A long overnight flight from Egypt to Dar es Salaam (where our seats on the plane wouldn't recline), another short flight to Arusha, and a bout of food poisoning later, we had arrived at the last stop on our "Wright Around the World" tour... Tanzania.
Unluckily for me (Riley), I was supremely ill the day before our safari. Lucky for me, we are travelling in the low season so we were able to postpone everything by one day to allow for my recouperation before setting off to the Serengetti.
Over our 5 days on safari we toured 3 different parks, Lake Manyara, the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater, each with its own unique habitat. Seeing animals familiar to us only in zoos and on the Planet Earth movies, it was amazing to experience them in their natural habitat. We saw baboons and various other monkeys, antelope, gazelle, hyenas, giraffes, hippos, rhinos, lions, a leopard, heards of water buffalo, and hundreds of thousands of zebra and wildebeast at the beginning of their migration north. We could write pages and pages on all the sights, but in a word...spectacular.
Two of our nights were spent in a fancy safari lodge overlooking the Serengeti with views of the plains, lightning storms and all. The other two nights, in true Riley and Q fashion, were spent camping. Although it's camping much more simplified because someone else sets up the tent while you eat popcorn and they cook and do dishes.
We started this trip on the beach and that's how we ended it, on the beaches of Zanzibar. We are back to the land of fresh fruits and our tummys are thankful after the land of carbohydrates in Morocco where breakfast consisted of crepes, pancakes, crouisants and bread all in one meal. We do miss the "Berber Whiskey" aka mint tea, but there is an equal replacment here, some sort of spicy tea that tastes like Christmas.
We had 9 days on Zanzibar and most of the our days were filled with the same routine... Me waking up at 530 in time to watch the sunrise from bed, reading until Q woke up at 830, breakfast, lounging on the beach, lunch, a game of crib, a pitcher of sangria, a walk on the beach, supper at sunset and asleep around 930.
We strayed from this routine a few times. The first was a walk to the local village where we toured their school with one of the guys who worked at our resort. He had brought balloons with him so he was a favorite among the kids...so cute! The second event off schedule was to take in a Zanzibar cooking class, again with the guys at the resort, 3 young men who were fabulous chefs. And the 3rd experience was a short, but adventurous fishing trip. The fishing trip started with us heading straight into 10 foot high waves breaking over the reef in our little 15 foot boat. Despite our many doubts, our 15 horsepower motor drove us through the reef break safe and sound where we anchored ourselves among huge rolling waves that were now being produced by an incoming storm. All the rolling waves, coupled with our small boat, weak stomaches and lack of prophylactic nausea medication, resulted in one of us getting sick and calling it an early day. Thankfully our guide truly was the real deal and he was able to catch 6 snapper in a matter of 20 minutes so the trip wasn't a total wash and we didn't have to go hungry at supper.
Along with us, the boat took out two spear-fisherman geared with snorkeling equipment, spear guns and their safety line (a rope with a bouy tied to the end). When we had to cut our trip short, Q and I were baffled when we just left the two snorkelers out in the big waves to fend for themselves until the boat could track them down again. I have no doubt that such an event is a normal occurrence for them.
It's hard to believe we are only two days away from being back in Canadian soil. After a few busy months of travelling we had planned Tanzania to be easy and relaxing. It has rejuvenated our energy and we both have mixed feelings about the end of the adventure. In the end, the excitement to see friends and family wins over.
We have daily "therapy" sessions with eachother discussing our feelings about reentering society. Hopefully we will adjust.
The things we are looking forward to:
#1- Seeing our loved ones (Weins included)
- Food!! Q has literally made a list of all the food he intends to indulge in as soon as the plane lands
- Ice in our beverages
- New clothes. After living out of a backpack wearing the same clothes for 6 months, our closets are going to seem brand new.
- Laundry days. Bye-bye hand washing in the bathroom sink.
- Consistently hot showers and even the option of a bath
- Bare feet in the shower, no more stranger hairs on the bathroom floor
- No ants, cockroaches, rats, geckos or or other critters
- Fixed prices/no bartering
- Trading in my attractive theft proof purse (no offense Kim)
- Routine, not having to plan daily what to do, where to go, how to get there and how much it will cost
- Wearing my original wedding rings (I left them at home in safe keeping)
- Not having to wear a pony tail!
