrape by on razor thin margins, but we just have no way to fit them into our luggage. I have no plans to buy anything unless I throw away something of equivalent volume. I could definitely see paying 100 dh for one, though as they are quite nice. Maybe once in the medina, near the tanneries well see similar products for the same or less.
So we headed out and found the tourist information center. It was closed. So we headed up Hassan II to the Royal Palace. We snapped a few pictures. Fez is certainlu much prettier than Tangier.
We went around the right of the palace and down a few meters passing by bulk food stores including even things ike macaroni and popcorn in the same big bags as cous-cous and lentils. Before long, we found a gate with a road leading north. We went through and found ourselves surrounded by little cothing booths. All sorts of pretty dresses and even a ew booths for men's robes. We continued through the covered (whew!) market and exited the other side where we found signs in English pointing to the old medina. We followed it and had a few more photo opportunities.
Here I am with "the two babs" (an Arabic pun with Office Space reference).
If the medina is a clock, we were at about 9 o'clock (Bab Mahrouk) and we wanted to get to about 1 o'clock. So we went along seeing the walls of the Kasbah, taking a short-cut through the tombs of the Merinides where some kids tried to throw at us. The cemetary had a well and people were coming to draw water. Seems odd to drink water from a well of a cemetary. The graves are interesting. Whitewashed and sort of above ground. The graves in New Orleans are above ground because the coffins woud otherwise float up when it floods, but I can't imagine that is a problem in Fez. We passed the Bab Guissa and took another shortcut to the section of the medina without Babs--just roads. It was certainly less touristic. Lots of donkeys and locals doing local stuff. We found the Pension Dalila easy enough, but Elena didn't like the area, so we decided not to stay there. Elena and I have an agreement. I'll pay the first 150 dh of any hotel, and she's responsible for the rest. That way if she has an incentive to keep her standards as low as possible. They are certainly higher than mine, though.
It was getting pretty hot. The shade was actually quite comfortable, but it's hot in the sun. And the sun was approaching it's highest point which meant the shaded area along the walls was shrinking to nothing. So we got a red Petit Taxi. We asked the driver about how much to the Place Mohammed V. He said aboout 15 dh. So we went with him. Great driver. He cut off anybody and everybody to get us there fast. In the end it was 13.80 dh, but I gave him 16 dh for his daring aggressiveness behind the wheel. Only a little over US$2. While in the cab, we realized how much we had walked. We got a cold water and came back to our room.
It's a little better with with the touts here. People come up to us occasionally to help us, but not as often as in Tangier and they are not persistent. The only persistent guy was a guy who gave us some advice and then tried to sell us leather bags which were indeed quite pretty and nice. He showed us the array of color and told us which colors come from which dyes. His first price was 200 dh (US$30), but when we weren't interested we dropped to 150 dh (US$22), when we still weren't interested we dropped to 100 dh (US$15). He told us it was the low season (it is) and that he's trying to scrape by on razor thin margins, but we just have no way to fit them into our luggage. I have no plans to buy anything unless I throw away something of equivalent volume. I could definitely see paying 100 dh for one, though as they are quite nice. Maybe once in the medina, near the tanneries well see similar products for the same or less.
It Had To Happen Sometime
I knew it would eventually happen. It always does. A got up this morning and went to the bathroom, traveller's diarhea. Oh well. It's a relatively mild case. I guess it's nice that we're in the Splendid Hotel and not some place with stinky shared bathrooms. (But don't tell Elena I said that.)
Arrived At Station In Fez--Now What?
We had learned on the train that there is a big festival in Fez for some sort of music. Oh no! That's the kind of thing that makes it hard to find a room. So when we stepped down without a reservation, into the desert heat, we were a bit apprehensive. Our plan was to find our first choice hotel, the Zahrat Al Jabar. I knew it wasn't too far from the station--just a few blocks, though I wasn't sure exactly where. So after using the 1 dh bathrooms (clean but that goofy square system and a bucket of water next to it) we left the station. It was hot. Really hot. We went to some red cabs. We asked them if they knew where the hotel was because I had a street name (Avenue F.A.R) but not a number. The driver quoted us a price of 50 dh or about US$7. Did I mention it was really hot?
Well, I knew it would take a few minutes to find it, but US$7 seemed way too much for a ride of a few blocks to a hotel where we didn't even have a reservation, so we left them to fend for ourselves. We found that in the shade, the walk wasn't too bad. I was in the lead with my huge backpack and Elena was behind me dragging her wheeled bag. The sidewalk was pretty uneven. We found the place where we had to turn right and went about 4 or 5 blocks, again in the shade, to the Avenue F.A.R. I parked Elena next to a cafe called the Blue Babel while I went to see if the hotel was in the southerly direction. It was and just as I arrived, a big tour bus pulled up. They all went by the desk so my wait was short. But sadly, the hotel was completely booked. A guy standing there offered to be my guide to help me find a hotel. I turned him down. I went back to Elena to figure out a plan B? We decided to head down to Avenue Hassan II because it has hotels and one of our Routard guide first choices was just off Hassan II. We went and a few minutes later found the Splendid Hotel. I left Elena on a bench in the boulevard and went in to ask if they had a room. Yes! I retrieved Elena and she approved when she saw they had a bar, pool, and AC. So now I'm 419 dh (US$60) lighter, but we have a place. We got 2 Special Flags for 30 dh (US$4) and drank a toast to good fortune.
After a nap, we headed out to a place in the Routard bok called the Bajelloul. The waiter started taling to us in Spanish. Either it was because we look Spanish or because our guide book was wrapped in an El Corté Inglés plastic bag. I ordered a set menu with choices--salad, steak, and fruit, getting salad lamb, and yogurt. A cat was ordering food from us, and didn't get what he wanted either. But it was good and came with a mint tea at the end. Total bill for bothof us 136 dh before tip, 150 dh after or US$22.
After that, we walked down the lively, clean, well lit, and relatively orderly Hassan II. We went to the first hotel again to ask the price--it being Saturday night, surely a slew of people would check out tomorrow. It is over 500 dh. It was only €32 on the internet. Oh well. Guess we're staying at the Splendid. At least the Splendid has a nice pool.
Well, I knew it would take a few minutes to find it, but US$7 seemed way too much for a ride of a few blocks to a hotel where we didn't even have a reservation, so we left them to fend for ourselves. We found that in the shade, the walk wasn't too bad. I was in the lead with my huge backpack and Elena was behind me dragging her wheeled bag. The sidewalk was pretty uneven. We found the place where we had to turn right and went about 4 or 5 blocks, again in the shade, to the Avenue F.A.R. I parked Elena next to a cafe called the Blue Babel while I went to see if the hotel was in the southerly direction. It was and just as I arrived, a big tour bus pulled up. They all went by the desk so my wait was short. But sadly, the hotel was completely booked. A guy standing there offered to be my guide to help me find a hotel. I turned him down. I went back to Elena to figure out a plan B? We decided to head down to Avenue Hassan II because it has hotels and one of our Routard guide first choices was just off Hassan II. We went and a few minutes later found the Splendid Hotel. I left Elena on a bench in the boulevard and went in to ask if they had a room. Yes! I retrieved Elena and she approved when she saw they had a bar, pool, and AC. So now I'm 419 dh (US$60) lighter, but we have a place. We got 2 Special Flags for 30 dh (US$4) and drank a toast to good fortune.
After a nap, we headed out to a place in the Routard bok called the Bajelloul. The waiter started taling to us in Spanish. Either it was because we look Spanish or because our guide book was wrapped in an El Corté Inglés plastic bag. I ordered a set menu with choices--salad, steak, and fruit, getting salad lamb, and yogurt. A cat was ordering food from us, and didn't get what he wanted either. But it was good and came with a mint tea at the end. Total bill for bothof us 136 dh before tip, 150 dh after or US$22.
After that, we walked down the lively, clean, well lit, and relatively orderly Hassan II. We went to the first hotel again to ask the price--it being Saturday night, surely a slew of people would check out tomorrow. It is over 500 dh. It was only €32 on the internet. Oh well. Guess we're staying at the Splendid. At least the Splendid has a nice pool.
The Train From Tangier To Fez
Elena and I boarded the train. We had car 1, compartment 1, seats 11 and 12 (there are 6 seats per compartment). There were all sorts of people in compartment 1. It looked like some people wanted to be together but were in separate compartments. Fine, we could move if we had to. The motley collection of people in our compartment didn't exacty make me look forward to our 6 hour train ride. And if I wasn't looking forward to it, I could only imagine that Elena was dreading it twice as bad. Anyway, we decided to plop down in 11 and 12 anyway and reorganize later. The guy next to me started asking me, in English, where I was from (I told him), what hotel we were staying at (don't know yet), how many stars we needed (doesn't really matter--besides, I'm American and I don't do the star system). He said he was a student at the Koranic school and studied the history of Fez--the Fez was the largest city in Morocco (actually it's Marrakech 1.0 million to 1.25 million). He asked if we needed a guide (no) and then we said he could show us in our guide book where is good. Sure, why not. So I got out the guide book. He seemed a bit deflated when he saw we had the Routard book. I think he thought that we were English speaking and would be pretty much screwed in Fez, but the Routard book showed him that, in fact, we were conversant in one of the official languages of Morocco. It seemed to set him back a little. I felt a little victory against all the "guides" who stick to you like glue.
But before he got a chance to express his disappointment too much, a sudden turn of good luck. He wasn't sitting in his seat. He was in somebody else's seat. And not just anybody's seat, but a super hot Moroccan 20-ish Westernized babe's seat. The good luck held out...by the time the train left, the motley men in three of the four seats were displaced by Western dressed pretty young women. I couldn't contain my smile at our sudden turn of luck.
