Diabolic Diabetes

Marrakech - Ouarzazte - Todra Gorge - Tineghir - Merzouga - Sahara - Fes - Meknes - Chefchaouen - Tangier - Asilah - Imlil - Essaouira - Marrakech
Assalamu alekum!! Ca va? Well, I've finally stumbled back into the western wilderness after 21 days of sugar loaded teas and oil filled refined sugar soaked in yet more sugary honey goodness. I had the most amazing time in Morocco. My reservations about going with a tour were quickly put to bed, as the Intrepid BASIX trip is all about local transportation, squat toilets, and plenty of time to get lost (literally) in the Medina's. The Moroccans sell anything,and are hard case hagglers; one guy tried to sell us stones that we had actually seen him pick up off the road! I travelled with a couple Canadians, a Belgian, and 7 Aussies!! Despite that, he he, they were a fantastic bunch and I came away with some awesome friendships. I learnt more French than when I was in France, and there were times when I didn't know what language to butcher as they would speak Arabic, Berber, French and Spanish all at once!

SLEAZY JET Oh, the good old budget airline; the old adage "you get what you pay for" has never been so true.Upon arriving at Marrakesh, it became clear that my bag had not arrived with me, and so began the true test of my budget travelling skills. I put on my "don't mess with me" face and threw myself into the Medina, which is certainly a whole other story in itself.Thus, I survived on the 2 cheapest t-shirts I could haggle for and my jeans, for two weeks. I managed to get my bag one week before I left, and don't even get me started on that debacle!! Nonetheless, I enjoyed not having to carry a pack around, and it has completely revolutionised my way of travelling.*

ONE LIMP BEAN My first meal was a slice of heaven, which is no surprise after living on 3months of stodgy British fodder. But after a while one realises the staple Moroccan fare of bread, olives, salad, tagines, brochettes, kefta, Hareira and couscous can only take your palate so far. Breakfast was always a heavy affair with oily crepes and whole loaves of bread, and don't get me started on the 2 inch sugar cubes!! But I must say, the snacks and drinks were always interesting. I was fortunate enough to avoid the old runny belly, but from day one, my fellow buddies were dropping like flies, which was incredibly unfortunate as one of our bus trips was 11 hrs. Might I add, we had a half and half mix of girls and guys, and only the guys were sick : )

ILLUSIVE INFRASTRUCTURE In the first week, we were plagued with a lot of rain which caused flooding and washed away bridges, which was cause for a lot of cries of "enshallah!". So for the first week we were constantly faced with detours and unplanned stops. We watched as the local men and even our guys stand at the waters edge shaking their heads; trucks almost tipping over or getting swept away as they attempt to cross; helped get a school bus out whilst the children are celebrated their obvious day off school; finally made it into Todra Gorge only to be flooded in the next day and had to walk out; had to ditch the van we were in getting to the Sahara as our driver Mr Ali was getting a little stressed, and found a couple 4WDs so that we could go off road and hoon around in the desert in the middle of the night. How the drivers found the kasbah I do not know!

DESERT DREAMS Unfortunately due to the floods, we were unable to make it to our desert camp, and instead stayed at the kasbah nearby. We woke early the next morning and hiked up the dunes to see a perfect sunrise which was a completely amazing experience. We then hopped on camels and meandered around the desert; a very relaxing mode of transport and I would strongly be in favour of introducing them as an answer to our ozone problems : )

