Travel Log, June 17, 2009

We are enjoying a delicious meal in the Ville Nouvelle (New Fes). The restaurant is bright, friendly, and *AC-ed*. The restaurant has *cold* coke. The restaurant is: McDonald's.

~~~~~

Now, we are back in the medina, enjoying our 2nd cup of coffee of the day...and our first banana milkshake...at Cafe Clock!

~~~~~

3rd cup o' Joe--back at F's. Beth's napping, and I'm enjoying the frosh (ubiquitous cushioned benches), coffee, and chatting a bit with a German woman and her adorable four-year-old son whose father is 3/4 Moroccan and 1/4 Spanish. He's chattering in Deutsch and I'm trying to eavesdrop. K just passed her exams with flying colors and can go to the University in September! Yay!

This morning, we ate with Lauren and Cheryl (the longer-term American residents of the house) and set out with them through the old Medina, the Bab Bou Jeloud, the Mellah (Jewish Quarter), the Palace, a big open square with old castle-esque walls surrounding it (with holes in which hundreds of swallows have made their nests and swarm around), and into the Ville Nouvelle.

They dropped us off at a cafe and said goodbye. We ordered what we thought were pastries--turns out they were rich chocolate cakey things. At 9am...why not? So our French stinks... I got the safe cafe au lait, but Beth tried what she hoped was a mocha. It was...sans coffee. She got a cafe au lait next. :)

We ventured to the main drag and shopped for a bit. Eh--it's like a city in CA or something. Not that special. The main avenue (Ave Hassan II) was lovely: grass median lined with trees and dotted by fountains.






When we tired, we headed to...McDonald's! WOO! It was great.
Things that rock about McD's:
1. Cold (not warm) Coke
2. Chicken nuggets and BBQ sauce
3. English speaking staff
4. Clean clean clean
5. AC
6. Clean bathrooms with running water, soap, TP, and Western toilets.
7. Did I mention clean?



I haven't been this excited for McD's since I was four:


[Don't judge. Don't judge. If you are, please start reading my Travel Logs at the beginning.]

After our dose of Americanness, we determined to find our way back through the medina to home. We saw the palace again, and took pics (but not of the gendarme).



We saw the plaza.




We entered the Mellah, the blue door (Bab Bou Jeloud), and were in the old medina.

Bab Bou Jeloud:



I haggled and got 20 Dh off two Fezzes for Luc and Josh, and three scarves for 90Dh (down from 120). Not bad. And, we made it home. :)

Things that have been yelled to us:
1. I loooooove yooooooou [most common]
2. Beautiful
3. Sexy
4. We would invite yooou... [yelled from car; didn't hear where he meant]
5. OBAMA!
6. Hellooo madame
7. I love Americans!
8. You like?
9. You speak to me!

Oh! We enjoyed Cafe Clock! Our dear taxi driver's ministry of tourism bud told us about it, and then Cheryl and Lauren pointed it out today. ["Right before the blue door, turn right twice, then past the camel heads in the butcher shop, take a left."] It must be owned by English ex-pats, because everyone spoke well, the menu was English, and it was full of hippies. It was three or four stories high and resembled a cross between traditional Morocco and Swiss Family Robinson. We sat on the roof and had a great view of medina, a mosque, the Atlas mountains, and men spreading concrete and tiling a roof. We thought about helping them. We didn't. There was a group of white hippies near us. One, we decided, was Orlando Bloom with long hair, a beard, and purple pants. He played the recorder. Badly. We chatted with Abdul, a waiter from Fes with a sister in AH. He enjoyed sharing his life with us. We drank banana milkshakes and LOTS of water.





[Written on June 18, 2009]
After afternoon coffee at F's, we ventured back into the medina to find a tile for James. The hustlers were getting crazily insistent--Beth looked at a bag (just to look), and the shop guy said "What's your last price!? I go ask my boss! Now! Tell me!!!" She left without the bag. Then, she stopped at a kiosk to buy a leather camel (yes, a leather camel) for her dad. As she haggled, I looked at a leather vase (which I didn't want).

