I was in Morocco, part V

I've been back in Munich for a couple days, and it's time to finish my story about Morocco. From Fez we took a taxi to the train station, and then a train all the way back to Casablanca. It doesn't cost much to upgrade from second class on the train to first class, so we enjoyed once again sitting on the upper story of the train. And the air conditioning worked very well, so it was a comfortable ride. It hardly seemed like a 3 1/2 hour journey. Sitting across from us were two young men from England, and we had fun talking to them. Once again in Casablanca, we took a taxi to our hotel. It was a relief to be in a large hotel again, with lights that worked well and a real window, a shower that drained well, carpets that seemed clean. We knew where we wanted to go to dinner that night, we had spotted a restaurant a week earlier that looked nice. I tried (once again) to get roasted chicken, but, once again, they didn't have it. So I ended up with a breaded chicken breast. It wasn't very good, and my tummy didn't need any more trouble than it already had, but it was dinner and it filled me. We went back to our hotel and I had a nice glass of wine while Rob had a can of Casablanca Beer in the bar.
The next morning we got up leisurely, ate some breakfast, wandered, ate lunch, took a taxi to the train station, took the train to the airport. For our final train ride we didn't have enough dirhams to go first class, so we rode in second class. A little dirtier, but the seats were still comfortable. When we arrived at the airport, the first inspection happened at the entrance to the airport, before we even got to the ticket counter. After getting our tickets we had another inspection. They let us bring our bottles of water with us. Amazing. It felt really good to get on the airplane, to know that we were on our way back to Europe. At this point I don't think I'll return to Morocco any time soon. Aside from having a sick stomach almost the whole time we were there, it was difficult to deal with such a complete language barrier, the heat and humidity, the culture, dealing with people begging to be hired for taxi rides, to give us a tour, to eat in their restaurant, to buy their goods...
And so we arrived in Madrid. It was too late at night to get a flight to Munich, so we had booked an airport hotel in Madrid. Except it wasn't at the airport. It was an hour's train ride, into the middle of the city. We negotiated the trains (3 of them) and were exiting the last station when I heard Rob shouting on the stairs behind me. Then he punched a guy! It turns out the guy had his hand in Rob's pocket, trying to steal his wallet! We had been so cautious in Morocco, and nothing had happened, and then we got to Madrid, and this! We couldn't believe it. Checked into our hotel (beautiful room there), and headed out for dinner. It was "only" 10 pm, so we thought it would be no problem. But 10 pm on a Sunday night. Most places were closing. We ended up eating tapas at a cafe counter. It was good, it was fast (it gave Rob heartburn all night), and we went to bed. Woke up at 6:30 am Madrid time, which of course was 4:30 am Morocco time), got a taxi, went to airport, flew home to Munich. Ahhh...it's so good to be here!

