Latest Strategy...

After four months, I am still testing new ways to manage the amount of electronic data that I seem to accumulate... In particular, the file size of my photos!  After the frustruations of uploading the full-sized images, I have decided to apply some pragmatism: and have reduced the images BEFORE uploading them to Picasa... hopefully now I will be able to post some images as well as text :)

For images from Morocco (or a selected few) - go to:

MOROCCO photo album

Final act (in Morocco): The Circus

Marrakech was just like on TV… the main square (Djemaa-El-Fna) is described by the Lonely Planet variously as: ‘a circus’, ‘open-air theatre’ and ‘live channel-surfing’… and it’s all true…

In the morning, the square is a big expanse of concrete, quiet and empty.  As the day unfolds, the souvenir shops around the edges open up, and the vendors begin their various selling strategies.  But as the sunlight fades, the activity ramps up –

·         There are dozens upon dozens of ladies doing henna tattoos

·         Snake charmers trying to introduce us to a photo opportunity (No – I do NOT need a picture of me with a snake around my neck!)

·         More photo op’s with monkeys on metal chains

·         Music and dance performed by men in various types of traditional dress

·         The occasional card game

·         Fortune tellers (at least, I think one guy was offering to tell our fortune – in French!)

·         One particular game fascinated us (we checked it out 3 nights in a row!) it involved ‘fishing’ for Coca Cola bottles with long fishing rods, elasticated string, and a rubber ring.  We believe that the objective was to ‘catch’ the bottle by positioning the ring around the neck; but it was clearly more difficult than it first appeared.

·         There are rows and rows of carts selling freshly squeezed orange juice, and yet more selling dried fruits (figs, dates and apricots)

·         A row of stalls all selling freshly cooked snails (I’d ‘done’ the snail thing in Spain, so I didn’t feel the need to repeat the experience here!)

·         There are around 100 food stands, which seemed to be divided into (roughly) four menu options:

1.         The ‘standard’ menu: tagine, couscous or grilled and skewered meats (with salad or vegetable accompaniments)

2.         Sausages in bread: just that – flat bread, with sausages and spicy tomato sauce.  There were a couple of these stands and they were incredibly popular (and very tasty – Carrie and I tested it out on our final night)

3.         Harira soup and Dates: again, a single-option menu.  This appeared to be very popular with the Moroccan consumers

4.         Sheep’s head and brains: If I’d had a better time with my stomach in Morocco, I might have been tempted to give it a go… but I just really wasn’t feeling up to trying something challenging!

·         Jamal (our tour leader) told us that we were not allowed to eat there, as the food wasn’t good (i.e. we would get sick).  But, on our final night – after the tour had officially ended – Carrie and I DID; we were very careful with our selections, and we didn’t suffer any side effects.

Unfortunately, I don’t have many photos of this spectacle because (1) it was hard to take good night shots, and (2) all the performers are there to make money, so photos cost $$.

The souks around the square were similar, but much-much bigger than in Fes and Meknes.  The further-in away from the main square, the more interesting: we saw the men at work sewing the bags, cutting metals and stamping leather.  With more tourists around, the vendors were both more creative and pushier (and some were just not that pleasant).  Some of the interesting tactics employed were:

·         Use random phrases to get attention: ‘cheese’, ‘fish and chips’

·         Cockney rhyming slang: I wouldn’t have picked up on this, but Katie tells me that ‘come for a butcher’s hook’ means ‘come have a look’

·         Flattery (as experienced all across Morocco): ‘Gazelle’ seemed to be the popular compliment here

·         The standard ‘everything is cheap / almost free / student price / democratic price’

·         In the food stalls, we got ‘everything is lubbly jubbly’, ‘remember stand number xx’ and, ‘see you later alligator’

·         We did have to make a few quick exits from stores, when the vendors became annoyed (and sometimes angry) that we were not going to buy anything.  In these instances, the worst we got was angry mutterings, and one man told us to “go back to your country”.

Overall, Marrakech was fascinating and entertaining, but not exactly a relaxing place to be (except when we escaped to our Riad – which was situated out of the main city – or to the road top cafes overlooking the square).

Becoming a Smurf

This is one to add to my collection of ‘amusing’ travel experiences…

When in Tangier, I was ‘convinced’ to purchase a number of items of clothing for desert attire (light trousers, top and scarf).  I wore the scarf as my headdress in the desert and a few days later, decided to use the it for its secondary purpose (as a sarong)… only to discover about 10 minutes later that the dye had not been fixed - I had big blotches of blue-tinted skin everywhere!

