Marrakech - Morocco: Part 3

The train ride to Marrakech was awesome in a very non-traditional sense. Jeff and I both voted it “The Dirtiest Train We’ve Ever Been On” and after a trip to the bathroom, Jeff informed me to “hold it” for the next 3 hours. The train appeared to be a recycled European train from the 70’s. It was exactly like an old Regionale train in Italy, but in way way way worse condition. The quarters were super cramped, hot, smelly, and dirty and yet I had a marvelous time because the countryside was spectacular. It changed consistently as we went inward so we got to see a lot. The land was exactly like what I had pictured of Northern Africa and it was really neat to see the adobe houses, palm trees, huge expanses of nothing, and even a camel.

We arrived in Marrakech and decided to continue our public transportation adventure by taking a local bus. Of course we had to ask 4 different people who all indicated 4 different directions before we found the bus stop. Noah was all smiles wearing his backpack and clinging to our leg as we swayed back and forth with the bus.

The main square which serves as the hub of the medina in Marrakech is CRAZY! There was so much going on…snake charmers, moroccan music, dancers, monkeys on chains, henna tattooing, horses, donkeys, carts, etc. We joined the masses and wound our way through the medina to find our bed and breakfast. It was fairly easy following the directions and once we got settled in we headed right back out into the chaos.

The bazars/souks were beautiful! Each little shop was absolutely packed with stuff hanging here and there. You’d pass one filled with brightly colored linens and then right next door there would be a lamp souk with 400 lamps of every size and shape hanging every which way. Jeff and I quickly found ourselves under the shopping spell and started compiling a list over dinner of what we wanted to buy and what our price limits were. The next day we hit the souks for a super fun birthday shopping spree. I spent my 32^nd birthday bargaining my brains out. We spent hours going back and forth…we went back to one place 3 different times before finally agreeing to a price.

Our favorite experience was with one of the lamp guys who was about our age. We went back and forth playing the official game of bargaining and laughing the whole time with this guy because we all knew it was a total act. At one point the guy said “okay, okay, I said 600 and you said 200, let’s meet in the middle…500.” We burst out laughing and said “what!? that’s not the middle at all!” and he responded with a wink and a slap on Jeff’s back and said “that’s the Moroccan middle.”

On our last day, Noah seemed super run-down. We ended up carrying him in the Ergo Baby for most of the day and he took 2 naps for the first time in 6 months. We figured that something funky was up and did our best to keep him comfortable. By that night he had developed a pretty high fever so we had to go in search of a pharmacy that was still open. It was like being on an Amazing Race challenge. We had to ask people at every corner for directions since we were in the middle of the medina maze and then we diligently followed their directions until we finally found the one open pharmacy in the area.

Once Noah was asleep around 10pm we went out for my birthday dinner to one of the outdoor food kiosks. There were over 50 of them side by side and all of them were completely packed with both tourists and locals. We managed to squeeze in between a couple groups and we just started ordering random things. It was a really fun experience because the waiters were running around and yelling things out and it seemed to get louder and louder the longer we were there.

The next morning our alarm rang at 6am in time with Noah waking up vomiting. He continued on the Vomit Train for the next 7 hours…during our taxi ride to the airport, while waiting in the check-in line, the security line, the passport check line, the customs line, the line to board the plane (pretty much, if there was a line, Noah puked in it), and during the flight. Jeff and I were extremely prepared with plastic bags stuffed into every pocket with one constantly in each of our hands. We tag-teamed him as discreetly as possible with one of us covering the scene and the other one providing the bag. Having just gone through training 2 weeks before when Noah had a 48 hour stomach flu we had the procedure down pat. Along with the fact that Noah is the most silent vomiter that we have ever witnessed, we are 99.9% sure that no one ever knew what was going on.