Yes, I AM in Morocco, part IV

Fez. This is the farthest we are going. We bought our bottles of water and had a very pleasant half hour ride on the train from Meknes. Via email, our hotel host told us to beware of people posing to be tour guides, of people telling us our hotel was no good, or closed. Everywhere we have been on this trip there have been guides, wanting to show us around for money. What we've learned is that they will take us to shops owned by their relatives, pressure us to buy. It is true, too. Our hotel arranged a guide for us, which we thought would be the smart thing to do, instead of getting some random person off the street. We told him no shopping, that we wanted to see the medina, the tannery, and the handcrafts. We're glad we hired him, the medina here is huge, twisting, a labyrinth. It was wonderful to see. Parts of it date back to the 9th century. The guide said there's never been an earthquake or a fire in the medina. But as the tour went on, we hurried past stalls where tin was being hammered, where looms were zooming, clothing sewn. We did get to the tannery, finally, and our guide abandoned us for awhile, left us to the tannery guide, who explained just a little about the dyeing process for the skins, but then led us all over his shop so that we would hopefully buy a purse, a bolster for our feet, a jacket. I told the guide I was ready to go back to the hotel, my feet were tired, my stomach was growling. He said ok, but just one more stop. Rob had asked him where we could buy some saffron, so I assumed he would take us there. Instead, he took us to a carpet warehouse, where there was huge pressure to buy a carpet. What pattern do you like, tree of life or tribal? What color, do you want it woven, knotted, or berber? I can sell you this rug for so cheap, so cheap you wouldn't believe it. No? But look at this rug, 360,000 knots per inch square meter (I know, huh?) Look, here, here is how we will ship it, look at this small bag, straight from our door to yours. The rugs are an investment, look, it increases in value and in your old age, you can sell it for so much. The more you walk on it the softer it gets. And on and on. I kept saying no, no, no, I don't want a rug. Finally we left. I was done with not only Fez, but with Morocco too. It was such a frustrating experience. I was an American, I wanted to be nice, to leave them with good thoughts of Americans. I should have left as soon as I realized their intentions, to not just show us some pretty rugs, but to Make Us Buy one.
Back at the hotel, we ate dinner. Salad this time was 9 small plates of various things. Dinner was a chicken tajine with nice, simple saffron rice. Then came some pastillas, which I couldn't/wouldn't eat because of the wheat. Bed time was such a relief!
The next day was much better. We set off on our own and found some bottled water and a bank (dirhams go flying out of the pocket, the withdrawal limit is 2,000 (about $250) and everything, including hotel, is paid in cash). Then we wandered past a huge garden, part of a palace, and into the Jewish quarters, called the mellah. A couple people said, "closed, nothing to see." And really, there wasn't. But it was quieter there, away from all the bustle, and we found a nice cafe where we could sit and have some mint tea and coke. We meandered back to our hotel dar, relaxed in some chairs on the inner balcony, and then hailed a taxi for dinner. We had decided to eat in the newer part of town. I couldn't believe how many hundreds of people were outside. As soon as the sun sets, everyone goes out to do their shopping and visiting. Few Moroccans actually eat at restaurants. We were dropped off near the restaurant, but weren't quite sure where it was. Fortunately an older gentleman saw that we were lost, and he guided us there. He didn't even ask for a coin! At the restaurant we were the only people for a long time. We had great food, steak in a wine sauce, lamb, and french fries. And the best part--a whole bottle of wine. It's not easy to find places here that serve alcohol. As usual, when we left we grabbed the remainders of our bottle of water so that we could brush our teeth and have a bit to drink at night.
Now I am caught up. Today we go back to Casablanca via train, tomorrow we fly to Madrid, and monday morning we fly to Munich. I can't wait to get back home!

Why am I in Morocco?

