Movin' on in Morocco - Mara posting

In the shoulder-width alley, I flatten myself against a red stuccoed wall as a motorbike grazes my ankle, a bicyclist swerves to avoid a head-on collision, and a donkey cart suddenly stops a foot in front of me.  A burka-donned woman pushes her way through, without hesitation. Chrome teasets, lanterns, curly toed leather slippers, patterned rugs and ceramics spill from shops, while vendors peddle raw goat heads, carts of flatbread, oranges, and pastries. Aromas of baking bread, heaps of spearmint, and bags of cumin intermix with the stench of diesel and sewer.

A dozen people want to be my guide: “Big plaza? It’s this way,” (pointing in every direction except for where I am headed), “That way is closed.”  A dozen more are convinced that I need to urgently buy a rug. I keep my sunglasses on and somehow manage to simultaneously step over a miscolored puddle, avoid an oncoming pushcart, see a cat run from a falling box, and make the correct turn into an unmarked alley.  And so it goes in Marrakech, a city pulsing with life.  A city with thousands of perfectly manicured roses and a hundred orange juice carts with matching signs lined up amidst tourist crowds, camels, mule carts, taxis, mopeds, escargot stands, acrobats, and even a monkey in diapers. It’s the Morocco I had imagined.

What I didn’t expect was its diversity. We disembarked in the quiet new port of Tangiers in the middle of fog and chilly rain.  On the five hour train ride to Sale, we passed mile after mile of green, sheep-speckled hillsides and rolling fields of wheat. Did the ferry take a wrong turn? Were we in Ireland? 

The landscape changed again as we ascended into the High Atlas mountains for an incredible three day trek with our Berber guide, Mohammed.  14,000 foot snow-covered peaks towered above sienna-colored villages and glowing green terraces, full of flowering apple trees.  Mules, goats, and sheep outnumbered people, and there wasn’t a camel in sight.  Nighttime temperatures were near freezing, but the heaps  of couscous, tagines, and Berber tea (sweet thyme) kept us warm. 

Our jaunt to the desert only took us as far as Ouarzazate (that's like going to Phoenix and not seeing the Grand Canyon, but I couldn't bear to take another 10 hour one way bus ride for only a few days).  It's the American southwest times ten: red rocks, rocky mountains, and chameleon homes hidden amongst the mesas and date palms. 

And now we're off to see the sea!

Where's Mara???

Modes of Moroccan Mobility

The Philippines only had 3 major modes of transport.  Morocco seems to have almost an infinite number. Here's just a few...........

The taxi of the mountains.  Sure footed, reliable, friendly!

Unfortunately, there's not a lot of water in Morocco

Taxis, petite or grande, they're everywhere!

The Moped.  Noisy, smokey, but oh so interesting!

An obvious choice.  Not so friendly!


 

And you thought you liked the "Dollar Menu"

Here's what you get in the US for a buck.  And no, I do not endorse MCDeez products.
http://www.mcdonalds.com/us/en/food/meal_bundles/dollar_menu.html

I do, however, endorse the street vendor meals from everywhere we've been; especially, Marrakech - home of the cheapest meal we've had to date.  Only 8 dirhams or one US dollar.

Crepe d'epices (mostly eaten), Harira tomato and lentil soup, salt, cumin and chile! Yum! Oh and don't forget sweet tea (not pictured)

My 1st Hammam (Steam Bath)

Mara and I decided to head over the neighborhood Hammam this afternoon after a hot and dusty day walking around the Moroccan desert.  Girls in one door, boys in the other.  10 DH fee ($1.20) and you're in (for the experience of a lifetime!).   Wow!

A "guide" for the Hammam experience is called a "Kassal" (not a Taybeh like Mara's worthless guide book said).  I don't know what Taybeh translates too, but judging from the response it wasn't something nice.  My kassal looked like an African Jackie Chan. I guess standing in steam bath and beating people up all day makes you fit.  He spoke some French and I quickly learned the following 5 words in a one hour session.