By the time we made it back to Piacenza Noah was mostly good to go although his “African Sickness” (official diagnosis from the pediatrician) lasted for a good 2 weeks with the Big D and kept him out of school for more than a week. Jeff and I also had some interesting stomach issues going on, but after taking some of Noah’s medicine from the pediatrician, we too came out of it. It was a gnarly way to end the trip, but we chalked it up as a fantastic experience nonetheless.

In the end we finished our shopping spree with 3 lamps, 2 oil paintings, 2 tapestries, a leather satchel bag, shoes, a giant ceramic fruit bowl, a silver pot, and a pound of dried apricots. Then we had the awesome job of figuring out how to get it home with us. We were able to fit it all in our bags, but it was pretty tight due to the big globe lamp that I "had to have" so we decided to buy a cheap little suitcase and then to pack Noah’s backpack in the suitcase so that we’d still have the allotted 3 bags for RyanAir. The only problem was that the fruit bowl was so wide that it didn’t fit so in the end I put in in my Mary Poppins purse along with the 2 oil paintings and slung it across my back. When we went through check-in and bag check Jeff and Noah stayed at my sides to hide the crazy purse on my back. It was super funny. Here are the before and after shots:

Leaving Piacenza

Returning to Piacenza

When we got back Noah told his teachers that he saw donkeys and snakes in Morocco and that he had changed his name to “Noah Moreno Morocco.” We’re not quite sure how that happened but even a month later he still tells people that his name is Noah Moreno Morocco and then laughs hysterically.

Casablanca - Morocco: Part 2

Catching the train to Casablanca was a trial. We ended up leaving the Medina super late due to a last minute dash to find Noah’s lost keys. We had 5 minutes to find a taxi and then get to the station and get on our train. Of course there were no taxis in the square where there are normally a ton. A guy came up to us and said he was a taxi and could give us a ride. We knew he was not a taxi, but we had no choice so we did it. We got in his dinky car and told him to hurry. I felt like we were one of the contestants in Amazing Race because we were telling him to hurry in every language we could come up with…non of them being Arabic though. Anyway, when we arrived on the boulevard in front of the station we told the driver to stop there and we’d run because there wasn’t even time for him to drive around and get us closer. The ride to the station normally cost 11 Dr…we know because we’d just done it that mornng to buy the tickets. We didn’t have any change though so we decided to be generous and just give the driver 20 Dr. So as soon as we pulled to a stop I jumped out of the back seat with Noah on my hip and my purse, Jeff’s backpack and Noah’s backpack slung over my shoulders. I immediately took off running with Noah and the bags bouncing all over the place. I heard the driver say “no!” and I turned around to see the driver grabbing Jeff’s shoulder and them arguing. Apparently the driver wanted 60 Dr! While they were both yelling Jeff rolled down the window and shouted “Rhia! Let me out!” It turned out that there was no handle on the inside of his door so he couldn’t get out and the guy was holding on to his shoulder. I was already a fair distance from the taxi having expected Jeff to also jump out. I ran back, opened the door, and Jeff popped out. We started a mad dash to the train all the while with the driver yelling after us from where he had stopped in the middle of the main street. We sprinted (well as best as we could in 100 degree heat with a child and bags) into the station searching the billboard schedule as we ran by to see where the train was. Jeff asked an official who pointed to a train. We jumped on it, found seats and then sat there sweating to death. We were 2 minutes late and the train was still there. In the end the train left 20 minutes late…apparently departure times are a suggestion. Arrival times are the same. We were supposed to arrive in Casablanca after 3 hours…we arrived 6 hours later! THREE hours late! There was no air conditioning and we did not prepare for a 6 hour ride. Noah definitely reached his limit, but given that there was nothing else to do we just hung on hoping that train would speed up and stop stopping in the middle of nowhere for what seemed like no reason.

