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Friday, September 27, 2019

Email to Friends: Staying in Moroccan Kasbahs - Ait Ben Haddou and Village Anguelz

Hello again!

I left the night market at the square in Meknes to arrive at the CTM bus station. There is a man at station coffee shop who is very nice. We use google translate and my Arabic translation app to communicate. He lives nearby and comes at night to get a coffee before going home. He helps me explain to the coffee shop worker that I forgot to pay for my coffee in the morning, and he offers to pay it for me, but I can't let him. He is excited that I was born in Vietnam and shows my his Dad's military ID from when he was in Vietnam. He waits to make sure I get on the bus safely. This bus appears to not have any other tourists. Luckily, there are two women who speak at least some English, one sitting next to me and one who now lives in London. I thought I could sleep on the bus, but didn't get much sleep. We stop at a roadside stand around 1am with whole goats hanging next to a grill, where you could get a fresh goat kebab and bread before heading out. There is a road detour, and the road becomes unpaved, bumping along in the night. The driver is passing trucks on curves of narrow road. The moon is bright and beautiful, and I finally drift off to sleep.

We arrive in Errachidea a bit late, which is good as I wasn't looking forward to hanging out at a bus station at 4:45am for an hour. But the lady who lives in London is also heading to Ouarzazate, so she keeps me company until our bus leaves at 6:30am. As the sun comes out, it is strange to be in desert now. The bus starts out about 1/4 full, but we stop in many towns along the way until the bus is full. We pass goats fit into milk crates on the back of motorbikes, goats and cows heading on trucks probably to market, and smaller villages. I share my mishmish dried apricots with women on the bus. There are two tourists on the bus and we agree to find and split transport to Ait Ben Haddou once we arrive in Ouarzazate. I get us a decent deal on a taxi and we head out the approximately 10km to Ait Ben Haddou. I was going to explore Ouarzazate, but the one thing everyone sees is the film studios, which are not that much of an interest to me. Arriving in Ait Ben Haddou around mid day, it is crawling with big tour buses that make a stop here on the way to or back from the desert. I had decided against a trip to the desert as I have already done deserts in Egypt, Jordan, and Namibia and have never stayed in kasbahs. So this leg of my trip was focused on staying in kasbahs. My kasbah, Kasbah Tebi, was inside the mud brick Ait Ben Haddou, a place where apparently some filming of Game of Thrones and Gladiator occurred. The kasbah has electricity in the kitchen/dining area, but the rest is lit by candle light. While it was worth stopping to see, I have to say, I do not much like Ait Ben Haddou. It is super touristy with very aggressive sales people and less friendly people than I have met elsewhere. Everything is overpriced, nearly double what I have seen elsewhere. I find a sandwich shop with reasonable prices and play with a friendly cat. I did find a very nice man named Mohammed in the village who runs a small tour company called Evasion Circuits Maroc. He speaks English very well. We talk about the town and some about the Berber culture in Morocco. It seems not unlike Native Americans in the United States and also shares many similarities with the Bedouins I met in Egypt and Jordan. He shares some of his experiences living in the village of Ben Haddou, and it confirms my experience that people are not all that friendly in this village. I get us orange juices. He shares delicious Sahara dates with me and I share more of my dried apricots from Fes with him and the parking attendant (I told him I think they are always the nicest people, as every place I have been, they have been kind and helped me when I am lost or need to catch a taxi). He gives me a small hand of fatima pendant and walks me back across the dry river bed to my kasbah in the dark, as I was enjoying our conversation and I lost track of time.

The next morning, I get up at sunrise when it is still cooler and chase a bird of prey along the dry river bed, avoiding the territorial, aggressive wild dogs that seem to occupy the river bed. The surrounding mountains do not make for a very good sunrise. I walk around before the shop owners set up and all the tour groups arrive. I climb up to the top of hills and enjoy the desert views. And then I watch a few shop owners arrive to set up shop, play with a few of their cats while they are working, and then head back to the kasbah. I eat a quick breakfast (not one of the better breakfasts I have had) and notice some adorable kittens to play with. I am nervous about getting to my next destination, as the hotel tells me I will have to catch a private taxi, which would likely be pretty expensive. Mohammed had mentioned that was not true, and that minibuses takes villagers back and forth to Ouarzazate and stop in front of his house/shop around 11am or early afternoon. The first few are full by the time they hit Ait Ben Haddou and head towards the villages. So Mohammed, being as helpful and friendly as always, calls one and reserves me a spot to my next kasbah accommodation.

