Meknes to Fes - day 1

Once capital, now a bustling and busy dual city with nothing else to prove, Fes stands alone as the medina captial of the world. After getting our feet wet in Meknes, we knew what to expect in the medinas of Fes. Oh, how wrong we were.

We took the early train to Fes after visiting Volubilis and the 5th holy Islamic city of Moulay Idriss. The white washed town covers a hill, flanked between two mountains. The central mosque has a tomb of the grandson of the prophet Mohammed. Quite the hike but the view was mesmerizing. 

 ruins of Volubilis

Moulay Idriss from up top.

We made more friends on the train, who knew people, who then knew people that could help us upon arrival. Nope, not falling for that one again. Luckily, We had plans to stay with a family in the medina, and they came to pick us up in the train station.

Our host family was very kind and their house was equally beautiful.  The house was smilar to the riad we stayed at in Meknes, but this was more homey and not as touristy. The little kids were running around, eager to take a peak at the new guest while the smell of fresh tajin filled the house. Mint tea was served, making it official,  we were in Fes. The house was on the outskirts of the medina, so we tried to handle it on our own. We quickly learned where the major traffic patterns of people lead to and figured ot out. On one section you could find piles of freshly made sweets then turn the corner to find people hammering away at brass pots. Butchers with a whole cow right in front of you to chopped up shark next door, this place had it all. It was a little much to take in all at once, but getting lost was part of thr fun. 

medina wandering

tea time in medina.

after all of our senses were at their limits, we stoped for tea and watched the people go on with their lives. The sun was setting over the medina as our tummies began to yell at us. We wandered to a square near us to find some street food as the smell of charred meat infiltrated our noses. I pointed to what one person was eating and gestured,  1 please. Merci. Shokran. This process repeated several times till the grumble and rumble stopped. Cactus fruits, escargot and even cotton candy. Satisfied, we found our way back to outlr family house.  Our short stint in the medinas only had us warmed up for the next 24 hours.  

My good friend Sarah was coming in from Chicago, and neither she or any of us has any means of communication. I will save her story and day 2 and 3 in Fes for anothrt post.  Its late in Ouarzazatte and i need some sleep. 

It all started with a guitar

A guitar is all it took to set us on an intense, terrifying and most humbling travel experience I have been through.

We left the Fes medina mid-day to roam and explore the nouville, French for the new city part of Fes. Our bus was not departing till 9 at night so we had time to chill out in the city center. While the others went to re-up on some supplies, I stayed to watch the bags. A few kids came on bikes and I filmed them with my gopro. We quickly made friends despite the language barrier. They were eager to share their tricks for the camera as long as I post it in facebook. I gave them some graffiti stickers and shared facebook information.

my new friends.

A few mint teas, coffees and getting lost, we found ourselves at the CTM bus station.. There was a German trio playing a guitar, where Thanecha immediately took to join. New friends were instantly made by the love for music, but we never knew how good of friends they would soon become. We had a nine hour, overnight bus ride to Rissani, a stop over to Merzouga, where the Sahara meets Morocco. 

After a long, sleepless and sometimes painful 9 hours, we arrived in Rissani, at 6am, before the sun broke the horizon. A man named Mohammed approached us and asked if we wanted some food and drink at his cafe, which he claimed was open, warm and just down the street. It sounded good to us as the Germans joined us. Immediately, this man gave some negative vibes, one of those gut feelings you get when you know something is not right.

His cafe, Panorama Cafe, was not open and took 10 minutes for someone to unlock it. I called him out on it, and he was quick to be on defense. "Why would I lie to you, my friend?" I dismissed him as we entered with the Germans. 

One of the German girl's boyfriend was coming from Merzouga to come get them, so they hung out with us until then. Mohammed's odd demeanor continued, as he pushed his style of hospitality on me - which is pretty typical. I repeatedly said I had an excursion booked and I did not need his assistance in getting to Merzouga. All I or anyone of my group was interested was some tea and coffee. He persisted and was desperate, showing me pictures and videos of his resort and 4x4. We continue to deny his services. He exclaimed that the boyfriend coming to pick them up was total BS because it took jobs away. He mumbled on in Arabic as we figured him out. He knew we figured him out and called his friends to come to his rescue.

He offered all sorts of BS answers to our questions, and would shout Africa! or USA USA! AMERICA!!! when he didnt know what to say. He eventually brought out tea for all of us. My friend Ryan said, I am not drinking anything this man gives us. Apparently Mohammed touched a member of our group inappropriately up on the roof terrace moments before.  When the tea came out, he switched Thanechas cup with another. It was deliberate and we saw it. Something is going on and not in a good way. His desperation continues as we fight off his advances.

Finally having enough, we all left to wait with the Germans outside, as their ride was near by. We walked down the road back towards the bus stop, where he gets in his 4x4 chases us, threatening to call the police if we catch a ride with the Germans. We had no intentions to catch a ride with them, it was just an alibi. Just then, a big blue caravan appears around the corner, to the jumping Germans delight and Mohammed's despair. By now he was yelling at us to take his offer, yet we continue to thank him and refuse while walking away. He calls his friend to come help him not let this caravan get away by boxing it in, one car in the front and Mohammed in the back. We attempted to block his efforts to block the caravan by standing in front of his car, almost running over Ryan and Thanecha in the process. He was literally pressing the gas with two people in front of him. He threatened to call the police on us and the Germans if we got in. Tempers were high as shouting matches began as the sun crept into the middle part of town. What the fuck is going on?

