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.

In love with Sevilla!

Seville was only supposed to be a stop en-route from Portugal to Morocco (I had a few spare days, and on the map it looked to be a logical direction to take).  But, after 3 nights it is officially one of my favourite places…

I guess there are numerous reasons for this; I met some great people (albeit, only briefly), had some fantastic experiences, and I loved the city itself: the features and facilities, and it’s ‘vibe’.  Overall, ‘Sevilla’ is a beautiful city; with an attractive river, gorgeous public gardens and orange trees lining most of the squares and streets.  It has an interesting history - occupied by Roman, Moorish, French, Spanish (and possibly a few others? – my history is still somewhat limited), some fascinating tourist attractions, nice people, and a FANTASTIC food culture (what more could you want?!!)

I also thought that I could adopt a siesta pattern – up early to enjoy the cool mornings, sleep in the heat of the day (preferably in a room with good air-con… the hostel had AC in the rooms, but it wasn’t especially effective), and then dinner out on the streets until late!

I’d say, that the only two issues I had with Sevilla were (1) it was WAY too hot in the middle of the day, and (2) I don’t speak Spanish… and a lot of people don’t speak English.

Night 1: A real Tapas experience… (Tues 28^th June)

Ruben was on reception at the hostel when I checked in to the Traveller’s Inn.  I arrived into town around 8pm, and it was so hot!  By the time I’d found the hostel, checked in, and showered it was nearly 10pm.  I was confident that there would be someone still serving dinner, since Mediterranean Europe typically seems to eat late-ish: I was so naïve! Sevillanos don’t just eat late-ish; no-one even starts to consider dinner until after 9:30pm, and the restaurants are typically quite empty until 10.

(Ruben did assure me later that it was ‘ok’ to start at 9pm… but any earlier than that would be quite odd!)

Ruben recommended a tapas bar close-by.  He told me I might need to wait – just ask to put my name on the list, get a drink, and I should be seated in 15-20min.  I was a little unsure about whether going to a tapas restaurant was ok for one-person (since in Australia tapas is something you need to do with friends in order to try a range of things), but he said it was ok to just order a couple of dishes. So… off I went.

When I arrived, I saw the blackboard outside with the waiting list, and gave my name.

(Incidentally, in Europe I am “Laow-ra” not “Law-ra”; the latter would be spelt LORA… Laura is actually a great name for travelling in Europe, as it is relatively common in Italy, Portugal and Spain… Thanks Mum and Dad!) 

My name was probably 10-15 places down the list (which at 10:30 at night surprised me, but I decided I was committed at this point).  I started to engage in conversation with a mother and son standing next to me (who were obviously speaking English).   I admit here to some ulterior motive: I was vaguely hoping that if I were charming enough they might invite me to join them – thus providing me with dinner companionship and a chance to try more things on the menu (and skip the waiting list a little!).  Unfortunately, they were shortly seated (they’d been waiting 45minutes), and actually they were a party of 4 – the others having been waiting elsewhere. 

I didn’t have to wait much longer, however, before another girl walked up –clearly on her own.  So, I smiled and said ‘hello’, and we started a conversation… she was Colombian, currently living in Germany (working as an Au Pair) and visiting Spain for a few days.  We agreed to eat together, and she asked the waiter to add +1 to my name (the fact that I now had a Spanish-speaking companion was to prove very useful).  We talked for a while (travels, work, general stuff), and then my new companion (we hadn’t yet introduced ourselves by name!) said that the waiter had just told someone they would be closing at midnight… it was now nearly 11:30!  My name was still about 4-places down the list, and I wondered whether we’d actually get to eat…

At this point, we noticed another couple, who were clearly next on the list, but were  being directed by the waiter – and it appeared that they didn’t understand (so not Spaniards then…)  So, taking boldness to new levels (for me) I approached them, ascertained they did speak English, and asked if we could join them for dinner… I think they were a bit taken back: who were these rude people trying to crash their date? (They did explain that they were newly in love, and tended to be a bit ‘touchy ’!)  So, of course we apologised, and said “no-no don’t worry”… but as they were being seated the girl motioned for us to join them.  From then on, we all agreed that it was a bizarre, but memorable experience!  The couple were Dutch (Rene and – a Dutch girl’s name I can’t remember!), my Colombian friend was Alejandra (It's such a beautiful name, but I can’t stop singing the Lady Gaga song – although that’s the boy’s version: Alejandro - after meeting her!). 

