A Musical Interlude....

Since I don't know how long it will take for the next post of our Morocco trip to appear, I thought I'd upload this fine musical interlude to entertain you while you wait for updates. Enjoy.

Check out Parry Gripp's other stuff on youtube. They're pretty funny.

Casablanca Express / Marrakech Local

OK. So. Let me tell you about our trip to Marrakech. Being a Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young fan, Marrakech was my Mecca. This was my goal destination. I brought (and wore) a blue shirt so I could be an American lady (using the term loosely here) five foot tall (give or take six inches) in blue (ok periwinkle, but I don't have an extensive wardrobe).

I was still eager to go to Marrakech even when I learned that it was not in Fes that carneys put snakes on you unexpectedly, but at Jemma el Fnaa in Marrakech.

So we get up, have a nice breakfast and catch a train to Casablanca where we will board the Marrakech Express. We met a couple on the train from Portsmouth (even I could hear the British accents under their French) on their way to Rabat. They were very nice. They had visited Morocco many times and shared ideas of cities to visit. They seemed to agree with everyone we spoke to that Casa was not so much to see. Rick's Cafe, an American tourist trap, and the Hassan II Mosque, a Moroccan tourist trap, seemed to be the two big sights (except, of course, the ocean, which we had sailed two days ago). So when we arrived at the station, couldn't negotiate with a cabbie for less than a four-hour trip to the mosque (during which time he would keep our luggage and purchases with him), and couldn't get him to quote us a price for this lovely afternoon -- "How much will it cost? Is that all you care about?" Um, yes -- we decided to bag the sightseeing, get lunch and catch an earlier express to Marrakech. (Which, you will soon see, was a good thing.)

We walked to a hotel near the station, checked our luggage and enjoyed tagine in the garden. With the exception of the two stray cats that kept approaching our table (one of them actually jumped on to the table of the guy next to us), we had a nice relaxing lunch.

We then return to the station where we board not an express, but a local. There is no express. Cursing Graham Nash under my breath, we board, and walk to our compartment where all the seats are taken. Being a gracious traveler, I tell the lady with the sleeping baby, "You're in our seats." Actually, some other people were also in the wrong seats, so they moved out. Probably didn't mind leaving as the air conditioning wasn't working! Then, lady with the sleeping baby wants to keep the door closed so her child won't get chilled while the rest of us in the compartment suffocate and sweat. And, no one talks (because of sleeping beauty) except one guy on a cell phone in the corner seat. So I'm sitting there thinking uncharitable thoughts when I decide instead to focus on the beautiful countryside and gorgeous day, which makes life better. Also I got to see three more camels.

About an hour out of Marrakech, Simone, the baby, wakes up. She's sweet, cute and playful and has a McDonald's toy that plays, "Hey Baby Will You Be My Girl." She loved Sami and entertained all of us -- even the French guy on the cell phone in the corner thought she was cute and got into the conversation.

Simone's mom was a chemist who studied in Seville (where her husband is from?), lived in Paris for a bit (where Simone was born) and then moved back to Marrakech. She gave us sightseeing ideas before we parted ways.

So with our spirits renewed we arrive in Marrakech just before sunset. Forewarned that a cab to the medina should cost no more than 30 dirham, we barter a cabbie down to 40 dirham from 80! Then he drives like a maniac (this from a maniacal driver who likes to drive in New York City) through modern Marrakech (a very pretty, salmon-colored city, by the way), not to our hotel, Riad Laora, but to a square on the far side of the medina, Riad Laarous, where he dumps us, points vaguely away from the square, says our riad is "down there," then hops in the cab (after counting his fare) and drives off. Just as it's starting to get dark. Lovely.

All kinds of lovely predators start to swarm. "I'll take you to your riad. It's this way," "What's in the package?" "Oh, did you buy a carpet in Fes?" In a panic, I see a pharmacy and Sami and I make a beeline for it. Once inside (all women, yeah!) Sami explains our predicament in rapid-fire French while I call the riad. Since no one knows where the riad is (since we are on the wrong side of the city), we decide to catch another cab back to the train station where the riad can send a driver for us.

Back in the square, we hail another cab. This one, luckily, turns out to be reputable. Abderrahim, the driver, and Sam spoke for a bit, then Abderrahim urged us to get in the cab so we could "get away" from the creeps swarming the car. Sami didn't translate everything to me, but essentially he promised he would stay with us until we were welcomed at the riad. After a twenty to thirty minute drive, he had us at the front door. If you ever go to Marrakech, I will give you his card. It's totally worth it.