After some initial embarrassment (and a quick costume change) I decided that the only thing to do was to embrace the situation and add this chapter to the story:

·         The purchase in a carpet shop in Tangier was an experience in itself: The clothing was produced after about 30 minutes of drinking mint tea, the unveiling of an abundance of carpets and throws, and the offer of a free home in a nomad tent (following my claim as a poor traveller; to have no money for hotels – let alone carpets).  I think the free nomad tent also came with husband – not sure if he was free or not?!  Anyway, despite probably being grossly overcharged, the hour-long process prior to the purchase was a lot of fun.

·         I ‘looked the part’ atop my camel, riding through the desert with my traditional Berber headscarf.

·         I was transformed into a Smurf, poolside overlooking the fantastic Kasbah of Ait Benhaddou… Or, I could also claim to being attempting to emulate the custom of the Berber tribes who (I learned) used to dye their skin with indigo.

(The process of de-smurfing did require some vigorous scrubbing; which was slightly painful, and I only realised afterwards that I should have taken photos to illustrate the story).

On board a camel (and other desert adventures)

On Thursday, after six days in the cities of Morocco (Tangier – Casablanca – Meknes – Fes) we boarded our minivan (our mode of transport for the next five or six days), and headed out into the ‘countryside’. 

Leaving the cities behind was definitely the highlight of the tour for me.  Finally, I was able to stop comparing Morocco to ‘kind of like Turkey’ (but hotter and drier), and appreciate this country for it’s amazing landscape and unique architecture.

The mountains, the dry and rocky landscapes with villages rising out of the dust, the lush fertile valleys and the beauty and expanse of the desert – I can’t compare it, because it is just like nothing else I’ve ever seen before.  Some of it is dramatic and awe-inspiring, some has been beautiful and tranquil and some has been just incredible:  I just can’t believe I’ve now ridden camels through the dunes in the Sahara desert!

My diary seems to be filled with attempts to describe the ‘colour palette’ of the Moroccan countryside.  What I came up with was:
“Everything here is very much from one colour palette: the desert shrubs are a dull green, brown or silver while the earth and rocks are hues of brown, grey, orange pink and red.  The buildings are made from earth, rocks and straw, and therefore seem to rise out of the landscape; but at the same time they tend to blend and merge into the surrounding landscape. 
Then, we will round a corner and be presented with the vivid green of a lush fertile valley.  At one time, we passed an expanse of blue (the 3^rd largest dam in Morocco)”.

We spent five days in the ‘countryside’ of central Morocco, and during that time:

·         Spent a night in a guest house in Midelt (in the Moroccan high plains), surrounded by fertile agricultural region.  We walked through a small village, and up to a spectacular gorge.

·         We drove past the tent-homes of nomadic families; who graze their animals on this land during the summer.

·         We visited a fossil shop - in this case, the sales ‘spiel’ was fascinating… the oldest fossils they had were 530 million years old (I think they were called trilobites?)  This area (Aloufah, at the beginning of the Sahara) was a sea millions of years ago, and there were 10’s – if not 100’s of these fossil shops.  The finished products (ornaments, bowls, pendants, and larger pieces of furniture) were quite beautiful – polished marble with ancient creatures ‘inside’.

·         Reaching the desert ‘proper’ was an experience in itself: one moment we were heading along the sealed road, staring in awe at the orange-pink tinted sand dunes in the distance… The next moment, our driver swerved off the road, and started to ‘slalom’ across the plains (I’m not kidding: apparently he couldn’t go in a straight line: something to do with avoiding the soft patches of sand, and/or corrugations?!)  The land appeared  to be completely featureless – certainly, there was no road or directional aids to follow – then, like a mirage we arrived at a bunch of signs sticking out of the sand (I thought these looked rather bizarre; nothing else around, just the sand dunes in the distance).

·         With great excitement (and quite a bit of trepidation) I climbed aboard my first camel.   The ascent from sitting to standing is not the world’s most elegant manoeuvre, but I managed to stay upright. 

Setting off into the desert was amazing.  However, after about 10 minutes, most of us had decided that the novelty had started to wear off!  Camels are NOT a comfortable mode of transport; their gait is not smooth, and going downhill they lurch forwards as their front legs sink into the sand, causing me to slide to the front of the saddle.  At all other times I kept sliding to one side (I would have sworn that my camel was lopsided, except that I had the same problem the next day on a different beast… so I guess it was me?)  I also discovered that I couldn’t take photos while riding – as I didn’t feel secure enough to let go with both hands (and my big camera is not a one-handed operation).