Upon arrival in Casablanca we were happy to find that the temperature was about 15 degrees cooler. We stayed in a really cute hotel and spent the evening eating at a great fancy-schmancy place and then walking along the beach to the mosque. The mosque is one of the more impressive sites that we’ve ever seen. It’s the largest mosque in Morocco and the 3^rd largest in the world (the other 2 are in Saudi Arabia). At night the entire mosque and square were beautifully lit up and full of Casablancan families hanging out until late at night. Noah slept in the Ergobaby while we strolled around and around the square.

The next day we decidedly spent most of our time back at the mosque which is perched right on the edge of the water. We spent hours playing in the square and also took a tour of the inside (it’s the only mosque in Morocco that is open to non-Muslims) and while we were inside they opened the roof which was a really awesome thing to see.

We didn’t do much else in Casablanca because we enjoyed being at themosque. We did manage to squeeze in a super chic lunch at one of the beach front resorts costing us a grand total of 15 bucks and then we took a series of taxis to the train station to head to Marrakech.

Two other lasting memories in Casablanca were our adventures with the little red Petit Taxis and Noah’s guide book. Jeff and I have never been big taxi-takers preferring to walk if possible, but given our lack of time, the super low cost of the taxis, and Noah’s sudden obsession with taking red taxis, we took every opportunity to jump into one. The fun part was that we had to haggle. They’d start out by asking us where we were going and then how much we wanted to pay. Having no clue about distances and costs, we would respond with something ridiculous like 5 Dr (.50 cents) and then act like that’s exactly how much it should cost. Then the taxi driver would appear offended and the haggling would begin. We’d go back and forth and then finally agree to taking a 1 or 2 dollar ride.

Noah’s “guide book” was actually a train ticket that he folded into quarters. He would open it up and read it and then tell us where to go. Sometimes he would just read it randomly and then fold it back up and put it in his pocket. He got miles of entertainment out of the ticket with Jeff and I smiling the whole way.

Fez - Morocco: Part 1

What a crazy trip! We spent 5 whirlwind days zipping around the country. We left Piacenza on a 6am train and then caught a bus from Milan to the Bergamo airport. Noah was already quite happy due to the fact that we got to take a train, a bus, and a plane.

We actually packed the lightest that we ever have in our lives. I took a large purse, Jeff had a small backpack and Noah had his little backpack…and that’s it! The Ryanair baggage restrictions are really tight and they make their money by charging a lot to check a bag. Of course, being the cheapskates that we are, we did not pay to check a bag despite the fact that we knew we would want to buy a lot of stuff in the markets. So we put a good deal of effort into taking the bare minimum. It was really funny. Noah’s backpack was empty except for a lint roller (his toy of choice for the trip). I only took 3 shirts with the plan to leave one that I didn’t want anymore in Morocco. I wore one pair of pants and one pair of sandals and that was it. Jeff took the exact same, but left 2 old shirts instead of just one.

The plane ride gave us a good idea of what to expect in Morocco. It was total chaos! Most of the people on the plane were Moroccan and there were a ton of families with lots of kids. There were between 30 and 40 kids and about 10 of those were infants. We’d never seen so many kids before on a plane and the ensuing noise was hysterical. All you could do was laugh. Every infant was screaming and the kids were bouncing off the walls. Upon landing about 75% of the plane stood up and started to get their stuff from the overhead compartments! We were still taxiing and the attendants were yelling for everyone to sit down, but they were completely unsuccessful. One of the Moroccans gave me a big smile as if to say that he knew that you weren’t supposed to be getting up, but if the entire plane was going to do it then that’s the way it goes. Jeff and I were cracking up at this introduction to Morocco.

We got off the plane in Fez and took a taxi to our Bed and Breakfast in the medina. The medina is the historical center of a Moroccan town and it’s traditionally made up of narrow little streets that wind and zig-zag all around. The medina of Fez was nuts. There were no streets signs anywhere and the little streets were filled to the brim with shops, olive carts, donkeys (lots and lots of donkeys), and a ton of people. It was a good thing that we did not bring a stroller because it would have been impossible to use it in Fez.