The train left and the last motley guy, certainly as delighted as I was, couldn't shut up. He became Mr. Chatty Motormouth. Elena had to flee the compartment because he wouldn't shut up. I read Generation X in French. The hottie next to me read her magazine, and the other two women discussed their businesses with Mr. Chatty. A man selling food went up and down the hallway from compartment to compartment--sort of like in the Green Car of the Shinkansen. He had a little cart with overpriced food. The girl next to me got Pringles and shared them with everyone.
Watching the landscape change was interesting. We starting out going along the Atlantic. We saw beaches and resorts under construction around Assilah. Then turning inland, hedgerows made up of those cactuses that look like chained dinner plates. Donkeys everywhere as people were engaged in farming the slightly arable land. There were little villages, all with minarets and I noticed that most of them had a loudspeaker so the muezzin doesn't have to climb to the top. There were sheep, a couple of orchards, and several lone houses. Some of the villages were really almost like ruins, but people still live there.
Eventually about half way through the ride, the girl next to me had to transfer to another line. Then Elena struck up a conversation one of the girls just outside the compartment. Next thing you know, we're all chatting away. Mr. Chatty asked how much we paid for a week in Paris. We told him €300 for a week. He offered us an apartment in Fez for the same price as well as to be our guide. He gave Elena his card. We also got a bunch of recommendations from the women offered in the Western style spirit of genuine no-strings-attached information. Nice. Eventually Fez started to come up. We were talking about hotels. Mr. Chatty told Elena that he would write another phone number we could use on his business card, but when she handed it back to him, he just kept it and said we were too poor and he doesn't want to deal with poor people like us--only rich people. Soon the train stopped and we stepped down in Fez.
But before he got a chance to express his disappointment too much, a sudden turn of good luck. He wasn't sitting in his seat. He was in somebody else's seat. And not just anybody's seat, but a super hot Moroccan 20-ish Westernized babe's seat. The good luck held out...by the time the train left, the motley men in three of the four seats were displaced by Western dressed pretty young women. I couldn't contain my smile at our sudden turn of luck.
The train left and the last motley guy, certainly as delighted as I was, couldn't shut up. He became Mr. Chatty Motormouth. Elena had to flee the compartment because he wouldn't shut up. I read Generation X in French. The hottie next to me read her magazine, and the other two women discussed their businesses with Mr. Chatty. A man selling food went up and down the hallway from compartment to compartment--sort of like in the Green Car of the Shinkansen. He had a little cart with overpriced food. The girl next to me got Pringles and shared them with everyone.
Watching the landscape change was interesting. We starting out going along the Atlantic. We saw beaches and resorts under construction around Assilah. Then turning inland, hedgerows made up of those cactuses that look like chained dinner plates. Donkeys everywhere as people were engaged in farming the slightly arable land. There were little villages, all with minarets and I noticed that most of them had a loudspeaker so the muezzin doesn't have to climb to the top. There were sheep, a couple of orchards, and several lone houses. Some of the villages were really almost like ruins, but people still live there.
Eventually about half way through the ride, the girl next to me had to transfer to another line. Then Elena struck up a conversation one of the girls just outside the compartment. Next thing you know, we're all chatting away. Mr. Chatty asked how much we paid for a week in Paris. We told him €300 for a week. He offered us an apartment in Fez for the same price as well as to be our guide. He gave Elena his card. We also got a bunch of recommendations from the women offered in the Western style spirit of genuine no-strings-attached information. Nice. Eventually Fez started to come up. We were talking about hotels. Mr. Chatty told Elena that he would write another phone number we could use on his business card, but when she handed it back to him, he just kept it and said we were too poor and he doesn't want to deal with poor people like us--only rich people. Soon the train stopped and we stepped down in Fez.
Last Morning In Tangier
We woke up again at 3am when the muezzin went off. I guess since it was Saturday--the Muslim holy day of the week--the muezzin went longer than usual. A lot longer. Did I mention it was 3am? As in ante meridian? I guess it's just one of the features of having a pension near the Grande Mosque. Anyway, the part that really sucked was that as soon as he woke me up, I was up. A few mosquitoes had gotten into the room and everytime I started drifting off, I heard the high pitched buzz that we all know so well. I swatted and clapped and occasionally landed a blow, but even after all that, there were still 2 left when it finally was light enough to see in our room.
So we got up and packed a bit. Then we went to see the Kasbah. We found the door leading out onto the plateau overlooking the port. Spain was in the background. We went back and got coffees at another cafe on the Petit Socco. Then we got some juice and pastries. The pastries are hot out of the oven at the patisserie in the gate to the medina at the Grand Socco. The counter is run by friendly young women in headscarfs. More than anywhere, they have the ghost appearance. They speak French, of course, and they charged us 11 dh for 4 pastries (yesterday it was 6 dh for 2). So armed with juice and pastries, we got our luggage, lugged it from the Petit Socco to the Grand Socco and went to the first Petit Taxi. (Sidebar--there are 2 kinds of taxis in Tangier, the light blue Dacia Petit Taxi and the big cream colored Grand Taxi. The Petit Taxis are more controlled since they are for circulating in the city). We asked the first guy how much it is to the Tanger Ville Station. He mumbled something but we couldn't get a straight answer out of him. So we left him. We asked a second taxi and he indicated that he was metered and the meter would determine the price. OK, good enough for us. We got in. In the end it was about 12 dh from the Grande Socco to the Tanger Ville Gare. About US$1.50. Not bad. I gave the guy a couple extra Dirhams.
Then we realized that we got there an hour earlier than we thought. Oh well. We waited. They had no luggage consignment or coin lockers, but they did have a coffee bar and benches. Elena worked on her blog while 3 girls and their mother chatted happiily near us. They seemed intrigued by us. They laughed at me for some reason. Maybe my hat. I have an air about me that is non-threatening and disarming, I guess. Maybe it's because I'm just happy about my trip and our trip to Fez.
At 10:30am boarding started.
So we got up and packed a bit. Then we went to see the Kasbah. We found the door leading out onto the plateau overlooking the port. Spain was in the background. We went back and got coffees at another cafe on the Petit Socco. Then we got some juice and pastries. The pastries are hot out of the oven at the patisserie in the gate to the medina at the Grand Socco. The counter is run by friendly young women in headscarfs. More than anywhere, they have the ghost appearance. They speak French, of course, and they charged us 11 dh for 4 pastries (yesterday it was 6 dh for 2). So armed with juice and pastries, we got our luggage, lugged it from the Petit Socco to the Grand Socco and went to the first Petit Taxi. (Sidebar--there are 2 kinds of taxis in Tangier, the light blue Dacia Petit Taxi and the big cream colored Grand Taxi. The Petit Taxis are more controlled since they are for circulating in the city). We asked the first guy how much it is to the Tanger Ville Station. He mumbled something but we couldn't get a straight answer out of him. So we left him. We asked a second taxi and he indicated that he was metered and the meter would determine the price. OK, good enough for us. We got in. In the end it was about 12 dh from the Grande Socco to the Tanger Ville Gare. About US$1.50. Not bad. I gave the guy a couple extra Dirhams.
Then we realized that we got there an hour earlier than we thought. Oh well. We waited. They had no luggage consignment or coin lockers, but they did have a coffee bar and benches. Elena worked on her blog while 3 girls and their mother chatted happiily near us. They seemed intrigued by us. They laughed at me for some reason. Maybe my hat. I have an air about me that is non-threatening and disarming, I guess. Maybe it's because I'm just happy about my trip and our trip to Fez.
At 10:30am boarding started.
Last Night In Tangier
It was our last night in Tangier and Elena wanted fish. We left to do the blog dump and then go onto the El Dorado for fish. However, when we got to El Dorado, it was closed. A guy was asking us if we wanted to go into the restaurant.
I hope all these guys trying to be helpful are really touts. We just try to ignore them and push them off. It is possible that some of them are genuinely trying to be helpful and expect nothing in return. But there are too many who seem to want something. It reminds me of advice I heard for job seeking. The advice said you should use "proactive" text that assumes the company will want to hire you. Things like "Please tell me when we set up an interview." I hate writing stuff like that. It's so Amway-ish. The notion that you should play stupid mind tricks is not only insulting to the intelligence of the reader, but the fact that you are attempting to use a mind trick to set up an interview suggests that you don't think you can get by on the strength of your resume. These touts are like that. They seem to use these intelligence-insulting mind tricks and the reason they try them is that they can't offer true value added service.
Anyway, we headed to another place Elena liked in the guide book, Le Saveur de Poisson, I think it was called, but it was closed too. What's with all these places closed on Friday night? So we decided to go to the port. On the way, we realized we hadn't been up to see the Kasbah, so we climbed up there. There was a big hill. It made me wonder if this was the hill where the crystal merchant had his store in The Alchemist. There are a few hills, but this is one where you'd like a refreshing mint tea after reaching the top. I guess that's why the kasbah is there. The kasbah is a fortress. We were going to explore it, but a guy attached himself to us and wanted to be our guide. We weren't interested in having a guide, so we left and decided to try to come back tomorrow.
We tried a few more places in the Petit Socco but they weren't appealing (is anything appealing in the Petit Socco?) So finally we went down to the port. There are bunch of cafes are restaurants all lined up. In fact, reader of The Alchemist will recognise it as the location where Santiago got some tea and met the guy who stole all his money just after arriving in Tangier.