We boarded a train bound for Meknes. It promised air conditioning. It didn't deliver. So it was a hot, stuffy 2 hour ride from Rabat to Meknes. When we arrived in Meknes we managed to hail another petit taxi. We rode from the newer part of town into the old town, another medina. Our room this time was in a dar, off of the town square. We followed the signs through the twisting paths. In the medinas, the walls and doors are very old looking. We were told by our guide in Fez that the people who live behind the walls save the "wow" for the inside, and keep the outside of their places very plain, so as not to make anyone jealous.
When we got inside, we were invited to sit down for tea on a comfortable sofa. Our hostess spoke English fairly well. She told us that the weather here has been unusually hot for October. It's not typical for it to still be in the 80's and hotter this month. They worried a few years ago about a drought, worried that their whole town would disappear and be taken over by Moroccan desert. I am not sure which world I would rather be in: here, where it's still too hot to be comfortable in the sun, or in Munich, where it is snowing and the highs have been in the 30's.
We were given a tour of the dar, which had 17 or so rooms for guests. Most of the places where we have stayed have been built on a square, with all the rooms opening to the middle. This place was no exception. In the lobby there was a fountain against one wall, and rooms opening off the other walls. We were shown upstairs to our room, and then continued up to the third story, and the roof. There were comfortable places to sit on the roof, small tables and chairs, and plants in containers.
We ventured out to find some food. We walked into a cafe where there was a tall glass fronted refrigerator. In most places in the States and in Europe, you help yourself to things inside these fridges and then take them to the counter to pay. Not so here. I had grabbed someone's pepsi and tried to pay for it. The men sitting in the cafe were all staring at me and snickering. I wanted to melt into the floor! I quickly put the pepsi back and we left.
Almost all of the restaurants we have eaten at have consisted of tables and chairs outside on the walkway. We chose one that promised roasted chicken for me, and a tajine for Rob. And we actually did get what we asked for. Woot! The downside though was the cats. There are cats everywhere here. When we first got here I thought the cats were cute, charming. At dinner they became pests. There must have been 10 of them, some of them persistently putting their paws on us, some hard to shoo away even with our feet. (We didn't kick them, just shooed them, I promise!) Interestingly, I ended up with 5 insect bites that night. Fleas, I think. At least we haven't encountered any bedbugs on this trip!
We took another spin through another medina. They are always crowded places, with people and animals vying for the walkway. Donkeys are the common way to transport things into the medinas. Motorcycles and mopeds go roaring through too. Pedestrians don't have the right of way here. There are few traffic lights in the cities, and no signals to indicate that the crosswalk is safe to pedestrians. Watch out for taxis and tour buses! Taxis outnumber personal cars, probably three to one.
The thing to see in Meknes wasn't really in Meknes, it was in a city called Volubilis. It's a Roman ruins. Dry, dusty, rocky, hot. So we hired a grand taxi to drive us there and back. When we arrived, guides offered to lead us, hawkers offered to sell us hats and water, pottery and postcards. We took lots of great photos, saw lots of old mosaic floors that had been unearthed and roped off, lots of falling apart pillars and walls. After we had walked forever (Rob with his Morocco book in one hand, camera in the other) we went back to our taxi, found our driver, and went to another city called Moulay Idriss. It was named after the guy who, in the 9th century, brought Islam to Morocco. It consists of many whitewashed houses, perched on the side of a hill. We walked through the souq (marketplace) and then found our driver again, and were transported back to our square in Meknes. I tried to order roasted chicken for lunch, instead got a chicken sandwich, so swapped with Rob and ate his chicken brouchettes instead. And shooed at more cats. And apparently got sick from the chicken. We've both visited the toilette more times than we'd like.
Late in the afternoon we walked down to a masoleum but didn't go in. Then we walked down one hill and up another to eat at a restaurant that sounded really good in our Lonely Planet book, but wasn't open. So we hired a taxi and went back to our square. We opted to eat in our riad. We both ordered a chicken tajine. I was surprised at all the courses. First they brought out dishes of olives. Then a basket of bread. Then mint tea. Then soup. Then "salad" which wasn't the lettuce salad that we think of when we think salad. It was three dishes, one of lentils, one of red and green peppers, and one of something squishy. I think it was squash. And finally, our tajines. The chicken and rice was really good. We accidentally left before dessert.
Anyhow. The next day we left for Fez.