We ordered a huge spread of tapas – the Dutch couple had actually been to this restaurant twice already, and were working their way through the menu!  Between us, we ended up with 9 plates of food – all pretty generous in size – so masses of quantity and selection.  It was all pretty good – although I thought the experience was more memorable than the food (the BBQ tuna and the Pavía de Merluza – battered hake fillets – were especially good).

And…  the total cost was €8.00 each (including one drink each) – amazing value compared to what I’d pay in Australia for that kind of meal!

If anyone is heading for Seville, this place is worth checking out: Coloniales, Plaza Cristo de Burgos, 19

http://www.tabernacoloniales.es/loscoloniales/tabernacoloniales.html

Day 2: Tapas for lunch…

On my second full day in town, I thought I’d opt for a tapas lunch local-style (standing at the bar) at one of the many tapas restaurants near the Alcazar and Cathedral (probably a bit touristy, but Alfonso; our walking tour guide had recommended one).

Standing at the bar, the scene around me was fairly crowded and hectic.  I couldn’t read the menu on the wall, but I could also see some options (fresh salads) under the glass cabinet on the bar counter.  As I stood wondering what to order I realised that the guy next to me was speaking English… so, I asked him what he was having! 

Dave (from Lebanon, living in Canada), is a keen foodie, and had been given a list of tapas dishes to try – one of which was evidently snails!  The only time I’ve ever tried snails previously was for Wendy’s birthday a few years ago (where I ate snails in garlic butter – and thought they tasted like… garlic butter!!)  These were tiny, and still in their shells, they were also very cute (you could see their little eyes sitting atop their stalks) – this didn’t stop me trying them though.  Verdict?:  Actually, I’m not sure – they didn’t really have a lot of flavour, and while not objectionable, were also not exciting. 

I had very nice lunch, trying a whole range of tapas dishes – eventually I just pointed at one of the salads, and asked the waiter behind the bar for recommendations for some other options - and chatting with Dave.  This is definitely what I like about the tapas culture: it’s a really social way to eat.

Night 3 in town (yes, more Tapas)…

Ruben was back on the reception desk on Thursday night (he’d evidently had a day off on Wednesday).  So I asked for another dining recommendation…  This time, he directed me a little further afield – and, advising that he didn’t think they had an English menu, also equipped me with a list of possible dishes to order!

This time, I didn’t have to wait for a table – but inside was full, so I stood outside at a small ‘bar table’.  It was very pleasant, the temperature had dropped, and a bit of breeze picked up – at one point there were some specks of rain in the air, and myself and the rest of the crowd outside started looking skywards… but it didn’t come to anything (in fact, a little later on, I looked up and realised that the sky had cleared completely, and while it was now dark, the sky had taken on a ‘perfect’ midnight-blue colour).

This time, I didn’t find myself a dining companion – but it was interesting to people watch: several of the other tables outside were packed with people who looked like they were meeting for drinks and small bites post-work (at 9:30pm-ish this is), but there was also a couple with a young baby, and a pair of women sitting down to eat.  The waitress spoke only a little English, but she was really lovely – and my list of recommendations from Ruben worked well (plus the waitress suggested another dish that was a specialty – or a special… or something like that).

The food at this place was a real highlight – although I didn’t have company it was TOTALLY worth going there, and between crowd watching, writing in my diary, and salivating over the food it was superb!

 I ate olives and altramuces (which is apparently lupin! – Very tasty – a bit like the Spanish equivalent of edamame beans), Pimientos stuffed with hake, Pork in a blue cheese source, and (the special) Quail egg on top of mushroom soufflé with caramelised wine sauce.  It was all beautifully presented, and really really yummy.

This place – Eslava bar – appears on a food blog, and is described as a ‘hidden gem’

http://azahar-sevilla.com/sevilletapas/category/eslava/

I did do some sights & history too!!