We fly home on Monday and we will be sure to do at least one more post with pictures of the safari and Zanzibar and updates on how we are coping with reality.
Thanks to everyone for sending their love in emails, phone calls and facebook posts. We can't wait to see everyone in the flesh.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Meandering through Morocco
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| Essouira port |
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| Citsern in Essouira |
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| Ait BenHaddou, famous kasbah where Gladiator was filmed |
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| The drive to the Sahara |
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| Our Berber tent in the middle of the Sahara |
Dades Gorge drive
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| So it does rain in the desert... |
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| Entrance to the old city in Meknes |
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| We popped in to a school for a quick lesson |
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| The tanneries in Fes; oldest in the world |
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| Chefchouin, the most beautiful city in Morocco |
Monday, May 9, 2011
The last bus ride complete and thus the end of Q's gravol hangovers!
Fez:
This city contains the largest medina in the world. Covering 350 hectares and composed of 9600 alleys and dead ends, it is the largest car free urban environment on the planet.
The Fez medina has a reputation for being impossible to navigate. If nothing else, our experiences in Marrakech taught us that we aren't the type who 'enjoy' the discovery that comes with getting lost. We hired a guide to show us all the medina had to offer and in doing so we found we were much more at ease. We were able take in our surroundings without having to focus on remembering how to get back to our Riad. We visited the souqs, textile factory and brass making section, but the main highlight was the tanneries. Located next to a slaughter house on the periphery of medina because of the foul odor, the tannery is where the hides used to make leather products are conditioned and dyed by hand, or rather foot, over a period of 3 weeks. Depending on the weeks you will find different colors in the barrels, red from poppy flowers, brown from cedar wood and blue from cobalt blue and yellow from saffron. The hides are first treated with a mixture of limestone, salt water and pigeon poop (the ammonia opens up the pores) for one week and then placed in the dye for 2 weeks being churned daily by men stomping in the vats with their feet.
Chefchaoun:
Morocco has some of the most beautiful country side we've ever witnessed and we weren't dissapointed by the scenery on the drive between Fez and Chefchaoun. On winding roads we passed trucks that can only be compared to our gravel trucks, filled with horses, their manes being whipped in the breeze, with men riding on the roof of the cab and waving as we drove by. When rounding the
last corner before town we were amazed by the cities beauty. The medina is composed of whitewashed buildings built into the mountainside and this time of year, the sky is blue, and the mountain is lush green. Truly picture perfect.
The town is quiet and our 3 days there fit nicely with that pace.
Casablanca:
We have one night hear before we jet off to Tanzania. It really sunk in that this trip is coming to and end when we realized that the bus ride from Chefchaoun to Casablanca would be the last bus ride of the trip...good riddance! I don't think Q will miss them either as he was roughly awoken from his 'gravol coma' by a cell phone ringer blasting Arabic music, followed by a long and loud Arabic conversation.
This city contains the largest medina in the world. Covering 350 hectares and composed of 9600 alleys and dead ends, it is the largest car free urban environment on the planet.
The Fez medina has a reputation for being impossible to navigate. If nothing else, our experiences in Marrakech taught us that we aren't the type who 'enjoy' the discovery that comes with getting lost. We hired a guide to show us all the medina had to offer and in doing so we found we were much more at ease. We were able take in our surroundings without having to focus on remembering how to get back to our Riad. We visited the souqs, textile factory and brass making section, but the main highlight was the tanneries. Located next to a slaughter house on the periphery of medina because of the foul odor, the tannery is where the hides used to make leather products are conditioned and dyed by hand, or rather foot, over a period of 3 weeks. Depending on the weeks you will find different colors in the barrels, red from poppy flowers, brown from cedar wood and blue from cobalt blue and yellow from saffron. The hides are first treated with a mixture of limestone, salt water and pigeon poop (the ammonia opens up the pores) for one week and then placed in the dye for 2 weeks being churned daily by men stomping in the vats with their feet.