My next accomodation, Kasbah Tigmi n'oufella, is in the rural village Anguelz. It is up in the mountains about 30km from Ait Ben Haddou on the winding main mountain road. The minibus is packed full of people, filling the seats and then filling plastic stools placed between the seats. These minibuses run back and forth through the main road through the mountains, making lots of village stops along the way. As we drive up in to the mountains, we pass many goat and sheep herders and people carrying loads by donkey. There are no tour buses, few cars, and occasional groups of tourists on motorbikes, enjoying the curvy road. I am pretty sure that movie Babel was filmed on this or a similar, nearby road when Brad Pitt's wife gets shot. Spoiler alert... I did not get shot. Oh, and if you haven't seen that movie, don't bother. It starts getting cooler as we head up and I finally reach my kasbah. I couldn't have been happier. It is basically a little slice of paradise. The room is huge with an entry way, bathroom, large room with desk and old books to read, beautiful art sketches hanging on the wall, and a few paintings of a famous Moroccan artist Marjorelle who apparently used to stay in this kasbah to paint many of his paintings of the villages in the High Atlas Mountains. I can see why, as the mountains look like a painting with red, green, and white rock and little mud brick villages. The owner does not speak English, but is such a kind man. There are only a few rooms, as he is working on fixing up his family kasbah. There is a wonderful terrace to enjoy the clean mountain breeze and look out over a green oasis of crops, the mountains and other villages. Donkeys bray, chickens ran around, and sheep bleat in enclosures of nearby mud houses. I go for a walk down the road in to the village and beyond for a few hours and everyone smiles and says bonjour. Kids play by the road and shake my hand and giggle. Women wave as they are washing their clothes in the river. I find a soccer field surrounded by mountains where I am passed by several men and kids on donkeys. One stops and mainly speaks french (along with Berber and maybe Arabic) but asks where I am staying. He seems to be going slowly ahead of me, making sure I am okay. Eventually he stops and offers me a ride on the donkey back to the hotel, but I thank him profusely and gesture that I will walk. When I get back, the kasbah owner is very excited. "Two couples from Seattle are here!!" As luck would have it, two couples just arrived and saw my name before theirs in the registry (they are actually from Port Townsend). They are doing a project with a woman who lives in the village.

As night falls, the lights of nearby villages dot the mountains. Someone builds a fire in the top of their house near by. The call to prayer from each small villages' mosque echo through the mountains and I love every second of it. The owner had asked when I wanted supper and I had said 8pm, and it was ready right at 8. "Elizabeth! Dinner is ready!" He called from below. There is a large salad with cucumbers, slightly boiled carrots, potatoes, beets, tomatoes, a hard boiled egg, and a vinaigrette dressing with bread I think I had watched women make in the kitchen earlier. And then came a hige plate of something called saffe, which was amazing. Cut vermicilli noodles with chicken, onions, sweet golden raisins, cinnamon, and powdered sugar. Sweet and savory deliciousness. Followed by a fruit plate, which I am too full to eat. It is unbelievable to me that I get to stay in this place for $35 a night, which includes breakfast and dinner. Head to the roof to enjoy the stars for a bit before showering (you have to tell him what time you want to shower so he gets the hot water going).

The next morning after breakfast, the kasbah owner is also heading to Telouet for the weekly market. He calls us a shared taxi and shows me the way to Kasbah Glaoui, also known as the Palace of Glaoui or Telouet Kasbah. When I arrive, the Palace is still locked, but someone opens it up for me. It is only 20 dirham to enter, and they try to get you to go with a guide, but I was told by my kasbah owner not to use a guide. It is fantastic inside! It was built in the 18th and 19th centuries as a home to the Glaoui family, on the caravan trade route from The Sahara to Marrakech and near the salt mines. The family fell from grace after helping the French and is considered a traitor to Morocco by some. Parts of the palace have been ransacked, but the tile work and space is still breathtaking. After about an hour in it alone, small private tours arrive and then big tour buses, when I make my exit. I walk down to the town of Telouet to check out the weekly Berber Souk. It is small but chock full of anything you could need. Clothes, shoes, housewares, electronics, produce, and butchers (with little goat hoofs on the ground). Walking around, I hear "Elizabeth!" and see my kasbah owner and we catch a taxi back. In the heat of the day, I read my book and take a little afternoon snooze. i am woken up by "Elizabeth! Come." I follow and am greeted by his wife and village woman who helps cook and clean. We all sit down and share a meat tangine for lunch, scooping it out of the large communal tangine dish using pieces of bread as forks. They speak berber (there are three berber dialects, one in the Rif Mountains, one in the Atlas Mountains, and one in the Sahara). I am constantly reminded "Elizabeth, eat" when too preoccupied by the television (haven't had one on in weeks). Their kindness and hospitality makes me feel like family. He phones his daughter, who speaks English, and she translates for us about public transportation options and approximate costs and times for the next day to get to Marrakech, saying to let him know which works best and he will arrange for me. A private tour of four people from France check in, but they don't seem all that friendly. Heavenly smells start emanating from the kitchen below my room and I join the wife and cook in the kitchen, and they pull up a chair so I can watch them prepare my chicken tangine for dinner. While we can't understand each other, there is much gesturing and giggling. I enjoy my delicious berber tangine with chicken, onions, tomatoes, olives, and preserved lemon. I go tell the cook it was wonderful and she hugs and kisses me on the head. I get a message from Mohammed in Ait Ben Haddou that he and a friend are driving to Marrakech in the morning and they can come pick me up and take me instead of me fussing with shared taxis or buses at 6am. There are no stars that night, as storm clouds roll in, but beautiful to watch the far away lightening storms in further mountains as berber music plays from a village across the oasis.

