Camp Bacon! Powered by Pork!!!

Oh. My. God.  How I wish I could go to Camp Bacon.  Alas, we won't be back from Berlin yet.  And "powered by pork'?  Got to be one of the best mottoes ever!

This also reminds me of my favourite Croatian saying that my father told me (he's not Croatian but lived there for many years):  The only good chicken is a pig.

Mixing In a Little Art

Please take a moment to check out the online art show, Enact.  The ladyfriend created a piece for it, featuring yours truly.  Scroll over the images to find her name - Liss Platt - to see it.  It involves currywurst.  Really.

Essaouira - Cat Heaven

(Be warned - this post is about cats and lots of them.  If you're not into them, wait for the next post.)
There are cats all over Morocco, but the cats in Essaouira were some of the healthiest we'd seen.  They don't seem to belong to anyone in particular, but the ample fish in the garbage seems to keep them robust.  The following images were just some of the cats we saw.  There were more.

And on the stop between Essaouira and Marrakesh, we saw these cuties...

Oh Essaouira!

We've been in Essaouira for the past five days, and it's been fantastic.  Not only is the weather milder than it was in Marrakesh - between 20 - 25C with strong sun and cool breeze - but the entire vibe is different.  People seem friendlier and more relaxed.  Even the medina is less aggressive when it comes to the sales pitches although once you're in a shop, good luck extracting yourself without making a purchase.  We've been pretty lucky with our shopping experiences (yes, multiple ones) although the guy who wanted us to buy the camel leather bag thought we were cheap.  Needless to say, we don't own a camel leather bag.

On our first day, we walked along this beach.

I ran along it today.  I'm talking heaven.

A demonstration of the strong wind.

Our first two nights were spent in the Ryad Lyon-Mogador, in the centre of the medina.  We had a great room (the Saffron Room), which was really nice - a little sitting area with a loft bed above it.  They also served a great breakfast every morning on the terrace.  We would definitely stay there again.

You'll notice a lot of scarves - both of us are suffering from a need for a haircut.

Some patternwork for Karen

"A" is for...Ali!

After we made it down the mountain in one piece albeit with screaming quads, we met our driver at a restaurant where we had lunch.  There seems to be quite a bit of "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" among tour providers.  The food was fair, but we were hungry so it solved an immediate need - nutrition; however, we decided that we didn't need any additional stops on our way home (I believe there was a "visit an authentic Berber house" stop planned, which falls under our idea of prurient tourism).  The driver asked if he could give his "cousin" a ride into town.  While we thought that "cousin" was just code for "friend," we didn't care.

And then we met Ali.  Talking with Ali was the highlight of our trip.  He also worked as a mountain guide (I have the feeling there'd have been less touchy-touchy if he'd been our guide) and had lived his entire life in one of the Berber villages in the mountain.  He spoke excellent English, which he'd learned from tourists along the way.  Later our driver told us he also spoke French and some Italian in addition to Berber and Arabic.  Nonetheless, Ali claimed he was uneducated.

He spoke eloquently about the way over-exportation of things like argan oil, oranges, and sardines had made them too expensive for Moroccans.  He worried about the over-investment in tourism, citing the construction of numerous golf courses (it's a desert climate) and its impact on water availability for local people.  He explained the ridiculousness of the "camel" rides offered along the route - firstly, the animals weren't camels, they were dromedaries; and secondly, they weren't indigenous to the area (they come from the Sahara), and the rocks hurt their feet so they could only walk the 100 or so metres off the side of the road.  He told us how the French brought the willow trees to the area and that you should never sit under a willow tree for a picnic without an umbrella or some kind of cover because there are microscopic bugs that drop down from the tree into your food and can make you sick.  We learned more from Ali in an hour than we had in the three days we'd spent in Morocco so far.


We felt extremely lucky to have had that time with him.  The ladyfriend would like to make a documentary about him.  I don't know if that will happen, but our visit with him is something we're unlikely to forget.

The Awful and The Awesome

It's probably better that I'm writing this post in Essaouira instead of Marrakesh, where I'm much more relaxed and, quite honestly, less traumatized.  Yes, big word, but I'm getting ahead of myself.  Let's go back to Marrakesh.

The souk at quieter moments

On our second day in Marrakesh we took some new friends from the riad to the Artisan Ensemble.  The souk in Marrakesh itself is a good time for many, but I found it a bit harassing - I don't need people clamouring for my attention (and money) as I walk by.  If you actually stop and look at something, let alone touch it, it's all over.  They're going to be on you like a cheap suit.  At the Artisan Ensemble, every craftsperson is vetted, and you're ensured that the items are indeed made in Marrakesh (as opposed to China - no lie).  Also, it's pretty much a no-haggle zone so people pretty much let you look without stalking you.  Don't get me wrong, I like to drive a hard bargain, but sometimes I just want to pay a good price and walk away having both me and the seller feel good about the exchange.

View from the roof terrace restaurant of the Maison de la Photographie

Three of us went on to the Maison de la Photographie which houses a great collection of early images of the Moroccan people.  It's really hard not to get taken in Marrakesh and as we walked, a young man offered to guide us to the museum.  We kind of knew better but no one made a move to refuse his "help."  It turned out that we were really only 100 feet of so from the museum, but he took us up and down these alleyways, making it seem like it was really far.  Of course, then he wanted money.  We gave him 10 dirham, which is about $1.00, so in the end he really only screwed himself.

I had decided to wear my Patagonia dress - comfortable, flattering, and cool (temperature-wise).  I did not think I had dressed provocatively (I'd seen lots of tourists in questionable outfits already) - it was just a sleeveless dress that fits.  Now I know my tattoos are of interest to many and that in and of itself does not bother me, but when it leads to what I'd call unwanted attention, it's a different story.  It's hard to really communicate, but I have to say that that day in Marrakesh - where we went to the Artisan Ensemble, the Maison de la Photographie, and then out to dinner in the "new" part of Marrakesh - was the first day that I blamed myself for the almost constant negative attention I received.  Yes, I was blaming the victim - me.  By the end of the day I could not get back to the riad fast enough.  The level of sexual harassment was traumatizing and quite honestly, I understand the burka.  The men were pigs.  Yep, those are strong words, but even as I write this post, I feel anew the trauma of the whole experience.

Midnight at the Oasis

 

 Greetings from Morocco!  The ladyfriend and I decided to go to Morocco instead of Scotland after reviewing temperatures and weather reports for Scotland in May.  So we're in the land of 99F/36C weather- sunny and hot and totally working for us.

The door to the Artisan Ensemble

Ceiling (duh) detail

Marrakesh is unlike any place I've ever been.  It really feels like a foreign country in ways other places - France, Germany, Japan, Iceland - haven't.  Yes, I feel like I've never traveled before.  It is a bit overwhelming and sometimes intimidating - lots of people trying to bargain with you, get you into their restaurants, run you over with their scooters.  I'm sure it's what New York City might feel to some.  We haven't taken pictures at the market yet in order to avoid being nickel-and-dimed for the privilege.  We're working up our nerve.  Rest assured, there will be a full market square report including our "henna bombing" incident. 

Josephine, the riad's resident turtle

We're staying in a lovely riad (Riad al Karama) in the medina where one can get a bit of peace and break from the heat.  At night we sit up on the rooftop terrace and listen to the call to prayer.  The last call of the day is my favourite - one voice rings out from a tinny loudspeaker and then others join it, each seemingly with their own message.  And then, one by one, they stop until there's one last call from way out in the medina and it's (relatively) quiet again.

One of the views from the terrace

Another terrace view