- 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?
Saturday, 26 May 2007
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)