·         I climbed to the top of the sand dunes behind our camp (it reminded me of Mount Ngauruhoe in NZ – one step forward, slide two steps back… walking uphill on sand is hard work!) - and attempted to run back down.  The downhill was fun, but Carrie was more fearless, and much faster than me (I got the sensation of losing control of my limbs, and the ground speeding by under me!)

·         I slept in the open; on a Moroccan carpet on the sand (it was too hot inside the tent).  At one point in the night I woke to find that the cloud cover had lifted, and the stars had appeared… it wasn’t the most spectacular night display I’d ever seen, but it was the most surreal: knowing that I was lying on the Sahara desert!  The magic of the situation was somewhat interrupted by a minor sand storm in the middle of the night, during which we were pelted with sand, but I stuck it out and it wasn’t too bad (I did wake with a lot of the Sahara in my hair and up my nose).

·         Back on the road, and away from the sand dunes – but still very much in ‘desert’ country - we reached a small town.  A line of rocks across the road blocked our progress, so we were directed down a back road; again, a line of rocks prevented our passage.  The issue (as our group leader determined) was that the townspeople had had no water for 10 days, so they were protesting, and not letting any cars through.  We saw people with buckets and barrow-loads of plastic containers heading to the well.  I think all of us were completely in support of these people: 10 days in the Sahara without water supply seems like a fairly good reason for complaint.  (Although, it did cross my mind that we wouldn’t want to become the Western-hostages helping to raise the profile of this town’s grievances… to be fair, at no point did we feel under any kind of threat). 
I wonder if the water supply is back yet?  I thought it was really interesting to see people taking to the streets in an active demonstration – just like the rubbish issue in Fes – it would be a rare occasion that rallied the masses in NZ or Aust.

·         In marked contrast to the desert, we spent the next night at Todra Gorge: an impressive sight, with a narrow road, and small river flanked by towering vertical rock faces.  Looking up was enough to induce vertigo.  Our hotel was built right up against the rock face; with the ‘river’ barely 20 meters from the front door (it was fairly shallow and small – although it does apparently flood at some times of the year).

The pebbled river-shore was busy with families enjoying a weekend picnic, and kids splashing about in the river.  Their picnics looked fantastic: we watched as one family unrolled a full-size carpet (rather than a picnic mat), unpacked low chairs (and tables – I think), and produced tagines of food!

Thinking that a dip in the river would be just the thing to cool-off after the hot drive, Katie, Carrie and I changed into beach-wear (I was in shorts and t-shirt, so fairly well covered up).  Sitting on the rocks at the edge of the river we spent the next 30 minutes feeling incredibly awkward: all of the other women around were ‘fully’ dressed, most wore the traditional kaftan-style dress and headscarf… and the woman in the full black berka and gloves just made us feel even more self-conscious.
I know I am putting my own prejudices on things, but I just can’t see how the women can have any ‘fun’ here.

·         Just up the road from Todra Gorge is one of the most fertile valleys imaginable: we walked through gardens with olive trees, figs, peaches, pomegranates, tomatoes, corn, cabbages and much more.  It was lush and green, with irrigation channels full of water – again; such a contrast from much of the surrounding area.

·         We travelled the road of 1000 kasbahs (fortified cities made of earth and rock, and looking very much like medieval castles).  I have no idea whether there truly are 1000 of them along this road – it wasn’t particularly evident to me that there were any more along this stretch of road than everywhere else we travelled.  Ait Benhaddou is one of the most impressive in both size and situation (it is built up the side of a hill, so commands a view of all the surrounding land, and equally, can be seen from the surrounding land).  The best view was from our hotel swimming pool!  - It was just an amazing backdrop, floating in our pool looking out towards this old ‘castle’… it was just like the backdrop for a movie set (which in reality, is just what it is: having featured in a number of movies, including – apparently – Gladiator)

If I’d opted to tour Morocco on my own I would have stuck to visiting the ‘big’ cities, and would have missed the most extraordinary parts.  Yesterday, Carrie said she needed to find another word for ‘awesome’ – again, it reminds me of trekking in Nepal and ‘running out of adjectives’!

The traveller's pharmacy

During my first week in Morocco I became quite familiar with the range of drugs that my doctor in Australia had recommended I stock up on.  These items have been weighing down my luggage (and taking up valuable space) for over three months; but in Morocco they finally found a purpose… 
 

Within a few days I was conversing with others in the group about whether we should be taking Imodium, Buscopan or Maxolon! 