·         Although Sevilla was stinking hot in the middle of the day, I discovered that it was beautiful early in the morning – so part of my exploration of the city was in the form of a couple of runs around the streets, parks, and along the river.  Admittedly, this type of running isn’t always the best exercise (it’s necessary to stop frequently in order to fully appreciate the sights!)  The first morning I ‘discovered’ the Parque De Maria Luisa, next to the Plaza de Espana – it was amazing: beautiful tree-lined avenues, and ornate tiled fountains and pools around every bend!  As I ran around the streets I couldn’t believe what an amazing city it is: I kept seeing fantastic architecture, and thinking “oooh, this must be one of the main sights” – and then realising that it wasn’t anything particularly important, just an ‘ordinary’ building!  The next day, I ran along the river – a section is currently undergoing some construction works, so for that I needed to use the footpath next to the road, but the remainder runs for miles and is really pleasant down at river-level, away from the road (and well used by other morning walkers, joggers, cyclists).

·         I did a walking tour, and learned a little of the history of the city – essentially it’s been under the control of lots of different empires, and retains a little of all of them in its modern-day appearance… Alfonso (our guide) likened the Sevilla culture to tapas (A little of this, a little of that – tastes of everything!)  I also learned that football allegiances are as passionately held as with AFL in Victoria (there are two city teams – the Reds: Sevilla and the Greens: Betis).

·         The city streets and plazas are lined with orange trees;  these provide shade year-round  and act as avenues for people to get from ‘A to B’ without stepping out into the sun (it’s significantly cooler in the shade).  In my opinion, this shows fantastic initiative from whomever instigated these plantings (a few other cities – like Lisboa for instance – could learn a thing or two!)  The trees produce a bitter fruit (which is apparently no good for eating, but is sent to the UK to be made into marmalade), but the blossoms are highly perfumed, and it is for this short flowering period that they are selected.  Alfonso told us that apart from the 3-week flowering period, the women of Seville keep the memory of the scent alive through their use of orange-blossom water as a perfume (so poetic!)  At dinner that night, I realised that the trays of white objects that were being offered by itinerant sellers were orange blossoms: and they really did smell amazing in the night air.

·         I visited the Real Alcázar (Royal Palace) – still the official residence of the King and Queen of Spain when they visit Sevilla (although I’m hoping that the areas they inhabit are finished in a slightly more modern manner than what I viewed – it looked a little museum-like, and not all that comfortable!)  Initially, I was slightly underwhelmed; thinking that the Topkapi Palace in Istanbul was far more ornately decorated.  However, some of the inner rooms are really very spectacular: Moorish archways, tiles along the walls, spectacular ceilings and elaborate plaster carving above the arches.  What I liked most however, was the way all the rooms opened onto tranquil courtyards with ponds, fountains and plantings.  The garden behind the palace was something else again… large ponds, extravagant fountains, palm trees and even a labyrinth! (Unfortunately, the palms didn’t provide much shade down at ground level – but some of the other sections of garden had more foliage, and would probably have been pleasant even in the hottest parts of the day.

·         The same day that I visited the palace I also went to visit the Cathedral – the 3^rd largest church in the world (behind St Peter’s and St Paul’s) and the largest gothic cathedral… interestingly, I’ve just checked my diary, and found that it didn’t even rate a mention (I got carried away recording the fabulous food experiences from that day!)  Despite having seen a fair number of churches, it was still quite impressive – the OTT-ness of the gothic style was really quite fabulous (the main alter piece is a towering gold creation containing multiple alcoves and statues, and took something like 80 years to complete)!  The Giralda belltower is actually the minaret from the mosque that was originally built on the same site (with some additions), and the cloister contains a courtyard of orange trees. Plus, it contains the remains of Christopher Columbus (with an impressive tomb) – which I thought was really amazing.

·         The other highlight for me was the Plaza de Espana.  I saw it on my run on the first morning I was there, but had to return with a camera that afternoon. The second viewing of it was even more amazing than the first: I felt like I was in serious ‘sensory overload’ – and I feel that it is a strong rival to Istanbul and Topkapi Palace as the most beautiful architecture I have ever seen.  The design incorporates canals, bridges, extensive tiling, towers and elegant archways.   What I thought was especially amazing was that it’s not actually that old: it was built in 1929 for the Latin American exhibition – but it’s much more beautiful that most ‘modern’ architecture!