Chefchaoun:
Morocco has some of the most beautiful country side we've ever witnessed and we weren't dissapointed by the scenery on the drive between Fez and Chefchaoun. On winding roads we passed trucks that can only be compared to our gravel trucks, filled with horses, their manes being whipped in the breeze, with men riding on the roof of the cab and waving as we drove by. When rounding the
last corner before town we were amazed by the cities beauty. The medina is composed of whitewashed buildings built into the mountainside and this time of year, the sky is blue, and the mountain is lush green. Truly picture perfect.
The town is quiet and our 3 days there fit nicely with that pace.
Casablanca:
We have one night hear before we jet off to Tanzania. It really sunk in that this trip is coming to and end when we realized that the bus ride from Chefchaoun to Casablanca would be the last bus ride of the trip...good riddance! I don't think Q will miss them either as he was roughly awoken from his 'gravol coma' by a cell phone ringer blasting Arabic music, followed by a long and loud Arabic conversation.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Making our way through Morocco
Morocco itinerary: Casablanca - El Jadida - Essouira - Marrakech - Ourzazate - Erg Chigaga - Dades Gorge - Meknes - Fes - Chefchaoun - Casablanca
* Casablanca:
We had heard to leave this city as soon as possible (it has a reputation for being dirty and industrial and lacking character) and that's exactly what we did. After our plane landed we hopped on a train to El Jadida.
*El Jadida:
A quiet city along the Atlantic coast, it was the perfect place to ease us in to Moroccan culture. It was our first experience staying at a riad.
In the past a riad was a mansion where the wealthy congregated. It's centered around a courtyard, the focal point of which is usually a fountain made of colorful tiles, and flowering trees filled with song birds surround these unique sitting areas. It has been our accommodation of choice throughout our travels in Morocco. They offer a peaceful respite from the mazes of bustling alleyways. With a plain mud brick exterior, it's always aw inspiring when the riads doors open to reveal the brightly lit courtyard, with rooms off-set, guarded by enormous intricately carved cedar doors, ceilings finished with hand-carved plaster crown moulding and a roof top terrace that overlooks the neighboring mosque and the vast spread of ancient symmetrical block architecture that is every cities medina (old city). The owners of our first Riad had just renovated and had photographic evidence of the amount of work it takes to transform a 400 year old mansion into a work of art with the modern amenities of plumbing, heating and electricity.
*Essouira:
Also along the coast, the smell of fish and salty spray lead us sightseers through winding alleyways to the main pier which was packed with historical looking boats and numerous children encouraging one another to accomplish the next biggest dive into the sea below.
It was here that we were initially immersed in the souqs (market). While not near the labyrinth of Marakech or Fez, vendors here displayed anything from shoes, clothing or bath products to piles of spices, heaps of dried dates, the fruit of the season (strawberries and peaches for the month of May) and even whole animal carcasses. It was also here that Q contracted food poisoning from predictably a sample of dried dates which were sitting in the sun and covered with flies.
It is never fun being sick and it is even more miserable being sick away from home. With no familiar comforts at his disposal, it was a rough couple of days for Q.
* Marrakech:
As the guide book warned "Nothing can quite prepare you for Marrakech" and day 1 in this city was quite possibly the worst of the trip so far.
We caught a taxi from the bus station to the medina. Many streets are too narrow to drive down so we didn't expect to be dropped off at the door of our Riad, but after speeding through the twists and turns the car would fit through, by the time the cab stopped we couldn't tell north from south. The driver pointed one direction and said "100 meters that way". We soon found out he dropped us off in the completely wrong area and we later learned that leading the tourists astray is a big game among the locals. Everyone points you in the wrong direction. We wandered only a short time with our packs before asking a teenager to lead us to our Riad. We had read that this is usually necessary to navigate the medina. We negotiated a price ahead of time (nothing is free in Morocco) and he guided us through the maze. Along the way a few older boys started following us and although we couldn't understand their language, their tone towards our guide seemed quite negative. By the time we reached our destination we had a pack of about 10 boys tagging along with us, all hoping to get a piece of commission I assume, while all along the journey they were whispering words like 'mafia' and various sums of money, what they probably thought would be intimidating remarks. It certainly wasn't a comfortable experience. We brought our original guide into the riad and payed him a higher fee than we'd negotiated, thinking he might very well get some of it taken by the bigger kids in the group after he left the safety of the walls.