HAMMERED IN THE HAMAAM One of my favourite experiences was the local Hamaam in Fes. Basically, a hamaam is where those that don't have bathrooms go to bathe. I went and got the scrub and massage which was hilarious. It involves a lot of hot water being chucked over you or at you, whilst a lady barks orders in French; I felt like a fish flopping around on the floor trying to figure out what I was supposed to be doing. It was all a bit frenetic, and the amount of dirt that came off me was a little frightening, not to mention the fact that I was getting a bit of a slap around by the woman's breasts. For the women it is a bit of a social event where they sit and chat; a way to let themselves go in a world where they don't have much room to breath. For the men, it is more like a beating session, where they were bent into positions which certainly didn't seem physically kosher. I later went to another in Essaouira where I did my own, and it was much more relaxing, kinda like bathing in a sauna.
TOO MUCH KIF There is a beautiful blue washed village called Chefchaouen which is set in the Rif Mountains. It has this beach side feel and has a very laid back pace of life. Then you start to notice the large amount of physical disabilities the slightly bizarre vibe around the place. Firstly, as it is so isolated, there is a lot of inbreeding. Secondly, there are lots of kif fields in the mountains. Whilst it is illegal, Chefchaouen is renowned for it. Every second person is offering hash. "Would you like some tea?" no. "would you like some hash?" Even the cookie man starts by offering delicious assortments, and then asks if you want space cake. It's hilarious, people walk behind you and say "hashish, hashish" in this low, raspy voice.
REALITY Part of the ethos of Intrepid Travel is to get involved with communities and interact with the local people, so they have a lot of contacts which enabled us to really see what Morocco is like beyond the touristic facade. We were fortunate enough to be able to visit a cooperative connected with the Peace Corp that teaches handicapped people metalwork, weaving, pottery, in order that they might have a chance at life. As you can imagine, they are not given much of a go and are pretty much shut away. They pay nothing to attend, and can stay as long as they like. There is huge problems with funding a project such as this, so it is an amazing effort on Fredericks part who set it up. In a country where the King wants to be seen as being in control, it is hard for foreign aid. The village that Frederick works with was washed away by floods, but the King won't let aid come from overseas, so all these people are left homeless, living under plastic bags. Whilst he has done a lot of good things such as giving women more rights, there are so many other things that need to change.
So my friends, that believe it or not is just a couple highlights of my adventure, I could keep going but it would probably be more interesting for me than you. But I have to say, Morocco is an amazing place with a diverse landscape and some beautiful people.
*"The first thing that strikes the traveller is his excessive dirtiness: he never washes...his clothing swarms with parasites which he amuses himself by killing in the most unceremonious way."
Nikola Przhevalski

Borderline Madness

Well my time in the Borders is coming to a close. As I prepare to head off into the highlands on Sunday, I can reflect on what has been a journey that reads like an old novel country novel, with the townsfolk featuring regularly in all their scottish glory, and the odd cameo appearances of various Lords, Ladies, and Dukes.
COMIC RELIEF FOR THE AGES
The silouette of two elderly people emblazened within the red triangle of a road sign quite often sighted on my bus trips around the Borders. Forget the children, it's the other end of the generation at risk here!!
FLAMING FLAT
There was a firey incident involving a ryvita and the toaster.
I will not miss the bell connected to the one in reception. Not only is it a real old fashioned clanger, but it is right by my bedhead!
The sweet sound of the butcher chopping up huge carcasses on large stretchers outside. (my window has lovely views overlooking the wondrous glories of the meat world: behind the scenes :) Bizarre, and slightly alarming. I was not flinging my curtains open in the morning I can tell you that!!
GOD SAVE NHS
I will miss the freebies...eye examinations, doctors visits..and if you are under 15 and over 65, almost everything is free!!
DRUG TRAFFICKING
You have to pick up your own vaccination from the chemist!!
SPEEDY SPECS
After putting my glasses through rigourous handling over the last several months whilst travelling, they finally snapped to their death. To my suprise, I was able to acquire 2 new pairs, ready and waiting to give me sight, in the space of one afternoon!
CULINARY QUESTS
Black pudding omelete; haggis (which was acutally quite nice. Rather like mince but with a better texture and taste); 12 Sunday roasts; 120 pints of carbonated liquid. (my retractrion from diet pepsi was successful and I have now lost all desire to drink the stuff)

ON THE HOMEFRONT
Not one day has gone by where I haven't talked about NZ. Everyone has a son/daughter/friend/husband who has travelled/studied/lived/gone on sabbatical there. Even the optician was thinking of moving over!!
EDUCATIONAL PROGRAMMING
I have always thought that cleaning public toilets would be the worst job possible, but I was wrong. My eyes were opened (and frequently shut) when I watched a programme about people that clean up after people that have died undiscovered. In the process, leaving a variety of body fluids that seep into floorboards and through the ceiling of the laundramat underneath (not to mention the hordes of maggots that feed off these remains); this job is certainly a winner!

