Glow wine

Welcome to ZRH were the temperature is a mild -2 (C). Off to the Christmas Market! I’ve been hearing about this “glow”wine” for some time now and I’m excited to try it. The Gluehwein is red, sweet, with spices. I don’t like it. Too sweet for me. And for my last night in ZRH, it’s off to Old Town Zurich to Zueghauskeller. (The house where they store the ammunition) The restaurant is super cool, and as Anja so nicely put it, it’s kinnda like a “bab” to the old town. HA! I think I will forever use that word...”Bab, bab, bab, bab.....”

Airport Security--Moroccan Style

Last day of November. Last day in Morocco. I feel like I spent the entire morning at RAK. We were told you arrive two hours before our flight--I’m glad we did. The flight was supposed to leave at 12:55pm....at 1:35pm we actually boarded the flight. At 2:45pm, we took off. Good things the wind was in our favor. Charter flights. 

Americans think that the airport security pat downs in US airports are a bad...well, they should come to Morocco. At RAK they actually have separate security lines for men and women. And they really pat you down. I mean really. It was more like a full body massage.

The King is Coming!

As we drove from FES back to RAK, we started noticing “national security” officers every 50 m or so from Rabat on. Finally, we arrived at the rest stop, and I ask one of the guards--well I ask him in English and Italian and of course he knows only French and Arabic---Anja to the rescue again! (Poor Anja ---I hope she doesn’t have to tak for a month after this trip!)

The King is coming! Apparently, the King is driving to Marrakech today. And so are we. Are there is one road. We get to see the King!

Shortly after this time, the gas meter on the little Suzuki Celerio drops from 1/4 tank to EMPTY...and starts flashing! Panic. Two females, alone on a deserted Moroccan highway shortly before sunset, with no gas. Great.

At this same time, Anja looks behind us, and sighs, "Oh Shit! The King is coming!" His motorcade of 50+ Mercedes driving 200km/hr passed us as the police escorts screamed at us to get off the road. I was so flustered and sacred about the gas, to even think about my camera. So no picture of Hassan VI. Ben Guerir --the next gas station stop as we were driving already 20 m on EMPTY with the flashing gas light--that was scary!

Always an adventure...

What is shiba?

I have been drinking at least three mint teas a day since arriving in Morocco. I'm not a big tea drinker. But, hey when in Rome....right?! I even bought an authentic "tea pot set" (complete with the little pot holders) to take home. 

So, for the past week I am thinking this "mint tea" is really just boiling sugar water poured over fresh springs of mint, and that would explain why I like it so much. Wrong. Mint tea is actually green tea (boiling water, two pinches of green tea, two sugar cubes boiled) poured over the fresh mint. What is more mind boggling to me is that I don't like tea. And, I really don't like green tea. But, I love Moroccan mint tea!

Stopping at a small restaurant for a mint tea this afternoon proved very educational. We selected a spot that looked really good for people watching near the Bab Bou Jeloud. (The Blue Gate). The place was called Thami's, and I remembered reading an interview with the actual Thami in my guide book. I met his younger brother and he proceeded to tell me all about mint tea. He reminded me mint tea is originally not from China as the world believes, but of course it is from his beloved country, Morocco. (Then he proceeds to sell me a box of green tea for 10 dh that says in French "Made in China". Ironic.)

Then I was told you can also add "shiba" to the tea as well. "Morrocans really like shiba in their tea." Shiba, they show me, is an herb and you can buy it in the grocery store. I can't place it, so I ask,  "What is shiba in English?" They don't know what it is in English. 

Enter my friend, Google. Shiba is absinthe.  That explains a lot...

Camel Burger. Check.

Check camel off my list of foods. Today I ate a camel burger (at the Clock Cafe). It looked like a beef burger, but much leaner and sweeter in taste. Same texture as a hamburger. It was served with sweet ketchup. I wished Heinz would make that sweet ketchup...

A lesson in Argan oil

Argan Oil ... apparently the wonder, cure-all drug. And it's one of the most popular thing to buy in Morocco. It's great for cleaning your hair, for cooking, and for massages. But where exactly does it come from? It comes from the argan tree. The nut has a seed, and the oil is pressed from this tiny little seed. The first pressing produces the oil for cosmetic use (I am told that my skin will look younger if I rub this all over me. Personally, I hoping for a massage from a cute boy with it!), the second pressing makes the oil for use as a shampoo, and the third pressing is for cooking/eating. The stuff is not cheap, either. But apparently more affordable here than in the states. And now, I'm off to experience an argan oil massage at Riad Fes. We'll see if this "liquid gold" lives up to it's name...

Pigeon Poo....huh?

I think it takes about a week to settle in to Morocco, to feel comfortable. Today I felt like I finally fit in (well, as much as possible). 

