Saturday, 14 July 2007
Saturday, 26 May 2007
Journey
- Federico Garcia Lorca -
A hundred riders in mourning,
where might they be going,
along the low horizon
of the orange grove?
They could not arrive
at Sevilla or Cordoba.
Nor at Granada, she who sighs
for the sea.
These drowsy horses
may carry them
to the labyrinth of crosses
where the singing trembles.
With seven nailed sighs,
where might they be going
the hundred Andalusian riders
of the orange-grove?
A hundred riders in mourning,
where might they be going,
along the low horizon
of the orange grove?
They could not arrive
at Sevilla or Cordoba.
Nor at Granada, she who sighs
for the sea.
These drowsy horses
may carry them
to the labyrinth of crosses
where the singing trembles.
With seven nailed sighs,
where might they be going
the hundred Andalusian riders
of the orange-grove?
Monday, 7 May 2007
Marrakesh and the end of the trip
The trip ended in Marrakesh because that's where our flight was from. Nachi officially got his "stick licence" by driving all the way into the centre, complete with parking the car in a spot not much bigger than the car, by the Place Foucault (driving in Marrakesh is crazy crazy). And we stayed at the Hotel Foucault, where the concierge was a Berber of the North. The first night we were there, he shadily shifted his weight from one leg to the other and whispered in Nachi's ear -- "so you wanna buy a rug, cuz I don't just own this hotel, I also sell rugs." After Nachi explained that he's been offered rugs and really just has no use for one, he asked Nachi if he wanted anything else -- he was also the owner of the hotel.
On the first night, we went out and saw the Djemaa el Fna, which is a hot spot center of action. During the day, it is a full on market with snake charmers, henna tattoo artists, fresh orange juice carts, and the like. At night, it turns into a festival with story-telling and some of the most amazing (and cheap) food we have ever eaten. The transformation happens at about 5pm -- stalls are torn down and re-erected in different places. If you're not looking around at the right time, you could miss it. They do it like ninjas. The el Fna is amazing and like the book says, without it, Marrakesh would just be another Moroccan city. We spent the vast majority of our time in Marrakesh wandering around it and the adjoining souks (little workshops where you can see stuff being made) and Medina.
On the second day, in Dan's obsessive pursuit of the perfect sunset on video (sooo worth it), we spotted people with the hitch jumpers and started talking to them. They were a group of two girls and a guy from Leeds and the hitch had taken them five-six days. Apparently their main strategy was for the guy to hide and the two girls to look helpless and lost on the side of the road. In the next few hours, we bumped into herds of other hitchers (all of them had bought the jumper). One group told us that after getting to France, they found themselves caught in a snowstorm in Paris and decided to FLY south to Barcelona and continue from there (what?!?). As we talked to people, we learned that most people took a short bus or train ride -- we did nothing of the sort!
At one of the medina shops, Nachi asked one of the tobacco shop owners for Moroccan made tobacco (as a present for a friend). The guy called over another guy who called another guy who knew where to find a guy who might have had the stuff from a guy he knew, which is kind of how things work in Morocco. It's all through a chain of guys. 30 minutes later a couple of packets of Winston Lights "packaged" in Morocco for some ridiculous price (to pay the 12 middle men) materialized in front of us. Another funny thing is if you walk around by yourself, you never get hassled by guys trying to sell you herbal viagra and/or rugs, but if you walk around with someone they constantly throw lines at you, or, if you're Nachi, just yell out "Indiiaaaaan!"
This is our last blog entry about the trip, in chronological order. Hope you like it!
On the first night, we went out and saw the Djemaa el Fna, which is a hot spot center of action. During the day, it is a full on market with snake charmers, henna tattoo artists, fresh orange juice carts, and the like. At night, it turns into a festival with story-telling and some of the most amazing (and cheap) food we have ever eaten. The transformation happens at about 5pm -- stalls are torn down and re-erected in different places. If you're not looking around at the right time, you could miss it. They do it like ninjas. The el Fna is amazing and like the book says, without it, Marrakesh would just be another Moroccan city. We spent the vast majority of our time in Marrakesh wandering around it and the adjoining souks (little workshops where you can see stuff being made) and Medina.