We stopped near a seafood place to see the menu and the waiters came out to greet us and lead us in. It looked pretty good, so we stayed. I had a plate of shrimp that tasted OK, but not great. Elena had some OK fish. I got a 10 dh salad that was actually very big for the money. However our drinks (Sprite and mineral water) were over priced at 10 dh and 14 dh (not sure which was which as the drinks weren't on the menu). At least there were a lot of locals there. Including one very bored/sleepy looking cat who got a little treat from Elena. (Interesting to note that in Tangier, stray cats are common and dogs are not in contrast to Montpellier which is the opposite.)
A couple of times while we were eating people came by to see if we wanted to buy something. One guy had socks and one guy had watches and bracelets.
I hope all these guys trying to be helpful are really touts. We just try to ignore them and push them off. It is possible that some of them are genuinely trying to be helpful and expect nothing in return. But there are too many who seem to want something. It reminds me of advice I heard for job seeking. The advice said you should use "proactive" text that assumes the company will want to hire you. Things like "Please tell me when we set up an interview." I hate writing stuff like that. It's so Amway-ish. The notion that you should play stupid mind tricks is not only insulting to the intelligence of the reader, but the fact that you are attempting to use a mind trick to set up an interview suggests that you don't think you can get by on the strength of your resume. These touts are like that. They seem to use these intelligence-insulting mind tricks and the reason they try them is that they can't offer true value added service.
Anyway, we headed to another place Elena liked in the guide book, Le Saveur de Poisson, I think it was called, but it was closed too. What's with all these places closed on Friday night? So we decided to go to the port. On the way, we realized we hadn't been up to see the Kasbah, so we climbed up there. There was a big hill. It made me wonder if this was the hill where the crystal merchant had his store in The Alchemist. There are a few hills, but this is one where you'd like a refreshing mint tea after reaching the top. I guess that's why the kasbah is there. The kasbah is a fortress. We were going to explore it, but a guy attached himself to us and wanted to be our guide. We weren't interested in having a guide, so we left and decided to try to come back tomorrow.
We tried a few more places in the Petit Socco but they weren't appealing (is anything appealing in the Petit Socco?) So finally we went down to the port. There are bunch of cafes are restaurants all lined up. In fact, reader of The Alchemist will recognise it as the location where Santiago got some tea and met the guy who stole all his money just after arriving in Tangier.
We stopped near a seafood place to see the menu and the waiters came out to greet us and lead us in. It looked pretty good, so we stayed. I had a plate of shrimp that tasted OK, but not great. Elena had some OK fish. I got a 10 dh salad that was actually very big for the money. However our drinks (Sprite and mineral water) were over priced at 10 dh and 14 dh (not sure which was which as the drinks weren't on the menu). At least there were a lot of locals there. Including one very bored/sleepy looking cat who got a little treat from Elena. (Interesting to note that in Tangier, stray cats are common and dogs are not in contrast to Montpellier which is the opposite.)
A couple of times while we were eating people came by to see if we wanted to buy something. One guy had socks and one guy had watches and bracelets.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Wake Up In Tangier 2
This morning at about 3am, the muezzin went off. 3am? Do they really pray at 3am? Oh well, at least I woke up a bit cooler. Later on I woke up again to Elena laughing because of the ridiculousness of our situation. Apparently, she doesn't quite agree with my assessment of our pension room. To me it looks fine, but my eye is not quite as discriminating as Elena's. Sure enough, when she points out the problems I see them, but they otherwise sit below my threshold of consciousness.
So we got ready slowly--no need to hurry in Africa--and went out to have a coffee in the Petit Socco. Only 18 dh for Elena's cafe au lait and my expresso. We gave the waiter 20 and he invited us back that night for a bigger meal. He quoted us "only 60 dh for cous-cous" which I knew to be high. We then went to find the SoccoNet internet cafe just at the entrance to the medina. But it was closed. So we got a couple of pastries (sweet coated croissant with nuts on top and a cheese chausson) for 6 dh and 2 bananas for 7.5 dh. The SoccoNet didn't open, so we decided to just head over to the train station and find the WiFi place on the way. It is called 555 or Triple 5 or something like that. But somehow I missed it. So we just went through all this construction (Tanger is preparing for the 2012 Expo and to be a more appealing city) to get to what looks like a new station. It was very nice inside. It's not a big station, but nice. We asked for the price of tickets to Fes. 145 First class and 90 something for second class. SO we figured it would be worth the extra to go first class. So we left with 2 tickets for the 11am train to Fes tomorrow. Whew!!! Got that out of the way. We walked back, this time in a bit more shade. We made it an ice cream store/cafe by the Ramada. Elena needed another coffee, I needed a coffee, and we got a chocolate bread. The waiter also brought a small orange juice. That was 27 dh before tip. Then we moved on to find the Cyber Pasteur. We found it and got internet for 10 dh per hour. We spent almost an hour there, each on our own terminal. It was like the French keyboard, just with Arabic thrown in. I got caught up on all sorts of stuff. We didn't post our blogs because we didn't move them to a thumb drive.
By now we were getting hungry so we decided to enter a place called la Liberté Café or something like that. Our waiter spoke many languages and was very pleasant. We got the opposite dishes from last night. Elena got the lamb tajine and I got chicken cous-cous. Elena got water and I got a Sprite. It all came to only 78 dh before tip or 88 dh after tip--about US$12. Not bad for a yummy meal for 2 people.
I don't ever know what time it is. Supposedly, if it is noon in Paris, it is 10am in the summer, and 11am in teh winter. However, though it is summer, we are only 1 hour off. So I am finding it confusing. The bank clock shows the 2 hour time difference, but other clocks show a 1 hourtime difference. Maybe the laws changed?
So we got ready slowly--no need to hurry in Africa--and went out to have a coffee in the Petit Socco. Only 18 dh for Elena's cafe au lait and my expresso. We gave the waiter 20 and he invited us back that night for a bigger meal. He quoted us "only 60 dh for cous-cous" which I knew to be high. We then went to find the SoccoNet internet cafe just at the entrance to the medina. But it was closed. So we got a couple of pastries (sweet coated croissant with nuts on top and a cheese chausson) for 6 dh and 2 bananas for 7.5 dh. The SoccoNet didn't open, so we decided to just head over to the train station and find the WiFi place on the way. It is called 555 or Triple 5 or something like that. But somehow I missed it. So we just went through all this construction (Tanger is preparing for the 2012 Expo and to be a more appealing city) to get to what looks like a new station. It was very nice inside. It's not a big station, but nice. We asked for the price of tickets to Fes. 145 First class and 90 something for second class. SO we figured it would be worth the extra to go first class. So we left with 2 tickets for the 11am train to Fes tomorrow. Whew!!! Got that out of the way. We walked back, this time in a bit more shade. We made it an ice cream store/cafe by the Ramada. Elena needed another coffee, I needed a coffee, and we got a chocolate bread. The waiter also brought a small orange juice. That was 27 dh before tip. Then we moved on to find the Cyber Pasteur. We found it and got internet for 10 dh per hour. We spent almost an hour there, each on our own terminal. It was like the French keyboard, just with Arabic thrown in. I got caught up on all sorts of stuff. We didn't post our blogs because we didn't move them to a thumb drive.
By now we were getting hungry so we decided to enter a place called la Liberté Café or something like that. Our waiter spoke many languages and was very pleasant. We got the opposite dishes from last night. Elena got the lamb tajine and I got chicken cous-cous. Elena got water and I got a Sprite. It all came to only 78 dh before tip or 88 dh after tip--about US$12. Not bad for a yummy meal for 2 people.
I don't ever know what time it is. Supposedly, if it is noon in Paris, it is 10am in the summer, and 11am in teh winter. However, though it is summer, we are only 1 hour off. So I am finding it confusing. The bank clock shows the 2 hour time difference, but other clocks show a 1 hourtime difference. Maybe the laws changed?
Tangier Afternoon
After a nice little midday siesta, it was time to head out and do some more Tangier. I wanted a guide book. So putting together a Tangier brochure that listed places with addresses, but did not show on their map, Bvld. Pasteur, and the 5 photocopied pages, which did show Pasteur, but whose map didn't correspond well with the map in the brochure, I was able to figure out where Pasteur was. I really wanted to see the prices in a current guidebook. The 5 photocopied sheets talked about prices much lower than we were paying--like half. Was the book from which it they were photocopied really old? Or were we getting scammed? So we made our way to the Grand Socco and along the rue de la Liberté, and found Pasteur. Then we found La Librarie des Colonnes. They had a Lonely Planet in English and one in French and a Routard guide in French. I noticed in France that Routard is the book of choice for French people. The Lonely Planet price was not marked with a price in Dirhams, so we asked the guy there who asked a women playing Spider solitaire on a PC. Neither of them could find the price. So he took the book to some back room and came back quoting 300+ dh. So we went wih the Routard for 179 dh (US$25).
Then we went to have a nice little drink at La Café Español. There were only 2 other tables with people when we went in. We got teas (green for Elena, black for me) and ogled but did not buy their pastries and cakes. We sat there and read our Routard guide on Tangier and Fez. He decided it was good to have a guide book--better than trying to use the internet. It was a 2008 guide as well, so up to date. We looked at the prices it said we would have to pay and indeed, they were right in line with what we were paying. So the photocopied pages (now 100% retirable) are from a really old guide. It was fun to read it in French. My ability to read French is better than all my other abilities. And guidebook French is easy. So we were sitting there in the Café Español reading our French guide book sipping tea and having a good time. In the mean time, the place filled up. All locals. I decided to break one of my 200 dh bills even though the bill was only 19 dh (a bit under US$3). The place seemed big enough. I'm just starting to get a collection of smaller bills and coins to feel liquid.
