مغربي

(5/17 - 5/24: Marruecos)

so i arrived at the hostel that kettia arranged in malaga, and did everything but call her mother when I couldn’t reach her for several hours. kettia was supposed to meet me in the hostel the afternoon before we traveled to tarifa, where we would then get a ferry to morocco. after 5pm, i did contact her sister via Facebook, and just as I was about to ask her if she’d heard from kettia, in walked the woman i’d been waiting for! i was so happy, i gave her 2 big hugs in a row. i think the reason for that second hug was the fact that i hadn’t seen anyone i knew in 2 and a half months. lol.

so this hostel was also damn nice: oasis backpackers hostel had a terrace with a full bar and music, fresh daily spanish tortillas for breakfast, and sangria with a spanish buffet for dinner. unfortunately, we were both so tired after dinner (and kettia was jet lagged, on top of that) that we crashed before we could visit the bar and had to leave before breakfast for our early departure to tarifa.

we arrived with plenty of time to store our luggage and get the 1-hour ferry to tangier, morocco. omg, i was so excited; i wasn’t sure if going to africa was gonna be my reality, but here i was, actually doing it. eeeeee!

tangier

so as soon as we stepped off the ferry, the “tour guides”, some of whom claiming to be “hired by the moroccan government”, pounced on us. they were ready with anything a tourist might want or need: moroccan dirham (currency) to exchange, moroccan leather, scarves, a ride or personal guide to their suggested hostel or hotel, a tour of the city, travel advice in any language, “you speak english? como esta? bon jour!” anything...anything! to get us to listen. omg, i’d never been hassled like this in my life! and it was non-stop. a couple dudes even followed us for several yards! kettia was far more prepared than me; i was all like “we’re in their country, we should be respectful, at least don’t ignore them, politely say ‘la shakran’ (no thank you), maybe they won’t take advantage of us, blah blah blah”. i mean, of course it is important to respect people, especially when you are a foreigner in their country...especially when you are an american in their developing country. but the line is drawn when they won’t respect you back. this line became more and more clear as the trip continued. i realized that i should have ignored those “guides” just like kettia did.

finally, the dudes left us alone, and we found a taxi closer into the city. kettia told the driver where to go (omg, i don’t know what i would have done without her french! seriously, it saved us a lot of trouble the entire trip!) and things were good. he was even telling us about his trip to france and some good music to listen to. but when he took us to where he thought we were going, the tables turned. as he stopped the taxi it became clear that he didn’t know where he was going, kettia made a suggestion and he said some pretty rude shit. told kettia that he could drop us off with the africans that look more like us (most of morocco is light-skinned and straight-haired), and then he told her that she needs to stop talking so much and listen. finally, he dropped us off in a large plaza, because kettia was fed up with his shit (all of this was in french, so i could tell something was very wrong, but i didn’t know he was insulting us until she told me later). kettia approached this other dude that looked a bit darker and who wasn’t hassling us. he was really cool, showed us directly to the hostel, and didn’t ask us for anything in return. few!

we stayed in a nice hostel, where we met the impressive owner. this dude was french with spanish parents, and he was living between spain, tarifa, and somewhere in italy. he owned 2 hostels, managed a third, switched effortlessly before our eyes between the 4 languages he knew, and was only in his early 30s! i was intimidated.

after we checked in, we had a beautiful dinner at the Populaire Saveur de Poisson:

the waiter was hilarious and very charismatic. the meal was like 28 dollars, but it was totally worth it. every time our glasses were half full, he filled them. each time our plates were half empty, another dish appeared: salad, tajine with couscous, fresh fish filet, tajine with chicken, fresh moroccan flatbread. and one of the best parts is that after all that heavy, heavenly food, they kept dessert simple: nuts and berries with honey, a large slice of watermelon, and moroccan tea.  it was crazy, and kettia and i could barely walk by the end.