The next morning I have to say goodbye to my favorite village and perfect Moroccan experience. I had considered just losing my money on my booked riad in Marrakesh to stay a few more nights. But I decide I have to see Marrakesh, if just to experience it. Mohammed and his friend pick me up. The road is winding and Mohammed says it is the most dangerous in Morocco. It winds through the mountains on the old caravan route traveled by people on animals in the past, now mostly paved. Lots of construction, dust, and occasional stopping by construction flagging, but Mohammed is a safe driver (someone in his village said they like him because he is like a turtle, slowly slowly at everything). We stop at a tailor to get his traditional dress tailored and head to his families house for tea and a snack of warm bread with honey and olive oil, and two types of olives. Mohammed's mom and dad are there for a wedding. I am invited to stay the night and attend the wedding, which I wrestled with. It is probably a once and a life time opportunity, and this is why I hate pre-booking things. I decide to head to Marrkesh and stay on my original course. I should have taken them up on the offer. Once we reach Marrakesh, Mohammed says for me to walk behind them, as if I am alone. He says if anyone asks, I am to tell them he is a driver. Something to do with tours/tourism and perhaps the culture of the city. I could tell his stress level was rising, but he insists on helping me find my riad. It is nice and appears to be safe (although no locks on room doors when not in the room) but more expensive than anywhere else I have stayed and hard to find (and they don't offer to help me find it at all). Say goodbye to Mohammed and give him gas money, although I did not have much cash as I didn't see any ATMs in the mountains. So far, not impressed with Marrakesh, but will wait and see.

More in the next and final report!

Love,
Betsy

Monday, September 23, 2019

Email to Friends: Chefchouen, the Blue Pearl of Morocco and Fes/Meknes

Greetings!

Leaving the hectic city of Casablanca behind, I head by CTM bus for a 6.5 hour drive to Chefchouen, know as the Blue Pearl of Morocco. The bus heads back through Rabat and then onward. We make a bathroom/snack stop and I grab a delicious grilled meat with tomatoes and onions. Two sweet women help me translate the Arabic to know when to be back at the when we make stops (they were grateful as I switched seats so that they could be together). Another stop was made in a town called Ouazzane. We drive through many farming areas with goat herders and donkey carts and people selling produce such as tomatoes and pumpkin like squash. Head through the Rif mountains and arrive around 8pm. Take a taxi to Bab Souk, where my Dar owner meets me and walks me to the place I am staying. Much safer than the cities, I can walk around after dark. The city is beautiful in all of its colors of blue, even at night. The streets are cleaner and there is a faint smell of jasmine. Cats and kittens are everywhere. Some look sick, and I am afraid they don't look long for this world. But most people leave dishes of water outside their houses for them and food (although often it is bread, which I don't think is likely good for cats).

I wake up early the next morning (accidentally waking my Dar owner, as I didn't know he sleeps outside my room on a couch) and walk the mostly empty streets. The blues change hues with the light. Soon, the kids all start walking to school. A dog starts following me around and scares the cats. I finally have to walk him back and find his owner so he stops following me. Head back to my Dar for a delicious breakfast. An omelette, fresh local goat cheese and olives, crepes with local honey and butter, and bread with jam and nutella butter. And of course, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice. The selfie stick tourists start arriving in full force. Thursday is market day and Bab Souk is busy. People are very against photos, so I don't take many. I run in to the woman from bus, who greets me warmly and has now joined her husband and son. I find a painter who invites me in and lets me watch him paint. In the afternoon, I walk to the Old Spanish Mosque and sit with many others, awaiting the sunset. Along the way, someone picked fresh, delicious figs from a nearby tree and shared them with me. It is a great view of the city and the sunset did not disappoint! Wander to the main town plaza and listen to a bit of music before heading to a new restaurant that opened two weeks ago and have delicious kefta tangine. Little meatballs with spices swim in a tomato sauce with an egg soft boiled in the sauce, served piping hot with fresh bread. It may be my new favorite meal.

