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Spicey
Moroccan pile on those spices pretty high. Made it to morocco and arrived around midnight local time. Not a good time to be landing in Tangiers. Everthing is closed, you are in a muslim nation, 3rd world country, dont speak the language, havent exchanged monies yet, dont have accomidation, oh and a riot on the boat has broken out by everyone trying to get their passports stamped.
Not even kidding. I guess 'lines' have not made their way to Morocco yet. Because once the guy set up a table to stamp passports, he got mobbed. So he moved to the other side of the boat and it just happened again. Everyone pushing and arguing, crowding around a small table. And they all didn't smell too nice either. Finally got stamped after over an hour, and went to leave, but they had moved the table again to where the exit was and the crowd was keeping us back. But we did eventually make it off the boat and through customs. Oh, and when I say custums, I mean a fat man with a mustache asking if we had anything to declare. Yes, "What the hell kind of a country is this?" He just waved us through.
Got
out to the port and taxi drivers are lined up outside trying to take advantage of tourist. Who's a tourist? No tourist here. We totally blend in. They wait at the port and stations and charge double normal amounts. One guy will even jump in a taxi with you and guide you to a hotel so he can claim a finders fee. Found a hotel that had a sink and cold showers in the room. There was a hot shower in the hotel, but you had to pay extra for it. And by the sight of it, we must have been charged for the amount of dirt in it.
That first night was crazy. We stayed in Tangiers and you could hear speakers all over the city calling people to pray at 4 in the morning. Truely and exotic place. We were definately not in a wester nation. Familiar things have never felt so far off. In the morning we went to a market and would get malled by everyone asking for money or trying to sell things to us very aggressively. Very Indaina Jones. But we didn't stay there very long. Caught a night train to Merrikesh that
Bag Tag, You're IT.
All you need is a massive pack and a target. i.e. Niky. very day.
Got some money exchanged and felt rich. 1 euro is 11 Dirhams (Moroccan money). That makes 1 U.S. dollar about 8 Dirhams. The euro is kicken our ass. Most things are not very expensive, but haggling is always on the agenda. Even with set menus. And trust me they see you coming. It is hillarious though. I was haggling with some guy over some badly needed socks. Mine are taking a beating. Languages spoken here are Arabic, French, and Burber(hope I spelled that right). So the arguement came down to me writing a price on a piece of paper. They try and get you to pay in euros because they jip you on the exchange rate. Always pay in local currency. But the price I put down first, made the guy almost spit on me. He got so upset at me and I just laughed. So I said thank you and left, only to have him call me back and start haggling again. I only budged a few Dirhams, and he was upset at the sale, but I got 5 pairs of socks for about a dollar each, and was on my way. I know that is
not a phenominal price, but like I said, the dollar is not doing so good. But what really upset the guy was that I wanted change for a 50 once the price was set. Oooooo, the look he gave me.
Spices and perfumes are huge here. They sell them everywhere. Evidently not a lot of people are buying the perfumes though. But I really liked browsing through all the antique looking things in all the shops. I was in one shop and started talking to the owner. He spoke no English, but between some French that I remembered, and charades, we were able to converse. Talked for a while actually and he invited me to come back and have 'Te alla mont' (Mint tea). Its a national drink. I accepted and left, but realized that I did not get his name. When I found the shop again, he was sitting with friends and drinking tea, so he asked me to join them. I did. His name was Jelil (jah-leel).
We were able to say basic things to each other and from this, we spoke for hours. I sat there and listened as this 32 year old, bearded Muslim
Christmas in Merrikesh
I just usually decorate my tree. man from Morocco explained to me how he lived. It seemed all so simple. I learned that Jelil had two things. His life and his faith. And that both were so intricately inter-twined, one could not survive without the other. So straight forward and honest was our conversation, that even now as I recall it, I barely remember the language barrier. We were mid-discussion when the speakers sounded and called for people to attend mosque for prayer. His attention quickly turned to having to leave and he told me to come back later so we could finish our discussion. I walked with them through the market until we parted and I returned to the hotel and my friends.
I did go back later with Fabian to have more tea. I asked about the women, but he said no women. Muslims do not socially converse with women on that level. So I hung out with some guys. had a great time. Sorry no picture of my Muslim friends. I was told that it was rude and unappreciated. So I respected his wishes.
Everywhere I go in Morocco, people tell me I look Moroccan. I dont see it. Or maybe
This Kabob is not quite done.
I said well done, not stabbed. they have just never seen a Mexican. My tatoos attract a special kind of attention here. Not always good. But Im used to that.
At night the Plaza turns from shopping to food. Carts cooking all sorts of meats, fish and local dishes can be found. There are dozens of them. As you walk through the maze of tables and cookers, you are constantly harrassed by english speaking hosts trying to get you to sit in their area. Reminded me a lot of T.J. the way they try and get you into the bars. We eventually chose one and sat at a bench with some other people already eating. We were careful upon ordering to ask prices and what things came with. Once we ordered we talked and gauked at the spectacle of the crowds watching performers which formed an outer circle around the food tables. As our food came the servers brought us more dishes than we ordered. We asked if it was include with our meal and they said yes. So we ate it up. Bread, Kous Kous, olives, vegetables plus the skewers of meats we ordered. Once we asked for the check, we were shocked to
Decision Time
Which train should I take? Any ideas, anyone? see that we were charged for every single thing they brought us. We called over the host and all began to argue over the check. He adjusted it a bit but Nicky wasn't having it. She grabbed a pen and added up exactly what we ordered. And that is what we paid. Got up and left. They were not very happy with us. But I told the host it was ok, Im Moraccan. Other people actually paid it. Not us. I hate trying to be swindled.
Our stay in Merrikesh was short and not so sweet. As a going away gift some bastard of a cook gave me food poisening. (Lee you were right) Actually considered going to a doctor in Morocco. Talked myself out of that one. My body felt terrible, shakes, aches, pains, nausea, diarhea. All the things that make travel great. Its ok though. I had the cure for it. A night train to Tangiers, followed by the smells of the port, onto a two hour ferry to Algecier and a NINE plus hour drive to Lisbon, Portugal. I felt like a champ. Right after the fight. Last for several days. But I am better now
Gere de Tangier
That's french for train station. and eating solid foods. Can't keep me down. Keep on movin...
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t-dag
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no flying magic carpet rides?
hey there sweetie!...hope that u're tummy is feelin better!...what happened to abu?..no more monkeys out there?...oh well...can't wait till u get back...mahe mahe just isn't the same without ya!..take care...xoxo, theresa