That night we ventured out for dinner armed with a map given to us by the manager at the riad. It turned out to be of minimal use as we got turned around trying to avoid a drunk man who was stalking us to 'help' us with directions. We tried dodging him in a shop and he followed us in. We politely said we didn't need directions and he became quite angry. He finally said 'just give me some money!' We handed over 5 MAD (only about $1) and said sternly to him to leave us alone, which he did. The combination of events that day was enough to deter us from what we had hoped would be an enchanting city.
Action central in Marrakech is Djemaa el-Fna. This is the location of the cafe that was bombed last week, but prior to that publicity, it has for centuries been regarded as a kind of 'open air theatre'. There is always some sort of action taking place here... Snake charmers hypnotizing cobras with their oboes (we didn't support this animal cruelty because we read that their mouths are sewn shut and they often die of mouth infections or starvation), monkeys on leashes, musicians, magicians, fortune tellers and even dentists with tables covered in dentures.
Once the sun sets, hundreds of food stalls set up shop selling freshly squeezed orange juice, coffee, fried snails and kebabs.
Another attraction of Marrakech is the massive and colorful souqs selling all kinds of traveller souvenirs. By day 3 in Marrakech (Q fell ill again for the second day) we had our confidence back and we managed to wander the alleys and find our way back with less than an hour wasted on being officially lost. There weren't enough high-fives to do our excitement justice.
Before the long bus ride, Q's appetite was finally back to normal after his bout of food poisoning, but of course for nothing Moroccan. I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but we went to McDonalds and left with a suitcase sized bag full of food. It was delicious.
* Ouarzazate:
The 8 hr bus ride through the High Atlas Mountains was one of the most beautiful and unique stretches of scenery we have experienced. It was almost as though time there had stood still. The road wound through areas of lush green valleys with foraging sheep herds supervised by their Shepard and further on, passing mud-brick Berber villages which seem to be clinging for survival on the steep hillsides.
On the east side of the High Atlas Mountains, the land appears fertile and crops sway in the breeze and to the west it changes to rocky and desolate. A completely different landscape, but still stunning.
Ouarzazate itself was mainly a stop over point. From here we rented a car with our initial stop being Ait Benhaddou, a terra-cotta mud-brick kasbah recognizable most recently from the film Gladiator (the initial town where he is trained to be a gladiator).
Next stop, the Sahara Desert.
* Erg Chigaga in the Sahara:
With the rental car we made our way to the town of M'hamid, the last town before nothingness. We had organized a tour including a camel ride, a 4x4 jeep ride, a stop at an oasis for lunch and ending at a camp near some of the biggest sand dunes in the world. A stretch of desert 40 km long with dunes reaching heights of up to 300m.
Initially the desert was not what we had envisioned. The ground was hard and barren, in some areas appearing shiny from the wind having stripped any and all substance from its surface. It's exactly what I would picture Mars to look like. We passed a man walking with a camel and a donkey each loaded with supplies. The guides explained he was a nomad. An hour later we met a woman walking in the intersecting direction of the nomad. She was holding an empty bottle of water. The guide passed her a full bottle of water and proceeded to tell us that she was the mans wife whom we had passed earlier. I couldn't believe how life could be sustained in this harsh environment. Apparently all the families who make up the small town of M'hamid survived as nomads in the desert just one generation ago. When severe drought plagued the area for more than a decade, most of the families were forced to give up their way of life. A few people, like the ones we witnessed, still survive as nomads. The guide described it as a much "simpler" way of life. They raise camel and goats and from that they are able to meet their basic needs. They have milk, butter, cheese and meat and what they are unable to provide for themselves they trade for in town every few weeks. The man had just come from town and his wife was going to meet him part way to help him with his load. A simple life he said? I'm not so sure.
We have been asked numerous times 'what's there to do in the desert?' I suppose our answer is to just absorb the atmosphere. For us, there is something very enchanting and peaceful about deserts and the Sahara is the mac daddy of them all. We climbed the dunes, calves burning, lungs screaming in the dry heat and as the sun set, we watched the shadows change shape on the untouched, perfectly peaked mountains of sand. As night sets in, there is no light pollution and there are more stars than most people realize exist. Perhaps the most excitement we had was when Q entered the tent after dark, his headlamp lighting his way, when a massive white spider with fangs 1cm long (not joking) charged into the spotlight. Wearing only his flip flops he instinctively stomped on the arachnid. Of coarse he saved it as evidence to show me. It was evidence I would have preferred to not been made aware of. I think it was one of the worst sleeps either of us has had.