Settling Down

After arriving in Edinburgh, (after the good old Heathrow airport night party) a glorious reunion with Claire, and experiencing the pre Edinburgh Festival madness, I decided I wasn't wanting to be in the big city. I am now in Melrose, a little town on the Scottish border, living and working in a little Scottish hotel. (It's called Burts hotel, www.burtshotel.co.uk if you wanna have a gazza) It will be an interesting experience where I actually can't spend money, yay, and am thinking bout learning spanish as the hours are cruisey and I get a couple days off to commute to the Edinburgh festivities. The people are lovely, I went to the local last night after my first day at work, (I arived at 10.54 pm, they shut at 11! I had previously served the owner that night so I got a free drink yay) and hung out with people that are leaving, which is unfortunate as the friend pickings are slim in a town where the normal age of Melrose is over 60. I plan to do many day trips, join the library, (there is even a theatre/movie house here!) and pretty much save up money. I will be in touch and let you know how my sanity levels are, but it should be a laugh : )

Passing the Time

Well, it has already been one month and two days since I arrived in Melrose, home of the sevens rugby, burial ground for the heart of Sir Robert the Bruce, location of the first Sir William Wallace statue, (Braveheart?), and the site of an ancient roman village!! My how time flies!!
Work is going along as per usual, the pints are flowing and the Scottish rains have arrived. I have done a bit of exploring in the neighbouring border towns, and been up to Edinburgh for the festival. I climbed the Eidon hills, without being blown off by the gusty wind or freezing up in the cold, and when I reached the top the view was expansive and the quiet solitude amazing. (A different kind of solitude from the "where are all the under 50's!!" solitude) Life as I know it consists of trying to understand the Germans, Italians, Bulgarians, and other various Europeans that pass through, whilst also getting my ear around the various Scottish accents that I sometimes think are a whole nuther language in themselves.
In light of the drama that has unfolded with the terrorist bomb scares that have thrown airports and airlines into a high security frenzy, and the Turkish blasts in Istanbul and other tourist spots, it makes the fact that I am in a sleepy little Scottish town as opposed to my plans of Turkish teaching seem not so bad at this point in time. I have realised how far removed we are in NZ.

SMALL TOWN CRIME BUSTER
The morning started off with the appearance of the constable at Burt's. By the afternoon, Nick (proprietor) was sitting on bleeding Dave (a disgruntled employee that had been fired the previous day but had been hanging around drunkenly) out on the street in an effort to restrain him, which was followed by the police slapping on handcuffs and hauling him away. Later that evening, his friend was thrown in the "chooky" (South African for jail apparently) for stealing alcohol from Walters, one of the three supermarkets in Melrose. (Why there is three, literally within metres of each other, I don't know) Oh the trials and tribulations he he : )
A SIGN OF THE AGES
Whilst Auckland has recycled shops with names like The Paper Bag Princess, Scotland has thrift shops called "Care for the Aged", "Heart foundation" "Cancer Foundation", and other charitable things.
I currently have my eyes set on Morocco in a couple months, and reuniting with one of my dearest friends who will be on this side of the world, both of which should keep me going through this aging town, he he and the increasingly cold weather (goodness knows how I am going to get through winter!).
SELF IMPROVEMENT
After each shift we get a free pint of something on the tap. As you may or may not know, I am addicted to diet coke, thus, the diet pepsi has been my beverage of choice (ordinarily I wouldn't drink it back home as I have an aversion to the syrup types, but it tastes better here!). But as I calculated, at the rate I am going, by the time I left, I would have had 120 pints of the intestinal rotting poison!! So, I have switched to a pint of soda water with a slice of lemon. Essentially, I am getting free bubbles, whooop! But I am sure that in 20 years my insides will thank me : )

