Takes the Glow Off

Over 25 years traveling together in foreign countries, we’ve lost wallets and passports, been burglarized in rental houses or hotel rooms, and had things stolen from us. All of those have been unpleasant and inconvenient experiences, but not actually frightening.  Tonight we have a new one to add to the list of potential travel perils.

After dark, but still early in the evening, we wandered to the edge of the Square in the Medina (old walled part of town) to rest and watch all the activity in the area.  There are  many thousands of people in the square at this time of night – families with children, couples, young and old men or women walking arm-in-arm with friends – it’s a lively, interesting place.  Food stalls which serve as temporary restaurants are set up each afternoon in the square, and we’ve had dinner at them several times.

After sitting for about 20 minutes, a man who appeared to be middle-aged and Moroccan wandered toward us, leaned down putting his face close to Bob’s face,  then pulled back, made a fist and punched Bob hard in the mouth and chin!!!  We stared at each other in open-mouthed shock and disbelief as the man turned and wandered off, weaving a bit. A number of other people witnessed this entirely unprovoked and out-of-the-blue event, and one young Moroccan couple who spoke some English came over and asked if Bob was okay. They stayed with us for a couple of minutes, and we all realized the Bad Man had wandered off into the crowd. Bob’s lip was split in a couple of spots, and bleeding, and he had a sore chin, jaw and several teeth, though no teeth are loose.

We realize something like this can happen anywhere. The Bad Man was “a crazy guy” in the words of the young Moroccan man who checked on Bob afterwards, and there are plenty such people wandering around downtown Seattle and Pioneer Square where we worked for several decades without incident.  We didn’t report the incident to the police, and didn’t seek medical attention, as water, tissue and Tylenol are likely to take care of Bob’s symptoms.  But we must admit, the incident definitely took the glow off of our feelings about Marrakesh, and we now feel ready to move on to Europe.  We took a cab back to our hotel after dinner and plan to spend the rest of the evening reading our junk novels.

Back to Marrakesh

Mackenzie and Matt left us in our Casablanca hotel room at 10pm last night, headed to the airport in a taxi for flights to Frankfurt, then Seattle.  Presumably they’re home by now (8:30 Sunday night our time, 1:30 in the afternoon in Seattle).

The difficult experience of traffic and navigation in Casablanca yesterday led Cathryn to insist we get up early this morning to hit the road to Marrakesh before traffic became bad. Fortunately, the plan worked, and by 7am we were on the highway outside Casablanca, headed south to Marrakesh having had no problems.  Four hours later we arrived at the Marrakesh airport and turned in our rental car a day early, as we don’t really need or want it here. 

After checking into our hotel, and feeling a bit adventurous now that we’re familiar with Marrakesh, we decided to ride a public bus back to the medina rather than catch a cab. We guess our many years in the transit industry haven’t entirely left us!  The bus ride was cheap (90 cents for the two of us), fast, and easy! We definitely appeared to be the only non-Moroccans on board.

We spent the afternoon back in the medina, wandering through the souks, buying snacks from a street vendor, watching the snake charmers, monkey handlers and other performers and vendors on the square, and having a cold drink on the 4th floor terrace of a restaurant overlooking the main town square.  Very pleasant!

Au Revoir Mackenzie & Matt

Today was our last day with Mackenzie and Matt in Morocco. We rose early, had breakfast at Villa Garance where we’ve spent the last 4 nights, and headed north. Mackenzie, Matt and Bob stayed in navigation and problem-solving mode as we made our way into and through Casablanca, but Cathryn found the traffic, crazy drivers and feeling “lost” unsettling.  We spent an hour finding our way to our hotel in Casablanca, sometimes because our map reflected only a tiny part of the city (3 million residents) and sometimes because the signage within cities is woefully inadequate.  Highway signage is good, city signage is not.  Finally, in  frustration, Bob jumped out of the car, waved down a taxi, and asked the driver to lead us to our hotel – he went with the taxi driver, and Matt (driving), Mackenzie and Cathryn followed – not an easy task in afternoon crazy city traffic in Casablanca.  But it worked!