Several members of my group work in pharmacy, but this was never previously an area I felt a great need to become familiar with…

A tale of (two more) cities

My first week in Morocco was a journey through some of the ‘big’ cities (Tangier: 700,000, Casablanca: 3.5 million, Meknes: 1 million and Fes: 1 million) – population figures courtesy of Wiki!

I’ve already posted my thoughts on my introduction to Morocco (in Tangier), and my less than 24 hours in its largest city (Casa).  

Next stop was Meknes which we reached via a four-hour train journey (a chance for me to totally ‘zone-out’).  We had only a half-day in Meknes, during which we had a local guide lead us around to some of the main sights.  As I wasn’t feeling particularly well, this tour became a bit of a blur, and an exercise in endurance for me… to the extent that one of my fellow ‘tour groupies’ said to me at one point “wasn’t that interesting?”, and the best I could muster was something along the lines of “mmmmm”. 

As further evidence of my lack of enthusiasm on this particular day: I have only a handful of photos (this is unusual; as I am operating on the principal of ‘take multiple shots, and hopefully a few will be ok’) and I’ve had to use Google to try to piece together what these things are of, as I have no recollection of any of the explanations that were given to us by the guide.

In fact, the one point that did stick was when our guide (Youssef) was introduced he told us that we would be going into the old prison, and that there would be lots of ‘lice’… this was (obviously) a concern to most of the group, and Youssef was queried on this point a couple of times (he assured us that yes, we had heard correctly “a lot of lice”) – Ugghhh!  About an hour later, as we were being led towards the prison, a final consultation clarified this point: Youssef is a big story-teller, and was offering to tell us “lots of LIES”  - some relief on this point!

So, the main sights we were led to in Meknes, were:

·         The Mausoleum of Moulay Ismail (the resting place of the sultan who made Meknes an imperial city).

·         The Habs Qara; Youssef said this huge underground cellar was more like a massive ‘dormitory’ for the prisoners working for the king – rather than a prison.  Personally, I failed to understand the distinction between a ‘prison’ and a ‘dormitory for prisoners’!

·         The most impressive structure was the big gate opposite the big square.  My Google search has since confirmed that this is an ‘important’ sight (it’s called the Bab Mansour gate and is apparently the biggest and the most important city gate in Meknes) – I don’t recall anything from the tour itself!

After seeing these sights, we were led on a tour through the markets… None of us in the group are quite sure how long this part of the tour lasted; maybe 20 minutes, maybe it seemed like an hour! - Essentially, we played follow-the-leader, winding our way through the packed market streets, for what seemed an inordinately long period.  We had been told that we must stick together as a group: with so many other people around it was hard not to get separated for periods, so it took quite considerable concentration to keep an eye ahead to the group member immediately in front of me.  We didn’t linger in any section, so we didn’t actually get to look at any of the products on sale.  I guess I did get an impression of the extent of what was on offer (EVERYTHING: from food – clothing – handicrafts – knick knacks – wood and building supplies…) but I certainly didn’t get an appreciation of anything, and it wasn’t a very fun or very satisfying way to experience a bustling market.  

From Meknes, we travelled on the next day to Fes.  Again, we were introduced to a local guide (the guides in Morocco are registered to operate in particular cities, therefore local guides are employed at each place – our tour leader’s role seemed to be more about keeping us all in line, rather than providing guiding expertise).  The tour in Fes took us:

·         Up the hill to get a good vantage perspective over the city.  It seemed to sprawl for miles, and what was most evident was the number of satellite dishes dotting the roofs!  - I think there were a fair number of mosque minarets as well. 

·         We were taken on a walking tour into the medina of Old Fes (the oldest walled part of the city), into the narrow streets and souks (markets).  Our guide pointed out a number of the ‘important / historic /  notable buildings – however over discussions the next day it was evident that none of our group were clear on exactly where we went, what we saw, or what was what!  I think this is partly due to the somewhat random nature that the tour seemed to take (the guide would tell us what we were about to see – before we got there – but then sometimes we would go somewhere else instead).  This wasn’t 100% his fault, as there was an issue with many buildings being closed due to rubbish (see below).

·         We had lunch in beautiful Riad: we stepped through a small non-descript door into a huge space: a central courtyard had been enclosed with a tent-like ceiling from which was hanging an ornate metal and glass light fitting, the walls were decorated with tiles and carved plaster detailing, and the seating was on velveteen couches, with masses of cushions.  I really got to like this style of seating, but the problem was that it really did encourage the tendency to recline – and it was very difficult to resist the urge to take a nap after a big meal.