On the second day, in Dan's obsessive pursuit of the perfect sunset on video (sooo worth it), we spotted people with the hitch jumpers and started talking to them. They were a group of two girls and a guy from Leeds and the hitch had taken them five-six days. Apparently their main strategy was for the guy to hide and the two girls to look helpless and lost on the side of the road. In the next few hours, we bumped into herds of other hitchers (all of them had bought the jumper). One group told us that after getting to France, they found themselves caught in a snowstorm in Paris and decided to FLY south to Barcelona and continue from there (what?!?). As we talked to people, we learned that most people took a short bus or train ride -- we did nothing of the sort!
At one of the medina shops, Nachi asked one of the tobacco shop owners for Moroccan made tobacco (as a present for a friend). The guy called over another guy who called another guy who knew where to find a guy who might have had the stuff from a guy he knew, which is kind of how things work in Morocco. It's all through a chain of guys. 30 minutes later a couple of packets of Winston Lights "packaged" in Morocco for some ridiculous price (to pay the 12 middle men) materialized in front of us. Another funny thing is if you walk around by yourself, you never get hassled by guys trying to sell you herbal viagra and/or rugs, but if you walk around with someone they constantly throw lines at you, or, if you're Nachi, just yell out "Indiiaaaaan!"
This is our last blog entry about the trip, in chronological order. Hope you like it!
Friday, 4 May 2007
Essaouira and Zachary
We arrived in Essaouira later that afternoon, a city farther up on the shore renowned for its winds. We parked our car in some shotty parking lot, where they wouldn't let you put the handbrake up -- in case they needed to push your car around to make room for others (we came back at night lifted the brake). After dinner, we roamed around the medina and got shaved a second time each. The barber offered to clean up Nachi's hair around the edges a bit, but proceeded to give a full-on haircut, which was actually pretty good. Dan was offered more Berber herbal viagra (it was a bit worrying). Then we met, Zachary.....
He was one of the many people who yelled "Indiaaan" as we passed, to which we were now accustomed, and simply yelled back "Shah Rukh Khan." Inevitably, Nachi made friends with Zachary; Dan hated Zach from the outset. He "guided" us into his shop, where he played drums and sang Hindi songs to us. His three sidekicks appeared and sang along. This part was cool. After some time, they asked us if we would like to grab a drink with them. Nachi assured Dan "it was cool," and we proceeded to a bar. On the walk, we were starting to feel like Zachary was a bit crazy and may have "drunk" quite a bit already. We offered to buy him a beer once inside, but he refused, constantly saying "bhaya" to Nachi, which means "brother" in Hindi. Our hostel closed around midnight, and we got up to leave, at which time Zachary showed his true colors and asked for money to cover two rounds of beers. Nachi thought this was absurd and took off, while Dan tried to level in French. That didn't work. Zachary followed and harassed us until we were almost home, in a very threatening manner. We lost him as we passed the Gendarmerie (the Police).
The next morning, we got up and walked out to the beach. We particularly liked a guy who had built a "windskate" (a windsurfer to ride on the sand). Nachi was really keen on kitesurfing so we went to get the gear. At the first place we stopped in, we found out two things, (a) kitesurfing takes a week to learn and (b) the gear and lessons are super expensive. Game over. So we went for a little drive and got pulled over by the cops for doing some ridiculous speed the car wasn't even capable of. So Dan tried to bribe the cops and sort of succeeded but then we got our money back. It was very confusing. In the end, we ended up driving back past the speed camera, careful to have it in second gear and 20 km/hr below the limit and wave to the shady cops. The following morning, we found a co-op windsurf rental place and hit the waters hard with some lessons. Dan embarrassed himself pretty badly, but Nachi acquitted himself handsomely. In the afternoon, we had some beers and drove off to Marrakesh.