Scoffing the Waffle

AAHHHHH!!! All I have to say is that my trip has suddenly taken a nosedive into becoming a major gastronomical event. Belgium, the land of waffles, all things baked, roasted, tarts, pasteries and chocolates; (I'm telling you, those champagne truffles are a one way track to lala land!!) a lot of the food is a crossover from France and holland, but hey whos complaining!!

FROM FRANCE,WITH LOVE
After a hike in the Pyrenees with giant mumbo slugs and snakes pretending to be sticks, and plants giving Claire a rash, a brief stop in Montpellier, (Pastis, the French tipple, made from liqourice, mixed with water, looks milky) a few heatstroke ridden days in Orange and Avignon, my faithful travelling partner and I went our seperate ways. We had intended on having our last supper on this amazing mountain, sitting on the old Roman ruins, acompanied with some tipple, but our plan was thwarted by the dreaded Sunday, when nothing opens and people mysteriously dissapear. We managed to salvage a bit of a sunset, but the meal was more garish than gourmet.

VILLAGE PEOPLE
From there I travelled to Preixan, a little circulade village (think of the movie "Chocalat") (and when I say little I mean the patissere, post office, and cemetery being the "features"; the closest thing to a grocery store is in the next village, about a 15min scenic walk through vineyards and hills, and friendly village folk offering you a ride). My last days in France included several evenings of fine French wine, trips into Carcassone (town) to see the Old Medieval Cite, and many many pastries and tarts. I was fortunate to be staying in a place that felt like home, where George sits by you panting away happily (the dog), Jan looks after everyone like family and provides daily rides into town which is essential as their are only 3 buses to and from the village; PLUS there was a stockpile of books, and in English!!. I know, the geek in me lives on; I'd begun to read everything from graffitti to the ten thousand brochures that are always available at the tourist offices; you can ask Claire about my reading aloud sessions to her in the entrance of our hotel : ) Unfortunately we couldn't watch the France/Portugal soccer match as we didn't have a tv but apparently there was major clebrations in town; this we heard the next morning from a couple people that had stayed in town and didn't arrive back until early morning after walking home. I was glad to be in the safety of Belgium upon learing of the French loss as it may have been a depressing few days in France!!)
RIVER TOWNS AND WINDMILLS BLOWN FROM HOLLAND
After arriving without knowing exactly what language is spoken here, or where I was going to go, Belgium has been whooshing past. I was fortunate enough to be able to stay with an "Aunty, Uncle & cousin" in Bredene, one of several beachside towns. It was a luxury to be greeted at the train station by friendly faces, sit in a car, and not have to lug my pack from one end of town to the other (although I feel as if I am becoming one with it, I may be walking with a bit of a hunch) and have a home cooked meal!! My days have consisted of being out by 7am and returning late at night;Oostende, Brugge, Liege (the biggest markets that I have ever seen, stretching all the way along the river, (I tried to take a picture to capture the infiniteness but ended up taking a picture of a map of the river as there was no way I could capture it) with so many people that you feel as if you are trying to get into something, but it was just one continous crush) Antwerp, Gent, Knokke (a VERY rich seaside town where it is ok for an older gentleman to wear a pink suit jacket on the beach; plastic bike baskets are replaced by Louis Vuitton embelished baskets); and tomorrow Brussells. Can I just say, there are now several masssssive live crabs, freshly caught, sitting in the fridge; who knew they could survive for several days in such freezing conditions!! I can't off the top of my head remember too much about my ventures, but Beligum is a beautiful place to wander, especially when you get away from the crush of the tourist centres in town to find the smaller characterfilled streets on the outskirts. It's small, (around 3-4 hrs to get from one side to the other) and easy to get around. As it is summer holidays, I think I came back everyday saying that there was a festival going on in whatever town I had just been in, surely sounding like a broken record. Whilst most English people don't understand why people would want to go to Belgian, and indeed many Belgians themselves don't even understand it, there is a certain charm in the small towns that don't have much to offer but a nice milling quality.