·         The other feature of our tour of Fes was that they managed to fit in FOUR ‘demonstrations of the local handicrafts’ (i.e. shop visits).  We saw ceramics, carpets, leather (the tannery covered a huge area), and fabrics / scarves.  While some of what we saw was interesting, the sales spiel was a bit awkward, as none of our group were particularly interested in buying, and we all agreed that 4 stops in a day-tour was over the top.

·         The carpet salesmen did give me an opportunity to revise my original opinion that Moroccan salesmen were less ‘brazen’ with their innuendo than Turkish men…  we were shown a very nice woollen carpet, which was unfortunately spoiled by the mental image that it was for ‘jiggy-jig’ (much amusement from the Moroccan men ensued around this, and the conversation could only go downhill from there!...)

·         Bizarrely, one of the most interesting sights in Fes that day was the rubbish! (Let me explain…) Early in the day, we drove past a long parade of people marching down the street.  Our guide determined that these were local shop keepers from the medina who were angry that the rubbish had not been collected from the streets, and were marching to city hall (or whatever the Moroccan equivalent is) to demand action from their politicians.  As we toured around the city during the day we did see big piles of rubbish, and also encountered groups of people demonstrating (chanting, yelling), also many of the shops had been closed.  Our tour guides were very apologetic (they seemed embarrassed by this event – even though we assured them it wasn’t their fault). 

What was interesting to me; is that I had the pre-conceived idea that Morocco WOULD be dirty, and that piles of rubbish WOULD just be left on the streets.  Instead, these people were really angry that their city had been allowed to deteriorate into this state.

Our second day in Fes was a ‘free day’ – to do what we liked.  Carrie, Katie, Ken and I embraced the opportunity to spend a morning embracing the virtues of the hotel pool and sun (the others embraced the sun… I stuck to the shady side).  Our hotel was situated right within the medina, next to one of the main gates to the souks, and yet it was very tranquil with birds chirping, and the external noises seemed far away – It reminded me a little of Kathmandu: where I would escape the chaos of the outside world to the calm havens of cafes set in beautiful garden settings).

Shortly after midday the four of us ventured outside and into the market streets.  Although it was a bit hot we had a pleasant few hours: the streets had been cleaned, there were relatively few people out and about, we got a few offers for guides and salesmen trying to get us to look at their wares – but all were friendly.  After a few hours browsing, we managed to navigate to ‘Café Clock’ (a very well-known café within the medina – which was fortunate, as we had to ask for directions four times!)  The menu at Café Clock was the most interesting that I encountered in Morocco: rather than the standardised menu options of tagine, couscous or grilled meats, they had: peppers stuffed with rice and soft cheese, falafel with tabouleh salad, lamb burger with mint and tzatziki, and (the famous) camel burger!  (Ken had the camel burger – it was very tasty: and in hindsight I think camels make for better eating than modes of transport – or at least, more comfortable!!)

I found this quote on the Trip Advisor website (reviewing Café Clock), and I think it sums up my feelings about how to handle travel in the city: “While I absolutely love exploring the old city, having a place like the Clock to retreat to after a day of sensory overload was often appreciated”.

Morocco in moving images

(I wrote this post on 6th July, three days into the group tour I am currently travelling with...)…

Since leaving Tangier days ago, and joining my “Gecko’s back roads of Morocco” tour group, I feel like I’ve been watching some bizarre movie of Morocco in 3-D… The past four days have gone by in a bit of a blur, and at many times it has seemed that I am just a spectator; not really involved in the experience.  It’s not quite what I had in mind for experiencing this amazing country, and there are probably a host of reasons why

• Our itinerary is a bit of a whirlwind – necessitated by just 9 days to see and do the ‘highlights’ of Morocco (cities and sights, countryside and desert adventures, souks and shopping).  On some days, it feels like we are being shunted along from one destination to the next: ‘explanation – five minutes for photos – now time to move on’.  I've discussed this with others in the tour group, and we are all feeling a bit the same; in-part it is the itinerary, in part the way the guides operate.
• Our tour guides are very protective of us (I guess they are responsible for us after all).  While lovely, this has the slightly irritating result of taking us to the ‘good’ Western restaurants to eat, cautioning us against visiting the medina on our own, and advising about all the possible rip-offs when shopping (I know it’s reality that I will get ripped off, but spending time chatting and ‘negotiating’ with the shopkeepers is part of the experience).
• And, the most unfortunate reason, is that my stomach has decided that it’s had about enough of experiencing Morocco… and the rest of the body is very much in support (I’ve had multiple instances where curling up in bed has seemed far more appealing than experiencing any more ‘culture’).  Unfortunately, although I was the first in the group to be hit, ‘Morocco-belly’ in its varying manifestations is spreading throughout our tour group.  (Much like my trekking group in Nepal), our group has very quickly become familiar with each other’s bodily reactions to this country…)

Despite all this, there are enough highs to still make this country memorable for positive reasons.  And although some aspects of the group tour thing are frustrating, it is nice to ‘hand over’ responsibility for all the decision making and just go where I am lead… and having a group to share the (highs and lows) is also fantastic.