Armed with the guide book, we tried to find a market which was described as a good market with good prices and nobody coming up to you bothering you and tryig to take you to a hotel/restaurant. We got a bit lost, but then found it. It was very busy and there were lots of shops. Then we headed to the beach. We walked along the sidewalk. It was just like the Seawall at English Bay. Lots of people walking on the sand and having fun. There are a few vendors of nuts, candies, and other treats. The sidewalk is lined with the roofs of bars which are down on the beach. YOu can see into some of them and some even have little swimming pools. There are discotheques, bars, restaraunts, a piano bar which had a popular drum act. One of the places is a WiFi zone, so we plan to check it out and see if we can have a nice beer and relax by the beach with our laptop dumping our blogs.
We headed back just as the sun was going behind the medina. We went back home and Elena typed while I read the Routard guide. Then we headed out to a restaurant in the Routard guide called Adagir. It must be in all the guides because all the customers were foreigners. It was especially nice because we could get beer. Yay!!! We got a Moroccan beer called Especial Flag or something like that. Only 2.5 dh for a 33 cl bottle. Yay!!! I got a lamb tajine and Elena got chicken coucous. I also got a hariri which is a spicy soup, very hot (temperature). The total bill came to such an amount that with tip, it was 200 dh. Not cheap, but much cheaper than an equivalent meal in France. We had sat right by the door and there was only one guy doing the cooking and waitering, so we knew he was busy. Still, we didn't want to leave a 200 dh note on the table so close to the door. It's not like somebody would come in a take it. So we took the plate to the kitchen and handed it to him with the money. Then we walked out. As soon as we walked out, a fellow walking down the street who happened to be right there, took a look at us and walked into the restaurant and went to our table and took something. We were going away and saw this through the window. I don''t know what if anything happened next. But I was shocked because if we hadn't taken our 200 dh bill to the cook/waiter, that guy probably would have taken it and scrammed. Instead he just got some chicken skin, a few tiny remnants of cous-cous grains and whatever meat might have been stuck to bones, and maybe a drop or two of beer. Certainly not worth the indignity of trying to grab what Westerners are leaving on their plates as they just leave a restaurant.
We went back home still flabbergasted about that. We got into our place and went to sleep. It was a bit warm--I wished we had AC, but this is nice compared to what it will be later in my trip.
Then we went to have a nice little drink at La Café Español. There were only 2 other tables with people when we went in. We got teas (green for Elena, black for me) and ogled but did not buy their pastries and cakes. We sat there and read our Routard guide on Tangier and Fez. He decided it was good to have a guide book--better than trying to use the internet. It was a 2008 guide as well, so up to date. We looked at the prices it said we would have to pay and indeed, they were right in line with what we were paying. So the photocopied pages (now 100% retirable) are from a really old guide. It was fun to read it in French. My ability to read French is better than all my other abilities. And guidebook French is easy. So we were sitting there in the Café Español reading our French guide book sipping tea and having a good time. In the mean time, the place filled up. All locals. I decided to break one of my 200 dh bills even though the bill was only 19 dh (a bit under US$3). The place seemed big enough. I'm just starting to get a collection of smaller bills and coins to feel liquid.
Armed with the guide book, we tried to find a market which was described as a good market with good prices and nobody coming up to you bothering you and tryig to take you to a hotel/restaurant. We got a bit lost, but then found it. It was very busy and there were lots of shops. Then we headed to the beach. We walked along the sidewalk. It was just like the Seawall at English Bay. Lots of people walking on the sand and having fun. There are a few vendors of nuts, candies, and other treats. The sidewalk is lined with the roofs of bars which are down on the beach. YOu can see into some of them and some even have little swimming pools. There are discotheques, bars, restaraunts, a piano bar which had a popular drum act. One of the places is a WiFi zone, so we plan to check it out and see if we can have a nice beer and relax by the beach with our laptop dumping our blogs.
We headed back just as the sun was going behind the medina. We went back home and Elena typed while I read the Routard guide. Then we headed out to a restaurant in the Routard guide called Adagir. It must be in all the guides because all the customers were foreigners. It was especially nice because we could get beer. Yay!!! We got a Moroccan beer called Especial Flag or something like that. Only 2.5 dh for a 33 cl bottle. Yay!!! I got a lamb tajine and Elena got chicken coucous. I also got a hariri which is a spicy soup, very hot (temperature). The total bill came to such an amount that with tip, it was 200 dh. Not cheap, but much cheaper than an equivalent meal in France. We had sat right by the door and there was only one guy doing the cooking and waitering, so we knew he was busy. Still, we didn't want to leave a 200 dh note on the table so close to the door. It's not like somebody would come in a take it. So we took the plate to the kitchen and handed it to him with the money. Then we walked out. As soon as we walked out, a fellow walking down the street who happened to be right there, took a look at us and walked into the restaurant and went to our table and took something. We were going away and saw this through the window. I don''t know what if anything happened next. But I was shocked because if we hadn't taken our 200 dh bill to the cook/waiter, that guy probably would have taken it and scrammed. Instead he just got some chicken skin, a few tiny remnants of cous-cous grains and whatever meat might have been stuck to bones, and maybe a drop or two of beer. Certainly not worth the indignity of trying to grab what Westerners are leaving on their plates as they just leave a restaurant.
We went back home still flabbergasted about that. We got into our place and went to sleep. It was a bit warm--I wished we had AC, but this is nice compared to what it will be later in my trip.
Getting resettled In Tangier
Last night, we arrived very late. The sun had gone down at the same time that we disembarked. So were in the uneviable situation of having to find a hotel in the dark in our first night in Africa. We did the best we could given the constraints we had to work with--no guide book, no idea where stuff is, no idea which hotels offer what we want at a good price. We stayed at the Continental. At least it was an interesting experience. It was like US$80 (552 dh) but it came with coffee and breads, and WiFi in the lobby at least.
But we decided to change our place. Armed with 5 photocopy sheets of the Lonely Planet on Tangier from the woman from Texas we met (who was going to return to her home in Rabat) we headed out in the morning to find the stairs by La Gitana. They were easy to find from the Contental. Just follow the wall of the Medina clockwise--it's like going from 3 o'clock to 5 o'clock. Once we found them we headed up the stairs to try the Hotel Becerra which was mentioned in the photocopies of the guide book. We asked to see the rooms and we were first shown a room with 4 beds. THere was a glass of Cola or something on a table. Then she took us to room 8. She couldn't get the door open so we all went down but when we got to the bottom, Elena decided she didn't like the place and we thanked them and left. The photocopies also mentioned the Pension Palace just across the street. We went in. The clerk speaks all languages. We went and saw a room with 1 bed and a shower/toilet. Elena asked if he had a room with 2 beds. He did and he showed it to us. It is the highest--on the top floor, and deepest into the hotel. It is pretty good. Only 150 dh per night. The rooms are clean, big, and cool, so the just over US$20 is worth it. We decided to take it. We went and got our stuff and checked out of the Continental and moved in.
Whew!!! Now we are situated well. We have a nice room for a reasonable price. With that out of the way, we can settle down and start to see if we can enjoy Tangier.
Our hotel is on what is called the Petit Socco. It's just sort of a small plaza with a few cafes and stores. Continuing in the same direction from La Gitana, you reach the Grande Socco which is the big roundabout on the edge of the Medina at about 10 o'clock--continuing the medina as a clock metaphor. We headed up and noticed a restaurant. A tout noticed us noticing the restaurant and approached us. We get approached quite a bit--maybe 3 or 4 times hour. So this tout told us to come on into the restaurant with him. We told him we'd come tonight. He left us alone but came back about 30 seconds later to warn us that we should only go into these restaurants with a "guide" aka a tout. We assured him we would definitely do that and went on.
The Grande Socco has a market with booths for butchers and fruitiers among other things. We made mental notes of where we could get all the various things. We decided to head down to the beach. Tangier has a nice beach or two. Large and sandy. We got there and popped into a pizzaria/cafe for a coffee creme (9 dh) and a cafe expresso (8 dh). So the total bill came to 17 dh which is like US$2. Pretty good. A cafe expresso in France is at least €1,20 and a cafe creme is typically starting at €1,90. So the cheap end of the same bill in France would be €3,10 or US$5. It can easily be higher at an average priced place.
I found the names of a couple of bookstores. I want to get a Routard guide of Maroc or one of the English guides if they have one. I'm pretty certain I can find the French ones, but English might be a tall order. We wandered a bit around the town looking for the bookstores, but most intersections are unmarked and even when we did find a sign once, it was so rusted that the paint had long since chipped off. Anyway we were getting pretty hungry, so when we saw a place with a menu outside we looked over the menu.
If you want to get the attention of a waiter in Morocco, be Western and look at their menu. A waiter came and showed us a menu. It looked pretty good. A place called Comedie. So we let the waiter lead us in. He wanted us to sit upstairs and Elena wanted to sit downstairs. The waiter won that one. We sat in a nice upstairs table overlooking the restaurant. We started looking at the menu. After a few minutes, the waiter came with a platter of fresh fish to show us what they had. Elena ordered the sole immediately. I stuck with skewers of beef. Elena ordered a water and I ordered a Sprite.
They brought a basket of bread and a plate of olives. I'm not normally an olive guy, but these were pretty good. Especially these red/brown olives--Yummy! Finally the food came and we ate. It was really good. My meat was spiced nicely. Each of the dishes had a little pile of rice, fries, and some shredded lettuce. We ate everything. They had ketchup, mustard, and hot sauce. The drinks were around 8 dh each, and the entrees were 68 dh. No beer here. The whole thing came to 167 dh. Around US$25. So a bit on the pricey side, but not unreasonable. After all it was our first meal in Africa. We tipped a little under 10% just because I wasn't liquid enough to tip 10%.