we wobbled slowly back to the hostel and rested for a bit. then the owner of the hostel invited us out for a few drinks with his friend and a couple other people from the hostel. it was sunday night, so he said it would be short and sweet. fast forward 3 hours, and we’d danced our asses off at 3 different night clubs, for all of which he got us in free and bought most of the drinks. he even got this guy to come over to our part of the bar and play live drums to the music while we danced. it was seriously one of the funnest evenings (and mornings) i’ve ever had, ever.

kettia and i woke up hammered the next morning, and off to another adventure…

chefchaouen: the blue pearl

oh my god this is one of the most beautiful places i’ve ever been. it came close to making me forget all the other beautiful places i’ve seen.  first off, the city’s buildings are literally blue, which takes tranquility to a whole new level. on top of that, it is surrounded by the rif mountains and waterfalls for your hiking, viewing, and (my) meditating pleasure. sadly, we got there too late and left too early to hike to the famous waterfall (cascades) waterfall. but we did hike to the other famous bridge of god (pond de dieu), and even the ride on the way to the hike took my breath away. i tried to take pictures, but what’s the point? as i’ve mentioned before, my android camera can’t do this justice; you just have to go.
a few attempts:

so when we arrived, we checked into this cute, blue hostel, with this nice old man whose french was better than his spanish, but still not very good. neither of us speak arabic, so we did our best to communicate. we did a bit of shopping and bartering in the afternoon, and told one of the vendors that we wanted to see cascades. he told us that wasn’t possible because we wouldn’t be able to finish the (2+ hour) hike before dark. but he called his cousin to drive us to the bridge of god instead, which is only about 1 hour.

cousin abdul ended up being a super nice guy. he drove us to the hike, hiked it with us, told us all about the city and the bridge, hung out with us while we meandered for a bit, and then found us a safer route back down to the bottom of the mountain. on the way up, we met a couple who also joined us in meandering. after the hike, abdul took us to a delicious, local hole-in-the-wall where we smashed another couple rounds of tianjin and moroccan tea.

we left abdul and went back to the hostel to ask the manager if there was a curfew. he said “tranquil, tranquil”, which i interpreted as “no”. so we went out for more souvenir shopping with abdul’s cousin, whose shop is open 24 hours. and abdul was there, too! we chilled with them, bargained, drank tea, chatted in french, english, spanish. it was a beautifully tranquil evening...until we got back to the hostel. approaching the entrance, we found the manager sitting with the door open, shaking his head and looking at the clock. he shook his index finger at us in contempt, as we rushed in and apologized. i thought he understood us! or maybe he didn’t expect that two single women would stay out past 2am in a small muslim city. either way, oops.

fes, like the hat

so we got up in the morning and headed to fez, and our first day there was quite terrible. we followed these young “tour guides” to the biggest old medina in all of morocco: fes el bali. but after about 15 minutes of walking through narrow streets, turning dark corners (in broad daylight), and getting conflicting information from the young men we followed, we told them nevermind; we’ll find it ourselves. they insisted that we continue following them and became angry when we asked them questions about the route.

eventually, we turned around and just walked the opposite way. we figured that if we were gonna get lost, we might as well do it alone and for free (those dudes always expect cash after you finally arrive at your destination). and then the harassment began. they started hissing at us and yelling “chicky chicky, hey sexy, nice ass, chicky chicky”. they yelled it all the way down the street until they couldn’t see us anymore. later, after we found our way to the medina, we passed them, and they started right back up again, “nice ass, nice ass, hsssss, chicky chicky”. it was disgusting. kettia and i just wanted to leave the whole city.

later, when we were both confused about how to get out of the medina and angry about the hissing, we also got in an argument with each other. we ranted on the way home, and eventually reconciled before bed. but that day was shitty.

the next morning, somehow we were convinced to give fez another chance. kettia remembered that our taxi driver had suggested we get good tourist information from a hotel near the medina. we stopped over there, and this tall, suave manager dude told us the ins and outs of navigating the city without trouble. he told us that with “tour guide kids”, their bark is stronger than their bite; they may talk, but they can’t do anything more because they know that repercussions with the authorities are harsh. this made us feel a bit better, though we still avoided the stoop where we found them the day before.