The next morning is Friday, the religious day. I am also excited, as I was told by Jalal in Casablanca that Friday is for couscous. You can get it any day in restaurants, but Fridays are when people make large batches in their homes for sharing after prayer. And supposedly, you need to try couscous from someone's house, not in a restaurant. I had anxiously been counting the days down to Couscous Friday! But I had no leads on how to get an invite to someone's house for couscous. After another delicious breakfast, I head back out to wander. I roam from near the top of the town, down to the bottom around the commercial district full of clothes for locals. There are cute little town squares to stop in, each with their own decorated tile spot for people to get water. I head back around the kasbah, where I had spoken to a Berber from the desert that sold gems, rocks, and minerals. I watch his shop for him as he goes for prayer and we sit and chat for quite a while. And score! He invites me for couscous, as he is friendly with many of the neighbors and a woman sends over a heaping plate when it has is done. It is delicious cooked with well seasoned broth and topped with a bit of meat, potato, carrot, cabbage, and a zucchini like vegetable. We share the huge plate of couscous using a makeshift table on top of the rocks, gems and minerals. Unlike instant, fast cooked couscous, the couscous here is slowly steamed on top of the ingredients while occasionally hand rolled in olive oil to keep it from sticking. A teenager pops in to the shop and sheepishly joins us for the woman's couscous. Apparently, his mom also made couscous, but he likes the neighbor lady's better. Ha! With my Friday goal achieved, I wander around more. Had thought of going to nearby hikes and Akchour waterfalls by shared taxi, but I heard it has been so dry lately that it was not as impressive right now. So instead, I end up playing with a mom cat who purrs with chin rubs and her two kittens at a rug shop. I head to a restaurant for lamb and prune tangine for dinner and head back to my Dar, where the owner is always there to greet me with a big smile and see if I need anything like coffee or mint tea.

In the morning, I pack my backpack and have a quick breakfast before heading for the bus. I walk instead if taxi, as it is downhill and I need to get more cash as the next few accommodations only accept cash and there is a withdrawal limit. It is my first cloudy day of the trip, but only about three rain drops, so luck out. Catch the bus for 4 hour 45 minute bus ride (which included a rest stop at a strange gas station/butcher and grill/cafe/random peacocks roaming about and a sad monkey in a cage on a leash). This bus is mostly tourists, with a few local Moroccans (as opposed to the Casablanca to Chefchouen bus that had the opposite ratio of locals to tourists). We pass more farm land, grape yards, and a large lake. We stop at a more touristy place for snacks/bathroom break that had a sad, lone Barbary macaque in a cage and random peacocks roaming around. Arriving in Fes is quite a change. It is a huge city. Took a taxi to my Dar (he ripped me off a bit as he told me 20 dirham for a shared taxi and then said he had said 30 once we arrive... which I know was a lie (I confirmed 20 dirham twice before getting in) and I told him "if you REALLY need the extra 10 dirham, even though you told me 20" which he did not seem to like. Whatever, it's a dollar, but I don't like being lied to. My Dar came and collected me and it is, like most places I have stayed, absolutely spotless and a beautiful display of the local architecture and decor. Wood ceilings, beautiful metal lamps, colorful tile work and plasters, and copper bathroom fixtures. The location is also great, as it is close to the Blue Gate and the Batha Poste entrance of the Medina. I wander the streets, and surprising only really get slightly panic lost once (there are reportedly over 9,000 streets in the medina). It helps that my accommodation is near the entrance that is at the highest point, so when in doubt, "head uphill" on one of the main streets. It is chaotic and amazing. I was nervous for Fes as I had heard horror stories that women shouldn't travel alone here and kids constantly hassle you and give you wrong directions and get you lost. It is a little unnerving walking through this narrow, single wide, unlit alleys. But I just try to appear confident and walk close to women if I get nervous. But everyone I met was kind and helpful, offering all types of information about the history and area and never asking for money. The shop owners kid around, but are not pushy. "Come have a look! Where are you from?" I laugh and say I will come look if they can guess where I was born. "China? Japan? Korea? Uh, Mexico? Morocco? I don't know." Ha! I was going to save most of the sightseeing for the next day, but run into a guy from Australia that imports goods and he is going to the Chouara Tannery to pick up a leather jacket to mail so he takes me with him. They let me look over these expansive vats, and tell me all about the process. Square vats of white and greys that have pigeon poop that people collect and sell to them to break down the leather with its ammonia. And then various colors of dye. It is a bit stinky, but really beautiful. They show me the shop, but don't push me to buy anything or charge me an entrance fee like I had heard. Not sure if they are just worn out by the end of the day, or the stories I heard were incorrect. I was told there was a widowed women coop owned by the government that was worth checking out the next day, as it was closed for the day. But I happened to wander past it and they invited me in. Inside was a huge, old palace with many rooms for his four wives. They let me up on the roof for a spectacular view. Even invited me to stay for dinner, but I didn't want to impose.

