Not So Friendly Neighbors….

So now that we have left Barcelona, I feel like we can share this story with our family and friends who worry about us from back in the US….stick with me, it isn't a short story, but its a good one.

We rented a terrific apartment through AirBnB in Barcelona. Great location around the corner from the Sagrada Familia, close to some good restaurants and the metro, 3 bedrooms so Maggie got her own room (a rarity), clean, well-stocked, etc  After our stay in Fez, we were thrilled to have a place we could unpack for 5 nights that was relatively quiet.

Also adding to our excitement in Barcelona was that we had plans to meet another traveling family, the Leung-Browns who are from Berkeley and doing pretty much the same trip (we've even stayed in a bunch of the same places unknowingly!) over a 10 month stretch with their kids, Olivia (11) and Elias (7).  We met them in the Parc Guell for lunch the first day and both the parents and kids hit it off fabulously. After a couple of hours of letting the 5 kids wander off into the Parc, we decided to meet up for dinner at our place a few hours later for fajitas (the kids ALL miss Mexican food).

After a bit of confusion (ok, totally my bad - I just might have emailed them that we lived at 129 Career de la Marina when it was really 219), the resourceful Leung-Browns arrived amidst much excitement to our place, and we hurried them into our 3rd floor (actually it is the 5th, but counts as the 3rd…) apartment so we could start eating all the yummy meats and cheeses and drinking the many bottles of rioja.  

After about 5 minutes, there was a buzz that we realized came from the phone that connects to the street level entry. Brian answered it, and there was nothing. It rang again, so I answered it. On the other end….someone screaming about "CLOSE THE DOOR" and "ESTUPIDO".  Crap - the elevator door. Our building had a 100 year old elevator frame, and if you don't close the door to the elevator manually after getting out, it won't move.  I quickly opened our front door, closed the elevator door, and came back inside - a little creeped out by the yelling, but nothing major.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang on our door. Followed by a ton of English and Spanish expletives. Followed by more banging on our door. There was pretty much no way were going to open the door, so we sent Alex and Brian to yell through the door that we were sorry for not shutting it, it wouldn't happen again, and that the guy should calm down.  He wasn't impressed by our peacemaking efforts, and continued to spend about the next 30 minutes standing outside our door, violently banging on it and swearing.  Brian and Alex were somewhat ready to go out there and take him out, but luckily the wives remained a little more level-headed and made them stay put.

We then realized he was our next door neighbor (there are only 3 apartments per floor), and we could see him from our kitchen and bathroom window.  At one point, he saw Alex standing in the kitchen, looked at him, put his hand across his throat and yelled, "SE MUERTE". Um, seriously. We had left the elevator door open for maybe 5 minutes and closed it as soon as we realized. It was far from a capital offense.

I got online and started texting with Pedro, the guy whose house we were renting, who insisted the guy wasn't dangerous but "very sick and dranck." Just as we were about to call the police, the noise stopped (mostly).  Pedro offered to call the police for us, but we decided to hold off and see how it went.  No more noises, except for what would become a nightly ritual of him talking loudly, angrily, and incoherently to himself from his apartment.  The Leung-Browns snuck out quietly that night, and we didn't take the elevator again the rest of our trip.  We really lived in constant fear that we'd see him, so we tiptoed in and out of our apartment each time we came and went.  Maggie refused to sleep in her own room, and traded with one of the brothers, because his apartment was on the other side of her wall.

We considered having Maggie draw a picture of the elevator door open with the words "SE MUERTE" written on it when we left our apartment the last morning at 5am to catch our flight to Florence, but decided not to get the next people to rent the place killed…..

Nomads in the Sahara

We are on a pretty strict budget for this trip, and have been careful not to splurge on too many "extras"  during our time.  We assumed that we would get to ride camels in the desert in Morocco – but didn’t realize that in order to do that, you had to go far from the bigger cities (Marrakesh, Casablanca, Fez, Rabat) and take a couple of days to journey into the south-eastern part of the country.  Getting into Merzouga (near the dunes) is a trek – so we ended up booking a splurge – a 4 day/3 night trek that would take us from Marrakesh to Fez with a LOT of driving, but also a camel ride and night in a Berber tent in the desert for our last night there. It was worth every extra penny we spent!  