The maitre d'hotel had us leave our bags in the lobby, then showed us into a beautiful salon, or as Sam and I like to call it, a decompression chamber. We were brought Moroccan tea and sweet cookies, and we relaxed and recuperated while someone -- elves? -- brought our bags to our room. All we had to do was walk across the courtyard, rave about how gorgeous the room was, and go to bed!

By now, I'm thinking, I won't be taking travel advice from rock stars again in the future.

How much money can you spend in one day? In Fes.

After all the new foods I had been trying, travel upseting my schedule and fear of being accosted with snakes in the souks, I awoke with an upset stomach. Sam and I crossed to the salon for breakfast, which was lovely, but after breakfast it became clear I was not going to be able to meet up with Abdoul and Najia for our tour of Fes. We did walk out to the corner to meet Abdoul and beg off for the day, but then returned to the riad where Sam did some internet research on train schedules and tourist sites, while I rested and recovered.

By midday I felt well enough to go out, so the hotel contacted Boshta to escort us in the medina. The center of Fes is a walled city. There are several gates into the medina, but this is the main gate. The tilework on the facade greeting visitors is blue, the color representing water and sky and the symbolic color of Fes.

The tilework on the alternate side of the gate is green, representing Islam. This is just one of the instances where the culture of the society is reflected in the architecture, as Youssef discussed with us.

Within the medina there are apparently over 1000 small walkways, or derbs. The street system seems to be that there are avenues, rues, arsets and derbs, each thoroughfare getting progressively smaller. Once entering the medina, the streets rapidly reduce to arsets and derbs. The archways over these paths indicate the entry to another section of the city. The city was built from the center out, with the mosque in the center section -- representing the spiritual center of the city as well as signifying its importance. There are then sections for craftsmen, shops, and residences working out towards the city gates.

The traditional doors in Fes were all the same with a large portal, a large inner doorway and a smaller innermost door. (I forgot why this was done.) The upper hinge symbolizes the hand of Fatima to protect the house. The doors were all the same so that from the outside there was no way to tell what was inside the house -- wealth, poverty, etc.

The souks, or shops, are also organized in sections. Food souks are first, then household -- leather, carpets, woodworking, spices, embroidery, textiles. The streets are narrow, and some of them are shielded from weather by semi-transparent covers. Like Seville, they are designed to protect the ground level from the heat of the sun, and, for the most part, do not encourage claustrophobia!

So once we were in the medina, I pretty much have no idea where we went or how we got there. Luckily Boshta was trustworthy and sheltered us through a lovely tour.

We started at the former Koran school. Here Boshta told us the basics of Islamic building design. The floors are marble, because it's cool. Then, there's tiled wainscoting, also cool. (Youssef had shown us that craftsmen create the tile designs face down on the ground (the designs, not the craftsmen), then cement them (again the tiles), before lifting them up in large sections to apply to the wall. The next section of wall is stucco (invented in Morocco? I forget.) in two subsections. The first is carved with intricate designs. Worked into these designs are Arabic letters indicating the use of the building, i.e., school, mosque, home. We did discuss why people wouldn't know what kind of building they were in, but I'm guessing there was more to this idea than I managed to remember. The second (subsection of stucco, remember?) is carved or otherwise embellished with random artisic patterns -- again, no human or animal images. Finally, the fifth level is the roof, created of carved wood. The wood is generally cedar, which is soft enough to carve and also repels bugs. Good thinking.

Here are Sam and I after having been schooled. (I am just so, so funny.) The classroom is behind us. We weren't allowed to go in as we would probably have wrecked the joint. And, in fairness, later we passed a little school tucked in among the souks. Boshta told us we could "peek in." I don't know what I thought he said, but I walked in. Right into a tiny classroom where class was in session. The kids were quite well behaved and stayed focused on their lesson, but the teacher shot me such a look!

So following Boshta, we traipsed around Fes. One of the buildings we visited is where the traveling merchants used to stay. The craftsmen and merchants would have rooms in the upper rooms of the fadouk, then bring merchandise down to the courtyard to sell in, I guess, makeshift markets. This is one of the older markets still being used.

Every so often we saw donkeys and mules carting merchandise or hanging out waiting for a tip. From what I've read since our visit, Morocco has a "tipping" culture. Usually, if you take a picture of anything, the owner expects a tip of 10 or 20 dirhams. If someone gives you directions; a tip. If someone draws henna on your hand without your permission; tip. It's not much (8 dirhams to the dollar), but it gets old!

Anyway, enough complaining about tips, on to the big bucks! At some point we started going in to old houses serving as markets. We stopped first at a woodworking shop, but as I'm not crazy into woodworking, it was fairly easy to extricate ourselves and get back on the tour.