Less than 24 hours in Casablanca

I arrived in Casablanca, off the train from Tangier on Sunday afternoon (3^rd July).  As I walked out the station, I was directed to the ‘taxi rouge’ (red taxi).  Having done my reading on the train, I knew these to be equivalent to the petit blue taxis in Tangier: i.e. small vehicles, operating on a metered charge basis, for individual use (as opposed to the ‘grand taxis’ that take multiple passengers, and don’t leave until they are fully loaded); or at least so I thought…

I got into a taxi, and was greeted by a guy speaking very good English.  Initially, I thought he was the driver (forgetting - again, that I’m still in left-hand-drive country).  As it turned out, he was the tour leader for ‘Gap’ adventures, and was headed to the same hotel as me (Hotel Casablanca is apparently the start-point for Gap, Intrepid and Gecko!)  Shortly after, another passenger got in beside me, and with a full load we were ready to go.  I was very glad that I had the Gap tour-guide in the vehicle with me; otherwise I would have wondered whether I was headed for the right place (having not expected to share in this manner).  And, as it turns out, the third passenger (who spoke very little English) was heading for another destination entirely.

After checking in at the hotel I figured that I should attempt to see some of the city (our tour had us leaving Casa the next morning – with a trip to the mosque the only part of the city included in our organised itinerary).  I headed down to reception for what was to be a highly frustrating conversation):

Q. Do you know if my tour group is meeting tonight?  A. I don’t know, maybe 6pm, maybe 7, maybe 8… (at 3pm, there was no sign for the Gecko tour group; a bit frustrating that this wasn’t clear, as I wasn’t sure how much time I had to ‘play’ with).

Q. Do you have a map of the city? A. No – and the shop with maps is closed.

Q. Where do you recommend I go? A. Go to sleep now… it’s too hot outside.  (Me): But I only have one afternoon in this city; I want to see some of it! (and I didn’t think the heat seemed too bad – less than Seville at least!). Answer to this was a shrug…

This whole frustrating conversation was completed with the receptionist looking at my camera and telling me that I shouldn’t go outside wearing it like that – indicating that someone would try to grab it.  When I asked how I should carry it he said to leave it in my room!  At this point, rather than being frustrated, I was quite astonished… I showed him that it was slung across my body, and he said “maybe they take you too”!! 

I absolutely could not believe that in the middle of the afternoon, on a fairly busy street, that things could be quite as dire as this guy was trying to indicate.  Travelling alone (and not being particularly brave, or crazy) I think I’m fairly sensible about where I go, but typically I figure that if it’s the middle of the day and there are a reasonable number of people around doing their usual daily business, then I’m probably going to be about as safe as I would be anywhere .

I ventured down the street to see what I could see.  Not far from the hotel was a small local market (fruit and vegetables etc.), and further on was a medium sized supermarket – where I decided to stock up on a few items and return with these to the hotel before heading back out.  That was all I was to see of Casa… shortly after arriving back at the hotel  I began to feel a little queasy, and for the next few hours I moped around in my room – alternating between collapsing on the bed, and attempting to get up “must see some of the city”… Eventually I fell asleep.  I did manage to drag myself down to reception a little later in the evening, and – by fluke – managed to time it right to meet up with my group.  Not wanting to be the antisocial one on our first meeting, I headed out to dinner with a few of them – mistake… I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel and crawl into bed. 

The next 12 hours were fairly miserable, and don’t need to be expanded upon in any great detail here. 

The next morning, all I really wanted to do was curl up in bed and hibernate.  But, the downsize of being part of a group is that you have to keep moving according to the schedule (the up-side, is that someone else does all the thinking for you, so at least I just had to drag my body from A-B, and not engage any neural functions!)

Before leaving Casa, we went to visit the Hassan II Mosque – the third largest in the world.  It’s like a massive football stadium! (Inside can accommodate 25,000 worshippers and the squares around it another 80,000).  The building is really amazing – it combines the beauty and intricacy of Islamic design with modern engineering and building materials (it took 6 years to build; which is amazing given how enormous and ornate it is, and I think was finished around 1993?).  It has a sliding roof – again, just like a stadium – and amazing chandeliers that can be lowered electrically for cleaning.  If you only get to see one thing in Casablanca (as I did), this building wouldn't be a bad choice!!