Our first two days were spent driving to Merzouga through the High Atlas mountains (curvy roads – they film those crazy car commercials there) and stopping at occasional casbahs and other sites along the way. Casbahs are pretty cool to see – but hard to explain. They are like mini-fortresses that Moroccans (mostly the Berber tribe) used as stopping points during caravan trips from the south to the north of the country. They are distinguished by their four towers – one on each corner, where apparently the high priest of each casbah kept his four wives and family.  Multiple casbahs together can be called a K’sar. (Editors note: I gleaned this info from Mohammed, our driver/ guide. His English was good, but lacking enough for some trouble communicating at times. Sometimes we spoke in Spanish. Lots of the facts here could be totally wrong but it is what we think he said!!).  One of our favorites was the casbah where Gladiator was filmed.   In all honesty, once you have seen a couple of casbahs – that is enough.  Kasbahs look like giant sandcastles - amazing up close!  

Very cool and interesting inside (getting a guide to show you the specific one is important – we learned a lot about what went on in each room, what the tools there were used for, etc), but all pretty similar at the end of the day.

Near a Kasbah - but I just loved the horse running thru the soccer field!

 Our first night was spent WAY OFF the beaten path (and by beaten path, I mean paved road) from a small city called Ourzazate (the Hollywood of Morocco with one of the most fun museums/prop areas for films there we have seen!).

Our second night was in one of the most beautiful places we have seen, Todras Gorges, where the sides of the canyon seem to reach up miles around you.  The rock formations there were incredible, and the kids were thrilled to have a creek to play with in our backyard after spending the last 2 days cooped up in the car.

Our 3^rd day, however, was what we were waiting for. We arrived in Merzouga for lunch and left our stuff at the hotel that the tour guide runs.  The kids spent some time playing and wrestling in the dunes – the sand was impossibly soft, like powder, but moving through it is no easy feat. 

We packed a small bag with toiletries, and were off on our camels to spend a night in a bivouac – a group of traditional nomadic Berber tents in the desert.  I’m not going to glamorize riding on a camel. It is fun for about 30 minutes, and then it hurts! Brian and I both have soft spots for camels – our alma mater, Connecticut College has the camel as its mascot – but we have no delusions of getting up on a dromedary again. Getting up and down is a bit of a test, but the bump-bump-bump gets old quickly, and leg cramps and sore butts (and groins I was told by the boys in my family) are par for the course.  But it was also fabulous to be sitting up there riding through the vast Sahara, where (besides the constant talk from my kids about which camel was pooping at any given moment) the silence was astounding and the dunes seemed to go on forever.   It would be impossible not to be awed by our surroundings. 

  I used the 90 minute ride to try to get some great shadow pictures of us on our camels – some actually came out well!

 After arriving at our bivouac (not long before dark), our guides pointed to the largest dune around and told us to climb it so we could watch the sunset. “No problem,” we thought. After all, we have climbed more stairs than I can count, hiked up some ridiculously steep hills, walked hundreds of miles, and have challenged ourselves physically numerous times on this trip. Ha! This one kicked our butts. And not just mine (although by far mine the most). Even Luke, who ran a 10k completely UPHILL last summer, thought it was tough. The sand makes moving up tough, and this thing went on forever. I persevered more than I thought I could however (one of my proudest moments on the trip), and made it just in time to have the sun already set behind us. But my kids cheered and that was pretty cool, too.

We started our descent down the dune, where we were met at the bottom by our camel wrangling guide, Mustafa, because it was already really dark and getting darker by the second, to make sure we made it back to the bivouac safely.  Once we arrived, we realized we weren’t alone – there were about 10 other tourists there as well.  And amazingly, a few were Americans! We haven’t seen/talked to other American tourists pretty much our whole trip – so we were excited (and one guy had heard of San Mateo because his friend lived nearby – super thrilling for the kids!).  There was also a woman who works in the London office of Willis (Brian’s employer) – we loved the “small worldness” that we hadn’t experienced in a while.

After a delicious, overly generous dinner, we all headed outside while the Berber guides lit a fire and played the drums for us.

The kids pulled out the soccer ball that goes everywhere with us, and some of the guides played soccer for a while the others kept us entertained with the music. It was a terrific evening – and we had no trouble passing out early in our tents. Waking up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, I was astounded by the complete silence and darkness out there.

In the morning, we were awoken by loud clapping which signified time to wake up for the sunrise (somewhat anticlimactic – pretty, but not a highlight), some quick sandboarding for Brian and the kids, and then back onto the camels to the hotel for breakfast and our long drive to Fez.  I think we could have done without that second camel ride…

Morroco - Marrakesh and Fez

We heavily debated spending time in southern Africa on this trip, but due to our timing, it just didn’t work out. Kids were dying to at least step onto the continent, and Morocco has always been on my list of places to see, so we chose to spend 10 days there – very unsure of what to expect.  After almost 5 months in Asia, much of which we spent in “3^rd world-ish” countries, we were coming off of about a month in first world “luxury” – Turkey, Greece, Spain, Portugal – so we were ready to jump back into a little less comfortable traveling again. Good thing we were prepared. 