We then headed out into the Tangier sun. Actually, the heat was not oppressive at all. That's a pleasant surprise. In fact as I write this at 4:09 Europe time, a nice cool breeze is coming into our window. We found one of the bookstores but it was closed.
We headed back to our place and then went out to find water, fruit, and soap. We got a bar of Lux soap for 3.5 dh (US$0.50). Then we got some peaches, bananas, and kiwi for 24 dh (US$3.50). Finally we got a 1.5 liter water bottle for--I can't remember.
We met a French couple who had been in line with us the night before waiting to get our visa stamps. Elena had struck up a conversation with them at some point in our 1.5 hour wait. When we met again, we informed them of the price of the Continental and how much the Pension Palace was. Always good stuff to know.
Then we came home and Elena did some cleaning to get everything up to her standards and finally she made a yummy fruit salad.
Now she is taking a nice nap and commenting at how long my blog is by the amount of typing I'm doing.
Tangier is an interesting place. They seem unable to make up their mind whether they are called Tanger or Tangier. Both are everywhere. The city smells like dead fish at the port, rather unpleasant on some blocks, and positively delightful when you walk by a spice store. There are barbers everywhere. Wow! Moroccans must really like to make sure they have their hair in good shape. There are many styles of beards that the men, especially older ones, wear. Most of the women wear gowns with headscarfs. Some are more Western looking in their dress, but not many. There many pizzarias, cafes, and even an occasional bar. There is some English, but I was wise to learn a bit of French because you really need to have the French here. English probably works in some places, but French opens the doors. There are hotels and pensions everywhere. Anyone coming to Tangier can easily find a place by just showing up as long as he speaks French and is willing to take pretty Spartan accomodations. It's good to show up with some daylight left though. Still, I could do it again now that I know what I'm doing. And hopefully readers of my blog could do it, too.
But we decided to change our place. Armed with 5 photocopy sheets of the Lonely Planet on Tangier from the woman from Texas we met (who was going to return to her home in Rabat) we headed out in the morning to find the stairs by La Gitana. They were easy to find from the Contental. Just follow the wall of the Medina clockwise--it's like going from 3 o'clock to 5 o'clock. Once we found them we headed up the stairs to try the Hotel Becerra which was mentioned in the photocopies of the guide book. We asked to see the rooms and we were first shown a room with 4 beds. THere was a glass of Cola or something on a table. Then she took us to room 8. She couldn't get the door open so we all went down but when we got to the bottom, Elena decided she didn't like the place and we thanked them and left. The photocopies also mentioned the Pension Palace just across the street. We went in. The clerk speaks all languages. We went and saw a room with 1 bed and a shower/toilet. Elena asked if he had a room with 2 beds. He did and he showed it to us. It is the highest--on the top floor, and deepest into the hotel. It is pretty good. Only 150 dh per night. The rooms are clean, big, and cool, so the just over US$20 is worth it. We decided to take it. We went and got our stuff and checked out of the Continental and moved in.
Whew!!! Now we are situated well. We have a nice room for a reasonable price. With that out of the way, we can settle down and start to see if we can enjoy Tangier.
Our hotel is on what is called the Petit Socco. It's just sort of a small plaza with a few cafes and stores. Continuing in the same direction from La Gitana, you reach the Grande Socco which is the big roundabout on the edge of the Medina at about 10 o'clock--continuing the medina as a clock metaphor. We headed up and noticed a restaurant. A tout noticed us noticing the restaurant and approached us. We get approached quite a bit--maybe 3 or 4 times hour. So this tout told us to come on into the restaurant with him. We told him we'd come tonight. He left us alone but came back about 30 seconds later to warn us that we should only go into these restaurants with a "guide" aka a tout. We assured him we would definitely do that and went on.
The Grande Socco has a market with booths for butchers and fruitiers among other things. We made mental notes of where we could get all the various things. We decided to head down to the beach. Tangier has a nice beach or two. Large and sandy. We got there and popped into a pizzaria/cafe for a coffee creme (9 dh) and a cafe expresso (8 dh). So the total bill came to 17 dh which is like US$2. Pretty good. A cafe expresso in France is at least €1,20 and a cafe creme is typically starting at €1,90. So the cheap end of the same bill in France would be €3,10 or US$5. It can easily be higher at an average priced place.
I found the names of a couple of bookstores. I want to get a Routard guide of Maroc or one of the English guides if they have one. I'm pretty certain I can find the French ones, but English might be a tall order. We wandered a bit around the town looking for the bookstores, but most intersections are unmarked and even when we did find a sign once, it was so rusted that the paint had long since chipped off. Anyway we were getting pretty hungry, so when we saw a place with a menu outside we looked over the menu.
If you want to get the attention of a waiter in Morocco, be Western and look at their menu. A waiter came and showed us a menu. It looked pretty good. A place called Comedie. So we let the waiter lead us in. He wanted us to sit upstairs and Elena wanted to sit downstairs. The waiter won that one. We sat in a nice upstairs table overlooking the restaurant. We started looking at the menu. After a few minutes, the waiter came with a platter of fresh fish to show us what they had. Elena ordered the sole immediately. I stuck with skewers of beef. Elena ordered a water and I ordered a Sprite.
They brought a basket of bread and a plate of olives. I'm not normally an olive guy, but these were pretty good. Especially these red/brown olives--Yummy! Finally the food came and we ate. It was really good. My meat was spiced nicely. Each of the dishes had a little pile of rice, fries, and some shredded lettuce. We ate everything. They had ketchup, mustard, and hot sauce. The drinks were around 8 dh each, and the entrees were 68 dh. No beer here. The whole thing came to 167 dh. Around US$25. So a bit on the pricey side, but not unreasonable. After all it was our first meal in Africa. We tipped a little under 10% just because I wasn't liquid enough to tip 10%.
We then headed out into the Tangier sun. Actually, the heat was not oppressive at all. That's a pleasant surprise. In fact as I write this at 4:09 Europe time, a nice cool breeze is coming into our window. We found one of the bookstores but it was closed.
We headed back to our place and then went out to find water, fruit, and soap. We got a bar of Lux soap for 3.5 dh (US$0.50). Then we got some peaches, bananas, and kiwi for 24 dh (US$3.50). Finally we got a 1.5 liter water bottle for--I can't remember.
We met a French couple who had been in line with us the night before waiting to get our visa stamps. Elena had struck up a conversation with them at some point in our 1.5 hour wait. When we met again, we informed them of the price of the Continental and how much the Pension Palace was. Always good stuff to know.
Then we came home and Elena did some cleaning to get everything up to her standards and finally she made a yummy fruit salad.
Now she is taking a nice nap and commenting at how long my blog is by the amount of typing I'm doing.
Tangier is an interesting place. They seem unable to make up their mind whether they are called Tanger or Tangier. Both are everywhere. The city smells like dead fish at the port, rather unpleasant on some blocks, and positively delightful when you walk by a spice store. There are barbers everywhere. Wow! Moroccans must really like to make sure they have their hair in good shape. There are many styles of beards that the men, especially older ones, wear. Most of the women wear gowns with headscarfs. Some are more Western looking in their dress, but not many. There many pizzarias, cafes, and even an occasional bar. There is some English, but I was wise to learn a bit of French because you really need to have the French here. English probably works in some places, but French opens the doors. There are hotels and pensions everywhere. Anyone coming to Tangier can easily find a place by just showing up as long as he speaks French and is willing to take pretty Spartan accomodations. It's good to show up with some daylight left though. Still, I could do it again now that I know what I'm doing. And hopefully readers of my blog could do it, too.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Wake Up In Morocco
Last night shortly after we arrived, what I assume was a muezzin started calling everyone to prayer. Then this morning, I woke up to a muezzin.
The bathroom doesn't have soap, so we didn't shower last night. Elena woke up and tried to use the WiFi, but it is very weak in our room and there was no connection in the morning. The morning air, like the night air, at the Continental has a vague smell of dead fish, and the view over the port is more utilitarian than charming. Sure, there's water, but it's a port protected by armed guards with all the port stuff you normally find in ports.
The hotel has definitely seen better days. We wandered down for breakfast and to get better WiFi connection. The hotel has all sorts of neat rooms and passages and nooks and crannies. I'm sure it was very charming in its heyday. We met a woman from Texas and asked her a few questions. You don't haggle on hotel prices so our 552 dh price is the actual price. At 7.4 dh to the US dollar that's US$75. Elena will pay in Euros and we'll go into town to get dirhams and find a cheaper place to stay.
Breakfast was nice for me, but a nightmare for Elena I'm sure. She didn't say anything, but she's not a big bread eater and our breakfast consisted of a chocolate bread, sweet roll, wheat bun, and croissant. Coffee, of course. And a cream cheese, jam, and butter packet. I ate all mine. We started inside, then went outside to enjoy the sun, then inside again to escape the sun.
So apparently, 10% is the tipping rate in Morocco. And it seems there is a fair amount of stuff to do here in Tangier. So I think we should exhaust Tangier before moving on. We'll see what Elena wants to do. I think she and I are going to have to work a little bit to find the happy medium between my willingness to stay in US$4 places and Elena's desire for rooms with bathroom.
This morning we will explore the medina, find a cheaper hotel, and see Tangier. I hope Elena starts to warm up to Tangier. I want her to enjoy her time here. Our start wasn't auspicious, but I think she'll come to enjoy our time. At least, we'll have some really good stories for our friends in Vancouver.