* Dades Gorge:
On a road with only one way in and one way out, we were blissfully isolated at a tiny kasbah* with a striking view of the deeply carved valley and stream below.
* a kasbah is traditionally a fort which is strategically located around trading routes. Now many have been turned into guesthouses.
The weather was a cool and rainy 10 degrees, so reading and naps were on the agenda.
By this point we had returned our rental car and while there are occasional mini-buses that go up the stretch of road, they are few and far between. We waited for over an hour before successfully waving down a local passerby with a pickup truck. Our guest house owner approved and off we went, down the wet and windy trail, with steep drop offs I might add, stopping only for a short 5 minute break while the driver and other local passenger smoked some hashish. No big deal. At least they wore their seat belts.
* Meknes:
A city so quiet we could window shop at the souqs. For the most part in Morocco, if you aren't interested in buying something, you can't even really look in a shop without being hassled almost to the point of giving in to a purchase. They are masters of their trade.
The highlight of my stay was my first experience at a Hammam.
A Hammam is a traditional communal Morrocan bathhouse used when warm running water did not exist in the home (it often still does not exist). Everytown has a Hammam. It is a part of Moroccan culture and as such I wanted to experience it. I was so nervous as it seemed the recipe for social disaster. I found the perfect opportunity when we stayed at a Riad run by only woman, one of which who spoke decent English. This was important as I needed guidance on where to go (some don't welcome westerners) and what to bring. She gave me the name of one in the new city since the one in the medina was old and run down. She told me to bring sandals, a towel, an exfoliating glove to scrub with and savon noir (soap).
Note: our inability to speak the language, mainly French for tourists, has been more of a handicap here than anywhere else we've been. It is our goal to learn another language when we get home considering the majority of the world, on average, speaks 3 languages.
Off I went, solo, to the Hammam. I paid $3 for an entry fee and $3 for a gommage, a scrubbing by an attendant.
Once inside I encountered a whole new set of problems. What do I wear, for example. I had come armed with a bathing suit, so I asked a young lady who spoke a bit of English. Her reply, NUDE!
How is it that woman in the Western culture aren't exactly comfortable strutting around nude, but in a society, such as Morocco, where modesty on the street is so important, nudity among the same sex is perfectly fine? I'm not saying it's not fabulous, it's just interesting.
A large closed door separated me from the bathhouse. I walked in to see a large steamy, white tiled room with faucets dripping... Empty. On to the next room... Empty. The suspension was building when I rounded the last corner and finally saw naked flesh.
While accurate, nothing of what I'd read could have prepared me for that moment. Some woman were laying on the floor being scrubbed and massaged by the Hammam attendants, identified by their wrestling style bathing suits, while others were sitting on plastic stools scooping hot water out of larger buckets being filled with the taps.
The guide book likens a gommage to a childhood bath-time ritual where everything from inner thighs to inner ears is given a thorough cleaning.
The next set of problems, where do I sit, what do I do, where do I look?
I have never felt so vulnerable as in this situation... in a foreign country which speaks a foreign language, naked. It's similar to that humiliating naked dream that everyone has had, only in this scenario, everyone else is at least naked too.
A local woman indicated to me to sit on a stool and mimed a circular scrubbing motion, followed by rinsing with scoops of warm water. I followed her actions. Having lost my "gommage token" and not being able to explain I had paid for a rigorous scrubbing, I spent 45 minutes washing myself. Towards the end, my "teacher" waved me over. I clumsily pushed my heavy bucket full of water, along with my toiletries all the while slipping on the wet floor, while naked. This is something you certainly can't look cool doing. She indicated to me to turn around (nothing like a game of nude charades) and she took my glove and proceeded to give me a back scrub, lifting my breast and making sure to get my armpits as well. All inhibitions were lost.
I initially couldn't understand how these woman could spend such a long time bathing. I felt clean after 15 minutes and I was the first one to leave just shy of one hour, but I can now appreciate this past time. For woman it's a social occasion. A time when the laborious chores are forgotten, difficult spouses are absent and woman have time to relax in peace and just enjoy each others company.
