Category: Ports of Call (Page 21 of 39)

Trip’s niece Natalie (Madeleine’s sister) is game to visit us pretty much anywhere in the world, and has probably spent more time on the boat than anyone else. She brought friends Perry and Danielle to Morocco.

We took them on a whirlwind tour of both Tangier and Assilah before taking a train with them to Fes, making the most of our limited time with them.

And we bought rugs…..or they did, anyway, as Trip and I had indulged a few days earlier in Marrakech.

The vibe was definitely different with three young women around. It’s obvious we’re foreigners, and there’s the usual comments ‘welcome to Morocco’ or ‘taxi’ or ‘I’ve got good hash’, but it got more intense with the girls around. We did our best to shake them and enjoy our time.

A riad is basically a guesthouse, or inn, with an open interior in Morocco. They’re nearly impossible to find sometimes, as they are walled compounds hidden in alley ways (in Fes someone met our cab with a cart and walked us to the riad inside the medina’s walls (cars are not permitted there). When you arrive, you sit down and enjoy a cup of mint tea while you check in.

The most noticeable part of a riad is the inner courtyard. It provides airflow throughout the building and cools the rooms (though we also had air conditioning, which is probably necessary when the brutal heat of summer arrives). It is often the setting for breakfast or dinner for guests.

The rooms we had were tiny but beautiful with tiled bathrooms and silk bed covers. Shockingly we were only paying $30-50 a night, including breakfast. The owners were all locals who were happy to provide a map and details about how to get around. One even arranged for wine and beer to end the evening.

Not all, but many riads have rooftop terraces. The two we stayed at had wonderful views of Marrakech and Fes. In Fes they even insisted that we breakfast there for the morning view (I feel so guilty about the number of stairs he climbed to set up and serve breakfast!).

It was time to explore inland a bit, so we hopped a train and headed for Marrakech. Getting off the train, we immediately noticed the DRY heat….it turns out it was 100 degrees and I didn’t even realize it without the humidity.

After lunch at a local restaurant, we headed to the riad (hotel around a garden) to drop our bags off, and begin to explore. Of course we found a rug store right away, and fell in love. (We managed to resist for another day and visit more rug stores, but we still came back to the first store, to the first rug, and bought it over mint tea).

Aside from shopping and wandering through the Medina (old town) and souks (markets) and gawking at more cute cats (really? In Morocco?), we explored the Saadian tombs, a historical royal necropolis built in the 1500’s. Mobbed by tourists, the architecture was amazing. You can’t take it with you, but they made an extraordinary attempt on their way out!

After the tombs we moved on to the Bahia Palace, which was built in the 19th century. Not nearly as ancient as the other places we’ve visited, it was still beautiful to tour and see how royalty lived and conducted matters of state. Sadly, when one of the last sultans died (early 20th century), the palace gates were locked, and those inside looted and absolutely trashed the place. Much restoration was done when the building was later turned over to the state.

For lunch we headed back into the Medina to Le Jardin Secret (the secret garden). It was once a riad owned by one of the wealthy of Marrakech, which meant it had access to water that had been piped down from the Atlas Mountains. Man-made ‘khettaras’, a network of underground tunnels, funneled the water through their homes and grounds.

For meals we tried both ends of eating…..one night we had dinner at the amazing Nomad which features modern interpretations of Moroccan cuisine (unfortunately you won’t see a single local dining there, only working). We also ate one night at one of the dozens of skewer grills (that’s what I’ll call it) in the main square of Jemma el-Fnaa. This square sees thousands of people flock to it every night; from tourists looking for snake charmers, to locals enjoying a social night after sunset, or those out to shop for spices or fresh juice (with alcohol severely limited in the country due to Islamic tradition, fresh juice is very, very popular, with stands everywhere you look).

Our final morning was spent in Gueliz (the modern part of town). The name comes from ‘les eglises’ (the churches) as this neighborhood was built by the French who brought their own religion to the country.

Le Jardin Marjorelle and the Yves Saint Laurent museum was a decadent way to spend our last day in Marrakech. The designer adored the country. He spent much of the year at his home there over the decades, absorbing inspiration for much of his work. He and his partner bought the garden property and completely transformed it into a thing of beauty. Part of the garden now houses a museum dedicated to the jewelry and costumes of the Berber tribes from the high Atlas Mountains (unfortunately photography not permitted).