The bathroom doesn't have soap, so we didn't shower last night. Elena woke up and tried to use the WiFi, but it is very weak in our room and there was no connection in the morning. The morning air, like the night air, at the Continental has a vague smell of dead fish, and the view over the port is more utilitarian than charming. Sure, there's water, but it's a port protected by armed guards with all the port stuff you normally find in ports.
The hotel has definitely seen better days. We wandered down for breakfast and to get better WiFi connection. The hotel has all sorts of neat rooms and passages and nooks and crannies. I'm sure it was very charming in its heyday. We met a woman from Texas and asked her a few questions. You don't haggle on hotel prices so our 552 dh price is the actual price. At 7.4 dh to the US dollar that's US$75. Elena will pay in Euros and we'll go into town to get dirhams and find a cheaper place to stay.
Breakfast was nice for me, but a nightmare for Elena I'm sure. She didn't say anything, but she's not a big bread eater and our breakfast consisted of a chocolate bread, sweet roll, wheat bun, and croissant. Coffee, of course. And a cream cheese, jam, and butter packet. I ate all mine. We started inside, then went outside to enjoy the sun, then inside again to escape the sun.
So apparently, 10% is the tipping rate in Morocco. And it seems there is a fair amount of stuff to do here in Tangier. So I think we should exhaust Tangier before moving on. We'll see what Elena wants to do. I think she and I are going to have to work a little bit to find the happy medium between my willingness to stay in US$4 places and Elena's desire for rooms with bathroom.
This morning we will explore the medina, find a cheaper hotel, and see Tangier. I hope Elena starts to warm up to Tangier. I want her to enjoy her time here. Our start wasn't auspicious, but I think she'll come to enjoy our time. At least, we'll have some really good stories for our friends in Vancouver.
Made It To Morocco
Whew!!! What a trip!
We woke up and checked out leaving our luggage with the clerk at the Hotel Madrid. Then we went to the free city hall internet place as usual for my daily blog dump and to look into options for Tangier. The wikitravel site was pretty good listing a number of places and explaining how to get there.
Then we went to try to find a few last minute purchases I needed like a couple of combination locks and dark sunglasses. We got some sunglasses for €6 and then got the locks at a slightly out of the way El Corte Inglés. After that Elena wanted to eat. We couldn't find anything that had the type of food she wanted (she wasn't in the mood for bread) so we just got some stuff at the basement of El Corte Inglés and headed back to the Hotel Madrid. We ate our lunch in their dining room and had the clerk call us a cab. We weren't sure about the best way to get from the Madrid to the San Sebastian bus station. We sure weren't relishing a walk in the head with all our luggage. Nor we were relishing a walk half as long to the tram and then paying €4,20 for 2 tickets. The cab came and I watched the meter. It crept along slowly and finally stopped at just about €7. Not too bad. We got our heavy heavy luggage to the station for less than twice what the much less convenient bus or tram would have cost.
Once there, we found our bus and soon--2:00 on the dot--we were on our way. Woe to the guy who shows up 10 seconds late in Spain, I guess. We had nice seats--in front with a view out the window. We watched the Andalucian landscape--cows, sunflowers, rolling hills. I tried to see if the character in The Alchemist would be able to lead his flock of sheep over the landscape. I didn't really see how.
The bus made a few stops and picked up and dropped off people--then a longer stop at a place that barely counts as a rest stop. Then we finally made it to Tangier. We got dropped off on the edge of town. Not exactly what I was hoping for. I found a map that showed the terminal, but it didn't have a "you are here". Elena found a girl with a Lonely Planet Spain guide book and I think she wanted to ask, but it looked to me that all we had to do was go into town and then turn right to get to the port. So we headed off. We walked about 6 or so blocks parallel to the coast and then about 4 toward the coast.
Then the port came into view. We made our way down to the port. There were travel agents selling Fast Ferry tickets but we didn't really see an official ticket booth. Elena guarded the luggage in a shady bench area while I went to the last travel agent. I went in and tried to buy 2 tickets, but I needed both passports. So I came back, got Elena's passport and got the tickets. €31 each.
Then we decided to eat at a place by where she waited called Bamboo. We each had a panini €4,00 for mine and €3,70 for Elena's and I had a beer (€1,50) and she had a cappucino (€1,90). After we paid, we headed to the ferry terminal. Again I was reminded of The Alchemist because the Melchedesic character looks down on the streets of Tarifa from a Moorish ruin. I snapped pictures of 2 such possible ruins. It could be this:
Or maybe this:
Here is our ferry.
As we got our boarding passes, the woman told me that the 7pm ferry would sail at 8pm. Hmm.... I don't want delays because I didn't want to search for a hotel in the dark. Oh well. We waited in a waiting room with mostly Moroccans. Almost all the women wore gowns with headscarfs. We waited for the Passport Control officers to came and process us. Elena predicted they would be for Moroccan immigration--sort of the way flights to America work in Vancouver where you clear customs in Vancouver and then the flight is essentially a US domestic flight after that. I wasn't so sure. With not much time left to board, the officers finally came. It turned out that they were just there for the exit stamp. So I got my exit stamp indicating it left Europe by boat from Tarifa.
We boarded the boat and since there was a flight of stairs, fairly crowded (people 2 flights up were helping an elderly or handicapped person up the stairs), Elena decided to deposte her heavy luggage by some other heavy luggages on the car deck. We eventually settled on a place to sit and Elena went out to feel the wind and take some pictures.
On our way up, we noticed there was also a passport control on the ferry itself and there was a very long lineup. I figured they were people who came on board via the bus or cars because our passport control appeared to be just walk-on passengers.
The trip was uneventful. Lots of people were filling out their customs form. We already had because we thought we needed it at the first passport control. Then after about a half hour, the announcement that the ferry was about to dock. We went down and noticed everyone was lining up at the passport control window. Then an announcement came on and said that you clear Moroccan customs on board and you can't leave the ship until you get a stamp. Hmmm.... Elena went down to get her heavy bag. And we lined up. A drunk guy threw up and all the more pious looking Moroccans looked at him with disapproval, but he was too drunk to care. The line moved very very slowly. People were wondering what was happening. People were asking in French, Arabic, and Spanish. Small arguments were happening. We waited about 1.5 hours in line. Elena was not happy about waiting in line. I guess she didn't appreciate my attempt to show her first hand how efficient African bureaucracies are. I told her that we'll look back on this and laugh, but she wasn't in a laughing mood now. At one point two men came in and tried to butt in front of the line but the people near the front defended their positions with vigor. He eventually ran off in a huff after arguing with half the people in line. Another guy, not sure what nationality, was loudly denouncing the inefficiencies and got the hackles of a couple of young Moroccans for basically saying that their country was bad and inefficient. I kept one eye on all the anger and the other eye on the setting sun. We didn't want to search for our hotel in the dark, but the sun was very low in the sky.
Finally, we got to the window and watched as the officers handwrote a bunch of stuff and then made 4 stamps (bureaucrats just loooove stamps). By the way, the French word for stamp is tampon. Just a piece of trivia. So finally we were able to leave. We got on the gangway, got by a bunch of people loading up a cart on the gangway, and then three men standing there grabbed me. I tried to get through, but they asked for my passport. I thought they were touts, but they were police and just needed to check my passport. They didn't have official looking uniforms and were just standing thre in the gangway, so I didn't take them for police.
We got off the gangway and started walking toward the exit of the port. It is a fairly long walk to the exit of the port. We passed a bunch of ATMs but Elena refused to let me withdraw dirhams. That sort of pissed me off. We always disagree on that matter. I like to get the currency of the country I'm visiting as soon as we get to the country--especially if it is a place where credit cards don't work. Anyway we went on.
Our plan was to find something fast. Elena really wanted to stay at the Hotel Continental which was recommended on wikitravel and was supposed to be about €33. But I would rather get something cheap and convenient. But since we knew of the Hotel Continental, when I saw a sign immediately upon leaving the port pointing to the right, I went to the right. The streets were lively. We went up a couple of switchbacks. There were a few more signs pointing to the Continental, but the directions were ambiguous. Then we saw, somewhat painted over, the sign for La Gitana. According to wikitravel, many of the pensions and hotels are in the street leading from the top of the stairs by La Gitana. So we went up about 3 flights of stairs. Sure enough. Plenty of pensions. We popped into one. I asked in my French if they had a room for 2. Yes. How much? 30 dh per person. Wow! It's about 7 dh per US$. So that's like a little less than US$5. Or US$10 for both of us. The catch? Shared bathroom. That is Elena's one sticking point. It must have full bathroom facilities in the room. SO we went to another. Again they had rooms, but not with the bathroom. A third, same thing. So Elena asked the guy where the Continental is. Right, right by a patisserie, left, and a ways. We got the right and right part, but got lost. Then there seemed to be some sort of fight. An older man said something to me. I asked in French if this was the direction to the Continental. He said yes, but he started leading us. I hadn't really wanted a guide--just a point. He took us down some narrow streets that were on the verge of being deserted. We weren't sure what was going to happen. Was he leading us to some thieves lair? Finally, we appeared at the Continental. I thanked him and tipped him a 1€ coin. I'm glad we didn't have to try to find it oun our own.
Going in, I told Elena that since we were here, this was where we were going to have to stay. We went in. They had rooms. A double is 525 dh. So it is about US$80. About $70 more than the place we could have stayed. Oh well. They have WiFi. And breakfast.
We filled in a long form with all sorts of information similar to our Moroccan customs declaration form. Then the hotel guy filled in an identical form and recorded it all in a ledger. Ah, bureaucracy. We got our room key and came up. Our room does have full bathroom facilities. But no soap and neither of us remembered to bring soap.