I am (still) in Morocco, part III

The train trip to Rabat took about an hour. We sat upstairs and could see the countryside as we chugged past. Air conditioning was advertised but not very vigorous. I felt sad seeing all the poverty along the tracks, people living in hovels with tin roofs, tires perched precariously to hold the roofs down. In Rabat (the name of the train station was Rabatville) (I immediately pictured rabbits) we were met by another taxi. He held the name of our hotel on a sign. Before we even got going, we had trouble. The other taxis (the petite taxis) were angry at him. They parked him in, and wouldn't let him out. Shouting and much hand gesturing occurred. Finally, they relented and let him back out. Unfortunately, he made a wrong turn and had to go right back through the same area. Thankfully, the drivers just glared at him but let him through.
When the taxi reached the kasbah where we were staying, a policeman whistled at him and made him pull over. They bickered for awhile, and then our driver was allowed to proceed. There WAS a sign that indicated we were approaching a one way road from the wrong way. Regardless, we went in. The road here was just wide enough for a single vehicle and a pedestrian (if the pedestrian squeezed up against the wall). We could have reached out our windows and touched the whitewashed walls. There were sales stands along both sides of the street selling water, fruit, postcards, etc. When we had driven a couple hundred meters we met a vehicle coming from the other direction, so our driver had to back up to a wider space. Forward again. Met another vehicle. The driver of that one didn't like that we were blocking the way, and I was afraid of another angry encounter. Both drivers got out of their cars and started yelling. Lucky for us, our driver opened the trunk and let us get our luggage out. Someone grabbed my suitcase, and started loping down the road with it. I had to yell at him to stop several times so we could catch up. He brought us to our door, a large blue door in the midst of all the white walls, and Rob handed him a couple dirhams. For the next 2 nights we were staying here. It was a riad. That means that besides having many rooms, there was also a garden area. There were several terraces and vines hanging overhead and clinging to the whitewashed walls. Long sitting areas covered with cushions and pillows lined several walls. We could hear birds, see the ocean (the Atlantic!) and finally relax. While I unwound in our room Rob went out to the gardens and had a cup of mint tea with our host. We spent an afternoon wandering around the Kasbah des Oudaias. We enjoyed the Andalusian garden, strolled through a museum, and ate some cookies at a cafe. We also walked around in the medina twice. We felt totally lost in it the first night, and spent at least an hour searching for food. When we found a restaurant, I was happy to see that there was roasted chicken offered. But...the waiter told us there was no chicken available. So we got brouchettes instead. They were chicken. I know, it didn't make sense to me either. (Brouchettes are like shish kebab.)
When we wandered into the medina again the next day we enjoyed all the different stalls. They were selling silk fabrics, leather sandals, fresh foods (ok, that was stinky because there was a lot of fresh fish), pottery, eggs by the dozen, junky plastic trinkets, etc. The hawkers were not as annoying as we thought they would be. There wasn't a lot of pressure to buy. And I think the only thing we bought was a couple postcards. Next stop: Meknes.

I am in Morocco, part II

On Sunday morning we woke up in Casablanca. Rob went downstairs for breakfast, and I used the hot water maker so I could drink the first packet of hot chocolate, and eat the first packet of oatmeal that I brought with me. It's a good thing that I brought my own (one set for every day) because breakfasts here consist of bread, bread, and more bread. In different shapes and sizes, but still all bread. And some olives here and there. There IS fresh squeezed orange juice, and it is delicious. Then we set out to find the train station, which was supposedly just across the street. We couldn't find it on our first try, so we went back to the hotel and asked for directions. It really was just across the street, but down a bit. We bought our train tickets for later in the afternoon, and then went back to our room, rested, checked out, checked our luggage, and flagged a taxi. Rob wanted to see Hussan's mosque. It was huge. We didn't get there until 2, when an English speaking tour was to happen. But we were in line to buy entrance tickets, so we missed the first part of the tour. Things happen in their own time here. No matter. When we into the mosque, we were given bags to hold our shoes. Then we walked quickly from group to group until we found a guide that was speaking English. The mosque is enormous! We went through a lot of beautiful rooms, including one filled with fountains.
We also were taken to see the women's hammam, sort of like a steam room. The guide said that women sometimes go there 2 or 3 times a week for a massage and gossip. After our tour, we set out on foot for a restaurant. We walked for probably half an hour, without finding anything but men only cafes, so we hailed our second taxi of the day (another petit one). Rob asked to be driven to a large park (he had seen it on a map, and was sure there was food there.) But the taxi driver didn't understand, because Rob's French is very limited, and neither of us speaks Arabic (go figure). After driving around for awhile we ended up in an area with several restaurants, so we got out and paid our driver. After eating, we figured out where we were with Rob's cell phone, and then walked back to our hotel, passing the large park on the way. At the hotel we rested in the lobby for awhile and then walked to the train and headed off to Rabat.