We are now in Fez and will continue to jot down our journey in the near future.
* Casablanca:
We had heard to leave this city as soon as possible (it has a reputation for being dirty and industrial and lacking character) and that's exactly what we did. After our plane landed we hopped on a train to El Jadida.
*El Jadida:
A quiet city along the Atlantic coast, it was the perfect place to ease us in to Moroccan culture. It was our first experience staying at a riad.
In the past a riad was a mansion where the wealthy congregated. It's centered around a courtyard, the focal point of which is usually a fountain made of colorful tiles, and flowering trees filled with song birds surround these unique sitting areas. It has been our accommodation of choice throughout our travels in Morocco. They offer a peaceful respite from the mazes of bustling alleyways. With a plain mud brick exterior, it's always aw inspiring when the riads doors open to reveal the brightly lit courtyard, with rooms off-set, guarded by enormous intricately carved cedar doors, ceilings finished with hand-carved plaster crown moulding and a roof top terrace that overlooks the neighboring mosque and the vast spread of ancient symmetrical block architecture that is every cities medina (old city). The owners of our first Riad had just renovated and had photographic evidence of the amount of work it takes to transform a 400 year old mansion into a work of art with the modern amenities of plumbing, heating and electricity.
*Essouira:
Also along the coast, the smell of fish and salty spray lead us sightseers through winding alleyways to the main pier which was packed with historical looking boats and numerous children encouraging one another to accomplish the next biggest dive into the sea below.
It was here that we were initially immersed in the souqs (market). While not near the labyrinth of Marakech or Fez, vendors here displayed anything from shoes, clothing or bath products to piles of spices, heaps of dried dates, the fruit of the season (strawberries and peaches for the month of May) and even whole animal carcasses. It was also here that Q contracted food poisoning from predictably a sample of dried dates which were sitting in the sun and covered with flies.
It is never fun being sick and it is even more miserable being sick away from home. With no familiar comforts at his disposal, it was a rough couple of days for Q.
* Marrakech:
As the guide book warned "Nothing can quite prepare you for Marrakech" and day 1 in this city was quite possibly the worst of the trip so far.
We caught a taxi from the bus station to the medina. Many streets are too narrow to drive down so we didn't expect to be dropped off at the door of our Riad, but after speeding through the twists and turns the car would fit through, by the time the cab stopped we couldn't tell north from south. The driver pointed one direction and said "100 meters that way". We soon found out he dropped us off in the completely wrong area and we later learned that leading the tourists astray is a big game among the locals. Everyone points you in the wrong direction. We wandered only a short time with our packs before asking a teenager to lead us to our Riad. We had read that this is usually necessary to navigate the medina. We negotiated a price ahead of time (nothing is free in Morocco) and he guided us through the maze. Along the way a few older boys started following us and although we couldn't understand their language, their tone towards our guide seemed quite negative. By the time we reached our destination we had a pack of about 10 boys tagging along with us, all hoping to get a piece of commission I assume, while all along the journey they were whispering words like 'mafia' and various sums of money, what they probably thought would be intimidating remarks. It certainly wasn't a comfortable experience. We brought our original guide into the riad and payed him a higher fee than we'd negotiated, thinking he might very well get some of it taken by the bigger kids in the group after he left the safety of the walls.
That night we ventured out for dinner armed with a map given to us by the manager at the riad. It turned out to be of minimal use as we got turned around trying to avoid a drunk man who was stalking us to 'help' us with directions. We tried dodging him in a shop and he followed us in. We politely said we didn't need directions and he became quite angry. He finally said 'just give me some money!' We handed over 5 MAD (only about $1) and said sternly to him to leave us alone, which he did. The combination of events that day was enough to deter us from what we had hoped would be an enchanting city.
Action central in Marrakech is Djemaa el-Fna. This is the location of the cafe that was bombed last week, but prior to that publicity, it has for centuries been regarded as a kind of 'open air theatre'. There is always some sort of action taking place here... Snake charmers hypnotizing cobras with their oboes (we didn't support this animal cruelty because we read that their mouths are sewn shut and they often die of mouth infections or starvation), monkeys on leashes, musicians, magicians, fortune tellers and even dentists with tables covered in dentures.