The Germans get in and drove off leaving us trying to find a taxi, which is conveniently found in front of his cafe. There is no way that was going to happen. We continue to walk in the opposite direction, repeatedly getting out of his car, claiming he is sorry and asks for forgiveness. By now, everyone in our group is just as hostile, all shouting at him to just leave us alone. We tried remained calm, thanked him and explained that there was no way we would be accepting any services from him. We walked down another street as far away as possible, cooling our tempers in the process. Did we just screw ourselves? He is probably in cahoots with every cab here, how are we getting to Merzouga?

About a kilometer down the road, around the bend and out of sight of his cafe,  the blue caravan appears. The Germans! They circled back around town unbeknownst to everyone in town, including ourselves. They quickly turned the caravan around and tell us to get in, and make it quick!

We frantically pile in, lay on the floor in a small space, and drove away. These people were searching for us and came to our rescue. I can't thank them enough. 

piled in the caravan after our encounter.

Our Blue Savior

We escaped to Merzouga and was greeted with massive sand dunes as soon as we stepped out from the big blue steed. We met our guide Hassan, and we knew we were in good hands. We told him our story and he knew exactly who we were talking about. Hassan told us how Mohammed has a bad rep and had to rescue people from his resort, 14 km outside of town.

So, if you find yourself in Rissani, and a round man named Mohammed from Panorama Cafe asks you if you need help. Tell him to (pardon my French) fuck off. Fuck that dude and his shitty cafe. 

Dunes of the Sahara

Now it's time to go spend 2 nights in the desert! Au revoir! Merry Christmas

Meknes

Meknes, capital of the Berbers and forgotten fourth Imperial city of Morocco. Often overshadowed by its near-by big brother Fes, Meknes has more to offer than people seem to realize. It's small town charm but medium city vibe will leave you wanting more. We arrived by train around noon, to bright blue clear skies and crisp cool inland air. We met man on the train, Abdullah, who spoke good English and called his friend to meet us at the station to show us around. 

Our new friend Ali, met us at the station and recommended a riad for us. Skeptical of the price,  we decided to check it out anyway. A riad is a Moroccan version of an American B&B, except they are drop dead gorgeous and serve my beloved mint tea. We struck a deal and decided to stay. It was gorgeous. Open patios inside on the second floor gave a perfect view of the downstairs living room, filled with colorful couches, mosaics, rugs and plants After we settled in and our guide came to show us around the endless maze of the old medieval city, the medina.

exploring the medina of Meknes

Exploring was just what I imagined and had been waiting for. I was very surprised at the amour of hand work goes on here. Everything is hand made, everything, and with mighty fine craftsmanship. The market smell of fresh vegetables, livestock and salted fish was thick in the air at times, with all sorts of spiced aromas dancing around us. The chaotic hustle and bustle of the carpenters transporting their works on their shoulders, or dragging behind on a motor bike, narrowly hitting anyone off to the side of the road, excited us all. There was so much going on, and we were all eager to find out what the medina had to offer us. The narrow streets left many options for some fantastic photos. Over 4000 streets to get lost in, making the Meknes Medina the second largest in Morocco, we hit the ground running. We would have instantly gotten lost if it were not for our guide.

Of course, our tour guide helps out fellow locals, and we got sucked in to a timeshare presentation about Moroccan carpets, at least that's what it felt like. These sales men are relentless, pulling out 50+ rugs that I could not afford, nor had any interest in purchasing, all in effort to make you buy something you never really wanted to. Yet, they keep on with a smile on their face and appreciate you stopping by, even if it was just to talk story. The Berbers are very friendly people and better sales men.  If no purchase was made, they were stoked to have you there to talk, and get publicity for their shop.

We were getting hangry (anger caused by being hungry) by then, but our tour guide had other plans. They took us to a spice shop for the same routine. No purchases there, all we wanted was food. We continued on. 

We finally sat for dinner and had a wonderful spread. The tajine of chicken and figs was one of the tastiest meals i have ever eaten. Yes, yes. Yes, and yes, tajine fig and chicken all day. Add mint tea. Done. Probably paid for more than it should, but you guessed it, the tour guides brought there.

rugs and rugs and rugs

Meknes is a beautiful place and is worth visiting. Spend a couple of days there, as I wish we could have. This should be a good warm up for Fes tomorrow. 

Casablanca: First Impressions

Chaos. If I were to describe Casablanca in one word, it would be chaos. We landed in Casablanca on a cool, foggy December morning. The smells of a small town market greeted us while walking through the baggage claim where mountains of baggage wrapped in plastic were piled off to the side. That is the instant that I realized, we are in a completely new country. Immediately stepping out of the terminal, we were bombarded with taxi offers. Like a noob, we got in the first car, a dilapidated Mercedes with a man claiming to know where our hostel was with little thought. He drove us down the road to another taxi, and switched cars. Seems legit (/s), right?