A (further) comment on food…

I am sure that no-one will be surprised to know that food has definitely been a central focus of my travels, and while this is not supposed to be a food-blog, food was definitely the highlight of my last couple of days in Sevilla.

On breakfast…

·         Hostel breakfasts have become somewhat of an obsession:  they are typically CRAP!  The European habit of either not eating breakfast (I was told by Greek woman that she starts the day with a coffee and a cigarette!), or starting the day with a pastry or (at best) bread & jam, seems to translate into pretty sparse offerings.  The typical spread in this part of the world is white bread, jam, and instant coffee.  This is often supplemented with other gastronomic delights like pre-packed croissants (they really are awful – like sweet, very soft bread rolls), nutella, and (if I’m really lucky) cornflakes or chocolate cereal.  None of this suits my New Zealand – Australian mentality of “breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and should be nutritionally sound”, so I’ve taken to buying my own yoghurt and muesli. 

·         In Sevilla, I went to a café near the bus station for a cup of coffee at the bar, and watched what the locals were eating.  The standard order seemed to be a café con leche (hot milk, but not frothed like a latte), and a half-roll of white bread, toasted (it looked like nice bread) with a slice of jamon, or sometimes just olive oil or margarine.

·         (The inverse of this was staying at bed & breakfasts in Ireland, and being offered the full ‘fry’ each morning… entrée of muesli/yoghurt/fruit/toast and jam, followed by eggs, fried tomatoes, bacon, sausages, black pudding, white pudding!!!  (After a few days of this, Bernie and I decided we had to tell our hosts that the muesli, yoghurt, fruit and toast was more than sufficient for our waist-lines!)

                                       

On food in general…

·         Food has become a way to connect with new people I’ve met… I can quickly determine how well I ‘click’ with someone, based on the speed and enthusiasm with which the conversation inevitably turns to food; what we’ve tried, what we should try, and how to find the best places.

·         I have eaten new things (some fantastic, others average).  Sometimes the highlight is in the flavours of the food, other times in the experience (shared with others, or the kindness of the restaurant staff).

·         I’m keeping a record of the hostels I have stayed in throughout my travels, and the places are scoring extra ‘points’ (I’m not literally scoring, just keeping notes), if the reception staff are able to provide recommendations on places, and foods to eat.

Leaving Portugal (28 June)

After 12 days in Portugal I was really sad to leave – it’s a beautiful country, quite varied, small enough to be able to get around fairly easily, and the people are generally really friendly (and, conveniently for the linguistically challenged amongst us… they usually speak a sufficient level of English to at least point me in the right direction!)

Highlights…

·         After two weeks at ‘home’ with Cushla and Alan in London (having the comfort of my own room, not having to ‘move-on’ each day, eating home-cooked dinners and healthy food - and generally enjoying being back into a more routine day-to-day life) I was dreading being back on the road again.  So, I was really lucky on my first night in Porto.  The hostel that I’d booked online was BEAUTIFUL: The lounge looked like someone’s home (someone with real interior design taste that is!), the bar downstairs opened open a nice courtyard, and the floorboards and interior staircase were in polished wood.  The dorms were big, with good lockers, the bathrooms were clean, and the reception staff were lovely, and helpful.  Even better, another NZ girl (Anya) arrived at the same time as I did – she was only passing through for the night, but we headed for dinner at a local restaurant, and checked out some of the main town squares – the buildings were illuminated beautifully at night.  So, all-in-all I didn’t have any time to dwell on the fact that I was ‘alone’.