He was one of the many people who yelled "Indiaaan" as we passed, to which we were now accustomed, and simply yelled back "Shah Rukh Khan." Inevitably, Nachi made friends with Zachary; Dan hated Zach from the outset. He "guided" us into his shop, where he played drums and sang Hindi songs to us. His three sidekicks appeared and sang along. This part was cool. After some time, they asked us if we would like to grab a drink with them. Nachi assured Dan "it was cool," and we proceeded to a bar. On the walk, we were starting to feel like Zachary was a bit crazy and may have "drunk" quite a bit already. We offered to buy him a beer once inside, but he refused, constantly saying "bhaya" to Nachi, which means "brother" in Hindi. Our hostel closed around midnight, and we got up to leave, at which time Zachary showed his true colors and asked for money to cover two rounds of beers. Nachi thought this was absurd and took off, while Dan tried to level in French. That didn't work. Zachary followed and harassed us until we were almost home, in a very threatening manner. We lost him as we passed the Gendarmerie (the Police).
The next morning, we got up and walked out to the beach. We particularly liked a guy who had built a "windskate" (a windsurfer to ride on the sand). Nachi was really keen on kitesurfing so we went to get the gear. At the first place we stopped in, we found out two things, (a) kitesurfing takes a week to learn and (b) the gear and lessons are super expensive. Game over. So we went for a little drive and got pulled over by the cops for doing some ridiculous speed the car wasn't even capable of. So Dan tried to bribe the cops and sort of succeeded but then we got our money back. It was very confusing. In the end, we ended up driving back past the speed camera, careful to have it in second gear and 20 km/hr below the limit and wave to the shady cops. The following morning, we found a co-op windsurf rental place and hit the waters hard with some lessons. Dan embarrassed himself pretty badly, but Nachi acquitted himself handsomely. In the afternoon, we had some beers and drove off to Marrakesh.
Monday, 9 April 2007
Surfing at Taghazoute
After the half-day with the quads, we drove west towards the ocean. The rest of the day was spent getting to Taghazoute -- the surfing paradise according to our guide book. We were on Banana Beach. In the morning, we realized how horribly the guide book had erred: there wasn't a single surfer in the water through midday or even the remotest sign of an equipment rental place. After inquiring, the Moroccans in the area were keen to get us equipment and ran off. As we learned through the trip, asking questions can be a mistake. Through a chain of quick commands, phone calls, and confused faces, your request will almost always be materialized, whilst you wait for some odd period of time. We just asked if there was a surf rental shop nearby and they were off! While we waited for a sign of reappearance, we sat along the beach. A kind man rented us a horse for 50 Dirhams each to ride along the beach for 15 minutes. We both did it: it was cool, and the horse went into a bit of gallop and moved fast. Dan had a bit more control but as a result a shorter ride since he was able to turn the horse around when he was supposed to be finished. Nachi, on the other hand, just went farther and farther until the horse felt like turning.
Moments after finishing, two shady Moroccans had materialized with surfboards and wetsuits. We quickly overpaid for poor equipment, as we were constantly reminded by other people for the rest of the day. We struggled to stand up for the waves. Nachi had three separate bruises along his neck -- possibly from jellyfish. Sore and bruised, we hopped back into the car to continue on to Essaouira.
Moments after finishing, two shady Moroccans had materialized with surfboards and wetsuits. We quickly overpaid for poor equipment, as we were constantly reminded by other people for the rest of the day. We struggled to stand up for the waves. Nachi had three separate bruises along his neck -- possibly from jellyfish. Sore and bruised, we hopped back into the car to continue on to Essaouira.
Zagora and quading through the dunes
We drove back to Zagora at night and got a room without much trouble. After going through the dunes during the day, Nachi had been quite keen on finding an all terrain vehicle (ATV) rental shop to take back into the desert for the following morning. After some interesting dialogue with the concierge, we found ourselves a man who would rent us ATVs (or quads as they called them). Cha-ching!
We signed up for a half day starting at 9am. Our guide took us into the desert and within the hour, we were launching ourselves through the dunes. The sand dunes in this part were much smaller and from the distance the quads looked like little toy racing cars, as they drove through the dunes slanted and sliding around, and slipping occasionally. Once the momentum was flying high, the quad would clear its wheels over a dune and land a couple meters down a little lopsided with a thump and take off immediately. Nachi got yelled at (in French) for accelerating over the mountains to clear air. We later learned that accidents happen in these dunes and about one person dies a year, while many others suffer injuries. In fact our guide had suffered a couple himself. This was cool and was thus far Nachi's favorite part of the trip. Nachi also tried to fishtail the quad out 180 degrees like our rental, but was unsuccessful. We decided we already had another fun ride.