The guy said "Ooooh you like?? 50 Dh! 50!"
Oh no thanks, I said.
"NOOO WHAT PRICE YOU WANT???!!!"

Beth had finished winning herself a camel, so I started walking away.

"WHAT PRICE???"
"NO PRICE. I don't want it!"

The vase chased me further down the street into the medina maze.

"Times are slow, what price will make you take it? Come on!!"
"OKAY. ONE DHIRHAM."

Remember, he started at 50 Dh.

"OK WE SHAKE ON IT!!"
"NO THANK YOU I DO NOT WANT THE FREAKING VASE!!!"

And finally, he left me. Goodness.

The men became worse, too, as the day wore on. We just ignored them. We found our tile, which completed the purchasing, and just enjoyed an hour or so walk across (but never made it to the end of) the medina. We found pistachio ice cream bars and ate them on the way back. Add "Mmmmm ice creeeam" to the list of things yelled at us.

Oh, also: "COME SPEND MONEY AT MY STORE!" That man was honest, if not creative.

Tile shop:

Medina sights:




There are lots more pictures here. :)

We felt like medina pros by the end of the day. We were expert landmark-finders and trail-memorizers. We both really loved the afternoon by ourselves in the medina.

Travel Log, June 16, 2009

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha. SO. You know how the guidebooks and people who live here give advice? That tourists should follow? Well, we did what they said NOT to do.

We took advantage of our hostess' offer of her cousin as a guide. Guidebooks say to only use official guides. Why? Well, apparently one can get taken advantage of by faux guides, and Moroccan police are cracking down. We should have worried when K told us that if anyone asks, we were looking for houses and Mohamed (the guide/cousin) was our realtor. Riiiiight.

So, we set out into the medina with the faux tour guide we couldn't understand. He showed us (we think) a mosque or two, and a couple of herb shops ("Berber pharmacies") in which we had identical presentations on the spices, perfumes, and herbs used for medicine. About the time a suave English-speaking man had us inhale anise (used to cure snoring!) through our nostrils, I wondered if we were about to be drugged and kidnapped. Nah--it was just an incredible sinus clearer. Whoo-ey. I am not kidding. They had jars of curry, saffron, "45 spice mix for lazy cooks", musk (I smell like Man now), and...viagara? Huh. Beth and I were guilt tripped into buying curry, but at least we LIKE curry.

We saw hole-in-the-wall (literally) shops for knife-sharpening, silver plates, scarves, thread, clothes, food, and leather products. The medina is a MAZE of stone alley ways and walls and was mostly shaded by patios and wooden, slatted roofs. We passed many donkeys and mules laden with many wares, and were almost killed by several of them rushing through the narrow passage ways. We were called to in French, Spanish, and English by men in shop doors: "I looooove yoooou!" "Hellooooo!" "You liiiike?" (Vowels come in sets of many.)

See the rooster?

Mo's ear as we blaze through the medina:




Besides the herbs, we were given presentations on weaving carpets and tanning leather at the tannery. I am officially a pushover and can't say no. Sigh. After a long discussion (30 min?) at the carpet place, I came away with not one, but TWO, silk blankets/tablecloths. Thankfully, I love them. But, I wondered: whyyy did I buy two? [Bethany ended up buying one from me later.] I talked them down a couple hundred Dh, but probably could have gotten a better price, were I not so *nice*.

Weaver:


The tannery was AWESOME. We saw the huge outdoor tanning floor for conditioning (in limestone), washing, and finally dying vats. The color vats were beautiful reds, yellows, and greens. The guidebooks says that pigeon waste and cow/sheep urine are used to tan--they certainly smelled it. We were given mint leaves to sniff. :) Our tannery guide was also our salesman (natch). After much browsing and hemming and hawing, Beth and I both bought two leather footstools. I bought mine (both camel skin) for 1100 Dh--down from 1650 Dh--and Beth got hers for 900Dh down from 1600Dh. Not bad...