Liqourice tally thus far - liqourice ice cream, lollipop, cookie, liqour, bon bons; I've definitely been in training for Holland!!

Seargent Peppers Lonely Hearts Club

Wow!!! How long has it been! We left the tight panted - knee high booted policemen and the masses chanting Portugaal Portugaal!! in the squares 5 or 6 days ago, and are now stuffing our faces with baby mussels cooked in wine, delectable french crepes, and unashamedly taking photos of all the chocolate tidbits in the window. (It took something like 18hrs of travel, (had to go back to the top of Portugal) including waiting time in the cold, and 41 hrs without sleep, gotta love it!! : ) My last ramble was in the rained out episode of Lisboa, and sadly I must report we are rained out again in Bordeaux. So much has happened since, that I can't even remember!! But I will try to throw some little morsels to give you a taste of the Portuguese - French crossover.

LAYING IN LAGOS
What can I say about Lagos but that you can't help but be sucked in. It is highly touristy with amazing cave-invested beaches, and a nightlife created by all the foreigners that frequent there, which means that we can count how many hours of sleep we had over the four days, but was so easily medicated by the fact that all you have to do the next day is go to the beach : )

GRANDMA KIKI
The little old lady that looked after us at our hostel (more like a hotel as they insisted on cleaning our room everyday, even folding my PJ's) was soo lovely, i wanted to pack her up into one of my many plastic bags and take her with me. On the first day she was giving us big hugs, and we left with goodbyes in all three languages that she spoke, waiving us off as if we were her daughters. She also had one of those little cute high voices.

FAT FREDDY'S V B.E.P.
It was an incredible mission to get to the Algarvae Stadium, to the point where we had actually thought that we had the wrong date and time, but all was well when we were standing in the mush in front of the stage after scoffing down a boulder or bread with 2 slabs of some sort of meat in it, preparing to not go to the loo for the next 5 hrs as to not lose our place. We missed the first act, the second was obviously a very popular Portuguese band, and then with much anticipation we screamed on Fat Freddy's. After the boisterous Boss AC, the chilled out beats of Fat Freddy took some getting used to for the crowd, at times I felt like we were the only ones appreciating the unique NZ sounds, but I think people warmed to them. But once the BLACK EYED PEAS chanting started in between the acts, there was no going back!!! It was crazy, we sung, danced, and partied, and I think that it was only made better by the fact that we were experiencing this in Portugal, a country that really knows how to party!!! The whole thing was fantastic, especially given the price. (we ended up forgoing the seats for a place in the front squashed between the most short people that we could find)

THE SHOCK OF PARIS
When we got off the bus at the 10km wide intersection of Paris and stood on the 5m wide footpath, it was a bit of a shock; perhaps it was the lack of sleep or the fact that I had popcorn and a baguette for breakfast (in the airport at Porto they had this cool popcorn vending machine that pops the corn and pours out into a cute little cardboard bag with useful info that translated was rather humorous) but coming from all the quaintness of Portugal to the hugely populated busy city of Paris, we had to catch our breath a little. As this was an unexpected trip, we arrive mapless, clueless, and entirely unsure of how or where we are going. But after squeezing onto the metro with our hunchbacks, swapping hostels due to unreceived emails, and spending half a day in the laundromat and the other half in a que at the bus station, the next couple days were a whirlwind of sights, sounds, food, and getting really confused as to what language I should be speaking. (Spanish, Portuguese, and French are all so similar I never know what is going to come out of my mouth!!) We joined the masses and went to the top of the Eiffel Tower (found the little label with the direction of NZ) saw the Notre Dame, spent 3 hours at the Louvre (and that was speeding) went to Versailles, and saw a show. It was just lucky the metro shut at 1230, and we had to be out of our hostel by 10am each day, (plus breakfast was only till 9.30, we have definitely had our share of French sticks) which meant we had ample sleep. As usual, we walked into a parade, well the end, where there were just people dancing on lamposts and fights breaking out, and then with that, we left at 7am, armed with our illegal french sticks (breakfast doesn't start till 7.30), and here we are in Bordeaux. We were greeted by a simple hotel room, that even left us little lollies on the bedside. Only downfall being that we have to walk up four flights of curvy staircase before we can get there.
For our 2 month anniversary, we ate at this fair where all these restaurants have outdoor tents. Spent a bit of moolah, but boy it was good!! Bread can only take your taste buds so far, even if it is the best bread you have ever tasted. As the weather is pitiful, we are at a bit of a wall. We have only just acquired a map, but will be leaving for Lourdes before we even get to use it.