We signed up for a half day starting at 9am. Our guide took us into the desert and within the hour, we were launching ourselves through the dunes. The sand dunes in this part were much smaller and from the distance the quads looked like little toy racing cars, as they drove through the dunes slanted and sliding around, and slipping occasionally. Once the momentum was flying high, the quad would clear its wheels over a dune and land a couple meters down a little lopsided with a thump and take off immediately. Nachi got yelled at (in French) for accelerating over the mountains to clear air. We later learned that accidents happen in these dunes and about one person dies a year, while many others suffer injuries. In fact our guide had suffered a couple himself. This was cool and was thus far Nachi's favorite part of the trip. Nachi also tried to fishtail the quad out 180 degrees like our rental, but was unsuccessful. We decided we already had another fun ride.
Camel back and mountainous sand dunes
As soon as we drove into M'hamid, our small car, which we named Gorgeous George, had been surrounded on all sides with some people offering us tours and others telling us we weren't allowed to drive on the street any further. We turned around and went back to the first expedition group we saw, led by Brahim. He proceeded to clean us out, but we did sign up for an amazing overnight adventure in the desert. Since we emptied our pockets for him, he promised us dinner that night. The wait for food took 2.5 hours, and all the time, Brahim told us lengthy stories in detail, and for all the build up the punchline or moral was always a let down (a bit like this blog). Every five minutes, Dan would translate a sentence from French into English for Nachi, and it always seemed like all the characters were different already.
At night, Brahim and his companion took us out to the campsite. We sat and listened to more stories over some tea, and then looked up at the most amazing sky -- full of stars and constellations. Laying in the cool sand with winds blowing from odd and changing directions and looking up was certainly one of the highlights of the trip. Nachi wanted to grab some torches and walk into the desert, so we explored our site and realized we couldn't find the way out. We felt stupid and went to sleep.
The next morning we took off camel back on Dromaderies -- Brahim wanted to show us the old M'hamid (the real one). Nachi's camel (which he named camel) didn't really want to go anywhere and would try to grab food while walking: he was also a bit of a rougher ride. Dan's camel, named Barry (same as Dan's bag), seemed a bit younger and liked to poop a lot. People in the old M'hamid were very kind: they showed us into their homes freely. It was obvious the people here were poorer than in the newer M'hamid.
For the afternoon, we took a 4x4 out into the desert. On the way out, we saw fields of Dromaderies -- with maybe a couple hundred. We stopped at sand dunes which were shaped like mountains. The shape comes solely from the direction of the winds, and our tour guide drew the possible wind patterns and entailing shapes in the sand for us. We rolled down the sand dunes, and Dan's camera almost broke as a result.
At night, Brahim and his companion took us out to the campsite. We sat and listened to more stories over some tea, and then looked up at the most amazing sky -- full of stars and constellations. Laying in the cool sand with winds blowing from odd and changing directions and looking up was certainly one of the highlights of the trip. Nachi wanted to grab some torches and walk into the desert, so we explored our site and realized we couldn't find the way out. We felt stupid and went to sleep.
The next morning we took off camel back on Dromaderies -- Brahim wanted to show us the old M'hamid (the real one). Nachi's camel (which he named camel) didn't really want to go anywhere and would try to grab food while walking: he was also a bit of a rougher ride. Dan's camel, named Barry (same as Dan's bag), seemed a bit younger and liked to poop a lot. People in the old M'hamid were very kind: they showed us into their homes freely. It was obvious the people here were poorer than in the newer M'hamid.
For the afternoon, we took a 4x4 out into the desert. On the way out, we saw fields of Dromaderies -- with maybe a couple hundred. We stopped at sand dunes which were shaped like mountains. The shape comes solely from the direction of the winds, and our tour guide drew the possible wind patterns and entailing shapes in the sand for us. We rolled down the sand dunes, and Dan's camera almost broke as a result.
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