Arrival in Africa (& Casablanca bound) - 3 July 2011

I am Casablanca-bound… In a first-class carriage for the five hour train journey from Tangier to Casa: it is very nice!  I think I could have saved the equivalent of about AU$ 5 if I’d opted for second class… but seating (and air con?) isn’t guaranteed – and for a five hour train journey I figured it was totally worth it. 

When I arrive in Casablanca, I will check into my hotel, and presumably meet the rest of my tour group sometime this evening.  I’ve opted for a tour with Gecko’s Adventures: the timing of the tour fitted perfectly with my other travel plans, and although my original plan was to travel through Morocco on my own, I had started to question my own sanity… A number of people I met have told me I was crazy to even consider coming here alone (as a single-female traveller).

After two nights in Tangier, I am glad that I made the decision to join a group – not because I’ve felt unsafe: no-one has been unpleasant or threatening – but because being the constantly stared at is very wearying, and finding a way to fit in as a woman is hard: there are lots of women on the streets, but none of them seem to operate shops or eat at cafes or restaurants!   I’ve found it harder here than in Turkey because I’ve seen less foreign tourists (this may be just because Tangier is not one of the major destinations in Morocco).  Also, the second language here is French, then Spanish, with English probably about number four, which makes communication more of a challenge.

I took the ‘fast ferry’ from Tarifa (Spain) to Tangier on Friday.  It may be ‘fast’ when in motion… but it’s certainly not a fast service!  I arrived at the ferry terminal (from the bus station) with only 10 minutes to spare before the 1pm crossing.  There was a slow-moving queue to buy tickets, and I was a bit concerned I might miss it… I should not have worried!  I think the ferry finally left port around 2pm!  The journey itself was quick – it’s advertised as a 35 minute crossing – and very smooth.  I thought the ‘overland & water’ journey might be more interesting than flying – but all the seating on the ferry is inside, so I didn’t really have any appreciation of leaving the Spanish coast behind, or of arriving in Africa.  In reality, it was lucky that the ferry didn’t leave port earlier: all passengers have to get their passports stamped by the Moroccan immigration police on-board the ferry.  From the time the first passengers boarded, until our arrival into port at Tangier, the queue snaked way back through the ship – there is no way they could have processed us all if they’d only had 35 minutes! 

On board the ferry I met a couple of American guys (Scott and James) who were on a short European holiday (with just one day to check out Morocco).  Co-incidentally, I met another American couple at dinner on my first night in Tangier: they were also there for only one-night… so, although Tangier isn’t the number 1 tourist destination in Morocco, it is certainly an accessible one for a short trip (in fact, I think the ferry company offers day or overnight-trip packages).

On arrival in Tangier, I resigned myself to the first ‘scam’: the official from the tourist office who can help you get safely to your hotel… the short taxi ride cost me €5 (about AU$7).  This morning, I took one of the metered taxis to the train station; which was probably a similar distance, and it cost me just MAD 10 – about AU$1.20!  However, I got to my hotel and managed to get rid of the tourist official (who was now touting his services as a guide of the city).

There are apparently metered taxis (small, blue cars) and unmetered taxis – where you have to agree a price (cream coloured).  I am unclear on whether this colour system is standard throughout Morocco, or why the two tiers even exist, but my experience this morning with the blue taxi was very simple: I didn’t even have to ask about the meter – it was automatic.

I really struggled to find any budget accommodation in Tangier my online search turned up only ‘apartments’ (which cost more with only one person, as I’d have to  pay for the whole room), or hotels.  I was also looking for something that had good reviews, as I wasn’t prepared to stay somewhere ‘dodgy’ on my first night in Morocco!  Hotel Rembrandt, where I eventually ended up staying, was perfectly functional – although my A/C and several lights in the bathroom didn’t go – the pool area was really nicely landscaped (although the demolition / construction site next door with the massive digger did somewhat disrupt the tranquillity!), and the breakfast buffet (included) was pretty good.  But I did find it amusing that all the locals I met said “oh, very nice hotel”… as I thought it was a little bit tired, and had maybe seen better days!

It took me about 2 hours in my hotel room to mentally prepare for the inevitable culture-shock of venturing out the door.  When I did, I walked down to the medina (walled, old city) – armed with a completely hopeless map, and no real plan where to go.  I wandered around for a while – and ascertained that the Kasbah (palace) was closed on Friday afternoons.