Here I am in Morocco, part I

A couple months ago I was looking at my map of Europe, and I noticed how close we were to Africa. So I said, "Hey Rob, we should go to Tanzania, it's not that far away!" And he said, "hmm" and then a few days later, after gathering opinions from friends, he said, "Morocco is a better place to go." By then I was wondering why on earth I had even thought about going. But I said, "Okay, Morocco, and then we can see Gibraltar, too!" Well, I had just a weekend in mind, but Rob booked 9 days of exciting travel: fly into Casablanca, then spend 2 days in Rabat, 2 in Meknes, 2 in Fez, another in Casablanca, and then a night in Madrid. OK. I can handle it. Then we talked with other friends, who told us about the more scary side of travel in an Arabic country, and I looked at websites for information on what we should bring, how we should dress, etc. They said bring your own toilet paper, don't wander alone, and if you want to be respected you should wear long sleeves and long pants (or long skirt). I planned to do all that, plus we got a passport/money holder for Rob to strap around his leg, and I sewed holders into my pants/skirts.
So last Saturday afternoon we took the train to the Munich airport, then flew to Casablanca via Madrid. We arrived at midnight to us, but only 10 pm to them. We had requested that our hotel arrange to have a taxi pick us up, but we hadn't had confirmation of that. So we were pleasantly surprised when we saw a man bearing a sign with our name. He grabbed my suitcase, and waiting impatiently while Rob went to an ATM to get some cash. Dirhams are the currency here, and they are only available here. As soon as Rob had his cash, the taxi man took off at a brisk walk (with my suitcase) so we quickly followed him. There are two kinds of taxis here, "petit taxi" and "grand taxi."
Petit taxis are available for local trips, and they go directly to your destination . You have to agree on the price, first, because most of them have "broken" meters. Grand taxis are for local trips or trips between cities. If you don't pay to have the grand taxi to yourself, you end up with 4 people in the backseat, and two people plus the driver in the front seat. And these are regular sedans. Mostly old (really old) Mercedes. The other option in a grand taxi is to pay for the privilege of keeping it to yourself. Spendy but nice!
As soon as we got away from the airport we knew we were in for a wild ride. Two traffic lanes in each direction become 3 or 4 lanes in each direction. Often we were driving down the middle. I have no idea how they don't have more accidents! Pedestrians crossed even the busy roads at random. Stop signs are only suggestions, and traffic lights are just tolerated.

things that make me wonder

They sell that?

Do they sell this in America?

Welcome back

Rob and some other "people" welcomed me back to Munich a few weeks ago.

The other night, they did the Conga.Please don't say anything to the dog. He's a bit embarrassed.

Oops

Today I actually fell out of my chair. Landed on my elbow and twisted my knee. I felt so stupid. But earlier today I tempted fate. I watched a pot of water come to a boil. Now I know.

you know you don't have a dryer...

when your washcloth looks like this:

Screens

Living in Munich, we’ve adjusted to life without window screens. In fact, we hadn’t seen a window screen until we got to our hotel in Schwerin. Our afternoon and evening went like this:

Afternoon: Oh look! One of the windows has a screen!

Evening: Oh crap! Look at all the mosquitoes! Let’s turn out all the lights, maybe they’ll all fly back outside…Hmm. That didn't work.

Evening, part 2: Rob to the rescue! In the dark, Rob jumped on the bed, ready to start shooing the mosquitoes out the window. This pic was really taken in the dark, with just the flash.

Evening, part 3: Oh crap! Carnage! Will the hotel charge us for cleanup? In the morning we used a damp towel and attempted to get some of the smashed bodies/blood off the walls.

Now we know why there was a screen in one of the windows. Lesson learned. Hotel on lake = only open the window with a screen after dark.

Update

Guess what! I'm heading back to Munich on Thursday, and that means I'm going to start updating my blog again. Woot!

For now, I'll just say that I made 18 pints of jam and jellies today.

american sauce

On Saturday night, in a little town called Wiesen, Austria, we went to a pizza restaurant. Mostly we went because they had spare ribs on the menu. I ordered the "Spare Ribs American Style" and used my best German to say that I couldn't eat MSG. This totally confused the restaurant owners, so after lots of gesturing and such they showed me the bottle of "American Sauce." I'm not sure why it's American. Instead of BBQ sauce with tomato and honey or molasses, the sauce had cheese as the main ingredient. It sounded really weird, but after all the hubbub I would have felt bad to decline the sauce, so I had it. And, actually, it was okay!

Identity Crisis III

Since Rob didn't think it was all that silly for women to have cute little bows on all their tender little underthings, I decided to take a little revenge.