We caught a taxi to the Hassan II Mosque, a spectacular new (completed in 1993) mosque that has the highest minaret in the world, and the third largest (after Mecca and Medina) mosque in the world.  Tours are offered several times a day, and we joined the 2:00 tour that took us through the prayer room (capacity:  25,000 people), absolution room, and hammam room.  The structure was simply mind-boggling and gorgeous. We were told  that 100,000 people occupy the interior and exterior spaces every hour of every day during the month of Rammadan here – astonishing numbers, but entirely believable in terms of the amount of space.

We were tired after our day and struggling with the French language (which none of us speak much) so chose a Spanish restaurant for dinner.  Mackenzie and Cathryn were delighted to be able to speak with the waiter easily.

At 10:00 p.m.  a taxi arrived at our hotel to take Mackenzie and Matt to the Casablanca airport for their flights to Frankfurt and Seattle, and Bob and Cathryn bid au revoir. We’re sad to see them go, but have had a great deal of fun traveling together.

Tomorrow we leave Casablanca and return to Marrakesh.

The “Wild” Beach

 

The walled town of Essaouira is immediately adjacent to a lovely beach where we spent some time on our first day here, but it’s fairly crowded.  Yesterday we retrieved our car from the guarded spot at the entrance to the medina, and drove about an hour south to the “wild” beach near the town of Sidi Kaouki.  We saw some goats climbing the Argan trees, eating the fruit from the trees, then stopped at a surf shop to buy beer and leave our car in their parking lot.

The “wild” beach is largely uninhabited, wide and unspoilt. There are a few vendors who harrass sunbathers to buy food, jewelry, and camel rides, but mostly we were left alone to eat, lie in the sun and relax.  Mackenzie and Matt went swimming for a while, and we paid one beach vendor 60 dirhams ($7.50) to have the use of two chaise lounges and an umbrella so Cathryn could stay mostly in the shade. We went for a 30-minute walk down the beach, but otherwise relaxed and enjoyed some quiet time.  A nice getaway from the city.

Felines

How many of you have been to Rome?  If so, you’ve seen cats by the hundreds and thousands. Morocco shares this trait with Rome.  Cats are everywhere. Dogs, hardly at all. Cats are in every shop, hotel, restaurant, alley, street.  They are on the hunt for food, sleeping in the sun, meowing for attention. They are mostly thin and desperate in appearance. There are too many to feel you could do anything to make a difference.  It is a notable change from the prevalence of dogs and barking to which we have become accustomed in Mexico.  Bob is reminded of a time in Rome with Ryan’s mother decades ago when she was overwhelmed by the sadness of the number and condition of the cats.  It does not appear there is any effort focused on neutering or spaying animals in this country.

Hashish

Morocco has a reputation for being a place where drugs are easy to come by.  We’ve been here for two weeks, and until today, other than a very occasional whiff of marijuana, we’ve seen or been aware of no drugs.  Today changed all that.  Today Matt was approached NINE times by young men inquiring whether he wanted to buy any hashish!  We can’t for the life of us figure out why today, why him, why now.  Matt is a clean-cut looking, clean-cut living guy.  He of course declined each time.  As sunset approached tonight, we wandered to the west-facing wall of the medina with a bottle of wine and sat on the wall for an hour awaiting the sunset.  A man approached, three times, inquiring whether we wanted to buy some cookies.  He described the dozen different kinds of cookies his wife had baked, then pointed to the last row of “happy cookies” – those containing hashish!  We laughed, shook our heads no, and tried to send him on his way.  He was persistent, laughing, friendly and funny. But still he was disappointed with our lack of interest.  This is the “holy day” here – Friday – what gives?????

Hammam

 

Long before we arrived in Morocco our research turned up the prevalence of “Hammams”, the Moroccan version of an American spa.  Hammams have been in existence for more than 1,000 years, though we expect their form has evolved. Today there are “public” hammams, where men and women (in separate rooms, at different times of day) sit on a floor in a steam room and sweat, scrub their own or a friends or family members backs, and rinse off.  There are also  “private” hammams where one can make an appointment in advance, sit in a private or semi-private steam room and get thoroughly scrubbed and washed. 

Today Matt, Mackenzie and Cathryn chose to check out a private Hammam.  Yesterday we made a 12:30 appointment for our introduction to the experience. 

The Hammam we visited was very fancy, and felt as nice as any American spa we’ve seen, though exotic and different in decor, and only one of the staff spoke a bit of English – as usual, French prevailed, so we felt at a bit of a loss as to where to go, what to do, how to behave.

All three of us found the experience to be delightful. Cathryn swears she lost two pounds of exfoliated skin and sweated another two pounds.  We each had a one hour massage afterwards, so came out looking like bright red, severely scrubbed people with noodles for legs, we were so relaxed. And the cost was about 1/3 of what we’d pay in the U.S.  Bob sat at a sidewalk cafe and drank coffee, engaging in his favorite past-time of people watching in foreign countries, so we de-briefed him afterwards. 

Essaouira

Yesterday we drove 7 hours from Skoura, an inland part of Morocco, passing through Marrakesh and heading southwest to the Atlantic coast. The phrase “all roads lead to Marrakesh” comes to mind, as almost anywhere we’ve gone, we had to pass through or near Marrakesh.

Essaouira almost feels like a different country in some ways. It is an “old town” encompassed within the walls of a Medina, as part of Marrakesh was. No cars are allowed inside, so we parked outside the walls, paid a man 80 dirhams (about $10) to guard our car for 2 nights, and paid another man 30 dirhams to load all our luggage into a cart and guide us to our hotel, Villa Garance.   The Villa is on a narrow alley, about 6 feet wide, with buildings 4-5 stories tall on both sides, all side-by-side buildings sharing exterior walls. We have rooms on the second floor, and afternoon tea and breakfast are served on the rooftop terrace above the 4th floor. People with mobility issues could not get by here easily at all, as the stairways are narrow, winding, with steps of irregular height and width, no elevators. But all is otherwise modern with large bedrooms, small salons and private baths, with breakfast included in the price. Our hotel owners are two French sisters  who, like most people here, speak many languages, including English.

Matt and Cathryn shared the driving from Skoura to Essaouira, though Cathryn insisted on driving the first half of the day so she wouldn’t have to do the portion through Marrakesh. Matt doesn’t enjoy the city driving either, but he tolerates the stress of it better and remains decisive and calm even through stressful conditions.

Today we had a lovely breakfast on the rooftop terrace, then Mackenzie and Matt headed out on their own, as did we, to tour the town, port and beach.  We wandered through the souk (market) which is quite different from the Marrakesh souk, walked on the wall near the Port, toured the Port and saw fishermen bringing in their catch of the day, then walked a mile or so down the sandy beach.

This part of the country feels much more Westernized. There are still many women in robes and head scarves, but almost all men are in Western attire, and many women as well.  There are people on the beach in bikinis (not something that would have been acceptable in the rest of the country), couples holding hands, and lots of women in short skirts, sleeveless or tank tops, and even some shorts (tourists). French is the prevailing language here, not Arabic or Berber as in other parts of the country.  Bob studied French two years in high school, and we’re all appreciative and amused that he is our language expert here, as he claims not to have an “ear” for foreign languages, though he is teaching us various words and phrases. 

We had dinner at a beach-side restaurant, and with seafood soup, lobster entree, creme caramel, and two bottles of wine we spent only $200 – far less than a similar dinner at home would be.  By far our most expensive dinner. Nice to have something besides tagine or couscous. 

Sahara Dawn and Camel Ride

We set the alarm for 5:45 so we could climb the dunes to watch the sunrise. We were told it wasn’t a particularly good one, but to our eyes it was fairly spectacular. The changes of color in the sand mirrored those in the sky. The younger generation found the pull of gravity irresistible, and ran down each dune laughing, racing each other and stumbling.

We returned to our desert Berber camp for a traditional breakfast (with one important distinction: they served coffee, a first for our visit). Afterwards we went to the edge of camp where our camels awaited us. The saddle for a camel is basically the shape of an open doughnut, encircling the camel’s hump so that only the ridge of the hump was visible and tangible.

The ride itself was only slightly more uncomfortable than that on a horse -- it had a bit of a rolling gait. The most “exciting” part was when the camel got to its feet from a kneeling position after we got into the saddle, or back to a kneeling position from upright. Those maneuvers were equal to any carnival ride and required a tight grip on the horn of the saddle to avoid being tossed off.

We spent an hour riding through the dunes, and although we were a little skeptical when we read in the brochure that “most find that enough”, we concurred.

We were met again by Mohamed and Ali at the end of the ride, and after a few gymnastics by Mohamed to get each camel to kneel so we could dismount, we got back in the car for our return drive to M’Hamid. Unlike yesterday during the sand storm, we actually got to see where we were going, though we continued to be mystified by how Ali was able to navigate across the dunes with no visibility. On inquiring, he jokingly replied that he has a GPS in his brain.

Once back in M’Hamid we retrieved our car from the guard at the garage (cost $2.50) and bid our guide adieu, informing him we planned to stop for coffee before leaving town. Mohamed and Ali consulted each other, then advised that “no, it would be better” if we drive an hour north to Zagora before stopping for coffee. We don’t know why they advised this, and could only guess they felt without their protective presence we’d be harassed unmercifully by touts trying to sell us “camel experience”, the seemingly sole source of revenue in town.

Pise (Or “Come Into My Kasbah”)

 

It often seems when traveling that we must carefully frame photos to capture occasional ancient or traditional architecture or attire. In Morocco, that care is not required. In all towns and villages other than the largest cities, the majority of structures are made of “pise”, reddish-brown mud and straw blocks with a skim coat of pise (sort of like plaster) over the top. Many of the structures, old and new, are in the architectural form of a “ksar” or  “Kasbah”. These Kasbahs are sometimes fortified, walled villages, like Ait BenHaddeau, but most often are the fortified residence of a single, extended family.

One book fairly accurately described this building material as “transitory”, in that water causes it to disintegrate. An important note is that water in the form of rain is a fairly rare occurrence here, and as a result, these structures, with a little ongoing maintenance, can last for hundreds of years. We’ve read that during ancient times people laying siege to a Kasbah would sometimes divert a nearby stream to the base of the Kasbah and literally wash away the foundation, causing the structure to collapse.

Where Have ALL the Girls Gone?

 

As we’ve driven around the countryside we’ve often seen girls and boys, in equal numbers, coming and going to school, the boys dressed mostly in western attire, the girls always covered, and often wearing white hip-length tunics over either western clothes or more traditional robes. In towns, we see people walking along the roads, in the shops, or in the squares. Here we see a mix more along the line of 1/3 women and 2/3 men, but most often with men and women traveling separately.

In most other circumstances, Morocco is at least publicly and visibly a male preserve. Only men are in the cafés and restaurants (day and night); all the shop keepers and service personnel are men. In restaurants, hotels and camps, only men are present. Occasionally we’ve caught a glimpse of a robed and covered figure somewhere in the background, but never as a visible presence or someone to interact with. The books say the women are kept separate to protect them, not control them, but it’s hard for us to accept, and probably the most “foreign” part of our visit.

Interestingly, the Moroccan men seem very comfortable interacting with Western women in a largely Western fashion, and there haven’t been any instances of inappropriate behavior either directly or via catcalls or other objectionable behavior toward Cathryn or Mackenzie. Our guide books have lengthy discussions about the problems women might encounter, but we haven’t experienced it yet.

Dades Gorge

We spent the next two nights in Skoura, five hours drive north of M’Hamid, at the Kasbah Dar Es Salam. Our hotel was actually a restored Kasbah . The owners bought the 200 year old Kasbah seven years ago, then spent 4 years restoring it. We were the only guests in residence, and it was the nicest place we’ve stayed so far. Kasbahs are built of stone, mud and straw, with walls 2 feet thick, very high ceilings, very low doorways, and gorgeous windows and doors.

After a traditional breakfast, we spent the day driving up the Dades Valley and through the famous Dades Gorge. The trip lived up to its reputation. We drove through one hamlet after another, each crowded with kasbahs of traditional design, full of people in traditionally historical dress, which prevails today.

Once in the Gorge, we were either at the bottom of the Gorge immediately adjacent to the banks of the Dades River or at the top of the Gorge looking down at least 1000’ to the river below.

In the transitions between, we drove up steep, narrow switchbacks that connect the two. We stopped for café au lait at the top of the most dramatic of the switchback roads (seen in photo above) and luckily found a table out of the wind, which seemed to blow about 25 mph all the time, with gusts around 40mph throughout the Gorge.

Anyttime the Gorge widened even slightly at the bottom, there would be a village and terraced farm fields. We were surprised by the size of these villages, since the agricultural areas seemed too small to support the population.

Sand Storm!!

We left Ait BenHaddou early Saturday morning and drove southeast 5 hours to M’Hamid, a small dusty town at the end of the road on the edge of the Sahara desert. There we met our guide Mohamed, and driver Abdullah (who goes by “Ali”), in front of the Gizelle Hotel. We were happy not to be staying there, as it was a “backpacker’s hotel” in which the rooms were tiny, facilities were down the hall, and toilets didn’t flush so were full of unpleasant deposits. Ugh.

While waiting to be served café au lait on the terrace, Matt parked our car in a guarded and secured storage area.

While we had coffee, the wind started to pick up substantially, but Mohamed told us not worry, so we didn’t. Soon we piled into Ali’s Toyota Land Rover to begin a 2-hour drive over 55 kilometers into the desert where we were to spend the night in a tented Berber camp.  As we drove into the Black Desert (a desolate, black, rock-strewn landscape) the wind continued to increase and our Ali somehow found his way even though there wasn’t more than 50 feet of visibility and no landmarks we could detect. After an hour we stopped at an oasis where we sat on rugs laid out on the ground behind mud brick walls and were served mint tea and stayed for an hour hoping the wind would abate; it didn’t.

We rode the final hour to our camp, and since the wind was still blowing and the visibility was limited, it was agreed that our camel tour would be postponed til the morning in hopes of better weather. We spent the afternoon in a large, central tent talking and drinking more tea.

That evening we had dinner of tagine with chicken, and after dinner there was evening entertainment of drums, hand cymbals and singing. As the evening progressed, dancing was added to the mix. An interesting cultural difference we noted, besides the fact that there were only men participating, was that in the west all of this activity would have been fueled by alcohol; here there was none. Another noteworthy point is that here in our Berber desert camp we were introduced to the only other Americans we have met on the entire trip: a man from New York with a woman from New Orleans. The many other travelers we’ve met have been European .

All together!

Mackenzie, Matt and Cathryn had a fabulous three nights in the village of Imlil in the Atlas Mountains. At 6,000 feet elevation, the town has 1,800 residents, and our hostel was about 5 minutes further up the mountain from town.  We spent one day hiking most of the way to the Base Camp of the tallest mountain in North Africa (12,000 feet), a rocky promontory with few other features.  We stopped at a shrine for cokes kept cold in a stream. 

The second day we hired a local guide, Ibrahim, to take us on a 27 kilometer (he said, though we thought maybe closer to 23 kilometers) loop hike up into the mountains, over 3 passes, through 3 tiny Berber villages, across the river, and back to Imlil.  We hiked through dense pine forest, over rocky trails, alongside ancient aqueduct systems, and through the tightly clustered stone and mud residences (most with satellite dishes) of villagers, alongside men leading donkeys with carts, women wearing robes and scarves and carrying children or grass for the animals. It was a spectacular hike through varied, beautiful territory.

We are finding the Muslim Moroccans to be warm and friendly, extremely helpful, and shockingly (to us) well educated in languages – most speak Berber, Arabic, French and often a 4th, 5th or 6th language, often including English or Spanish.  They seem to treat us females more like western men do, unlike the way in which they interact with women of their own families and country. 

We rented a car in Marrakesh, a little black Peugot, and Matt immediately transformed into a crazy Moroccan driver who handles the frightening traffic, wild roads, mountains, one-land roads carrying two-way traffic and the seeming disregard for all traffic laws with complete calm and competence.  Cathryn is extraordinarily grateful as she is the second driver on our rental agreement and does not relish the thought of driving in the local conditions.  Matt is super!