We woke up and checked out leaving our luggage with the clerk at the Hotel Madrid. Then we went to the free city hall internet place as usual for my daily blog dump and to look into options for Tangier. The wikitravel site was pretty good listing a number of places and explaining how to get there.
Then we went to try to find a few last minute purchases I needed like a couple of combination locks and dark sunglasses. We got some sunglasses for €6 and then got the locks at a slightly out of the way El Corte Inglés. After that Elena wanted to eat. We couldn't find anything that had the type of food she wanted (she wasn't in the mood for bread) so we just got some stuff at the basement of El Corte Inglés and headed back to the Hotel Madrid. We ate our lunch in their dining room and had the clerk call us a cab. We weren't sure about the best way to get from the Madrid to the San Sebastian bus station. We sure weren't relishing a walk in the head with all our luggage. Nor we were relishing a walk half as long to the tram and then paying €4,20 for 2 tickets. The cab came and I watched the meter. It crept along slowly and finally stopped at just about €7. Not too bad. We got our heavy heavy luggage to the station for less than twice what the much less convenient bus or tram would have cost.
Once there, we found our bus and soon--2:00 on the dot--we were on our way. Woe to the guy who shows up 10 seconds late in Spain, I guess. We had nice seats--in front with a view out the window. We watched the Andalucian landscape--cows, sunflowers, rolling hills. I tried to see if the character in The Alchemist would be able to lead his flock of sheep over the landscape. I didn't really see how.
The bus made a few stops and picked up and dropped off people--then a longer stop at a place that barely counts as a rest stop. Then we finally made it to Tangier. We got dropped off on the edge of town. Not exactly what I was hoping for. I found a map that showed the terminal, but it didn't have a "you are here". Elena found a girl with a Lonely Planet Spain guide book and I think she wanted to ask, but it looked to me that all we had to do was go into town and then turn right to get to the port. So we headed off. We walked about 6 or so blocks parallel to the coast and then about 4 toward the coast.
Then the port came into view. We made our way down to the port. There were travel agents selling Fast Ferry tickets but we didn't really see an official ticket booth. Elena guarded the luggage in a shady bench area while I went to the last travel agent. I went in and tried to buy 2 tickets, but I needed both passports. So I came back, got Elena's passport and got the tickets. €31 each.
Then we decided to eat at a place by where she waited called Bamboo. We each had a panini €4,00 for mine and €3,70 for Elena's and I had a beer (€1,50) and she had a cappucino (€1,90). After we paid, we headed to the ferry terminal. Again I was reminded of The Alchemist because the Melchedesic character looks down on the streets of Tarifa from a Moorish ruin. I snapped pictures of 2 such possible ruins. It could be this:
Or maybe this:
Here is our ferry.
As we got our boarding passes, the woman told me that the 7pm ferry would sail at 8pm. Hmm.... I don't want delays because I didn't want to search for a hotel in the dark. Oh well. We waited in a waiting room with mostly Moroccans. Almost all the women wore gowns with headscarfs. We waited for the Passport Control officers to came and process us. Elena predicted they would be for Moroccan immigration--sort of the way flights to America work in Vancouver where you clear customs in Vancouver and then the flight is essentially a US domestic flight after that. I wasn't so sure. With not much time left to board, the officers finally came. It turned out that they were just there for the exit stamp. So I got my exit stamp indicating it left Europe by boat from Tarifa.
We boarded the boat and since there was a flight of stairs, fairly crowded (people 2 flights up were helping an elderly or handicapped person up the stairs), Elena decided to deposte her heavy luggage by some other heavy luggages on the car deck. We eventually settled on a place to sit and Elena went out to feel the wind and take some pictures.
On our way up, we noticed there was also a passport control on the ferry itself and there was a very long lineup. I figured they were people who came on board via the bus or cars because our passport control appeared to be just walk-on passengers.
The trip was uneventful. Lots of people were filling out their customs form. We already had because we thought we needed it at the first passport control. Then after about a half hour, the announcement that the ferry was about to dock. We went down and noticed everyone was lining up at the passport control window. Then an announcement came on and said that you clear Moroccan customs on board and you can't leave the ship until you get a stamp. Hmmm.... Elena went down to get her heavy bag. And we lined up. A drunk guy threw up and all the more pious looking Moroccans looked at him with disapproval, but he was too drunk to care. The line moved very very slowly. People were wondering what was happening. People were asking in French, Arabic, and Spanish. Small arguments were happening. We waited about 1.5 hours in line. Elena was not happy about waiting in line. I guess she didn't appreciate my attempt to show her first hand how efficient African bureaucracies are. I told her that we'll look back on this and laugh, but she wasn't in a laughing mood now. At one point two men came in and tried to butt in front of the line but the people near the front defended their positions with vigor. He eventually ran off in a huff after arguing with half the people in line. Another guy, not sure what nationality, was loudly denouncing the inefficiencies and got the hackles of a couple of young Moroccans for basically saying that their country was bad and inefficient. I kept one eye on all the anger and the other eye on the setting sun. We didn't want to search for our hotel in the dark, but the sun was very low in the sky.
Finally, we got to the window and watched as the officers handwrote a bunch of stuff and then made 4 stamps (bureaucrats just loooove stamps). By the way, the French word for stamp is tampon. Just a piece of trivia. So finally we were able to leave. We got on the gangway, got by a bunch of people loading up a cart on the gangway, and then three men standing there grabbed me. I tried to get through, but they asked for my passport. I thought they were touts, but they were police and just needed to check my passport. They didn't have official looking uniforms and were just standing thre in the gangway, so I didn't take them for police.
We got off the gangway and started walking toward the exit of the port. It is a fairly long walk to the exit of the port. We passed a bunch of ATMs but Elena refused to let me withdraw dirhams. That sort of pissed me off. We always disagree on that matter. I like to get the currency of the country I'm visiting as soon as we get to the country--especially if it is a place where credit cards don't work. Anyway we went on.
Our plan was to find something fast. Elena really wanted to stay at the Hotel Continental which was recommended on wikitravel and was supposed to be about €33. But I would rather get something cheap and convenient. But since we knew of the Hotel Continental, when I saw a sign immediately upon leaving the port pointing to the right, I went to the right. The streets were lively. We went up a couple of switchbacks. There were a few more signs pointing to the Continental, but the directions were ambiguous. Then we saw, somewhat painted over, the sign for La Gitana. According to wikitravel, many of the pensions and hotels are in the street leading from the top of the stairs by La Gitana. So we went up about 3 flights of stairs. Sure enough. Plenty of pensions. We popped into one. I asked in my French if they had a room for 2. Yes. How much? 30 dh per person. Wow! It's about 7 dh per US$. So that's like a little less than US$5. Or US$10 for both of us. The catch? Shared bathroom. That is Elena's one sticking point. It must have full bathroom facilities in the room. SO we went to another. Again they had rooms, but not with the bathroom. A third, same thing. So Elena asked the guy where the Continental is. Right, right by a patisserie, left, and a ways. We got the right and right part, but got lost. Then there seemed to be some sort of fight. An older man said something to me. I asked in French if this was the direction to the Continental. He said yes, but he started leading us. I hadn't really wanted a guide--just a point. He took us down some narrow streets that were on the verge of being deserted. We weren't sure what was going to happen. Was he leading us to some thieves lair? Finally, we appeared at the Continental. I thanked him and tipped him a 1€ coin. I'm glad we didn't have to try to find it oun our own.
Going in, I told Elena that since we were here, this was where we were going to have to stay. We went in. They had rooms. A double is 525 dh. So it is about US$80. About $70 more than the place we could have stayed. Oh well. They have WiFi. And breakfast.
We filled in a long form with all sorts of information similar to our Moroccan customs declaration form. Then the hotel guy filled in an identical form and recorded it all in a ledger. Ah, bureaucracy. We got our room key and came up. Our room does have full bathroom facilities. But no soap and neither of us remembered to bring soap.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Third Day In Seville
We are still in Seville (Tuesday the 10th). We asked our Spanish speaking hotel woman "podemos estar aqui por una mas noche?" She happily ran my credit card for another €55. But it limited our stress in Seville. So we got to have a relatively stress free day in Seville. Tomorrow (Wednesday the 11th) will be our day of travel to Morocco.
We woke up leisurely (no jackhammer this morning) and showered and left. We took the laptop and went to the free internet place. Across the street from City Hall (Ayuntamiento) by the Plaza San Francisco there is a free internet/WiFi point that is open on weekdays from 10-14 and 17-20. They have about a dozen terminals, a couple broken down, that one can use for free for an hour. You just have to sign your name on some sheet at the desk and have the girl assign you a terminal. The WiFi is just connect & go. This morning we went. Elena got a terminal and I used WiFi. Checked up on election news--nice handoff from Hillary to Obama. Checked my email--but didn't write any. And most importantly did a blog dump. "Blog dump"is my coined term for when you write a bunch of blog entries offline and then upload them all at once when you get online. If I haven't gotten around to fixing the timestamps, you can see when I did the blog dumps. So we spent some time there and then came back to store and recharge the heavy computer.
Then we decided to shop for necessities. Seville is actually not a good town to try to outfit yourself for a trip to Africa. I might have to have REI ship me stuff to a hotel in Marrakech or something. Anyway, I got a couple more stuff sacks at Intersport, ear plugs (for hostelling with snorers), a pair of hiking pants, and a shirt at H&M. We stopped into a pharmacy, but it is a bit tricky here as the pharmacies don't put any pharmaceuticals out at all. You have to ask for everything. So I got some Immodium. Elena got some mosquito stuff. I tried to tell her that there are no mosquitos in the desert, but she thinks Africa==mosquitos.