Eventually, I got ‘picked up’ by a carpet salesman…

There appear to be at least three categories of guide here: the ‘officials’ from the tourist office, the men on the street who are not ‘guides’ (they don’t have a badge) – but will show you around for a price, and the shop owners – who will show you around for ‘free’ as long as you come to their shop. 

My ‘not-guide’ took me through some of the streets of the Medina (it’s a total maze, the streets snake all over the place, and a lot are dead-ends; I had no idea where I was most of the time), he took me to see a traditional pharmacy (where the pharmacist showed me all his cooking herbs, lotions, beauty creams etc… I wasn’t buying), and then up to the top of his carpet shop to see the view (it was a very good view!)

I was then invited for mint tea and a showcase of the carpet shop wares!  Now, after my time in the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul, I’ve decided that I don’t really mind this process – it’s quite good fun chatting to these guys, the mint tea is good, and while they are persistent, they are not ‘pushy’.  Once again, I didn’t buy a carpet: but actually, I did end up with a silk bedspread – I’ve no idea if the price was good, but it wasn’t a huge amount in Aussie dollars.  I then asked for a recommendation for a restaurant, and ended up at the Kasbah restaurant – which it is clear is the final stop for all the guided tourists!  I invited myself to sit at a table with an American couple who had employed a ‘category 2’ guide… and for a small fee it sounds like they got a similar tour: pharmacy, carpet shop + view, and this restaurant!  The food wasn’t bad, the company was good, and the only issue was payment at the end: the couple I was with had been told MAD 150 each, I’d been told MAD 80 by my carpet salesman; but I hadn’t sighted a menu, or spoken to the restaurant owner , so he wanted to charge me MAD 100.  I insisted, and got my meal for 80 (nearly AU $ 10, so I didn’t think that was especially cheap), but the guy wasn’t happy… they don’t really seem to get angry, but I guess it’s another reminder to make sure all negotiation is clear up-front to avoid this kind of scenario.

My day 2 in Tangier followed a similar pattern (minus the guide); wandering the streets, looking at markets, carpet shop (where I managed to acquire some clothing – which might hopefully be cool, but suitably conservative), and also visited the Kasbah – a much smaller, less ornate version of the Alcazar in Seville, with a small, tranquil garden: with no one else there!

So, after my first two days in Tangier, I haven’t quite figured out how women fit in – and I definitely feel a bit restricted in what I can do:

·         The beach-front in Tangier was quite popular (although the port right next door does make it feel a little less inviting!)  There were lots of men swimming, running and playing soccer.  There were lots of kids (boys and girls) playing in the water.  But the women sat on the beach, fully covered, and supervised the children.

·         The pool at the hotel looked quite inviting, but yesterday evening it seemed to be the place to meet for drinks at the hotel – so there were quite a few groups of people sitting around.  A lot of the men jumped in for a swim, but I only saw one girl dive in, then straight out again.  I decided that I felt too uncomfortable to get in (and wasn’t sure it was even culturally appropriate – especially as my swim suit is a Portugal-purchased bikini; which I feel self-conscious in anyway).

·         The cafes lining the streets are arranged the Italian-way: with all the seating facing out onto the pavement to watch passers-by.  Most these cafes were pretty busy: but ONLY men sit there.

·         Walking the streets of the medina, there are a lot of small shops producing kaftans – the doorways were always open to the street, and inside I would see anywhere between 1-5 men and boys at work, sewing.  I asked one of the carpet salesmen if it was traditional for the men (not the women) to do this work, and he said that both do; but that the women would not be comfortable working where they could be seen by passers-by (and if they felt like they were being stared-at they would not do good quality work), so presumably all the women are hidden away inside somewhere.

·         There were plenty of women and girls on the streets – the majority wear the traditional Muslim kaftans or overcoats and head scarves (a far higher proportion that in Turkey), the few who wear ‘Western’ style dress very conservatively in long trousers, skirts and long tops.

·         Although I attracted a fair amount of stares as I walked along the streets – and a fair amount of “Bonjours”, I thought that the men in Tangier were less blatant than the ones I met in Turkey… In Tangier I got told I was beautiful, and had a few invitations for drinks (alcohol is clearly easily accessible, despite the high Muslim population).  In Turkey, several of the invitations were for companionship in bed!

·         I struggled to find somewhere to have dinner last night: the places that were open to the street seemed to be men-only establishments, and if I couldn’t see inside then I didn’t really feel comfortable going in… I ended up in a place recommended in the Lonely Planet; which was very empty (but had a couple of other solo diners).  I’m hoping that being part of a group (and with a guide to recommend places), that I might be able to be a little more adventurous from now-on.