After my wonderful two weeks in Spain I headed to Morocco for a week. This leg of my trip started poorly; my flight was delayed for four hours and so I didn't arrive in Tangier until 17.00. The good news is that I had only paid 9 euros for the flight, and because of the delay EasyJet gave us 4.50 euro food vouchers, so really I only paid 4.50 euro for a flight from Madrid to Tangier.
Sylvia and I caught the 17.30 bus from Tangier to Fez. I quickly learned that 17.30 really meant 18.30. The bus station was such a culture shock! There was men everywhere, and everyone was talking to everyone else; I have never seen such a busy place in my life. And being the blonde white girl I was stared at very intently which was also a shock. In Western culture, if you stare at someone and then they look at you, you quickly look away and pretend that you weren't staring in the first place. Not in Morocco. When I would look at people they would just stare back, smile, or think that it was an invitation and start talking to me. I was glad once the bus started to go, but even then we didn't leave the station. The bus driver was the most talk-a-tive man I have ever seen and he was constantly stopping and talking to passerbys; people also were jumping on and off the bus. And the bus picked up hitch-hikers. I discovered that hitch-hiking is a very common way to travel in Morocco!
After 7 hours and 500km we arrived in Fez, checked into our hostel and went to bed. The next day was interesting. We went to a lot of shops, met a turtle named Google, purchased a three-day desert tour, and got to see the tanneries. Fez is famous for their tanneries; they were not incredibly smelly, but still potent. This is because they use pigeon dung to help the colours stay, so next time you go to buy a beautiful leather purse just think that it is swimming in pigeon poop.
Google, with the popular mint-tea in the background
The tanneries in the forefront. In the background you can see the labrynth of Fez
Arabic is the main language in Morocco, but most of the citizens also speak French. This was a great opportunity for me to practice my French. On June 12 Sylvia and I, along with a boy from the UK Pete, met Hassani (our driver) at 7.30 and we left Fez. Hassani is a great guy. He is a Grand Taxi driver but he is very classy. He knows people everywhere we went and I could tell that he was well-liked and respected. He and I spoke French for the majority of the trip which I loved! And the trip was long; we started in Fez and drove through several cities, the Atlas mountains, the monkey forest, a huge river, several small villages and the sites where movies such as Prince of Persia and Troy were filmed. We stopped at a fruit stand on the side of the road and got to meet some children fishing in the stream who chased us with their fish. They were really cute but already at such a young age they knew to ask us for money which I found quite sad.
The Monkey Forrest
Atlas Mountains
Myself, Hassani, Pete, and Sylvia in front of the stream
At 18.00 we arrived at our destination: the desert. It was magnificent. Out of Sylvia, Pete, and myself I think that I was most smitten with the desert. I love it. Going to the desert was one of the best things I've done in my life and something that I will never forget. It was so serene and pure; there was no computers, no internet, no tv, no electronics (except for cell phones). At night the sky was so dark and the stars so bright and brilliant; I have never seen a night sky that beautiful.
Our hotel.
The men who worked at our "hotel" (it was made of mud and straw) were also incredible. Most were in their young 20s and they were so kind with a beautiful outlook on life. They took life day by day and had no worries; many were working and living in the desert and sent money home to their families. They could speak Arabic and Berber (the language of the nomad people), English, French, some Spanish, and in some cases German, Italian - almost any language. I find this incredible because many have never left Morocco, and have rarely left the desert! They were also amazing musicians who could play different drums, guitars, clappers, the flute, and sing Mama Africa. One of my favourite things was to sit and listen to them play and join in with the drumming a bit.
Mooha, our guide, leading Jimi Hendrix and me.
Our guide, Mooha, took Sylvia and myself, and three French people out by camelback. My camel's name was Jimi Hendrix, but I re-named him Jamel (the Arabic word for camel). The novelty of riding a camel wore off within the first few minutes - they are probably the most uncomfortable animal to ride. We rode the camels two hours into the desert until we were in (what felt like) the heart of the dunes. Us five tourists climbed to the top of a dune, only to realize that it was not the top and we were only half way there. We returned down and Mooha made us Berber whiskey and offered us camel chocolate. Mooha was a great guide, and very sarcastic! Berber whiskey is mint tea with a huge amount of sugar and is the traditional Moroccan drink which we had multiple times every day, and camel chocolate is camel poop which of course none of us ate.
In the middle of the dunes, two children and a woman with a baby on her back emerged. They live in the dunes all year round.
Our living quarters for the night.
Our camels surrounded by camel chocolate.
That night we all ate dinner together and played some drums under the stars and then slept in the tents that were pre-set up. The next day we were to the Black Desert on the Algerian border and met a nomad family who lived there. We helped water the donkeys, camels, goats, and fill water at the well. In the evening we ate cous-cous and I slept under the stars instead of inside the tent. Sleeping under the stars was amazing; I fell asleep with the stars staring down at me and woke up in the middle of the night and the stars were just as brilliant. I wish that every night I could see the stars like that.
Mooha helping the Berber woman fill the water jugs
In the morning Antoine and I woke up early and watched the sun-rise over the Algerian mountains. After sun-rise we rode our camels back to the hotel. Mooha let me lead the camels for a bit of the way which was great because I was very sore from riding Jamel for the last three days.
The caravan: Antione, Celine, Helene, Mooha, Sylvia, and myself (after a shower, change of clothes, and teeth bursh upon return from the desert).
I was really sad to leave the desert and all of my new friends there, but Sylvia and I had to continue on to Marrakech. We caught the bus from Riassani to Marrakech at 17.30 and arrived the next morning at 7am. All vehicles in Morocco go the speed limit because there are police with radars everywhere! This, along with stopping in all of the small cities, and picking up hitch hikers, makes the road longer than it should be.
The bus station was not as crazy as in Tangier but it was still quite busy.
Marrakech was beautiful; I liked it better than Fez. The people really tried to sell me things and push their crafts on me but I had learned from Fez how to deal with it. My French also served me well in Marrakech.
First Sunday after church with the girls, Edgar, Mike, and Aaron
Trisha, Jen, and Karyn came over and we tie-dyed!
At Mike's cottage in Muskoka...this was before the boat almost sank!
After Fethiye we went to Olympos which is known for treehouses, the beach, and Roman ruins. It was off in the middle of no where; we took a bus which dropped us off at a small station. There we waited for another bus to take us 30 minutes to Olympos. It was very peaceful and beautiful there with so much history.
Greece was beautiful; I saw one of the most magnificent sunsets by some Roman ruins. I also went swimming in the refreshing, clear salt water beaches. I had never gone on a 'beach holiday' before and therefore I didn't really understand the appeal of one. Now that I have swam in the clear water and tasted the salt I have fallen in love with oceans; the only thing that would have made this trip more complete would have been snorkeling or scuba diving, or both! I'm saving that for my return trip.
One night we went to a Greek dinner. A Greek man, his American wife, and their two children put on this dinner every week and perform traditional Greek dances and get the audience involved as well. There was bbq'd octopus and traditional Greek dancing complete with smashing of plates and yelling "Opa!" just like in the film My Big Fat Greek Wedding.