·         I quite liked the town of Porto, it didn’t feel too big (apparently it has a population of 1.1 million – so clearly the suburbs spread out a long way from the ‘historical centre’!)  I described it to myself as ‘attractive, but slightly dishevelled’ - there are new-streets right around the corner from older ones, some of the older buildings are in varying states of decay, and the streets do crazy things – it’s quite steep in parts, so they tend to zig-zag up the hillside.  The closer you walk to the river, the more attractive the buildings – many are decorated on the front façade with beautifully painted tiles.  Walking along the Douro river itself was pleasant, lined with cafes and nice buildings, and the opposite side of the river (which is actually a separate city: Vila Nova de Gaia’) has all of the old port-wine cellars.  These old cellars have been converted into tourist destinations: almost all of them offer ‘tours’ (very basic information about the production of port wine) + tastings and some housed museums / displays / restaurants etc.

·         One of my Porto highlights was eating a local specialty: francesinha (Francesca is the name of my sister-in-law, so I couldn’t help but think of her every time I saw this name – resulting in a total inability to pronounce the word correctly!)  This dish is basically a white-bread sandwich, containing multiple types of meat (I think I had 2-types of sausages, steak, ham and salami – it was hard to identify them all), the sandwich is then topped with a slice of cheese (ON the top of the bread – not inside).   The sandwich is then flooded in a spicy tomato-cream sauce, with chips on the side (also doused in sauce).  The result is soggy chips, soggy bread, melted cheese and meat in a soup of sauce!  It sounds terrible… it looks terrible… and the taste?  The sauce was actually nice, and accompanied the meat well… but I wasn’t sold on soggy bread or chips (and I could have done a few vegetables with my dinner!)

·         After Porto, I spent 3 nights on the quinta in central Portugal (Serra da Estrela) - under the hospitality of Cushla´s cousin (Peter) and his partner (Ute, pronounced ‘oo-ta’). It´s a very pretty area, with small towns, high mountains / hills (the highest peak is 1993m), and great weather (although somewhat too hot in the middle of the day!)  Peter and Ute were wonderful hosts – we spent one day driving around all the little villages, up to the peak, we picnic’d in a pretty reserve, went swimming in a mountain lake, and tested some of the local wine (apparently everyone makes their own wine… and some of it is pretty rough: but very cheap!).  I spent a few hours helping to weed the vegetable garden (it’s been a very long time since I’ve done any gardening work… so I probably wasn’t the fastest of workers).  The area reminded me of Victoria in many ways ; they are constantly at risk of bush fires in the hot dry summer, and therefore spend a lot of time clearly the perimeter of the land and removing undergrowth.  The Serra da Estrela Natural Park looks like some of Victoria’s alpine region – it’s a ski field in the winter, but in summer is dry, with evidence of bus fires (and grazing cows!)

·         I spent a few hours in Coimbra (en-route from Nelas-Lisboa).  Coimbra is a university town with an AMAZING library building - covered in gilded or painted wood - and, reportedly, a colony of bats, which eat any insects - thus protecting the books! (I heard a tour guide assure her group that this was completely true...)

·         I ended up spending four nights in Lisboa (Lisbon) – however I wasn’t sure that I actually liked it… Like other big European cities, it has a lot of big squares and nice buildings (although almost nothing is left from before the massive earthquake/tidal wave and fire in 1755 – which destroyed most of the city).  It didn’t seem to have as many ‘green spaces’ as some other cities, and they really hadn’t developed the river/harbour area (it was impossible to run or walk along the full stretch of coast –as there appeared to be buildings in the way).  Overall, it was ok, but I didn’t love it (I still can’t decide if I am being unfair to the city – but I guess it’s all about individual experiences).

·         It was also at this point in my trip that I started to reflect that travelling alone in the bigger, more ‘Western’ cities can be a lot harder – I got the impression that there were more ‘group’ travellers (rather than individuals), and the locals are less likely to interact with you (they don’t need to in the same way that people in the tourist business in Nepal / Turkey do), also – I was surprised that a lot of people don’t speak English.