The next morning, I get up early and watch the sun rise over Fes. I start wandering when most things are closed and the streets and alleyways are far less busy. As things open, it is magical. Shop owners come and open the unassuming wooden doors and all kinds of treasures are behind the doors. Lamps, antiques, jewelry, rugs... and some souvenir type junk from China. I visit Al-Attarine Madrasa when it opens and it is beautiful! Built in 1325, the tile work, plaster, and wood work is amazing. There is a fountain in the center courtyard and I have it all to myself. They gesture that I should go upstairs which was the living quarters of the students, and just let me explore everything on my own. Beautiful dark wood with sunlight streaming in from openings in the roof and big metal hanging lamps set the mood. There was also a great view of the nearby green tiled rooftops and mosque. Then some guy came and set up a tripod and to do some kind of "model-esque" catwalk photo shoot of himself posing, and it ruined the mood. I walked out in to the spice and perfume market and wander some more. I had no plans other than to wander, making way on the narrow streets for horses, donkeys, carts, motorbikes and people. This behavior of not having any destination appears concerning, as people keep trying to be helpful by taking me back to see the tannery. It is easier than arguing and trying to explain with their limited English and my almost non-existent Arabic and French that I have already been multiple times and I know where it is. Luckily, I really like the tannery and it looks different in the different times of day. Everyone at the tannery laughs on each arrival, especially by my third visit. But I get mint tea and a chat each time, with no pressure to buy or give any one any money. They also let me in to my own little viewing area deck (as well as threatening me that if I came back a fourth time in one day, they were putting me to work in the vats). As I am wandering, people keep inviting me into this unassuming doors, behind which are these ornate, multi-storied family houses with terrace views over the medina. My legs and calves are burning from all this hill and stair climbing. Wandering around in Fes really is a treat. I find dried apricots, mishmish, one of my few arabic words. I buy a kilogram for my long bus journey and atlas mountain adventure. I try a chicken pastille for dinner, a pastry of sweet with cinnamon on top and savory. I sit in the square outside a kasbah and enjoy sunset with all the local neighbors, thousands of birds coming out at sunset that live in the old wall behind us (starlings I think) and watching the kids play soccer and boys teaching their sisters how to ride a bicycle. Back to my dar, I have my first uncomfortable experience as the night employee seems too touchy for me and keeps trying to hold my hand and touch my face and wants to know what room I am staying in and trying to come to Meknes with me the next day. I end up slapping his hand away from me and smile and show him the next will be a closed fist. He leaves me alone and I quickly go upstairs and double lock the door, putting my big backpack in front of the door so I will hear if it gets opened (there is an update to this story in the email from Marrakesh).

The next morning, I wait until the night employee has gone and the nice owner is back. Other than the aggressive hotel employee, I really enjoyed Fes and wish I had more time here. I have breakfast and head to the train station, catching a taxi for only 10 dirham (someone tried to charge me 50 and I laughed). The train to Meknes only takes about 35 minutes and I walk to the CTM bus station. They agree to hold my big backpack until my 10:45 pm bus for only 5 dirham. I set out to visit Volubilis, a partially excavated Berber city from the 3rd Century BC and old Roman ruins. I consider the cheap options of getting there as it is about an hour away (city bus and shared taxi or shared taxi and then petite taxi), but decide against the time it can sometimes take for shared taxis to get full to leave. I find a private taxi driver that speaks great English. He can't take me, but finds a nice older man to take me there and wait for me for a few hours to wander and bring me back and drop me in the old medina in Meknes for 250 dirham (about $25). He also gives me all kinds of info and tips on what to see when I get there, saving me from getting a guide. Volubilis (so hard for me to pronounce for some reason, but the Arabic version of Walili rolls off my tongue way easier) is beautiful with preserved tiles, arches, and columns, surrounded by farmland. It is hot at around 90 degrees, but well worth several hours and the money. It is a lot bigger than I thought, with many sections to explore. I probably could have maybe spent another hour or two there. I spend the rest of the afternoon wandering Meknes and the covered market with butchers and shops full of spices and olives and preserved lemons. Most everyone seems super nice, inviting you to take photos and ask questions, without asking for money or anything. I watch the special art of Meknes with silver wire designs hammered in to black metal. I spend the late afternoon at a cafe in Lahdim Square into night, awaiting my bus. The square is somewhat empty during the day, but at night, it fills up with vendors and people and comes alive. Food, clothes, sunglasses, watches, music, kids playing, little motorized cars driven by kids zipping around the square, cotton candy, balloons, everything is bustling. But it feels pretty safe, even at night. I needed a little help catching a taxi, but my trick is to look for the guys in the neon vests who handle street parking. They seem to always be helpful and friendly, and speak a bit of English. One helps me get to the right spot to catch a petite taxi, and I can see him watching from across the street and traffic circle, and eventually after I am waiting for a little bit, he flags one down and sends him over to come pick me up. And, it was the first taxi driver who uses a meter, and without me even asking it was already turned on!) back to the CTM station and now await the bus for my kasbah adventure. Not looking forward to an overnight bus with a wait and change of buses at 4am in some small town of Errachidea. Not sure of phone/internet for the next four days until I reach Marrakesh.