If I have one complaint of Marrakech, it was the number of influencers and Instagramers that fill this city. Everywhere you turn there is a beautiful photo op, but it is sad to see the lack of interest in the people, their culture or their history by white people from Europe and North America. Ok, rant done. Leaving you with mint tea.

I have no idea why, but the train stations of Morocco are exquisite, absolute works of art, rivaling museums all over the world. They were beautiful to arrive in, and we looked forward to waiting for each train and just marveling at the architecture.

Aside from my time in China, Morocco is probably the most ‘foreign’ culture I’ve experienced, as it’s our first time in a Muslim country.

It’s obviously still strictly segregated by traditional gender. It’s very patriarchal and the privilege of men is evident everywhere. But it’s the women that fascinate me the most. Here in Tangier, a cosmopolitan city, hijabs (covering the hair) are still very common, as are chadors (covering of the head and cloaked to the feet). It’s not uncommon to see a niqab (only eyes are exposed), though I have not seen any burqas. But the variety is amazing if you just sit and watch people walk down the street. In many cases you can see a change in process, and many younger and younger women are dressing as they please in whatever they feel comfortable wearing.

We can’t hide that we’re foreigners so we don’t try. Walking down the street we routinely have people wave and exclaim ‘welcome to Morocco!’ If I’m alone it’s not uncommon for a single woman dressed somewhat conservatively to offer me a greeting (even my pitiful French will get me a smile and a nice exchange). Parents will often encourage their children to say hello to us. The two girls in the top picture marched right up to Trip in the souk (market) to introduce themselves and make friends. As different as we all are, there’s still something to share.

Assilah is a small town just a 45 minute train ride away from Tangier. Where Tangier is crowded and noisy, Assilah is about as mellow as it gets.

The entire interior of the medina is painted white, and artists come from all over to paint murals every season. Some are permanent, but many are painted over for something new every season. Enjoy the gallery….

There are cats everywhere you turn in this country. Most look healthy enough, though there’s no neutering or spaying going on based on the number of kittens. People do leave boxes for shelter, kibble and water, but there does not seem to be extensive veterinary care, and only the lucky survive. Here’s my gallery so far….

What better way to celebrate a birthday (aside from being in Morocco) than with lots of meat and couscous?! I still haven’t decided if my favorite dish is chicken couscous or lamb tajine, so we keep trying them both.

The waiter at Chez Ahlen made me want to learn how to pour tea, but I decided to just enjoy it rather than make the mess I know I would.

For an extra treat, I booked us a private hammam. The hammam is a public bath, where people gather, enjoy steam baths, and exfoliating rubs. It’s a sense of community as well as relaxation and personal hygiene. I’ve done public baths before, but they’re segregated by gender, so we splurged for a private hammam for just the two of us at La Tangerina, a local boutique hotel. After stripping and putting on disposable underwear, we were shown into a private ornately tiled steam bath. The attendant started showering us with buckets of crazy hot water, followed by a special black mud slathering. After that came an Olympic exfoliating session (I think I lost pounds in dried old sunscreen coming off), a massage, and a shower to finish it all off. Not bad for a birthday, eh?

Just like all of our other adventures since last year, Tangier is uphill (luckily only in one direction this time). The Medina (the old walled part of town) is a maze of alleys and streets that perpetually confuse both me and Google Maps (I’m earning my nickname of DoubleBack every day here).

The weather is warm but dry so we can wander for hours. In one gate, down and around some alleys, and out another. Shops and vendors are everywhere and your senses are overwhelmed quickly.

Playing tourist is hard work, so we stop for mint tea and coffee at the Hotel Continental, now a historic landmark overlooking the port.

Tangier as an overall city is not particularly attractive (the parks are beautiful but the modern architecture is boring and ugly), but we’re consistently pulled back to the buildings behind the original gates when it was a walled city and reinforced to defend against invaders.

We head a little bit out of the Medina to visit the Phoenician tombs. These graves, carved directly into the cliffs overlooking the Strait of Gibraltar, are some 3,000 years old. All of the remains have long been plundered, but the preciseness of the carving is remarkable to view. And then it’s time for more coffee. This time at the terraces of Cafe Hafa. Open since 1921, it has hosted the likes of the Beatles, Rolling Stones, William S Burroughs, and Paul Bowles, all of whom smoked hash here. We did not, though Trip has been offered several times.