Morocco was much more, and much less, than I expected – all rolled into one diverse package.  Our travels consisted of 4 nights in Marrakesh, 3 nights on an excursion into the Sahara Desert, and then 3 nights in Fez.  If I could do it again, I would probably skip Fez and head instead to Essouaira in western Morocco, which I’m bummed we missed, as I hear it is fabulous.

Marrakesh was everything I expected it to be – loud, bustling, aggressive.  We expected to be more wowed by the souks and bazaars in Marrakesh than we were  - maybe because we have spent so much time in crazy Asian markets, it was fun to do a quick walk-through, but not a place we opted to spend a ton of time.  

We were torn on Jemaa al’Fna, which is the main plaza outside of the main bazaar.  We loved the food booths set up around – all of which (admittedly) have the EXACT same menu, so they rely on showmanship and charm to woo in customers. Our favorite plug, “we promise – no diarrhea for life!”  Each stall is numbered, and as you walk by them (there are probably 100), they yell out their numbers to you, “Promise you will come back. Number 34. Best one. Cleanest. Don’t forget. You will come back, later, yes? Promise. Don’t forget Number 34.”  We ended up at Number 114 because they were funny. 

Each time they would pull a customer in to the open air seating area, all of the cooks/workers would sing and clap, “that’s the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it, I like it.” By the end of the meal, they even had Maggie joining in.  It was way more appropriate than that last sentence sounds.   We didn’t like, however, the trained monkeys and snakes that were everywhere in Jemaa al Fna. Traveling around Asia will bring a strong distaste in monkeys to even the strongest animal lovers, so we avoided them like the plague.

While in Marrakesh, we stayed in the Medina (the old walled city), which we really enjoyed. 

The Medina is a maze like no other, and getting lost in there is a rite of passage to all visitors. We were lucky to stay in a riad (traditional Moroccan inn) that was on the same block as a museum, so there were always signs pointing us in the right direction.   Getting home was never a problem. Getting other places, however – not so easy. Everyone who goes to Morocco will tell you – boys and men are on every corner offering to give you directions to whatever landmark you are looking for. We only fell for the trap once – a kid on a bike who biked with us until we did what he said (which was to walk about ¾ of a mile all around the medina instead of the ½ block down the road straight to the site we were looking for). He then insists on being paid. Brian gives him a little change – he insisted on more. That was one of the things I liked least about Morocco – and this constant asking for more money is omnipresent there. Frustrating after spending time in Asia, where they are persistent about sales, etc, but aren’t intimidating at all.

One thing I did LOVE in Marrakesh especially was the doors.  In the Medina, and really most of the country, doors are painted and designed beautifully, and really stand out amongst the monotony of the Medina itself.  It was a great contrast – splashes of color and design amidst ruddy browns and reds.

 

 Add in the occasional wandering donkey, and it was definitely like being in another time, although the motorbikes that race through the very narrow streets and tight corners (fast! way too fast!! makes Hanoi traffic seem manageable!) kept us from any daydreaming.

Our time in Fez, post-desert tour, was unremarkable except that we had booked ourselves into what was called a typical Riad, but was actually a “disco-hotel” that had blaring house music and flashing lights every night until 12pm – they toned it down the last night because nobody was interested, but made it hard to get any work done! We didn’t love Fez – too much aggression, very few smiles, and one of the first times in 6 months I have felt a need to watch Maggie closely.  In fact, on our last day there, as we walked through the Medina in Fez, three little girls her age trailed behind us. We are used to getting a little extra attention in non-European countries because of the color of our hair, but they took it a bit far – and yanked her hair – hard! I had to turn around and ask them to knock it off – so they poked me. But at least they stopped pulling on Maggie’s hair!

Foodwise, we loved Morocco until we didn’t anymore.  There is very little variance in terms of food – almost every place had the same menu, so with the exception of the occasional place where we had a pizza, every lunch and dinner consisted of some grilled meat, couscous and/or tagine with vegetables, and a Moroccan salad.  And no alcohol to be found – we had one bottle of wine our entire time there! Cheap, healthy and delicious – but after 10 days straight of it, we had enough couscous, tagine, and kebabs to last us a long time! We weren’t sad when it came time to leave Fez and head to Barcelona