Once the sun sets, hundreds of food stalls set up shop selling freshly squeezed orange juice, coffee, fried snails and kebabs.
Another attraction of Marrakech is the massive and colorful souqs selling all kinds of traveller souvenirs. By day 3 in Marrakech (Q fell ill again for the second day) we had our confidence back and we managed to wander the alleys and find our way back with less than an hour wasted on being officially lost. There weren't enough high-fives to do our excitement justice.
Before the long bus ride, Q's appetite was finally back to normal after his bout of food poisoning, but of course for nothing Moroccan. I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but we went to McDonalds and left with a suitcase sized bag full of food. It was delicious.
* Ouarzazate:
The 8 hr bus ride through the High Atlas Mountains was one of the most beautiful and unique stretches of scenery we have experienced. It was almost as though time there had stood still. The road wound through areas of lush green valleys with foraging sheep herds supervised by their Shepard and further on, passing mud-brick Berber villages which seem to be clinging for survival on the steep hillsides.
On the east side of the High Atlas Mountains, the land appears fertile and crops sway in the breeze and to the west it changes to rocky and desolate. A completely different landscape, but still stunning.
Ouarzazate itself was mainly a stop over point. From here we rented a car with our initial stop being Ait Benhaddou, a terra-cotta mud-brick kasbah recognizable most recently from the film Gladiator (the initial town where he is trained to be a gladiator).
Next stop, the Sahara Desert.
* Erg Chigaga in the Sahara:
With the rental car we made our way to the town of M'hamid, the last town before nothingness. We had organized a tour including a camel ride, a 4x4 jeep ride, a stop at an oasis for lunch and ending at a camp near some of the biggest sand dunes in the world. A stretch of desert 40 km long with dunes reaching heights of up to 300m.
Initially the desert was not what we had envisioned. The ground was hard and barren, in some areas appearing shiny from the wind having stripped any and all substance from its surface. It's exactly what I would picture Mars to look like. We passed a man walking with a camel and a donkey each loaded with supplies. The guides explained he was a nomad. An hour later we met a woman walking in the intersecting direction of the nomad. She was holding an empty bottle of water. The guide passed her a full bottle of water and proceeded to tell us that she was the mans wife whom we had passed earlier. I couldn't believe how life could be sustained in this harsh environment. Apparently all the families who make up the small town of M'hamid survived as nomads in the desert just one generation ago. When severe drought plagued the area for more than a decade, most of the families were forced to give up their way of life. A few people, like the ones we witnessed, still survive as nomads. The guide described it as a much "simpler" way of life. They raise camel and goats and from that they are able to meet their basic needs. They have milk, butter, cheese and meat and what they are unable to provide for themselves they trade for in town every few weeks. The man had just come from town and his wife was going to meet him part way to help him with his load. A simple life he said? I'm not so sure.
We have been asked numerous times 'what's there to do in the desert?' I suppose our answer is to just absorb the atmosphere. For us, there is something very enchanting and peaceful about deserts and the Sahara is the mac daddy of them all. We climbed the dunes, calves burning, lungs screaming in the dry heat and as the sun set, we watched the shadows change shape on the untouched, perfectly peaked mountains of sand. As night sets in, there is no light pollution and there are more stars than most people realize exist. Perhaps the most excitement we had was when Q entered the tent after dark, his headlamp lighting his way, when a massive white spider with fangs 1cm long (not joking) charged into the spotlight. Wearing only his flip flops he instinctively stomped on the arachnid. Of coarse he saved it as evidence to show me. It was evidence I would have preferred to not been made aware of. I think it was one of the worst sleeps either of us has had.
* Dades Gorge:
On a road with only one way in and one way out, we were blissfully isolated at a tiny kasbah* with a striking view of the deeply carved valley and stream below.
* a kasbah is traditionally a fort which is strategically located around trading routes. Now many have been turned into guesthouses.
The weather was a cool and rainy 10 degrees, so reading and naps were on the agenda.