With Fez as our first destination we were a little overwhelmed. It was total chaos. There were feral cats everywhere eating weird pieces of meat; lots of donkey poop; and exorbitant amounts of dirt. The smells of the city were super intense…in fact I swear my bag still smells like Fez. It was also a million degrees outside and at one point Noah definitely looked like he was melting. We were all dragging a little bit. Of course what did we do? We did as the locals do and sipped the hotest mint tea on the face of the Earth…we’re talking boiling. I’m surprised our tongues are still intact. Despite the feeling of being in an untouched part of the world, there were a surprising number of tourists…not overwhelming in any way like Florence, but there were more than we expected.

Our B&B was a beautifully restored Riad right in the middle of the medina maze in an unnamed passageway, off of an unnamed alley, off of an unnamed little street. We definitely would not have been able to find it on our on and luckily there was someone who came to meet us.

While in Fez Jeff and I got to experience one of the neatest things we have ever done. We went to get massages at a “local” Turkish Bath which seemed to have been in use for hundreds of years. When I say local, I mean that it was not a place meant for tourists by any means and the experience was out of this world and totally primal. It was nothing like the Turkish Baths that we went to in Budapest. Given how crazy my “massage” was I’m going to explain it all in detail.

When I walked in, the conversation in the room stopped and everyone watched as I tried to communicate in the worst French ever what I wanted. It turned out that the women there spoke only Berber and Arabic so I was out of luck. But we got it taken care of and then I followed their directions as best I could using gestures. They had me strip down all the way to my underwear and then my lady grabbed my hand and took me into the baths. My lady was probably about 60, but she looked a lot older. She was naked except for a pair of underwear and had her hair up in a bun. She took me into this dark room lit only by the little square skylights in the dome above and had me sit in the corner on the tiled ground while she prepared the buckets. She made trips back and forth to the baths filling up 7 large buckets that she lined up around us. Using a bowl she quickly slopped the water from one bucket to another making each bucket a little hotter than the next.

While she did this I couldn’t help but observe that the room was filled with local women who had come to wash themselves. Apparently they come to the Turkish Baths a couple times a week to strip all the way down and really wash themselves. They were all different ages and sat with their backs to the wall using special sponges to wash. Occasionally one would get up to get more hot water in one of her two buckets, but other than that there wasn’t much movement and everyone bathed in silence.

So once the buckets were ready for me my lady starting throwing water from the various buckets on me--in my face, over my head, against my back, and down my front--and each time the water had a different temperature which made my skin tingle. Then she washed and combed my hair and started scrubbing me everywhere with a dark red scrub that I was later told contained 48 spices that help to purify the body. She patted my shoulders to show me how she wanted me to lie. I was constantly moving…on my stomach (always on the ground), on my back with my head in her lap (and her breasts hanging down in my face while she scrubbed), sitting up with my back against her, etc. The ground was slippery from all the water and I felt like a fish out of water trying to flop over when she patted me. After the scrub came another round of bucket water dumping and then she started applying argin oil which is a famous oil only made in Morocco. At that point came the massage. This was no relaxing massage and yet at the same time I’ve never been so relaxed. Within the first couple of minutes of the entire experience I realized that I needed to just go with the flow even if it was out of my normal comfort zone. The smell of the Turkish Bath, along with the dim light, the heat of the room, and the total silence blew me away. It was entrancing. I lay on the ground staring at the little colored skylights above while my lady massaged away and all I could do was smile.

Jeff’s experience was about the same as mine minus the locals. In other words, it was just him and a half-naked man slapping him around in a dark room. He did his at 10pm and the local men had already bathed and gone home.

We both agreed that this experience was absolutely awesome on every level and we’re really glad we did it.

From Fez we caught a train to Casablanca, but of of course catching the train turned out to be an adventure in itself of which I will explain in the next blog entry. Stay tuned!