Tannery floor:


Yellow skins drying:

View from the tannery:


After the tannery, the fun started. Suddenly, Mo pushed us behind a counter of a hole in the wall cafe and ran off. We got cafe au lait and sat on plastic shairs with three men (who were smoking), watching Arabic music videos, contemplating the dinginess of the perhaps 10' x 5' shop and Mel's advice to avoid coffee shops because they contain only men.

Awkward picture in awkward cafe:


Mo returned in a few and whispered, "Remember, you are looking for houses!!" (Well, it was more "frenchfrenchfrench HOUSES!!") He grabbed our shopping bags (WHY did I buy TWO stools??), threw them into a corner, and led us off, following two men in street clothes carrying walkie talkies. After a brisk ten minute walk, we arrived at a police station. Awesome. Back to the po-po. I mean, the Mo-po. Suddenly, Greg's advice to stay out of Moroccan jail was not seeming so absurd, and thoughts of "Oh, Joey hasn't seen a Moroccan prison--haha WE might!" ran through our heads. Yep. Second detention by Mo-Po.


They chatted with Mo for a while, while we admired the ornate woodwork of the station and contemplated our fate. "Surely WE couldn't be in trouble? We are Americans gosh darn it! Tourists! The King LOVES tourists!!!"

An officer spoke very little English with us, during which we think we agreed that we were house hunting. I vaguely worried about lying to foreign law enforcement, but also didn't want to get our nice (free) guide in trouble (even though it's totally his fault). We filled out a handwritten form for another officer (I never saw a badge though...), with our names, parents' names, place of birth, with passports. But, Beth didn't have hers..."eh, it's ok." Suuure, MoPo, suuure. More waiting. If their records were as thorough as they seemed on the surface (forms at airport, in Hoceima, for hotels, with F & K) surely the official records that we were both "tourists" in Tanger and "searching for house in new city" would be suspicious. Not here apparently. After at least a half an hour of wondering whether we'd see a jail cell and how our pricey souvenirs were doing in the coffee shop somewhere in the medina, we were let go. Huh. Ok.

Our dude led us off down windy streets that may have been familiar. Maybe. Imken. Beth held her cool through a several minute stop at a ceramic stop and more minutes of wandering through shops before finally asking him (forcefully) to "take us to the cafe where we WERE. We need our STUFF." He finally got it, said "OOOOOH you nervous? Oh yes we go!" We think he was laughing at us. Whatever, n00b. He got us there. Our stuff was there!! He ordered more cafe au lait for us, paid for it (gosh darn right he'll buy us coffee) and the ones we left in our haste to meet the MoPo. He said "we go home". Yes. We go home. He first took us to HIS house, which was...weird. Thanks, Mo. Then finally, we were back home. WHEW. Al hemdu Allah!! Rubbish party=OVER.

F served us tasty lunch, then we chilled and debriefed each other. We met Hilary, an American grad student in Public Affairs from Denver, who was alone in Fes and mildly freaking out because her friend couldn't come up from Rabat at the last minute. We saw her off on a guided (HAHAHA) tour and felt like total pros. (Her guide spoke English. We were slightly bitter.)

Another delightful trip to the internet cafe left us convinced we should take a 2am train to Tanger tomorrow, instead of a 1am bus to Tanger. Pray we don't die.

[By now, seriously, malish. It's Morocco. Just don't think about it. MoPo? Cockroaches? Squatty potties? Whatever, let's move on.]

We met F and K's two American students here for the language school, and are going to walk to New Fes with them tomorrow morning. So, g'night, y'all!

We are trying to pack up our souvenirs and process our day. It involved lots of giggling:

Travel Log, June 15th, 2009

[Written on the train to Fes.]

Fes photos will be here.

[By the way, I usually use the spellings "Fes" and "Tanger" instead of "Fez" and "Tangier", because that's what they are in Morocco.]