By this point we had returned our rental car and while there are occasional mini-buses that go up the stretch of road, they are few and far between. We waited for over an hour before successfully waving down a local passerby with a pickup truck. Our guest house owner approved and off we went, down the wet and windy trail, with steep drop offs I might add, stopping only for a short 5 minute break while the driver and other local passenger smoked some hashish. No big deal. At least they wore their seat belts.
* Meknes:
A city so quiet we could window shop at the souqs. For the most part in Morocco, if you aren't interested in buying something, you can't even really look in a shop without being hassled almost to the point of giving in to a purchase. They are masters of their trade.
The highlight of my stay was my first experience at a Hammam.
A Hammam is a traditional communal Morrocan bathhouse used when warm running water did not exist in the home (it often still does not exist). Everytown has a Hammam. It is a part of Moroccan culture and as such I wanted to experience it. I was so nervous as it seemed the recipe for social disaster. I found the perfect opportunity when we stayed at a Riad run by only woman, one of which who spoke decent English. This was important as I needed guidance on where to go (some don't welcome westerners) and what to bring. She gave me the name of one in the new city since the one in the medina was old and run down. She told me to bring sandals, a towel, an exfoliating glove to scrub with and savon noir (soap).
Note: our inability to speak the language, mainly French for tourists, has been more of a handicap here than anywhere else we've been. It is our goal to learn another language when we get home considering the majority of the world, on average, speaks 3 languages.
Off I went, solo, to the Hammam. I paid $3 for an entry fee and $3 for a gommage, a scrubbing by an attendant.
Once inside I encountered a whole new set of problems. What do I wear, for example. I had come armed with a bathing suit, so I asked a young lady who spoke a bit of English. Her reply, NUDE!
How is it that woman in the Western culture aren't exactly comfortable strutting around nude, but in a society, such as Morocco, where modesty on the street is so important, nudity among the same sex is perfectly fine? I'm not saying it's not fabulous, it's just interesting.
A large closed door separated me from the bathhouse. I walked in to see a large steamy, white tiled room with faucets dripping... Empty. On to the next room... Empty. The suspension was building when I rounded the last corner and finally saw naked flesh.
While accurate, nothing of what I'd read could have prepared me for that moment. Some woman were laying on the floor being scrubbed and massaged by the Hammam attendants, identified by their wrestling style bathing suits, while others were sitting on plastic stools scooping hot water out of larger buckets being filled with the taps.
The guide book likens a gommage to a childhood bath-time ritual where everything from inner thighs to inner ears is given a thorough cleaning.
The next set of problems, where do I sit, what do I do, where do I look?
I have never felt so vulnerable as in this situation... in a foreign country which speaks a foreign language, naked. It's similar to that humiliating naked dream that everyone has had, only in this scenario, everyone else is at least naked too.
A local woman indicated to me to sit on a stool and mimed a circular scrubbing motion, followed by rinsing with scoops of warm water. I followed her actions. Having lost my "gommage token" and not being able to explain I had paid for a rigorous scrubbing, I spent 45 minutes washing myself. Towards the end, my "teacher" waved me over. I clumsily pushed my heavy bucket full of water, along with my toiletries all the while slipping on the wet floor, while naked. This is something you certainly can't look cool doing. She indicated to me to turn around (nothing like a game of nude charades) and she took my glove and proceeded to give me a back scrub, lifting my breast and making sure to get my armpits as well. All inhibitions were lost.
I initially couldn't understand how these woman could spend such a long time bathing. I felt clean after 15 minutes and I was the first one to leave just shy of one hour, but I can now appreciate this past time. For woman it's a social occasion. A time when the laborious chores are forgotten, difficult spouses are absent and woman have time to relax in peace and just enjoy each others company.
We are now in Fez and will continue to jot down our journey in the near future.
Morocco
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| The Middle East |
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| Entrance to the riad |
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| Paradise hidden behind the alley walls |
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| Stay away from the ones covered with flies |
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| Djemaa al Fna - Marrakech main square |
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| Drive to Ouarzazate |
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| Round Two |
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| Half spider half scorpion! |
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| Sun setting over the Sahara |
Jordan - The Finale
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| Hanging out at the Red Sea |
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| Our desert Bedouin camp in Wadi Rum |
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| Karak Castle |
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| Scaling one of several waterfalls during our wet hike |
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| Life jackets required |
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