Love,
Betsy

Wednesday, September 18, 2019

Email to Friends: First Week in Morocco - Rabat, Casablanca, and El Jadida

Greetings from Morocco!

For those that don't know, I quit my job in the Emergency Department. I had this trip planned for months (after my boyfriend and I broke up) and it turns out the timing was perfect. While technically unemployed, I start my new job as a night shift King County Jail nurse a few days upon my return. So this trip is perfect to relax, reflect, and come back to a fresh start.

My flight left on 9/11 and went through Paris before landing in Rabat. I remember why I like Delta for international flights. Three meals and snacks for the Paris flight and another meal on Air France from Paris to Rabat. Met a guy on the flight who lives part time in Orlando and also has a house in Rabat. He gave me lots of tips and gave me his number, in case I run in to any trouble. Arrived at the Rabat airport, which is pretty small. Customs was quick and grabbed cash at the ATM. Was going to catch a bus in to the city, but couldn't figure out where to catch it. The taxi dripped me at the train station. I tried to find my riad, but got lost and walked the wrong way and kept getting incorrect info (but people were trying to help). Texted my riad and the owner came to fetch me. My riad, Rue El Bir, is absolutely fabulous. It is in the old medina, but down a small street a bit away from the hustle and bustle. I ended getting an upgraded room on the top floor that is huge and fabulously decorated with old tiles and high wood ceilings and my own little patio sitting area. And there are two large house cats to play with. Mattress is a bit hard for me, but easily solved as I always carry my thermarest. I spend a few hours walking the old medina and have a fruit smoothie for dinner, as I am pretty full. Can't read the menu, so end up with a cherimoya and what tastes like dates? Strange, but not bad. Head back to the riad for early sleep in hopes of getting up early.

Didn't wake up as early as I thought I would. Woke up around 8:30 and headed out to grab a coffee at a cafe. Busy spot of mostly men sitting and socializing, but a great spot to people watch and just get used to my new surroundings. Moroccan coffee is strong and delicious and the people are very friendly. There are bakery stalls everywhere and several across the street from the cafe. One man offers to share his treats. Several pass by and ask if I am Chinese or Japanese. When answering American and Vietnamese, it confuses people that I don't speak French. https://live.staticflickr.com/65535/48857470968_573183762c_b.jpgAfter over an hour of chatting and people watching, I head to the Royal Palace. The guards let me walk around the grounds after showing my passport, but there is lots going on and soldiers everywhere and you can't enter the palace. Next, I head to the Phoenician and later Roman ruins of Chellah. The grounds were beautiful to wander around, alongside many cats and storks with gardens, tombs, minaret and old broken columns. I wandered back to my riad in the heat of the day, as most things shut down around 1pm for Friday worship. There is a mosque in the old medina, and the prayer mats were lining the walkway and full of people as I walked beside them to get back to the riad. I went to my room, but was surprised by a knock at the door as the staff brought me fresh squeezed orange juice, a pot of coffee and biscuits (as I didn't take breakfast since you have to tell them the night before a time you would like to eat and I never know when I will get up). I rest for a bit and then head back out.