As we navigated through the leather stores, up to the terraces I had flashbacks of dragging my dear friend Marwan up narrow steps in the back of a knock-off purse shop on Canal Street in NYC.  Finally up on the terrace the views of the dye pits were amazing and the smells were terrible! Apparently, pigeon poo and cow urine are used in the process. Great--can't wait to buy some leather here now!

You don't want to get shot today

As we're walking through the medina in Fes, a man approaches us and says, "You don't want to get shot today."  I think they learn their English from watching American movies. I mean, Who says that? 

Piano Piano!

The language skills of the little kids here amaze me. I guess when your parents throw you out on the street and you're amongst tourist everyday, you sink of swim. 

And they are dressed so crazy. Like this little guy we met today. Jeans tucked into pink socks and hot pink Crocs. Maybe he's leading the latest trend among Moroccan boys age 5-7?

Today a group of little boys--always boys, never girls--approached us. First in French. Then they switched to Spanish. Then German. It was cute. They probably the basic in about 10 languages (so jealous!) So finally I say to them in Italian, "I don't speak French." Silence. We thought--awesome! They don't speak any Italian, they will leave us alone. Yeah. 

Then one little boy, bursts out, in perfect Italian with accent and all, "Italiano piano, piano!"  I laughed so hard.

Back in my element in Fes

I feel like a real experienced Moroccan traveller now. We navigated the Fes medina flawlessly, negotiating parking with ease, and found Riad Fes without paying  a little kid one. single. dirham.

The medina of Fes is mostly souks....and the are narrow and steep. Many more tourists here. It's interesting to notice the subtle and not so subtle differences between the three cities of RAK, RBA, and FES. FES is def less orthodox--more Western clothes, more tourists, but still have an authentic feel to it. Olives and nougat seem to be the prized gems here.

And because I am such a hotel junkie, I have to comment on Riad Fes: it's wonderful. I'm definitely back in my element at this amazing 26 room Relais & Chateaux property. The Junior Suite on the second floor (I have my own private stairway up to the suite) is huge. The all white marble bathroom alone is bigger than the room at the riad in RAK! Dinner at the restaurant--complete with Moroccan wine (finally some alcohol!) was amazing. The house speciality is a lamb dish tossed in smoked onion jam with roasted potatoes--called L'hame M'hamer. Yummy. And the wine made it even better.

Campari, meet your African Cousins...

There are more cats in this country than Rome. Really.

Observation on Fridays

Who gets kicked out of a cemetery? Me. Had I taken advantage of "Black Friday" and gone to the souk FIRST, maybe leisurely strolling through the cemetery may have been more acceptable?

I *think* Fridays here are special. All of the ladies seem to wear darker colors today, the streets are not as crowded (maybe the ladies are at home making couscous and the men are at the mosque?), and every restaurant--even the pizzeria and burger joints--serve couscous.

To celebrate this special day, I purchased a jellaba and head scarf, experienced a Moroccan hammam (more later on how this compares to the Turkish ones), and endulged in a real Friday dinner of couscous (with lamb). 

My new look

I have to say, that only after a few hours in Rabat, I already like it better than Marrakech. It's smaller, less chaotic, cleaner, and the people don't hassle you! So lovely!

I reserved my first "hammam" for tomorrow. And tomorrow is Friday--"Couscous Day." (I guess it's the equivalent of Sunday Spaghetti Day). Regardless, I'm super excited.  I've learned that couscous is best served in the riads--not in a restaurant, as it is a made-to-order dish, made mostly for family/friends.

And speaking of riads, Riad Kalaa is beautiful! It's an old 1815 riad--a townhouse built around a central courtyard--with a rooftop terrace and swimming pool. I thought Riad La Terrasse des Olivers in RAK was great--this one is better. And I *know* the riad in Fes will be spectacular as it is a Relais & Chateaux property (oh la la!)

And to celebrate couscous day tomorrow, I'll buy a proper Moroccan jellaba. I tried one on today...and I shouldn't be surprised that the "one-size-fits- all" theory, (again) doesn't apply to me. But I will make do, as they do not come in children sizes and I don't have time for alterations.

Enzo's middle name may be Bab

Bab means "door or gate." There are tons of "babs" and they are often used as landmarks. "Go to Bab Doukkala and turn left." 

The word has kinnda of grown on me...and when given directions today, all I could say was "bab, bab, bab, bab"....the Moroccan guy in front of me just turned around and gave me the strangest look.

Happy Thanksgiving from Rabat!

While all my friends and family are cooking turkeys and feasting, I am driving from RAK to RBA! The highways were quite empty and surprisingly easy to navigate. For the first time in three days I didn't feel like the mouse. We made the trip in less than 3 hours and saw some cool scenery. Although it was a two lane (going each way) I swear drivers in Morocco think there is just one lane. They want to straddle the the lanes and take up both--not easy to pass this way!