This morning, the gals and Dani got breakfast at a brightly colored, modern cafe with English signs for "chicken and fries" and "egg burgers". We ate pastries and yummy coffee. Bees swarmed inside the pastry displays, which was weird, but perfectly normal apparently.

The 2-3 hour drive to Tanger was fabu until 33km away, when our collective nap was interrupted by Joey pulling off the road. "Flat tire." "Shooooot."

Five foreign women, two toddlers, and many luggage pieces stood on the dusty side of the construction-vehicle-laden highway while Joey looked for a wrench. No wrench. Thankfully, the road was CONSTRUCTION-LADEN! A MECHANIC came over to help, and fixed us up in about 30 minutes.





During this time, Beth had to answer the call of nature. Now, we were on a cliff, looking over to a house on one side, and construction crews on the other. There was a high bush about 50 feet from the van. Amy and I followed Beth with a blanket into the scrub. "Watch for things that could bite your feet, please", I said as we in our flipflops trudged through African flora. Giggling the whole time, Beth survived the experience behind the blanket-shield.



Last sister picture in Morocco:



Dani called it a "Rubbish Party." One happens with every groups: things just go wrong all at once and you have to laugh about it. We survived until today without one, so we were due.

We reached Tanger at 10:40amish. Now...our train left at 11am, and Joey confessed, "Oh. I don't know where the station is, actually." Shoooot. Praise the Lord/al hemdu Allah, we found it, hugged super quickly, and Joey followed Beth and I in to buy two first class tickets to FES. The train was late--we got tickets at 10:50ish, and it arrived at 11:07. :)

We've been napping, chatting, enjoying the scenery, and watching the cute Moroccan family that shares our compartment. Dad, beautifully jilaba-clad mom, and eight (?) year old daughter. We happily bought a fromage sandwich and coffee from Cart Man. WOO. ADVENTURE TIME.