this day was better; we shopped and navigated the city with ease. kettia bought a fez, and we visited a huge garden in the middle of the city.  we had more tagin at a beautiful restaurant, where we were the only customers. it was good, and the atmosphere was chill, compared with the chaos of the huge madina just outside. kettia even fell asleep (all of the restaurant’s seating was couches. beautifully decorated couches!)

pillows on the restaurant couches. excuse my bag of souvenirs. lol.

kettia, after her nap. 

at the pond in the middle of the garden

the tannery! this is where they dye all the moroccan leather for sale in fes.

omg. this kind of looks like a painting. this is where they hang the leather after dying it. 

it smelled like animal skin (before it's treated) up there, so they gave us mint to hold to our noses while we toured.

kenitra and rabat

so i forgot to mention that kettia met a moroccan couple on the ferry from spain to morocco, who invited us to their house in kenitra.

after fes, we traveled to meet them, and they put us up in their huge, very modern home. the wife used to be a teacher and then she owned a bookstore in the city. after her daughter was born, she became a homemaker. her husband was an engineer, but she described him as un homme d'affaires...translation: THE MAN AROUND HERE. apparently, they have people of high class over to the house all the time, but never no strange american women from the spanish/moroccan ferry. she told kettia, that we were the best guests she’d had in a long time (or ever; i coudn’t tell because of the french/english translation...and ever seems like an exaggeration, but thanks girl!).

anyway, when we got to her house, she treated us to moroccan tea and pastries with her neighbor. then she took us to dinner at her adorable mother’s house (she literally described her mother as adorable, and her mother was also actually adorable). in the dining room there were also beautifully decorated couches.

this flatbread, omg. i need this recipe in my life!

after dinner, they drove us around the city and gave us a quick history. it was dark, but pretty beautiful.

the next day was kettia’s birthday! the wife gave us a tour of rabat, the capital city of morocco. both of these places were super modern, and the woman described them as “the europe of africa”. like her comments about her husband, i didn’t know how to take that exactly.
anyway, i was super grateful that they took time out of their schedules and not only welcomed us into the home of their family and themselves, but also showed us around the country. what a happy, french-speaking coincidence. again, thanks kettia!

back to tarifa

for kettia’s birthday, we stayed at a small hotel called a dar, where the toilet was broken, the internet was spotty, and the employees knew nothing about attractions in the city. we then ran around looking for a good hammam scrub, but couldn’t agree on a place before they all closed. we then went to a cafe that the hostel owner highly recommended, but it ended up being really dirty and boring. on top of that, kettia had bought more souvenirs than she could comfortably carry, so there was a lot of awkward and heavy lugging involved. and we did a little bickering that day, too. regretfully, i don’t think kettia had a very good birthday. :/

the next day, we decided it might be better to go our separate ways before the ferry ride back to spain that afternoon. kettia took some photos around the city, did some shopping, and got a hammam. i bought some fruit, a couple last souvenirs, and got a hammam as well.

now, when i walked into the spa center, i knew what a hammam generally entailed: my body would be scrubbed down and i would feel good afterward. and both of these things happened, but it was far more intense than i anticipated. the spa i went to had pink robes, pink slippers, and pink roses everywhere. there were even pink mints in my personal lobby area. the steam room was extremely hot - uncomfortably so - but there was a cold shower in there, so the opposite sensations were heavenly. it smelled like roses and soap, and inhaling all that steam did my sinuses good.

now, i won’t get into all the details of the scrub, but let’s just say it was quite invasive. the moroccan hammam is not for you shy or conservative folks, and it definitely ain’t for sissies. by the end i felt like a newborn woman, and i drank a 16oz bottle of water in 10 seconds. after sitting and mumbling a few spanish words to the masseuse (i think i was trying to ask her about her family and work life, but i don’t actually remember what happened), i finally had (just) enough coordination to stand up and get dressed. after that i walked slowly to the beach and just sat for a half hour until it was time to meet kettia for the ferry.