Then we hit a carpet mart. Well I do love textiles, so we wandered around. Besides, the building was beautiful and we ended up climbing to the roof, which was really cool because we were up there for the midday call to prayer. What an awesome view!

So on our way down, we were greeted by the owner of the house, who graciously invited us to sit and have tea. Moroccan tea is quite a treat, and a sign of hospitality, so of course we said yes.

Then came the sales pitch. Staff brought in carpet after carpet and spread them before us to choose. The carpets were incredibly beautiful, but once I learned the prices, I put up my deflector shields and started with the "No thank yous," sadly, to no avail. When I protested the price, he brought out more carpets, just smaller. I started to wonder if we would ever get out, and I was sloshy with all the tea, so yes, I bought a carpet. A very small carpet, but a carpet nonetheless. Did I need a carpet? No. Did I want one? Well, yes, but it was not in my budget. Anyway, so now I had a carpet to carry around with me for the rest of the trip as a reminder of my inferior skill against a seasoned Moroccan salesman.

So I also bought a donkey and am collecting recyclables to pay for the carpet.

At some point we arrived at the tannery. That, too, was a cool tour, and I had actually hoped to purchase a leather suitcase until I spent all my money on that d@*# carpet. The vats in the pictures are where the hides are first softened for a few days (the white vats), then dyed in the next set of vats, before being spread out in the sun to dry. I forget what the dye bases are, I'll update it after I look it up. The yellow is saffron -- so yellow bags are limited and pricey. The blue is indigo. The red is from poppy petals and reddish brown is from tabla the local red clay.

Now, apparently, the tannery smells. Like a horrible odor. Those of you who know me, know I have agnosia -- limited or absent sense of smell -- so, I didn't notice any particularly distasteful odor at the tannery. Apparently everyone else did. When you enter the building, you are given a few sprigs of fresh mint (it's everywhere!) to mask the odor. Oddly enough, I could smell the mint, but not the rawhide.

At the end of the tour, Sam was kind enough to convince me that I should forget the carpet and buy myself a purse. No wonder I love her. (I love the purse, too!)

This is the sales floor of the tannery.

OK, so now I'm going out of sequence. At some point after the tannery we stopped to have lunch. It was well past 3 o'clock, so we were quite hungry! First we had traditional Moroccan appetizers. Don't know what most of it was, but it was all good. There were chick peas, herbed rice, some kind of salsa (well, probably not salsa, relish?), sweet sliced carrots and red cabbage. Served with khobz, the traditional Moroccan fresh bread.

The main dish was tagine, a dish of couscous, with a chunk of meat atop the center (we had chicken), topped with cabbage, yams, zucchini, carrot, chick peas, dates and more, and all steamed in a cute teepee shaped crock to meld all the flavors. I love tagine. Totally. As you can see from the picture, we enjoyed Moroccan sweet tea with our meal.

For dessert we had this gorgeous plate of fresh orange slices, strawberries and banana -- sprinkled with cinnamon and garnished with mint. Bee-sa-ha. Good eating! The fruit was served with reeba, these wonderful little cookies made of almonds and other nuts, meuli, cinnamon, eggs, semolina and I don't know what else. They were wonderful. The waiter wrapped a few extra for us to take back to have with tea at the riad. Shukron. Thank you!

Continuing through the medina, we stopped at a textile house and watched the weavers create fabric for scarves and djellabas.

The salesman demonstrated how we should be wearing our scarves. I contend the single women should show their faces and the married women should veil theirs.

We continued on our walk past a mosque. This first shot shows the courtyard and fountain for cleansing before prayers, much like the courtyard of the cathedral in Sevilla.

These next two shots show the women's entrance to this mosque. Women can purchase candles outside the mosque, then enter and light the candle and say a prayer to find a husband.

Once they find the husband and make wedding arrangements, they can purchase a marriage chair to be carried to and from their nuptials.

This is the one I selected for Sam.

Finally our tour led us to the Nejjarine Woodworking Museum of Fes. It was interesting and informative, but we were ready to go back to the riad.

Boshta dropped us off at the riad, we unlocked the giant door to our chamber, and went to bed.

Tomorrow, the trip back to the Gare de Fes and our journey to Casablanca and Marrakech! (I am, of course, speaking metaphorically. Who knows when I will get the next installment posted!)

Get your Fes on

OK, so we woke up bright and early to catch the bus to Tarifa and the ferry to Tanger! Unfortunately our plans for the morning were thwarted when the local grocery store where we hoped to grab breakfast and snacks was closed, as well as the tobaccanist where we hoped to purchase stamps for the lovely postcards we had spent hours selecting! We did find a tobaccanist near the bus station, so after a last sojourn through the narrow passages of Santa Cruz, we bought some stinky doughnuts and iced tea for the bus ride and a few postage stamps.