·         Probably the highlight of Lisboa was a day-trip out to Sintra – it contains the 15^th/16^th century residence of the kings of Portugal, and numerous other fantastic estates of the rich (according to Google, Lord Byron described it as the most beautiful village in the world).  As I was on a day-tour (arranged through the hostel) I had limited time there: the village itself seemed to be a small area of narrow streets selling local products (touristy, but attractively so).  The tour was somewhat disorganised – the regular guide wasn’t available, so the hostel had pulled in a replacement (friend of the owner I think).  He was a lovely, friendly guy – and as the day progressed we managed to engage in more conversation with him (during which time he told us a story about knowing the owner as they both had Latvian wives; who they met on a website… it sounded very much like a ‘Russian-bride’ scenario… although it could have been a Lost-in-Translation situation).  Anyhow (I digress), the guide drove us to Sintra, dropped us in town, and said ‘see you in a few hours’.  As we were on a ‘tour’, none of the five of us had done any research on what to see / do there – so we had to head to the tourist office for map and information.  Based on some pictures (and the fact that some of the residences were further from town), we agreed to go to the ‘Quinta da Regaleira’ – which I mentioned in a previous blog post (gothic-style palace and gorgeous – but slightly quirky – gardens).  We also visited Monserrate Palace – a Persian pavilion-style place, with enormous Pohutukawa trees on the front lawn (not in flower though, unfortuneately).  It was fabulous, but I did later discover that the number 1 tourist attraction in Sintra is the Pena Palace a UNESCO world heritage site, and one of the seven wonders of Portugal… and we missed it!)  Regardless, what we saw was fabulous – and if I ever return (or if any of you go), I would recommend staying a night in Sintra… in order to visit multiple places.

·         From Lisboa, I travelled to Évora (central Portugal again).  Stupidly, I thought it might be cooler there – having some bizarre concept that ‘central’ might equal ‘higher’… it is NOT!!!  Évora was actually unbearably hot in the middle of the day (at least Lisboa had some sea breeze).  When I arrived in the middle of the day the first thing I did was shower – and start sweating again!  I had two other room-mates for the night: Dennis (from Holland) and John (from USA).   The three of us sat in the dorm room – with the window shutters closed (and eventually figured out how to turn on the air-con)– it was just too hot to move!  Eventually, we ventured out.  Évora is very small, and it didn’t take long to walk around.  The most fascinating thing in town is the ‘Capela dos Ossos’ (Chapel of Bones).  The walls are –literally- made of bones (apparently from the town’s people): limb bones were stacked in different orientations to form patterns, and skulls decorated the borders around archways… very weird (and bizarre that it was possible to obtain these bones… can’t see getting permission to do such a thing these days?!).  I have since Google’d the explanation of this place - “The Capela dos Ossos was built in the 16th century by a Franciscan monk who, in the Counter-Reformation spirit of that era, wanted to prod his fellow brothers into contemplation and transmit the message of life being transitory. This is clearly shown in the famous warning at the entrance Nós ossos que aqui estamos pelos vossos esperamos (“We bones, lying here bare, are awaiting yours).”  Evora was also a Roman town, and has the ruins of a Roman temple (not especially impressive relative to all the others I have seen), and a very impressive Roman aqueduct – which apparently extends for 9km.

·         The highlight in Evora, was actually a coincidence in timing: there was a huge local fair going on.  The population of the town is only about 50,000 – and a lot of the town must have been on the stalls, or enjoying the fair that night.  There were stalls for all the local services and clubs (hospital, scouts, hiking clubs, police recruitment, and many others I couldn’t determine), there were handicrafts for sales, people raising money for various charity, a huge section of clothes, shoes, handbags etc, carnival rides, and countless options for food and drink (mostly fast-food Portuguese style).  I spent a very companionable evening with Dennis, eating our way through a massive antipasti platter of olives and meat (about 4 different types of cured meats!), drinking beer and Sangria (unfortunately for John, he is a vegetarian who doesn’t drink!)   For a Sunday night, the town was definitely out enjoying itself… there were still people eating and drinking when we headed for home just before midnight.

·         My final stop in Portugal was Faro – the capital of the Algarve (Southern portion of Portugal).  It is a very small town, and not especially exciting – I saw most of it in an evening.  It was however, my last chance to try some local Portuguese food – I opted for a restaurant with one other group dining inside (they looked like a typical business dinner: which I hoped would indicate a certain quality of food).  I was not disappointed!  I order the razor-clams with rice (which someone else on my travels had told me NOT to eat, saying they’d heard they were disgusting… I like a challenge!)  Razor clams are not an attractive food – they look like small phallic objects!  But the dish was incredible: like a sloppy risotto, with an intense savoury flavour – I ate so much that I couldn’t physically manage any dessert (very disappointing).