Anecdote time:
When one asks Benson, "what does a sheep say?", he replies in a deep, husky growl, "Baaaaaaaaa". Dani calls it the "smoker sheep voice". Now, his Arabic name is Mubarak. That's MANLY for one year old blonde Benson. One has to say "Mubarak" in smoker sheep voice, we decided. And, here for you, I doodle:



~~~~
We are now relaxing in our Fes accomodations--a lovely (and large) room in the house of the host family of my friend Adrienne's. Fatima and her daughter Khadija host students for the Fes Arabic language schools. K, who just graduated from highschool, speaks excellent English, while F only speaks Arabic. They currently have two American students, but we haven't met them.

When we disembarked in Fes, we immediately found a WC. OMG, can I use a squatty potty now or WHAT? I am a pro. Next: find H20 and Magnums. Got it. Water and chocolate ice cream bars. Perfect. Next: call K. Got her. Take petit taxi to Hotel Batha ("But-ah"), they meet us. Fab.



We walked through the busy train station and found a row of red taxis. A suave guy asked, "taxi? You need taxi?" "Yeees..." "OK!!" He took us to his taxi and drove us off.

Taxi man: "You staying at Hotel Batha?"
Us: "We're meeting friends there."
Taxi man: "Oh I know a good good classified hotel!"
Us: "Noo..we're fine, thanks..."
Taxi man: "Oh. :("

In the middle of the ride, another guy jumped in the front seat from a crosswalk. "OOOOOH I SPEAK ENGLISH!!!!!!!"

He said something about WELCOME and he works in tourism and the new king (I thought this king had been on the throne for ten years, but malish) loves tourism so each of us must bring back twenty people. Sure, sir. Then in a flash of suaveness, he left.

We made it to Batha, grossly overtipped him, and were quickly found by F and K. Apparently, B and I are obviously two American girls who probably know Adrienne. They were both in lovely jilabas, but no headscarves.

We walked through a busy street or two to the medina. Woo! The walls look so old and the alleys are stone and narrow with nooks and crannies, just like I pictured. Thankfully, we took one main road, basically, to their place.

Our bedroom door:


After--oh yes--tea, we set off for a cyber cafe under general directions from K and instructions from F (through K) to not talk to ANYONE, not even kids, and to watch our purses. Check. B and I set off, watching landmarks as we went. We made it to a street with shops, and turned left for a good ways, in a heavy downpour, until we said "ummm..." and turned around. Shoulda gone right. Soon, we saw a "Cyber Cafe" sign, pointing into a gravel alley, and down into a basement mall place with pizza, Orange Julius, and INTERNET. We played catch up on life for over 1:15. We determined that Charlotte is probably a Desert Wolf Spider.

We regretted leaving our happy Moroccan bubble, actually. Sigh. Life. We did not need to be reminded about you.

We returned to the house no problem, until reaching their door. We had a key. We put it in. We turned. Lots of times. Nothing. We rang the doorbell. We heard feet and person. K said "open the door, that is the only key!" These are of course the kind of doors that you need to unlock with a key on BOTH sides. Shooot. We tried. We failed. We threw her the key:


She tried. She failed. "MAMA!!!" Mama came. Mama failed. She said, "I'm throwing it back!!" It flies...it lands:


Shoooot. B and I CRACK up. As QUIETLY as possible. Passersby stare. We are locked out, and have locked in our Fes hosts. Sweeet. Soon, a squeegee head appears, and after several tries, knocks the keys free to our side. Fine. Try again we do, finally success ours is. We all laugh and they manage to not look too annoyed! Ha!

F fed us incredible chicken tajine and amazing lemon juice, which was like lemon meringue pie in a glass.

F called her cousin to be our guide tomorrow. Funny thing. He speaks Arabic and French. We...don't. BRING IT ON!! [I will pull a Das Nibelunglied and say that this would lead to much, much sorrow. Or at least stress. But no one had ever seen such beautiful clothes, ever.]

P.S. Hoceima's prayer dudes totally win the mosque prayer call contest. Chef's were boring, and Fes, the "spiritual capital of Morocco", sounds like dying cows. "Moooooooooooo."

Travel Log, June 14 (part II), 2009

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
June 14, 2009 (part II)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First, here are some pics of us saying goodbye.

Well, I'm not saying goodbye to Benson yet, but I adore him, so here's an obligatory pic:


Bye Amal!


Bye Miriam (hiii Benson)!


Aaaw bye Melodie!! (Notice my awesome garb. That's my favorite Morocco outfit.)


Bye Elias and Titi!


And here is a nice view of my finished henna, after the mouse poop peeled off:


Next, you'll see pictures from travel back to Tanger here.

Okay. Back to your regularly scheduled blog post.

~~~~~~
[Written on June 15, 2009]

We are on the train to FES!!! Yesterday, Joey, Dani, Josiah, Benson, Amy, Anna, Beth, and I piled into the van and drove off through the Rif. The kids *mostly* behaved on the 4-5 hour ride, and so did we. The mountains are so pretty! I am very glad we got to re-traverse them. Beth was pleased because it rained. She was praying for rain the whole trip. (And then we sang a lot of PFR.)

In lovely Chefchaouen, we sat in the van while Joey visited three hotels and bargained for the best price. We ended up at the gorgeous Hotel Madrid, where they gave us complimentary tea in the ornate lobby.




Amy and I slept in a large, fluffy, pink four-poster canopy wrought iron bed, for one last sister-slumber-party.



"Starving our guts out" (as Dani says), we trekked up and into the medina in search of food. A strange, loud, colorful parade of people in flower, clown, or witch costumes dancing to Arabic music distracted us for a while in the main square.






Finally, we had a tasty Spanish-influence meal. I had: tortilla espanola con queso (basically an omelet), pastilla de pollo (like last time in Chef) and ice cream. Then we shopped! Then...we dropped...Hard. Zzzz...

I'll leave you with this beautiful picture by Amy: