Morocco: Sahara Desert

I’m (finally) back with another entry about my trip to Morocco. I’m only a little over twenty days late with it, of course, but that’s not too bad, right?

Ah. I see. Well then, let’s get started, shall we? 

Following the debauchery from the night before, I had to be up in the early hours of March 9. Why? Well, because I was scheduled to be picked up by a guide for a two-day/one-night trip to the famous Sahara Desert! I don’t know how I managed to get up, but I did.

The guide finally arrived, accompanied by two of my fellow travelers on this leg of the journey (NJ and SP). Together we made our way toward Djamaa el-Fna where, after a bit of jockeying, we were finally allowed to board the van that would take us the rest of the way. Soon thereafter we were joined by the remaining eight members of our group for the next two days, and off we went…

Now, given that the Sahara is the largest (hot) desert in the world, and that its size is comparable to both China and the United States, one might think that it shouldn’t take long to reach its sandy border. 

One would be wrong. 

It actually takes over 5 hours to get there from Marrakech—and most of that 5 hours consists of severely winding and twisting turns as you make your way around and over the Atlas Mountains. Nonetheless, the mountains are beautiful and the views are quite spectacular—at times, even exhilarating and heart-stopping!

Day Trippin'

Mountaintops

Photostop!

Fortunately, our route allowed us to stop a few times along the way, thereby breaking up the monotony of the drive and affording us the opportunity to explore more of Morocco than just the touristy hubs.

Our first significant stop was about 2½ hours southeast of Marrakech, at a kasbah called Aït Benhaddou.

Ait Benhaddou

View From the Top

We were handed over to a very nice local guide, who led us through the steep streets (and steps) of this amazing city. Among other things, this guide informed us that, due to annual flooding, most local residents have moved to a neighboring town—however, there is still one Berber family actively living within Aït Benhaddou’s walls. 

For the most part, it has become an attraction for tourists, with shops now nestled within many of the buildings (which are rebuilt annually due to the weather), and with locals showing off such skills as creating images out of tea-stains and fire on scraps of paper. But, as our guide reminded us numerous times, traditional tourists aren’t the only ones interested in Aït Benhaddou! Hollywood has frequently made use of the kasbah as a backdrop for some of its most famous films, including: Lawrence of Arabia, Jesus of Nazareth, The Jewel of the Nile, The Mummy, and Gladiator (among many others)! (In fact, the gateway that's visible on the right-hand side of the photo with me standing in front of Aït Benhaddou was constructed specifically for Lawrence of Arabia.)

Now, I’m going to digress for a moment here, as this seems like a good place to discuss our group dynamic during the trip. 

Before setting off, I had been worried—especially in light of how amazingly I hit it off with the Djellaba Crew at Waka Waka—that this trip would be a strange and awkward experience. I mean, let’s be honest: spending over 5 hours in a van with a group of total strangers, and then sharing a tent with some of them overnight…the potential for drasaster (drama+disaster) there is huge! 

Fortunately, I had nothing to fear. 

Everyone was very friendly! Only myself and one another (RG) were travelling by our lonesome—the rest were all part of groups: NJ and SP were two Australians studying together in London; J and JJ were a traveling brother-sister team; and then there was a group of five Americans (JM, KB, OS, MD, and DB) who were studying together in Spain. But, despite people having ready-made friends on the trip with them, there was never a sense of cliquishness or stand-offishness.

Personally, I had the pleasure of sitting next to and talking with JM for most of the bus ride. I mention JM specifically because he really went out of his way during the whole trip to make me feel included, and I truly feel as if the friendship formed between us there was one of the biggest highlights of this leg of the trip for me.

At any rate, there had been some pleasant conversations here-and-there while on the trip to Aït Benhaddou, but I think it was with the spontaneous decision to take group photos (using all of our cameras) that tipped me off that the whole group had formed a really special bond. 

Front Row (L to R): DB, KB, SP, NJ, Me / Back Row (L to R): MD, JM, RG, OS

 I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am that I was part of such an amazing group!

From Aït Benhaddou we proceeded to Ouarzazate, Morocco. Ouarzazate, also known as the ‘door to the desert,’ is another locale known for its connections to the film industry: many of the same movies listed earlier have also featured this capital city, and it is also home to Atlas Studios (where an episode from The Amazing Race’s 10th season was filmed). Sadly, our driver didn’t give us much in the way of details about the area (though I've since learned that the structure seen below is called Taourirt), so I can’t really say too much more about it.

Kasbah Taourirt

After our quick stop at Ouarzazate, we made our way to Zagora, Morocco, the town where we finally traded-in our bus for some camels. (As an interesting aside, the town’s original name was ‘Twin Peaks’ in the Berber tongue, a reference to a nearby mountain named Zagora.) 

We were informed that we each needed to buy a tagelmust for protection from the desert sands, and also that this would be our last chance to buy bottled water for our time at the campsite.

Shortly thereafter, stocked-up and wearing our tigelmas, we were ready to mount-up and head into the desert…

Front Row (L to R): NJ and SP / Back Row (L to R): Me, JM, KB, RG, DB

Giddy-Up!

But that’s a story for next time…

Sickness = Unproductiveness

Just a quick update on this, the last day of March 2012. 

Hard to believe, but I’ve only got 65 days left of my study abroad experience. It seems like just yesterday that I was marveling and lamenting over how long it would be until I was home again—and now, it seems like it’s just right around the corner.

At any rate, Easter Break has finally started—hurrah! Two full weeks of relaxation = bliss! 

Alas, I’ve started the break on somewhat of a bad note, as I’ve been laid-up in bed and feeling sick. Fortunately, the stuff I got from the pharmacy earlier today seems to be helping somewhat, so hopefully I’ll be back on my feet soon.

In the meantime, I’ve spent most of today watching stuff on the interwebs: 

I’ve finished the first seven episodes of ‘Modern Family,’ which both EN and Nic have been after me to watch for a bit. I honestly haven’t laughed as hard and consistently at a show since ‘Arrested Development!’ There are so many great lines, and I have to admit that the Cam and Mitchell characters are Nic and I (respectively)—seriously, it’s a bit frightening at times how similar we are.

[NB: Okay, I confess that the above example is a bad one—for the most part, I am far more like Mitchell than Cam. However, ABC has blocked me from seeing most of the clips over here, so I'll work with what I have.]

Taking a break from ‘Modern Family,’ I turned to a gay French flick called ‘Just a Question of Love,’ starring the hot-as-balls and openly gay Cyrille Thouvenin. The story was only so-so, but nonetheless nice in terms of being mindless fluff that I could follow in spite of my medication-induced mental fog…and, it had a happy, sappy ending. And I’m always a sucker for happy, sappy gay love stories…which explains why I then spent the next little bit watching the story of Josh and Nate from ‘Waterloo Road,’ followed by a series of short films along the same line.

So, yeah, not really a productive day.

But, I have lots of things planned for Easter Break, so hopefully there will be some more interesting updates coming down the pike. Since the weather’s supposed to be fairly crappy over the next few days, I’m hoping to do a lot of the indoorsy things that have been on my to-do list for ages, such as: visiting the Victoria & Albert Museum, cruising through the Tate Modern, visiting Charles Dickens’ House, touring BBC, and maybe even getting a drink or two at the Ice Bar. Oh! And I've discovered where they filmed many of the exterior shots from 'Beautiful Thing,' and so I simply must go there and snag some photos!

 

In the meantime, it’s time for my next dose of medicine and so I’ll close. In parting, I leave you with the song that’s been stuck in my head all bloody day…

Beautiful Day!

Today (27 March) was a lovely day! 

In fact, it may well be one of the most gorgeous I’ve experienced during my time in London!

Having successfully submitted all of my midterm assignments (a.k.a. ‘CW1s’) as of yesterday, I made up my mind to take full advantage of today and tomorrow—especially since both days were/are supposed to be sunny, clear, and between 21-23˚C (69-73˚F).

With that in mind, EN and I made plans for today to visit the Camden Town Markets, which I’ve wanted to do for a while now. Running alongside the Regent’s Canal, this area consists of a number of open-air markets—Camden Lock Market, Historic Stables Market, Camden Lock Village, Buck Street Market, Electric Ballroom, and Inverness Street Market—all made up of adjoining stalls selling everything from clothing to food to chochtkies. Supposedly, much of London’s ‘alternative subculture’ can trace its roots to this area.

We found this shirt in the Historic Stables Market. I told Nic it should be his next tattoo.

EN and I spent most of our time between the Camden Lock and Historic Stables Markets. In many ways, it reminded me of the souq in Marrakech—just without the bartering (though there was a bit of that going on too). 

I definitely want to go back, and soon! 

Oh, and have I mentioned the amazing piña colada that EN got—actually served in a pineapple? It was epic. (But, as for me, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have a bit of mulled wine, which I haven’t had an opportunity to enjoy since the days of my former coworker Jim’s amazing Christmas parties—the only thing it was missing was the fresh cranberries!)

It may have only been 3:00 PM here...but it was 5:00 PM in South Africa. That counts, right?

After leaving Camden Town, we started walking aimlessly toward the southwest(ish), for a little less than a 1.5 miles. We didn’t have any plans—we just weren’t ready to call an (early) end to such a gorgeous day. Eventually, we found ourselves wandering through the lovely Regent’s Park. It was absolutely spectacular, and reminded me quite a bit of Brookside Botanical Gardens back home (in Maryland). I wish Mom could see it in person, because she loves going to Brookside for family photos—alas, since she is not here in person, I had to try and grab photos on her behalf:

Oh yeah, and EN and I decided to climb some trees, because...well, they were there and we could.

I also tried to get photos of some hot, shirtless sunbathers making use of the park, because, well they were also there and I could. Except I couldn’t, because I was afraid I was being too obvious!

Noticing how close we were to Soho (only about 1.6 miles), we made our way over for some delicious coffee at LJ’s Coffee House. It was during today’s visit that I realized just how similar LJ’s is to the first gayborhood coffee shop I fell in love with: Washington, DC’s own Soho Tea & Coffee. The vibe is very similar, from the music (e.g., Madonna) to the artwork by local artists that’s displayed (and for sale) on the wall. I spent many happy, happy hours at Soho’s as I was coming into my own, and I think that’s why LJ’s has resonated with me in the way that it has.

Regarding today’s visit the current batch of artwork for sale was superhero-themed: Superman, (pre-mysogenistic) Wonder Woman, Hulk, and a stylized Thundercats logo.Also, the barista was not nearly as pleasant as Friday’s. Nonetheless, EN and I had a great time, chatting about everything from racism at Columbia to CCC President Warwick Carter’s recent, inexcusable display of unprofessionalism, arrogance, and heartlessness toward a homeless Columbia student! 

All-in-all, it was an amazing day!

Tomorrow’s plans, which I hope will be equally wonderful, include going with JvE (and hopefully RAS) to Portobello Road Market in Notting Hill, followed by a trip to Kensington Palace and Gardens!

Casual Over-Drinks Topics...

There’s not too much to talk about at the moment, but I figured I should do a quick entry just to highlight a couple of things that I’ve done over the last week.

Tuesday night (20 March) I traveled to Leytonstone—birthplace of Sirs Alfred Hitchcock and Derek Jacobi—in order to meet-up with two UEL students, JA and GC, for drinks. The peers in question are both thesis-level Cultural Studies students who occasionally pop into my horrid ‘Culture, Power and Resistance in the Twenty-First Century’ class. One of them (JA) also happens to be the UEL student that came to Columbia last year. We met up at the Red Lion (which I think might be affiliated with the pub I went to with K&M on my second night here), and spent a lovely couple of hours catching up over beer and cider. We chatted about everything from white privilege and racism in Europe, to the failings of abstinence-only education in the U.S., to the attempted privitization of England’s healthcare system. You know, casual over-drinks topics…for Cultural Studies students at least.

Tuesday night wasn’t my only stab at being social this week. Last night (23 March) I happened to catch a Facebook update from another friend, AH, that he was stuck at Victoria Station, waiting for a train to take him back home (which is about an hour away). Now, I’ve ‘known’ AH online for around 13 years—we’ve been part of the same He-Man/She-Ra community since the mid- to late-1990s—but we’ve never actually met before. (Namely because of the ocean which separates us.) So, upon spotting this update, a hurried flurry of messages were exchanged, and plans were made to finally meet up in person while he waited for his rescheduled train. A short while later, and we were finally greeting one another face-to-face.

Me and AH at Victoria Station

Since AH had a couple of hours before his train was scheduled to depart, we nipped over to the Duke of York, a pub not far from the station. This was actually my first experience meeting another He-Fan/She-Raver in person—everyone’s so spread out in the States that it’s hard to do so—and I loved every second of it. It was so surreal: two grown, 30(ish) year-old men—in a dark, noisy bar surrounded by stumbling heterosexuals trying to dance to ‘Hot in Here’ (and the men suggestively removing their suitcoats)—talking about everything from the father/daughter relationship between Hordak and She-Ra, to what kinds of material the Four Horsemen will use to design Scorpia’s tail, to the role of the Filmation series in producing a generation of really swell, inclusivity-minded people. You know, casual over-drinks topics…for He-Fans/She-Ravers at least.

Beyond those two bits of excitement, there’s really not too much else to tell. This week’s kind of flown by (and, honestly, I wish it would slow down)! I’m housesitting for K&M at the moment, and keeping their delightful dog Bowmar company. I’m loving every second of the peace and quiet here. I hadn't realize how stressed out I’d become living in the other house until I came here, but I suddenly find myself very relaxed.

Of course, part of the stress I’m feeling might have more to do with midterms than the constant thumpa-thumpa at my flat. Basically, our entire grade comes down to two grades: our final (60%) and our midterm (40%). Oh, and they do not award 100% over here, the rationale being that if your work warrants 100% then you should already be a teacher. Realistically, the highest score most students earn is about 75%. So, basically, my midterms have to be spot-on if I want to try to maintain my 4.0!

Fortunately, midterm madness is almost over. One of them (‘Realism, Fantasy & Utopia’) was due last week, and the other two are due this week—followed by two glorious weeks of Easter Break (yes, it's called Easter Break here), during which time I hope to visit Scotland!!!! 

And then we go straight into working on our finals, because there's only like 5 weeks left of the actual semester following Easter Break.

Two final things I want to mention, but which don’t really fit anywhere else:

First, yesterday was a gorgeous day! Mind you, this is still London, so of course there was a curtain of smog blanketing the skyline—I have yet to see a day that is both sunny and clear—but I’ll take what I can get! It was simply too nice restrict myself to the indoors all day, so after class I ran to K&M’s house, spent some time with Bowmar, grabbed the laptop, and headed to a coffee shop in Soho. The place was called LJ’s CoffeeHouse, and my choice to go there was pretty random: I simply wanted somewhere that was open-air and had free wifi, and this is where Google directed me. After visiting their website, however, I also became smitten with LJ’s through the following ‘prayer’ posted on their site (and which I can totes relate to):

Caffeine is my shepherd; I shall not doze.
It maketh me to wake in green pastures:
It leadeth me beyond the sleeping masses.
It restoreth my buzz:
It leadeth me in the path of conciousness for its name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of addiction,
I will fear no equal.
For thou art with me, thy sweetness and thy crema they comfort me.
Thou preparest a carafe before me in the presence of my barista:
Thou anointest my day with pep; my mug runneth over.
Surely richness and taste shall follow me all the days of my life:
And I will dwell in the house of LJ's forever.

The service was only decent (though very friendly), but the coffee and the atmosphere as a whole were excellent. The gay Sohoians seemed to come alive, renewed by the sun’s warmth. People were so happy and pleasant, and it all jived perfectly with the mood I was in. (It was not, however, conducive to working—I spent 90% of my time there just chatting with Nic over the interwebs.)

Secondly—and containing spoilers (consider yourself warned)—I was saddened to learn on Thursday night that ‘Eastenders’ had killed off one of my favorite characters, George-Michael-obsessive Heather Trott (Cheryl Fergison). Alongside the Dot, Kim, and Shirley characters, Heather was one of my favorites. And the way in which she died—and the status of her relationships with best-friend Shirley and her murderer at the time—is just too sad. And sadly, it seems as if the U.K. soaps don’t bring back characters from the dead in the way the U.S. soaps do. Ah, well—I’ll miss you, Heather, but at least I can find some of your shenanigans on YouTube still: 

  

Until next time…

Morocco: Cobras, Shisha, and Djellabas...oh my!

So, despite explosions and extortive measures, I finally arrived at Hostel Waka Waka on the 8th! The owners, Yaya and Jawad, were both incredibly welcoming. In fact, before being allowed to do anything else—including paying for my room—Yaya insisted that I sit, relax for a bit, and enjoy my hot touareg tea (i.e., a mint tea that is a huge part of Moroccan culture, and which is served to guests as a sign of hospitality). 

My room was on the bottom level, behind the red-stripped curtain.

Looking Upward, toward the rooftop level.

Now, you might be wondering how long I was allowed to relax before paying for my room. I mean, Hostel Waka Waka is still a business after all, right, and surely they want their money? The answer is about an hour—an hour of doing nothing but relaxing, sitting on the couch, and chatting with the other guests as they trickled in.  (In fact, they didn't even ask for their money until much later in the evening!)

I still can’t believe how many amazing people I met at Waka Waka! They were all so inclusive and generous. In fact, I didn’t meet a single person there—or at any point while in Morocco—that I didn’t like immensely. Practically from the start, it was nonstop laughs and fun, and I’m thrilled to say that I’ve since added most of them as Facebook friends so that we can keep in touch. (Yeah, okay, I know how pathetic I am for being so happy about new Facebook friends—no need to rub it in.)

The first of the awesome folks that I met at Waka Waka was NS, a really nice Canadian gent who immediately started including me in the group conversation and plans for walking around the medina later. Mind you, I hadn’t even been assigned a bed yet—but I already had plans for going out.

Thus, a short while later, nine of us set off to explore the medina

Entrance to the souq

Though we didn’t stop (yet), our journey took us through the souq, which is supposedly Morocco’s biggest traditional market. I haven’t seen the hard data to support this claim, but I readily believe it. It was this massive den of chaotic, magical madness! There were so many shops—some no bigger than a wardrobe—jam-packed with wares that the merchants were trying to sell to any- and everyone!

But I’ll say more about the souq later, because for now I want to turn my attention toward the main square:

Djamaa el-Fna is (again, supposedly) one of Africa’s busiest squares. Now, as loathed as I am to include Wikipedia for purposes beyond the occasional unimportant referent, I will say that the following description is pretty accurate in terms of what I saw at Djamaa el-Fna:

During the day it is predominantly occupied by orange juice stalls, youths with chained Barbary apes, water sellers in colourful costumes with traditional leather water-bags and brass cups, and snake charmers who will pose for photographs for tourists.

As the day progresses, the entertainment on offer changes: the snake charmers depart, and late in the day the square becomes more crowded, with Chleuh dancing-boys (it would be against custom for girls to provide such entertainment), story-tellers (telling their tales in Berber or Arabic, to an audience of appreciative locals), magicians, and peddlers of traditional medicines. As darkness falls, the square fills with dozens of food-stalls as the number of people on the square peaks.~ Wikipedia Entry

The Waka Waka crew (which later evolved into the djellaba crew for reasons that I’ll go into later) made its way to one of the orange juice stalls, where I think I got swindled by the vendor—fortunately, this time it was only out of 10DH / 1€. Regardless, it was a damn fine glass of orange juice, being somehow thicker and creamier than the overly processed junk I’m used to in the US (and also possessive of a darker-reddish color).

A short while later, but still while in the square, my new friend ‘Papu’ (JJWR) was surprised to find a monkey on his shoulder. Yes, you read the right: a monkey. A medium-sized, golden-furred Barbary macaque…which was, sadly, kept on a chain by its handler, and did not look happy. Nonetheless, picture taking ensued, and soon enough the monkey was perched on my own shoulder…with his grubby little hand reaching into my coat pocket in an effort to steal my cigarettes.

Cheeky Little Monkey!

Though I do not condone the way this poor creature was treated by its handler, I probably would have regretted not getting a photo later, and that’s my pathetic excuse participating in this moment.

And that wasn’t my only photo-op from that first afternoon in Djamaa el-Fna, though the next one was far more expensive. 

Now, let me preface this bit of the story by simply saying that people are generally surprised—and a bit horrified—to learn that I am far less afraid of snakes than I am of rodents. In fact, I kind of like the appendageless li’l guys. Furthermore, I’ve always been particularly intrigued by cobras. 

So, upon encountering the snake charmers a short while later, it took less than a second for me to request a photo with one of the cobras. The charmer obligingly placed it around my neck!

Papu and I with our slithery new friends!

Post-photos, the snake charmer started demanding 300DH (at least it was less than the 400DH they demanded Papu pay). I talked him down to 100DH (or was it 200DH? I forget). It was still far more than I wanted to pay, but I reconciled this by saying that it was another once-in-a-lifetime thing. What I hadn’t reckoned on, however, was that the guy I paid would then use that amount to help his colleagues extract an equal amount from NS, who had (until that point) been doing a better job of haggling. Whoops.

Following our time in the Djamaa el-Fna, a group of us ventured back to the souq for some exploration. Aside form being tempted to buy a plate of sheep’s brains and face (no lie), and being told that we should all ‘stick [our] fingers up our asses’ for refusing a young man’s navigational services near the tannery, there’s actually not too much that I can report. As I mentioned earlier, the souq is both massive and chaotic—so much so, that it’s hard to actually talk about. 

One thing I definitely do want to mention, though, is how determined the sellers were—it was insane! It turns out I had nothing to fear from the language barrier, because these guys could suss out where you were from in seconds, and they would tailor their spiel to your nationality and language without blinking an eye. 

English? No worries.

Japanese? C’mon a’my house!

Spanish? Holla and ¡Hola)!

 

Furthermore, the vendors would actually remember you and any promises you may have made. For instance, if you promised them that you would come back later to check out their carpets or whatnot, and you didn’t, these vendors would spot you across a crowded road days later and remind you of said-promise. In fact, on my last day in Marrakech I went around with another of my new friends, JE, who informed me that she had made so many false promises that she couldn’t return to certain roads within the souq because they were all looking for her!

Though overwhelming, it really was quite fun. I only wish that I had taken more photos of it—but I simply spent too much time actively avoiding the donkey-carts and motorbikes that were whizzing along the narrow streets.

Following our trip to the souq it was back to Waka Waka for some relaxation. A group of us made our way up to the rooftop deck, and out came the shisha and we toked… I mean talked for what felt like hours afterwards. It was during this shennaniganery that I also enjoyed some really nice apple-flavored tobacco. I’d never had flavored tobacco before (other than menthol, I guess?), but I quite liked it.

[Photo Courtesy of Papu]

 Later that night, part of our group hopped in a cab and travelled about 15km to the nearest liquor store, while the rest of us—munchified and unable to wait for our friends—returned to Djamaa el-Fna and visited one of the many stalls for dinner.

Djamaa el-Fna as night falls

The stall we wound up at was pretty full, and so we were crammed into an area behind the serving and preparing area, right next to the grill. That was kind of fun and interesting…except for the constant grill-smoke wafting into our faces. (Mind you, it did enable me to watch my chicken kebobs being made!) Also, when it came time to pay for the meal things got a bit complicated because the waiter didn’t carry change. In the end, we got it all sorted out though, and even posed for some photos with the staff.

L to R: Cook, Me, Server, AH, Cook. [Photo courtesy of AH]

Satiated, we headed back to Waka Waka, where we met-up with the others…two of whom—KD and Papu—were wearing their recently-purchased djellabas (which were of ‘the finest quality’). Thus was the group’s obsession with djellabas born—by the end of the trip, almost everyone had one. (I, sadly, did not buy one—but only because time ran out and I never got around to it. I really regret not doing so.)

The ensuing hours passed in a blur…or, at the least, I can’t quite recall most of it. This photo may give you an indication of why:

Too Much Absinthe Makes the Brettsy Go Blind [Photo Courtesy of Papu]

It was after 3:30 AM when I finally decided to go to bed—and I had a wake-up call at 6 AM for my trip to the Sahara. But more on that in the next entry…

Morocco: Getting There is Half the Battle!

I should really start blogging about my Moroccan experience, don’t you think? So, here goes…

Technically speaking, my journey began on 7 March 2012. I say this because I woke-up at about 8 AM that morning so that I could start working on some last minute things (like, you know, packing and figuring out how to get to Stansted Airport from where I’m living), and I didn’t go to sleep again until the 9^th. But more on that later...

Nerves prevented even a brief nap prior to heading out for the airport, so that when I arrived at Stansted at about 3:30 AM on the 8^th I was already tired. Nonetheless, I successfully checked-in, passed through security (after being told to throw away my hair gel for security reasons), and worked my way onto the plane for a 6 AM take-off. 

(Yes, I’m one of ‘those’ people who gets to the airport at least two hours prior to a flight—this is, in part, due to a bad experience coming back from Ohio once wherein I almost missed my flight and lost a Whoopie Goldberg action figure while rushing down the concourse…but that’s a story for another time.) 

For the record, sleep did not come on the airplane either. Again, nerves were a factor—but this time there was the added ‘bonus’ of screaming, kicking children in the seat next to me and Ryanair’s insistence on promoting their ‘buy on board’ program over the P.A. system. Whatevs.

At any rate, about 4 hours later the plane was descending toward Marrakech. I was able to snag a few photos of the African landscape before one of the stewards snapped at me to turn the camera off. (I guess I missed the announcement that all electronic devices had to be turned off). Sadly, this means that I was unable to capture the most amazing image that I saw on the way in: the Atlas Mountains stretched out alongside Marrakech. Nonetheless, I love the photos that I was able to get, one of which you can see below:

The Moroccan landscape near Marrakech.

Upon arriving at Menara Airport I breezed through customs, and quickly made the switch from Euros to Moroccan Dirham (DH). Yes, I know you shouldn't convert money at the airport, but it's almost impossible to find someplace that will 'legally' convert to Dirhams in London—

As a quick side-note about the money: I sucked at using it effectively, namely because I was always having to convert prices in my mind into Euros and from there into US Dollars. This shouldn’t have been as complicated for me as it was—especially since 1€ = 10DH—but I was working on very little sleep the entire time! And this was on top of having to haggle over most prices, which I’m equally inept at. So don’t judge me when I start discussing some of my…less advisable financial decisions in a bit.

—At any rate, despite the fact that breezed through the arrival and visa process really quickly, it actually took me about 30 more minutes to work up the nerve to actually leave the airport. 

Yup, you read that right. 

In fact, I was so intimidated at that point by what might happen (I foolishly watched the AbFab ‘Morocco’ episode an hour before leaving for the airport) that I legitimately contemplated never leaving the airport.

What did I do during those 30 minutes you ask? Well, first I walked around the shops. And then I made my way out toward the taxi stand…but chickened out and circled back. Next I found a place to get some food and a map (which I never used). Then, finally, I made a second attempt at getting a cab. This second attempt at grabbing a cab was a bit more successful. 

However, all of the cabs were being coordinated by a single man who, after finding out where I was going, set the price at 200DH (20€; $40). This might not have been a bad price…if I was going more than 6km. Nonetheless, I was tired and lost, and so I agreed. (For the record, I tried to talk the driver down while en route, but to no avail—he wouldn’t go against the other man.)

The ride toward the hostel wasn’t bad. My driver was moderately fluent in English, and was able to point out sites as we drove around, and the contrasting imagery of brown buildings, palm trees, and distant snowcapped mountains was incredible. 

Two things worth noting about the ride, however:

(1) The road was clearly divided between incoming and outgoing traffic…but there weren’t any (visible) sub-divisions, meaning that each side had about three lanes’ worth of traffic (cars, buses, motorbikes, pedestrians, and donkeys with carts) weaving in and out amongst each other. That was a bit disconcerting at first—but I can honestly say that I didn’t see any accidents, and it all somehow worked.

(2) As we pulled up at one of the only stoplights between the airport and my hostel, and the driver was pointing out the wall surrounding the medina quarter (the older, fortified section of Marrakech, in which I was staying), there was a tremendous explosion!

Yes, explosion!

It was so jarring, that the driver and I both dropped in our seats and covered our heads (and probably loosed an explicative or two)…only to realize a moment later that we were stopped next to a construction site using dynamite. Sigh. Some kind of warning would have been nice, but at least it added an interesting side-story to the start my adventure. 

[NB: This is not my photo!]

Following that bit of excitement, it was only a few more minutes until the cab pulled to a stop. Now, we weren’t quite at the hostel yet, but cars are not allowed into the medina because the streets are so narrow and densely packed. 

But, I was prepared for this, and had directions from the hostel telling me how to get there from the drop-off point...

Unfortunately, the cab driver had other ideas, and whistled to a friend of his that was ‘conveniently’ standing not far away.

My driver told the man where I was going, and instructed him to take me there. I was also prepared for this eventuality, though, having read on another traveler’s blog about a similar experience that wound up costing them over 200DH. So, after paying for my cab and grabbing my bag (before the second man could throw it into his cart), I told UnwantedGuide-Man that I was not in need of his services and that I knew where I was going. 

But UnwantedGuide-Man nonetheless took the lead (headed in the direction which I knew I, too, had to go), and kept telling me that his services were free and that he would just show me where to go. No charge. 

(Sounding familiar? Perhaps you’re finding this reminiscent of my experience at the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur? Me too.)

In hindsight, it’s probably good that UnwantedGuide-Man was there, because even with directions I would have probably gotten lost. At the time, however, I was merely annoyed by his presence because I knew where this was leading (in both the actual and metaphorical senses). I kept telling UnwantedGuide-Man that I really didn’t need his services, and that I didn’t have the money to pay him.

‘No, no, no—it’s free! Come, come…’

M'mm-hmmm.

Sure enough, 5 minutes later we were standing before the door of my hostel and he was demanding 200DH. 

Regretfully, the entrance to my hostel was tucked into a very tight, very dark alleyway, and in that moment I was pretty intimidated since there was no one else around, and UnwantedGuide-Man was very physically imposing—also, it was taking forever for someone to answer the hostel’s door. I reminded UnwantedGuide-Man that I didn’t have the money to pay, but he kept pushing. Eventually, I (very reluctantly) parted with 100DH as a means of finally getting rid of him…and of course, the door just so happened to open at that exact moment, too. Funny that.

So, there you have the beginning of Moroccan experience—it gets a lot more fun and a lot less extortiony soon, I promise!