·         Another note on food in Portugal… I tested out several ‘pastéis de nata’ – also just called ‘natas’; Portuguese egg-custard tarts.  I included a pilgrimage to the original bakery in Belém (a suburb of Lisbon) where they are served hot, sprinkled with icing sugar and cinnamon… Mmmmm!

·         I spent my final few hours in Portugal taking a boat tour out from Faro to the ‘Ihla Deserta’ through a natural marine park.  It turned out to be a bird-watching tour (not quite my thing, but parts were interesting, and the scenery was pleasant): the tidal area provides mud flats for the birds to feed on, and the area is host to a wide variety of birds.  The island itself was lovely – unlike other beaches in Portugal – which are excessively overcrowded – there were very few people.  I managed a quite dip in the water – a really pleasant temperature, and then had lunch at the restaurant overlooking the beach.  I wish I’d had more time, but I had to hop back on the ferry to catch my bus to Spain – I probably couldn’t have handled any more time in the sun anyway (there was no shade on the beach unless you purchased a palm-frond umbrella + lounger for 20 EUROS!!


And finally - a link to other photos: PORTUGAL photo album

The meaning of the word 'Quinta'

After 10 days in Portugal I am now an authority on the nuances of meaning in the word ‘quinta’!

When I first went to stay with Peter and Ute on the ‘Quinta dos Sete Potos’ (Quinta of seven wells) I asked the meaning of the word, and their translation was ‘farm’, which was appropriate for the piece of land that they own – a 5 hectare block of vegetable and herb gardens (for both culinary and medicinal / cosmetic use) and fruit trees from which they are able to achieve a semi-self sufficient supply in the summer.  Peter has a small tree ‘nursery’, and is introducing the Portuguese to the delights of feijoas (maybe someone needs to enlighten the Aussies in a similar manner?), and Ute produces a range of herbal products (cosmetics and rubs etc), preserves, vinegars and so on.

A few days later, I was reading an informational sign in the centre of the small town of Viseu which used the word ‘quinta’ in the Portuguese text, and translated this as ‘estate’ in the English version.  In this particular context, ‘estate’ didn’t quite fit in the grand sense that we tend to use it: (I can’t remember the exact details, but the description was about the history of a small piece of land in the town).

Moving forward another few days, and I visited the ‘Quinta da Regaleira’ in Sintra (close to Lisbon).  This could truly be described as an ‘estate’ of the grandest designs… with a gothic-style palace and gorgeous – but slightly quirky – gardens covering 4 hectares.  Included in this fantasy-land was a series of tunnels from which you could travel underground from one part of the garden to another, and even into the basement of the palace itself!  Strings of light - like Christmas decorations - lit the tunnels, and they were so cool I wished I could just stay down there... (it was stinking hot outside in the sun!)

Quinta also pops up in winery names and numerous other properties I have passed by in my Portugal tour.

My authoritative conclusion is that it is used as a generic term for a piece of real estate, or land, but is much more widely used than we use in English.

Thanks Amy!

I met Amy (from Canada), a few days ago in Lisboa (Portugal).  Amy was holidaying with Denise (from UK) and Christina (from Denmark) – the three of them met on a tour group (in New Zealand) six months ago: the inter-nationality of travel!  Fortunately for me, they all had very fond memories of their Kiwi stay, and welcomed me to ‘crash their reunion party’ for a few hours one evening.

Amy had been ‘on the road’ for 8 months, and has been diligently posting on her blog site every few days.  She urged me to pick-up mine again; saying that she now looks back at her one, and is really pleased that she stuck with it.  So… I am going to make another attempt.

I’ve now been away for a little over 3 months, and I’m not going to revisit all of the missing history, so you’ll all just have to bear with me!

(Incidentally, Denise had also visited Australia during her travels at the start of the year.  When I enquired where she had been she said: “just the two main cities… Sydney and Brisbane”- I have never heard of Melbourne being omitted in quite this way, and I did set her straight!!