The ride to Tarifa was pretty and uneventful. Well, with the exception of these weird cutout bulls sporadically sighted on hilltops in the distance. They were huge (which is not really evident from the picture), but flat and propped up randomly along the horizon.

Our plan was to have a leisurely lunch in Tarifa, ferry to Tanger, then catch a train getting us into Fes about 10. Well as soon as we got to the ticket office and the cashier pointed out that the ferry left in five minutes but we could make it, I panicked and bought tickets for the early ferry and bounced Tarifa right off the tour. I need to learn that Sam needs to be in charge.

Soon Tarifa was in the rear view and we were ready for our crossing. A sad statue waved to us as we left Tarifa.

Within a half hour, we were under sail for Africa! Leaving Spain, we enjoyed a fabulous crossing. It was windy, and the water was rough, but the day was clear and bright and the trip was fast.

Here are our first views of Morocco.

The customs check is done on board, so in no time we were disembarking in Morocco! (I'm thinking I'll be using lots of exclamation points from here on out.)

Pulling in to dock would be the last calm moments we would have for a while. Entering the terminal we were approached by one guy who claimed to work for government information. He was happy to help us get a cab, reach our destination, buy a bridge, whatever we needed. After successfully sidestepping him, we felt quite relieved that we had successfully traversed the welcome gauntlet. Then we left the terminal.

Ugh. Cabbies (my least favorite people throughout the trip) swarmed. None would turn on their meters. None would quote a price. All invaded our personal space and promised to get us on the 2 p.m. train to Fes. Of course, there is no 2 p.m. train to Fes.

Finally, Sam approached the guard to the port, chatted with him in French; and the next thing I knew, she had negotiated a reasonable fare and we were piling our bags into a cab to the new Tanger train station!

King Mohammad VI is working on revitalizing Morocco, partially to spur tourism, and has begun by refurbishing or constructing beautiful, efficient train stations. Sam and I bought our tickets, grabbed some lunch, then signed on to the computer for a bit (all the stations are equipped with WiFi). We even downloaded a Community to watch while we were waiting. (Yes, I know we could have gone sightseeing, but there was construction everywhere around the station and we were lugging bags, so, American TV ruled the afternoon.)

Our train departed about 5:30, and then began my favorite part of travel in Morocco -- riding trains. The train. was. cool. Totally. Gorgeous scenery, Beatles-style cabins, camels sunning in the dioramas out our windows. Plus, we met the nicest people. The Moroccans we met traveling on the trains were friendly, welcoming, interested in us and eager to share elements of their homes with us.

The first segment of our ride went from Tanger to Belksiri where we would change to a train for Fes. We shared a compartment with a family that was going home for a family funeral. The brother, his two younger nieces and a grand nephew were traveling together. The brother has been living in Dallas for twelve years, working for an air conditioning company. He told a story about getting yelled at by a customer in Dallas after he had attached an A/C unit to an antique window frame that was close to 100 years old. Dallas (our name for him) said he laughed at the customer and informed her, "That's not old! My father's house is 300 years old!" Dallas was fun to talk to, occasionally drawing one of his nieces in to the conversation, and the time passed quickly.

We pulled in late to Belksiri, but the trains, as there seem to be so few of them scheduled, wait for each other to make connections. We crossed the platform and began the final segment on our journey to Fes.

On this segment we met Youssef, an architect who was working on the remodernization of Fes. His company is involved in many of the revitalization projects being undertaken throughout Morocco. We talked about architecture, religion, culture, and how the projects he works on reflect elements of Islam and cultural ideals. He told us, for instance, that fountains do not have sculpture in them because the water is the beauty. He also discussed the use of geometric designs as human or animal sculptures would be inconsistent with beliefs prohibiting graven images. Youssef even set up his laptop and shared some of his drawings and designs.

At Meknes, a couple joined us in the compartment. Najia and Abdoul were both from Fes; Najia spoke only Arabic and French, while Abdoul spoke Arabic, French and English. Najia seemed very sweet. Sami spoke with her a bit in French while Abdoul was out having a smoke. They were familiar with our riad and offered to take us there and then on a tour of the medina the next day, but when we arrived at the station we found the riad had sent a cab for us, so just exchanged phone numbers and parted for the evening.

After backing down a narrow, dark alleyway, we were surprised when Samir, the maitre d'hotel, materialized from what appeared to be the wall of the alley (but was a door) and checked us in to our room. The room was lovely, and the bed, though it looks spartan, was one of the most comfortable beds I have ever slept in. Which is what I did shortly after our arrival!