1. C’est bon:  This is where I’m supposed to reply that it’s “very good” that he is torturing me.

2. Comme ca:  Like this.  As in I’m going to manipulate you spine into a pretzel, like this.

3. Asseyez vous:  Sit down.  I’m going to dump several buckets of cold water over your head.

4. Allonge vous: Stand up. I’m going to scrub you so hard with the mitt you’ll want to cry.

5. Voila:  Well done.  As in, well done you didn’t cry like a baby.

 

The mitt of death!

 

The Buddhists throw down a rigorous Thai massage. The Christians have baptisms. Muslims will give you both in a Hammam (AKA Turkish Bath) for the tidy sum of around 50 dirhams (6 US dollars).  It is essentially another 10 step process, with ludicrous amounts of water.  The guide book (once again worthless. Why have I been dragging this around?) stated that because Morocco is a desert country it is offensive to use too much water.  These are the same people that stated that Asians don't spit because they would be worried about "losing face".  Complete bull shit. 

1. Scrub down with fishy black oil. Smells bad, but gets the job done. Rinse.

2. Thai massage times ten. Full range of spinal manipulations in the hot room.

3. Scrub down with a rough mitt (Kese) in cool room:  They never touch your head or your privates. You do that yourself. Every other square inch gets scrubbed. And when I say scrubbed, I mean scrubbed, hard.

4. Hair Wash with the little spiny brush in the picture.  Feels nice.  Hot Rinse. 

5. Hair conditioning back in the cool room. Also nice.  Cold Rinse.

6. Lemon soap.  Full scrub down and lathering.  Made my eyes burn. Hot Rinse. 

7. Now, we're getting to spiritual part. Cold buckets of water dumped over head. 

8. The Kassal is done with his part.  Hang out in the cool room for a while and realize that you actually enjoyed the whole experience.  Notice how smooth your skin feels.

9. Bicker over price for a while.  This is an integral part of any Moroccan experience. 

10. Big smile.  Shokran! Merci Beaucoup!  Thank you! Right hand to heart your heart.

Páscoa (Easter) almoço (lunch) in Azeitao, Portugal

Many thanks to Maria and Francisco Lavrador for having us out to Quinta das Amoreiras for Easter Lunch.  When I asked if it was "OK" if my Dad and Nancy came out, making us four, Maria quickly replied via SMS text "Its Ok.  We'll have an international lunch!"  Little did I know that a good friend we had made during a cooking class in Chiang Mai, Thailand, would give us an Easter day experience of a lifetime.  

For those of you that think that La Quinta is a hotel chain in the western US that accepts dogs, I'm here to set you straight.  Spanish & Portuguese, quinta, farm rented at one fifth of its income, from Latin, feminine of quintus fifth.   Modern definition: Exactly the type of country estate that I am trying to emulate (along with the entire population of the San Francisco Bay Area).  Dogs, Cats, Chickens, Exotic Birds, Black Pigs (AKA chorizo ala casa), ducks (at also part of lunch), friendly pet donkeys, year-round vegetable garden, 200 olive trees that produce 360 litres of olive oil on a good year and lemon trees to boot.  Now I understand why Maria makes the commute to from Azeitoa to Lisbn to work everyday.  The Portugese countryside is unparalleled in our travels!  

Nancy's first reaction was, "It feels like we are in a photo shoot for Food and Wine magazine!"  My dad seemed like he would never stop smiling.  Mara just enjoyed the food and the company.  I had a couple smokes and a whiskey with Francisco while we checked out the antiques around the house.  What a day!  There were 14 place settings at this wonderful country table (Maria is a bit superstitious, for good reason).  Where were you?

Spanish Sidra!

I think I've found my calling in life. Spanish style hard apple cider - SIDRA!  The culture, the pour, the flavor of slow fermented, bone dry and tangy hard cider.  Now its time to plant trees and take the weeklong cider-making course!  It makes me excited to get home and start another phase in my life.