We arrived back in Marrakesh this morning after 90 minutes and met Bob at the  airport much to Cathryn’s relief and delight.  It turns out he almost didn’t make it, as his flight arrived late in Paris and then security and customs took so long that he missed his flight to Madrid.  Fortunately he was able to catch another flight 3 hours later and arrived in Marrakesh on time.

We drove 4 hours to the fortess village of Ait Ben Haddou (think movies such as “Ben Hur”, “Gladiator” and others) and toured for 2-3 hours before returning to our hotel for a swim (Matt and Mackenzie) and dinner.  This is a spectacular place that enchanted us.

Happy to be all together and back on track with our itinerary! Morocco is fascinating, beautiful and fun.

A Glimpse of Morocco

The other day as we drove the highway toward Ait BenHaddou we were waved down by a motorist whose vehicle had broken down beside the road. After a brief debate about whether we should stop and risk being kidnapped or otherwise pillaged, we decided to stop and “pay it forward”. It turns out we were perfectly safe, and the driver, wearing a robe and turban and speaking excellent English, only asked if we would deliver a written message to his cousin in Ait Ben Haddou informing him of the need for roadside assistance.

The directions he gave us said: “Drive into town on the main road and turn right at the road that goes to the Kasbah, next to the post office; if you get to the mosque you went too far. After turning right, go twenty meters and look for the house with the two green doors and ask for Hassan Ali.”

After driving beyond the mosque, we turned around, found the correct turn, and then found the two green doors. As we were getting out of the car, a man walked up to us, so we asked if he knew where we could find Hassan Ali. It turns out he was Hassan Ali! After delivering the note from his cousin asking for help, Hassan Ali invited us inside for tea. We tried to beg off, but after several pleas of “just 5 minutes, it will be my pleasure” we gave in.

We learned that Hassan Ali was just visiting there and actually lives 60 kilometers south of M’Hamid where we were going the next day for our camel trek. Hassan Ali is a caravan trader who sometimes provides transportation services for the French charity “Doctors without Borders”, which is how he learned to speak English so well. He regaled us for an hour with stories of caravanning and trading with people along his 5-month route in the desert through five North African countries. He showed us some handmade Berber silver jewelry made from old coins that he bought and sold along his route. A pleasant and interesting glimpse of Morocco!

I'm on a jet plane to Paris. I think this is going to work this time. Whoop nkkkkkkkkkm,kmmmmm

sent from my Droid, please forgive brievity and any typo's

Cathryn Checks In!

This is Cathryn writing on an Arab keyboard which is not a qwerty keyboard so it’s slow and difficult for me and punctuation and spelling may be bad. Sorry.

I am missing Bob terribly but am otherwise happy and well and having a great time with Mackenzie and Matt: Marrakech is an astonishing place and I loved it. The sights sounds and smells are cacophonous at almost all hours of day and night: Everything, literally everything is brightly colored: Most women wear head scarves or full robes and face covers and many men wear robes though we see lots of western clothing too: Arab and Berber and French are the main languages spoken and Spanish is at least as common as English so sometimes we communicate in Spanish which is no ones first language: The souq or market in the old medina -- old walled part of town --produced feelings of serious overload and wonder at the same time:very crowded and we got lost many times and astonishing array of wonderful and gorgeous things to buy -- tapestries; leather things like shoes and purses and belts; and gorgeous metal work including lamps and dishes. All very crowded and colorful: I definitely want to return there at the end so Bob can see it:

Woke every morning at5am to the muezzin call to prayer which is beautiful and sort of haunting sounding to my unaccustomed ears, though we heard this in Zanzibar and Capetown as well: We don’t see people praying on the streets anywhere: We toured a madras or school for boys that was built in the 1500s and the royal palace and a tannery where they turn animal skins -- camel cow and goat -- into leather goods: Tile work and carvings were amazing. Tannery was extremely smelly and they gave us mint leaves to hold to our nose while walking around: Alcohol is very hard to find so we are drinking water cola and mint tea which is very lavorful sweet and delicious:

This morning we rented a small car -- black Peugeot -- and left Marrakech to drive up into the Atlas Mountains to the small village of Imlil. We will hike here for the next couple of days: Matt did the driving as I find the crazy drivers here unnerving and the road is only one lane -- when another vehicle comes toward you you have to both pull onto the shoulders of the road.