Elena got a nice print blouse at H&M The probador (changing room) was in the lingerie section so I was watching a half dozen sexy women choosing lingerie while waiting for Elena. Very nice. Much much better than yesterday when I was waiting with 3 other macho mustachioed Spaniards for their women while they tried on stuff.
We went to a place for dinner that we tried to go to yesterday, but their special had ended. It is called Las Escobas and they have €7,90 liters of sangria and a 5 tapas plate for €8,50. The tapas and the sangria were yummy. The tapas we got was 1) squid rings and lettuce, 2) red pepper puree ? and cheese/sausage, 3) spicy rice with shellfish, 4) potato slices and gravy, and 5) a cassis custard type thing with deep fried bread pieces. Very good. And a pretty good price. I have noticed that they like to tack on €1-€2 of unsolicited bread here in Seville.
We had a nice little nap/siesta/reading of Generation X in French with wine (Veranza, Tinto Roble Seleccionado, 2007 Vino de la tierra Valle del Cinca). Then Elena snapped me into gear. We headed out to look at Seville by night. First we got tickets for Tarifa at the San Sebastian bus station. Then we checked out the Plaza España. Finally, we wandered around the cathedral some more, checked out a few more streets, and found the lively section with all the tapas bars.
Just a note about tapas in Spain. You may think it is easy to do tapas in Spain. Actually it is difficult. First, you have to find tapas places that serve tapas in the €2-€3 range. It certainly isn't everywhere. You have to look at a lot of menus and even places that bill themselves as tapas places, upon inspecting the menus, don't actually have the cheap tapas. Then once you find a place, the names of the items are in Spanish. Not normal Spanish but tapas bar Spanish. Some you can guess. Some you can't. There isn't much that a normal person can't eat, so experimentation is fine. But if you are vegetarian, kosher, allergic to stuff, or a picky eater, you'll have problems with the "throw a dart at the menu" method.
Anyway, Elena chose a place and we sat down. But when they brought the menu, no tapas. So we found another place. They didn't have empty seats outside, so we went in. The waitress didn't speak English and the menus were only in Spanish. Actually a good sign. Elena got a sangria, I got a caña (€1,25 for a caña whereas the equivalent "demi" in France would be €2,30-€4,20 depending on the place), and we got three tapas, "prenga" in quotes like that even on the menu, jamón, and tuna in ????. They came and were yummy. Then we ordered pimiento with something. It was good too. The bill came to €11,75. This time they didn't charge us for the bread. Yay!!!!
We walked around some more and came home 7 minutes to midnight. Our last night in Europe for a while. Tomorrow night when we go to sleep, we'll be in Africa!
Next post from Morocco...
We woke up leisurely (no jackhammer this morning) and showered and left. We took the laptop and went to the free internet place. Across the street from City Hall (Ayuntamiento) by the Plaza San Francisco there is a free internet/WiFi point that is open on weekdays from 10-14 and 17-20. They have about a dozen terminals, a couple broken down, that one can use for free for an hour. You just have to sign your name on some sheet at the desk and have the girl assign you a terminal. The WiFi is just connect & go. This morning we went. Elena got a terminal and I used WiFi. Checked up on election news--nice handoff from Hillary to Obama. Checked my email--but didn't write any. And most importantly did a blog dump. "Blog dump"is my coined term for when you write a bunch of blog entries offline and then upload them all at once when you get online. If I haven't gotten around to fixing the timestamps, you can see when I did the blog dumps. So we spent some time there and then came back to store and recharge the heavy computer.
Then we decided to shop for necessities. Seville is actually not a good town to try to outfit yourself for a trip to Africa. I might have to have REI ship me stuff to a hotel in Marrakech or something. Anyway, I got a couple more stuff sacks at Intersport, ear plugs (for hostelling with snorers), a pair of hiking pants, and a shirt at H&M. We stopped into a pharmacy, but it is a bit tricky here as the pharmacies don't put any pharmaceuticals out at all. You have to ask for everything. So I got some Immodium. Elena got some mosquito stuff. I tried to tell her that there are no mosquitos in the desert, but she thinks Africa==mosquitos.
Elena got a nice print blouse at H&M The probador (changing room) was in the lingerie section so I was watching a half dozen sexy women choosing lingerie while waiting for Elena. Very nice. Much much better than yesterday when I was waiting with 3 other macho mustachioed Spaniards for their women while they tried on stuff.
We went to a place for dinner that we tried to go to yesterday, but their special had ended. It is called Las Escobas and they have €7,90 liters of sangria and a 5 tapas plate for €8,50. The tapas and the sangria were yummy. The tapas we got was 1) squid rings and lettuce, 2) red pepper puree ? and cheese/sausage, 3) spicy rice with shellfish, 4) potato slices and gravy, and 5) a cassis custard type thing with deep fried bread pieces. Very good. And a pretty good price. I have noticed that they like to tack on €1-€2 of unsolicited bread here in Seville.
We had a nice little nap/siesta/reading of Generation X in French with wine (Veranza, Tinto Roble Seleccionado, 2007 Vino de la tierra Valle del Cinca). Then Elena snapped me into gear. We headed out to look at Seville by night. First we got tickets for Tarifa at the San Sebastian bus station. Then we checked out the Plaza España. Finally, we wandered around the cathedral some more, checked out a few more streets, and found the lively section with all the tapas bars.
Just a note about tapas in Spain. You may think it is easy to do tapas in Spain. Actually it is difficult. First, you have to find tapas places that serve tapas in the €2-€3 range. It certainly isn't everywhere. You have to look at a lot of menus and even places that bill themselves as tapas places, upon inspecting the menus, don't actually have the cheap tapas. Then once you find a place, the names of the items are in Spanish. Not normal Spanish but tapas bar Spanish. Some you can guess. Some you can't. There isn't much that a normal person can't eat, so experimentation is fine. But if you are vegetarian, kosher, allergic to stuff, or a picky eater, you'll have problems with the "throw a dart at the menu" method.
Anyway, Elena chose a place and we sat down. But when they brought the menu, no tapas. So we found another place. They didn't have empty seats outside, so we went in. The waitress didn't speak English and the menus were only in Spanish. Actually a good sign. Elena got a sangria, I got a caña (€1,25 for a caña whereas the equivalent "demi" in France would be €2,30-€4,20 depending on the place), and we got three tapas, "prenga" in quotes like that even on the menu, jamón, and tuna in ????. They came and were yummy. Then we ordered pimiento with something. It was good too. The bill came to €11,75. This time they didn't charge us for the bread. Yay!!!!
We walked around some more and came home 7 minutes to midnight. Our last night in Europe for a while. Tomorrow night when we go to sleep, we'll be in Africa!
Next post from Morocco...
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Second Day In Seville 2
We had a nice rest and then went out into the heat to find Risko. The tourist information person told us it was too far to walk and to take bus 21, but it didn't look too far to us. So we walked. We made it to Kansas City street and then went the wrong way for a while on another street. I looked at the bus map and saw the street it was on. I remembered it when we looked it up because it sounded like Battlestar Galactica. So then I kept thinking Battlestar Galactica street. We asked a couple of people along the way and finally found it. It was very small--almost no inventory. Too bad. We walked all that way and they didn't have much. We went into the local El Corte Inglés and they didn't have much either. We found a little store on the way home that had a bag I wanted, though.
Then we went to find the internet place but they close at 8 and not at 9 like we thought. So we went to C&A where Elena had found a cute pair of capris. We went in and she found them and tried them on. To small so she got the next size up. As we were walking to the chagning rooms, I noticed there was an arc of 3 very bored looking waiting men standing by the changing rooms. I couldn't help but smile as I made it an arc of 4.
Then we went to a place with a €9 tapas sampler, but they end that special at 7 and it was 8 now. Then we went looking for other tapas. Elena said there were places where you can go from place to place and get little €2 and €3 dishes and then go to the next one, but it didn't seem to work that way. All the places had full and half raciónes but nothing in the €3 range. So we just chose one and had a €9 1 liter jarre of sangria and 4 tapas dishes for €12 and a chicken a la Seville (mushrooms, red pepper, and slices of potato) for €9,50. It was pretty good, but the 4 tapas were overpriced. Theoretically they are €3 each and they were 1) 5 squid rings in potato chips, 2) chucks of fish in a tomato sauce, 3) two slices of sausage and a slice of cheese in a mix of hard bread thingies, and 4) a sort of potato quiche with some pickled sweet peppers.
Then we went to find the internet place but they close at 8 and not at 9 like we thought. So we went to C&A where Elena had found a cute pair of capris. We went in and she found them and tried them on. To small so she got the next size up. As we were walking to the chagning rooms, I noticed there was an arc of 3 very bored looking waiting men standing by the changing rooms. I couldn't help but smile as I made it an arc of 4.
Then we went to a place with a €9 tapas sampler, but they end that special at 7 and it was 8 now. Then we went looking for other tapas. Elena said there were places where you can go from place to place and get little €2 and €3 dishes and then go to the next one, but it didn't seem to work that way. All the places had full and half raciónes but nothing in the €3 range. So we just chose one and had a €9 1 liter jarre of sangria and 4 tapas dishes for €12 and a chicken a la Seville (mushrooms, red pepper, and slices of potato) for €9,50. It was pretty good, but the 4 tapas were overpriced. Theoretically they are €3 each and they were 1) 5 squid rings in potato chips, 2) chucks of fish in a tomato sauce, 3) two slices of sausage and a slice of cheese in a mix of hard bread thingies, and 4) a sort of potato quiche with some pickled sweet peppers.
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