Identity Crisis I

So I've been wondering...why, oh why, do manufacturers/designers think that women need to have little tiny bows on the garments they purchase? Do they think bows will make us feel more feminine? Or maybe we'll forget we're female so the bows are there to remind us? And on bras? I mean, come on, isn't the fact that we're wearing a bra enough of a reminder? Bah. I hate bows.
Here's an idea. Do the same for menswear!

Identity Crisis II

Where is it from? It's got a Cuban plate, a Ukrainian plate (upper left) and a German plate (lower left).

Englischer Garten

Yesterday was a nice sunny day so we rode our bikes to Englischer Garten. Here are some photos. We rode 17.4 kilometers, or, about 10.5 miles. Woot! The last photo is of some surfers who "surf" in the Isar River where there are some rapids. It's really dangerous for them, they can easily hit their heads on either side of the riverbank where there are bricks piled up.

Alps

Yesterday when Rob, Stephanie and I were driving back to Munich via Italy and Austria, Rob offered up an interesting tidbit. He said that in German, Alptraum means nightmare. So, I know that in German "traum" means to dream, so does "alp" mean "bad" or "evil?" This afternoon I did some research on the roots of the word, and here is what I have learned. Some scholars think the "alp" comes from "albus," meaning "white," or "altus," meaning "high." Both these definitions say the word comes from the 16th century French and Latin. Websters 1828 dictionary offered this:

ALP, ALPS, n. [Gr. white; L. albus] A high mountain. The name, it is supposed, was originally given to mountains whose tops were covered with snow, and hence appropriately applied to the mountains of Swisserland; so that by Alps is generally understood the latter mountains. But geographers apply the name to any high mountains.

I thought the most interesting interpretation came from wikipedia. There, alps are related to elfs, and the female version of an alp is a mare. You can read this: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alp_(folklore). I think I like the wiki version best.

It was under the oven the whole time!

Yesterday the landlady and her significant other came over to repair our refrigerator. Which was great, because it was getting rather difficult to open and shut. Anyhow, the guy lifted the fridge out of its spot on the wall (and then realized it would be best if I took all the stuff out of the fridge so it wouldn't fall on the floor), removed a bunch of screws, took off the cover and took off the old hinges. Two of them came off in several smaller pieces, which explains why the door didn't work well. But anyhow, after he screwed in the new hinges (which fit perfectly) he needed a stool to reach up to the top of the door. So the landlady reached UNDER THE STOVE and pulled out a stool! Are there any other things hiding in my kitchen? Oh, and the door works great now! We don't have to lift it over the freezer to shut it anymore.

Easter, Munich style

Some things about Easter are the same here in Munich as in the States. People hang painted eggs on trees. There are chocolate Easter bunnies everywhere. I get the impression that Germans don't have a tradition of dying Easter eggs with their children. Instead, pre-colored eggs were sold everywhere. I took this picture at the ViktualienMarkt. Also, another thing that I noticed was different is that Germans don't eat jellybeans. And, besides baby chicks and bunnies, they have frogs as Easter mascots too. Anyhow, we had a nice day, the weather was beautiful. I planted flowers in pots I found in our "basement," worked on a quilt, went for a bike ride with Rob, and made delicious chewy chocolate cookies, and ate dinner on the patio.

more funny signs

On Saturday we took the S-bahn to the end of the line in Gruenwald. There is a big forested area there that looks like fun to bike through. But we didn't have our bikes with us, so instead I took some pictures. We liked the concept of a "dog toilet" and also found the license plate on the red car funny (DU DU). My biggest question, would anyone want to eat at this restaurant? It sounds a bit like the plague! It's name, if you can make it out, is "Eboli."

Older than dirt, almost

When I was at my parents' house recently I noticed that a lot of things looked old. So I got out my camera and snapped some pictures. I felt a little bit naughty, like a snoop. But here's what I found. This sign has been on the back of the toilet since the early 80's.
And you can guess how long the Rolaids have been in the medicine cabinet, eh? And how about that shaving cream! Does the Fuller Brushman even exist anymore?