The people are almost all very kind and helpful. There are some aggressive people in the streets and shops but nowhere near the worst we saw in Tanzania in 2008. It is cold here -- no heat -- and my fingers are stiff with cold and brain tired of typing on this challenging keyboard so more later after Bob arrives Friday with our netbook: This is an amazing trip so far and I can’t wait for Bob to join us:

Marrakech by Phone

Cathryn called from Marrakech this afternoon. It was great to hear her voice. She tells me that it’s an amazing city and that she thinks we should come back there at the end of the trip.  We actually left 3 days unscheduled at the end of our visit  to Morocco so we could have some time to improvise based on what we learned while we are there.

The best news was that after spending the afternoon in the souq (the local market) she learned that her fears of aggressive selling techniques and touts trying to get you to pay them for some kind of services described in the books were greatly exaggerated.   We had a couple of bad experiences with this in Tanzania in 2007, which left a very bad impression, and she’d been worried about it.  It was 10:30 at night her time when she called from an on the street phone booth. It was a little hard to hear what she was saying given all street noises. She says the streets are crowded even late and the drivers are crazy.

On the home front, I applied for the new passport this morning and was told I could come back to pick it up at 2 PM tomorrow!  You can bet I’ll be there.  All my plane reservations are made and as of 5:15 AM Wednesday morning I’ll be on my way. (Note to self, hold onto your passport this time bozo!)

Update: Cathryn’s in Lisbon, Bob’s Not

 

First some background; we are traveling on “miles” for this trip, so Cathryn is flying via United and Bob is (or was) flying Alaska/Air France. So we left Seattle at different times, and we’re taking different routes to Marrakech, where we were to meet each other and our daughter Mackenzie and our favorite son in law Matt. We were all scheduled to arrive in Marrakech within 3 hours of each other Sunday night (local time). Well, as of Sunday morning local time, Cathryn have arrived in Lisbon, tired but on time. She will meet up with Matt and Mackenzie later this afternoon and the three of them will fly together to Marrakech.

Bob on the other hand is not faring so well. At his first intermediate stop, in the ol USA, he, the dumb s**t, lost his passport. (This is Bob writing the post, and you should know that that’s the nicest thing I’ve called myself the last 12 hours or so). After much scurrying around, including some wonderful assistance from the folks at Air France, the doors had to close on the flight to Paris, with Bob on the wrong side. So Bob, the one who will never again give Cathryn a hard time for checking everything twice, is now on his way home to Seattle, where first thing Monday morning he will show up at the passport office with all his papers, photos, and humble solicitude, seeking an expedited passport.

If all goes well I’ll get to Marrakech Wednesday night, and then figure out how to catch up with the rest of the group.  I certainly wouldn’t want to miss our trip on a camel out into the desert for the night! (Or would I?)  Cathryn and I talked to each other after I lost the passport and before she left Newark, so she knew I wasn’t going to make it. We “talked” again, via email when she arrived in Lisbon.

I’ll post more when I know more.

Travelin’ Again

We spent an unusually rainy September doing what people do in the Pacific Northwest, boating hiking and generally being outdoors, so we didn’t post much, but we are now entering our traveling season so we will be posting more often

. Right now we are on our way to Morocco, for three weeks, and then a week in Portugal “on the way home”. These are both new destinations for us so it should be fun exploring these new destinations, and in the case of Morocco a whole new culture.

We are renting a car while there so we should have a chance to actually experience some elements of the day to day life in Morocco, in addition to doing all, or at least as many as we can squeeze in, of the normal tourist destinations.

In November we are going to that unnamed Caribbean island, henceforth called “UCI” and then in January will be headed back to Baja for the winter.

We’ll be blogging as often as internet access allows, and posting “SPOT” messages every day while we are traveling to Morocco, so if we don’t post you should be able to follow along by clicking on “Spot Us” at the top of this page.