Walked through an expansive cemetery overlooking the sea. Watch some surfers for a bit and head to Kasbah of the Oudayas. There is a small residential area, with colorful blue and white walls and of course, more cats. Wander about getting lost and avoiding big tour groups in the narrow streets. Head over to enjoy the Andulusian Gardens and a mint tea at the cafe overlooking the Bou Regreg River. Wander through the touristy shopping Mellah area and wander the streets back toward the old medina. I am now running in to people I met at morning coffee and am greeted by "Bonjour Vietnam!" by a few passerbys. The medina is hopping on Friday night. Stop at a busy food stall and join a few groups of women on little plastic stools for some kind of bread stuffed with grilled meat, egg, tomato sauce with spices and cheese. I think it was 80 cents and well worth it. A cute little old woman smiles at my happiness of yummy food and squeezes my arm warmly as she passes. I wash my dinner down with two fresh lemon ginger juices from another stall for a dollar and head back to the riad, falling asleep to the soothing chants from the nearby mosque as kids play soccer (or kick an empty plastic bottle) in the street and cats fight and wail. Luckily, sleeping through noise is something I am used to.

To my surprise, breakfast is ready when I come downstairs. Fresh squeezed orange juice, yogurt, cheese, lots of breads/crepe like thing, jams, and a carafe of strong coffee. After, I catch the tram to the Hassan Tower and Mausoleum of Mohammed V. Beautiful architecture surround the tombs of the king and his two sons. There are fountains and amazing detailed tile work everywhere. A guard stands at the door to the Mausoleum. Inside is a beautiful dome roof and multiple levels. A man sits at the bottom and softly reads the Koran aloud, occasionally taking time to cough. It is very peaceful. After my visit, I wander around the Mellah area, the old Jewish quarter. In the heat of the day, I headed back to the riad and just relaxed with the cats and read a book. In the afternoon, it cools off with a nice sea breeze. I head back outside in to the old medina, busy on a Saturday.

My plan was to get a bit used to these busy and hectic markets in the smaller ones before hitting up the chaos of Fes and Marrakesh. The old medina in Rabat is somewhat easy to navigate with areas laid out for tailors filled with fabric and walls of colored thread. The air smells of spices and there are sellers with carts full of fresh herbs like mint. There is an area with live turtles and parakeets. Streets full of clothes and shoes, new and used. Battery operated plastic toys, probably all from China. And tons of food vendors like bakeries of sweet treats (some Syrian treats look like tiny bird nests with pistachios), , fresh squeezed juice, sugar cane, or pomegranate drinks, fresh donut looking things fried in front of you in vats of hot oil. bowls of steaming snails, shwarma and grilled meat. I end up grabbing a delicious sandwich stuffed with fried fish, salsa, roasted pepper, hot sauce, eggplant, and whatever else he put in. Sat with some women on little plastic chairs outside a mosque and the vendor seemed pleased that I liked it. He ran to a nearby vendor to get me a hot, sweet mint tea to wash it down. Filling dinner for 20 dirham ($2) and was a bit sad I couldn't eat any more, as there was so much I wanted to try. Wish I had been able to take more photos, but feels weird to take out my camera as it feels like tourists are far and few between. And the little old woman don't like my phone in my hand, as two have implored me with eyes and pointing to put it in my locked purse. They seem pleased when I do, nodding and patting my arm with a smile.

The next morning after breakfast and packing, I say goodbye to the beautiful riad and my favorite of the cats. Walk to the train terminal and catch a train to Casablanca. I was expecting more hassle, but it was super easy to buy the $4 train ticket, find the right platform and board the correct train. About an hour by train lands me in Casablanca. A taxi driver wants me to take a taxi, but of course I decline and walk. Heading along the port, I pop in to the Old Medina and get happily lost. Eventually I see the tram and know my hotel is close to a station so jump on. A one way ticket is 60 cents (plus 20 cents for the rechargeable ticket). I pop off at my stop and of course get lost again. Some people try to help me, but only know Arabic and French. I continue to wander, but someone runs after me. I guess the people I asked directions from went and found someone who spoke English, and he directs me to the right spot. Hotel Point du Jour is not cute like my Rabat Riad, but it is in a great location and is small but clean with very nice and helpful staff. Mostly business people stay here but several tourist families as well. There is also the organizers for a music festival going on staying in the hotel. Check in and off to wander again. It is Sunday, so many storefronts are shuttered. As I don't have a map, it is hard to tell if I am in a bad area, as there are mainly only men out. There is old, run down art deco and art nouveau crumbling neighborhoods next to new, modern buildings next to poorer looking neighborhoods. I passed an old, beat looking movie theater and almost stop for a movie if one had been playing (although I wouldn't have understood it). I stop in a cafe for sweet mint tea and watch the city. End up in the old medina again and wander and eat snacks (easier without my big backpack, now safely checked in to the hotel). People everywhere are so friendly, waving and saying welcome. There are little places with old pinball machines and billiard tables. Kids run around, playing in the streets. I find my way to the mosque and watch the kids jump off the wall in to the sea as others fish from the rocks. Wandering back towards the hotel, I stop at a restaurant for a mixed kabob grill dinner. The server is so nice and we get to talking. She is studying English literature at the university. I head back to my hotel and sit outside, chatting with the nice man who works at my hotel who has great English. He is from El Jadida, where I plan to take a day trip from on my last day in Casablanca.