Our driver was breathing heavily and refused to follow any traffic rules, then again, neither does anyone here. I reached for my seat belt, but the driver looked confused. I would later read that it is an insult to his driving skills if I put it on. The buckle didn't even work anyway. I love it. Two lanes marked meant four lanes of  busy, honking, traffic in any direction. Cars zooming in and out with pedestrians filling the gaps. It worked some how. This was not the Casablanca I imagined, but something about all the chaos was comforting. We reached our hotel, Hotel Astrid, in downtown Casablanca, just in time for a nap, catching up on the lost hours from the plane.

view from hostel. Quite honestly, I think its lovely

We met our friends Ryan and Thanecha and went to go explore up the road on the way to a super market. We stopped on the way back, and made some friends at a corner store, and proceeded to eat the best couscous. Ever. 

Proper couscous served with some sort of of sour milk. Serious nomz.

Trendy. This is the second word to describe Casablanca after you get past the initial chaos and shock of a foreign city. The locals dress incredibly nice. Fresh hair cuts, fashionable coats, and scarves to go to the moon and back. Fashion store and fashion store, the streets are lined with the incredible deals that they offer to locals and tourist alike. The locals also love the sight of a camera. They are eager to pose for any picture you are taking. Casablancans are incredibly nice people, each with a smile to win you over with little effort.

Eating snails (escargot) on the side of the street. The nomz continue. 

Charming. The third and final word about this place. What started out as chaos, ends with charm. This city is great so far. The people. The architecture. The food. And the tea. Oh god, the mint tea. I can do that every day for the rest of my life. Having a glass of mint tea, in Africa, will never get old. I cant wait to come back here in a week and spend a couple of days here. 

mint tea. All day, every day.

Next stop, Meknes.

Off to Morocco and airport etiquette

Bags packed, tickets printed, passport stamped, let's go to Morocco. The excitement of traveling never ceases to diminish every time I take my first steps in an airport. It reminds me of my childhood, being glued to the window, watching planes take off, wondering where each one is going or coming from. That sense of wonder and excitement has never faded, and keeps me going on all of my trips.

I have 30 mins to write this (Madrid has 30 minutes of free WiFi), so it will be short. I am currently in Madrid, after 8 long and painful hours on the plane. The plane itself was nice, a brand new A333, but the padding for the butt area, was not. Add a few screaming kids, and you got yourself a fun ride. 

The day started in St. Pete, Florida. I got little to no sleep at all, finishing up work projects and packing kept me up till 2am. The excitement and nerves never subsided and woke me up at 430am. Realizing that was all the rest I would get, it was time to get started.  I haven't been this nervous in a while. Nervous about the unknown, flying across the ocean to a continent I have only read and seen pictures about. Nervous about not planning everything out, but I wanted it that way. After triple checking my bags, and double checking them again after that, we headed to the airport.

It never ceases to amaze me how all common sense flies out the window when most people set foot in an airport. Their sense of self-entitlement increases, as if everyone in the airport, the airport itself and the airlines own them something (other than the services that was paid for). A lady seemed appalled that I cut in front of her in the security line. She managed to fill 4 bins of crap. I wasn't about to let her hold everyone up. I unloaded my pockets, slipped off my boots and went ahead. How people seem surprised at the security check always astounds me. Off to Miami for a lay over.

Nerves struck again as we took off. I'm usually asleep for most take offs, but Morocco was on my mind, and kept me awake. This is it, I am really leaving for Africa. Adventure time starts now.

We had a short layover in Miami. We had some food to kill some time and ordered my traditional Manhattan drink for international flights. Time quickly passed as we soon found ourselves at our gate. Our flight was delayed about an hour, which I found fitting for an Iberia Airlines flight. Tension was high as people were anxious to board the plane, take up all the overhead bin space and sit back down. Again, common sense is hard to find in the common folk. 

people crowding the boarding area.

Why do people insist on crowding the boarding area when they know that they are group 3 and 4 and they are only pre-boarding families with babies. They make no effort to move and push you along, knowing that others come before them in the boarding process.

I was disappointed to see that instead of a 777 that the original itinerary mentioned, an A333 pulled into the gate (777 is my favorite plane), unloaded its passengers, and was ready to return back to Madrid with eager passengers. Regardless of the plane switch, larger planes usually equate to an easier time on long hauls. I've forgotten how fun international flights can be. Big planes, with ample room to wander and stretch. Free booze. Great in-flight entertainment. The ever elusive meal that American domestic flights fail to provide. The meal was actually very tasty, complete with a small bottle of red wine, or maybe that was my food deprived body thought.

food. Word.

After the lights dimmed and appetites satisfied,  I looked out the window,  gazed at the endless amount of stars, closed my eyes, and tried to sleep. The new ninja turtles movie made sure that I fell asleep promptly.

Madrid airport. Wonderful architecture. 

The Madrid Airport has fantastic architecture. Its high ceilings, colorful post, and massive glass windows was a nice relief from the flying metal tube that I just spend the past 8 hours in.

Next stop, Casablanca.