At one gas stop we came upon a tour bus (ugh!) filled with US senior citizens nonetheless. Anja comes out of the bathroom, "There are trendy American women in there." I go in, and the "trendy" lady says to me, "we are from Arizona." I proceed to ask her where they have been, and then ask her what her favorite Moroccan city has been. She mentioned they were going to Casablanca and had already been to Rabat. But her favorite city has been "Morocco." Wow. I'll just keep speaking in Italian...

Being the "expert Moroccan travellers" now, we arrive in RBA, find a parking spot, refuse to pay 50 dh (the going rate is 20dh), and ward off all the men who "only want to be nice and show us to our riad."  Yeah, yeah yeah we know the drill. You only want to help us--and then you will demand euros! "We find it ourselves. Merci!"

I wonder what my Thanksgiving dinner will be....couscous? A nice lamb tangine? We shall see...

Does the Fontaine Moussaine really exist?

For two days we tried to find this infamous fountain Moussaine. We walked around in circles, afraid to ask anyone--you don't dare ask someone--they will expect you to pay them to give you directions. Then they will follow you, walk with you and not leave you alone.  (It's the culture, we are told.) Today, I finally said, enough. I asked a shopkeeper. He said "there." Right where we were standing. I guess "there used to be" a fountain. Ugh! 

Today felt like a good day to experience a Marrakech taxi ride. This trip is all about trying new experiences.  And the way people drive here, it appeared to be an adventure... Apparently, the cabs say they will take you to Point C....but cabs can't fit in those alleys, so they only take you to Point B and you must walk to Point C.  You, of course, only find this out once you've reached Point B. (i.e., Ben Yousseff Medersa)

The Ben Youssef was anything but how it was described ("great") We strolled through the important sites that Jacque, our riad host, suggested. The Jardin Majorelle-a gift to Marrakech from Yves Saint Laurent and the Bahia Palais-a grand palace with 150 rooms where some cool guy lived with his four wives and 24 concubines.

I had a wonderful experience at one of herb shops--herboriste. The herb guy spoke Italian!  So refreshing after depending on Anja to translate everything from French. 

I practiced my "negotiations" in the souks too. I'm still looking for the perfect "outfit"... 

Where are the pics?

For those of you who are wondering "where are the pics?! " Today--hopefully. 

For some reason, Enzo is not recognizing the RAW format images. I shot in RAW yesterday (as I usually) do, but recently installed a new version of  iPhoto 8 on Enzo... and for some reason he's not recognizing RAW format files... 

* Where is my CTO when I need him?! (yes, that is a bullet point)

Will shoot, reluctantly,  in JPG today and see if that helps...

I'm not paying you for directions

I learned a few things today. 

The driving is more crazy here in Marrakech than in Vietnam. Cars don't stay in lanes...not even sure they exist. The bikes and motor bikes are just as dangerous. Parking is a fine art.

Everyone wants to give us directions...and they want to be paid...in Euros. (Hello...we're in Morocco...dirhams, right?!)

Getting lost is unavoidable. There are no street signs. Everything looks the same.  Maps are impossible to follow.

The mint tea is really good and full of sugar. I think I had about 6 already. They are about 15 dh and apparently, the higher you pour the tea, the more impressive it is. Kinnda like "Cocktail"--Muslim style.

Speaking of "Cocktail" I haven't seen any alcohol. I may have to revert back to Erik's tactic on the island in Thailand. There was a can of beer on a table tonight--but after closer inspection...it was "sans alcohol."

Henna tattoos tingle.  (I wonder if they really last 30 days?)

The Djemaa el-fna is tourist paradise. It's the main Square in RAK and filled with drama (dentist pulling teeth and mystics burning frankincense). The name means "Assembly of the Dead" and was originally the site of public executions. Nice.

Welcome to Marrakech!

We chose "the day" to arrive in RAK. There were thousands of people waiting outside the airport doors. They were all dressed in traditional clothing as they awaited their friends and family arriving back from Mecca. It was crazy trying to navigate through all those people. I wished I had my camera handy...

I always thought that the pilgrimage to Mecca was by foot....but apparently, you can fly too!

A reminder

I was reminded quickly why I do not fly domestic carriers internationally....1. I really have to pay for that cheap red wine? 2. The movies are not on-demand? Welcome to United Economy Class. Maybe BNBH was right..I may be a little high maintenance when it comes to travel. That said, the direct flight from ZRH to LAX on Swiss Air is much anticipated:)

My wardrobe is about to change.

I'm starting to get excited about my upcoming holiday in Morocco. Expecting to visit Marrakech, Rabat, Fez, and Meknes. Should be a great opportunity for my photography as well! As soon as I tell people where I am heading, they always says, "dress conservatively!" (Geez, are they trying to tell me something?!)

I've decided that upon my arrival, I will just buy a djellaba and wear it for 10 days. It'll kindda be like Catholic school. No worries about what to wear everyday--and I'll be able to travel with just a carry-on....ha!

Or maybe I can just wear my Afghani burka?