Wake up early the next morning to head to the mosque for a tour. The hotel gives me great walking directions, and yet, I manage to get lost. Partly due to my horrible sense of direction and also, street names and numbers are hard to come by here. Traffic is also intense as there are not always lights at pedestrian crossings so you go halfway and make yourself as thin as possible between traffic to cross all the way when there is a break. Luckily, I have wandered past the hospital and urgent care clinic, in case I need it :) So make it to the mosque a little later than planned, but well worth it. The mosque has tours and is one of the only mosques that allows women inside. It is partially built over the ocean and has a retractable roof. Most building material is from Morocco, except some marble and chandeliers. After the tour, I wander around more along the water and through neighborhoods, occasionally stopping in a sidewalk cafe for coffee or mint tea when I need a break. During the afternoon heat, I go to read my book, The Caliph's House, set in Casablanca. In it, they talk about many of the places I have wandered through, even the Rialto Theater I walked past and took photos of the day before. In the evening, I head to a small spot recommended to me by the hotel for my first tangine. I chose beef and vegetables and it is delicious! There may have been a small cockroach or two running around, but that seems par for the course in Morocco and I hear that makes the restaurant even better :) The restaurant staff are surprised by my appetite, as I eat every last bite. The sweet woman that cooked it comes out and seems pleased that I enjoyed it so much. Back to my hotel, I spend the evening in the chair they put outside for me, chatting with the staff and people of the neighborhood as faces look familiar and people greet me after the second day. I am treated to a beautiful sunset sky over the church at the end of the street and then later the call to prayer over the city, which I love the peaceful sound of it every night.

My last full day in Casablanca, I actually head to the tram to the train station for a day trip outside of the city of Casablanca. I couldn't choose between Azzmour or El Jadida, but choose El Jadida first and figure I will see if I have time to do both. We pass through the factories on the outskirts of Casablanca and head past small farms with goats, donkeys, cows, chickens, horses, and even a turkey. Crossing over the Oum Er-Rbia River, where Azzmour lies, we shortly arrive in El Jadida about an hour and a half after departure (37 diarhams each way). I share a taxi with a guy and we grab a coffee at a beachside cafe before parting ways. I walk around the port and then head in to the old walled Portuguese City. Wander the neighborhood, enjoying all the colorful doorways. I check out the old vaulted cistern built underground in the early 16th century with nice reflections from the incoming light and standing water on the ground. I walk the old wall, with views of the sea and occasional cannons lining the wall. For a third time in two days, I am stopped and think someone wants me to take their photo for them. But then they all line up and want a photo with me. I remember this happening in Egypt and I still don't get it. Sometimes teenage boys, or families, and today a sweet old mom and her daughter. After walking the wall, I head back to the neighborhood and have some fish for lunch. Then I find the old community oven. Neighbors and their kids bring dough to the oven and salted fish, which are baked by the community oven baker and returned when ready. The place actually has a terrible history as the place slaves were brought to send to the New World, but now it is a place of happiness. I buy a loaf of bread for one dirham and wander some more. I run into another community oven and a man outside awaiting his bread to be baked invites me to his house for tea. A bit pensive at first, I do my test of walking the town with him and everyone seems to like him and greet him. We go get his mom from a neighbor's house and his little sister and they make me tea and we sit and talk. The mom excitedly takes me up to the roof for views of the sea because she saw I liked animals and she wanted to show me her hamsters, one of which just had babies. I spent the rest of the afternoon there, and was sad to decline their invitation to stay the night at their house. The sister gives me a white rose when it is time to leave and they help me get a taxi back to the train station (most taxi drivers only speak Arabic and/or French, making it difficult to communicate with them). I catch the train back to Casablanca and had my last dinner at the restaurant I had eaten at the first night, seeing the server again who is so sweet and we say our goodbyes and good wishes for each other.

Today, I got to sleep in. Packed up the backpack, enjoyed a few more coffees at a cafe, said my goodbyes to the wonderful hotel staff, and head on the tram to the CTM long distance bus station. Now I am off on the 6 hour bus ride to Chefchouen, enjoying the views out the window.

Love,
Betsy