Sucker for Salt

Capital cities, what can I say, a city is a city, but when it's Lisboa day, dancing, singing, and sardines are on the menu!!
We arrived in Lisboa yesterday afternoon in time for an unexpected party that we thought was happening today, but I will come back to that as our last stop, Nazare, deserves it's own special section.........
Nazare is a fascinating town, where the new coexists seamlesly and respectfully with the old. Originaly, only the old cliftop town of Sitio existed, but during the second half of the 17th century, the sea washed away a large section of the cliff revealing a large expanse of sandy shore, where the town of Nazare now lies. Thus, a touristy holiday makers town has appeared amongst the old women grilling sardines on the streets.
As we stepped out of the bus station, we were instantly jumped on (as much as an old woman can jump) by black shawl draped old women offering rooms. After several refusals, we were approached by a young woman, offering a place that sounded too good to be true, but as we were walking in that direction anyway, we popped in and had a look. This resulted in us acquiring our own apartment, right by the beach, for the same price we had been paying for a bed in a dorm, and waiting to use the kitchen!!
And so followed 4 days of laying on the heavy sandy (doesn't blow around and stick to you) beach; buying giant frisbee sized peanut brownies from the old women and their nut/seed/bean/fig/brittle stands; an amazing 4 course meal at a restaurant where the owner took the time to look after us despite the fact that he was sweating and running around the double roomed joint, explaining the entire menu, bringing us examples of the dishes, and giving us a complimentary after dinner liquer (marzipan flavoured, divine!!) to "bring Portugal and NZ closer"; the realisation that you really can't get away from over-friendly waiters in a snall town.
STUCK IN THE MIDDLE
On the way out of the bus station that we had stopped at to pick people up, our bus got stuck between the building and a car as it tried to turn the corner. For at least half an hour we waited for the owner of the car to come back, whilst the whole town stood and watched, tutting at the car, police directed traffic away, and the bus went in and out in the hope that somehow it would lose some weight in order that it might fit through? Eventually, they towed the car, and the bus went the wrong way down the one way street. I am sure that we will be on the front page of the town newspaper!!
PRE-FESITIVAL FESTIVITIES
When we arrived, our street was decorated with kitsch streamers and hanging paper figures that would only look good amongst the characterful buildings and old pebbly streets of Portugal. As the afternoon progressed, music could be heard, the smell of sardines appeared, and the beer drinking started. We had come to Lisboa in particular for the night of the 13th where much dancing and partying was to be occurring for Lisboa Day, so we were a little confused as to what was going on. As we didn't want to miss it in case it was tonight, we headed out to watch the throngs of people dancing merrily, and the beginnings of a parade where there was a 15min gap between each group of people walking down the street. (we lasted for two groups)
We tried Ginjinha, a brandy, cinnamon, sugar liquer, in which they let the ginja berry (native to Portugal) ferment, resulting in an amazing tipple that was worth the walk up the hill.
On our way home, we decided to try a sardine. This proved harder than expected. The young waiter couldn't speak English, so we talked to an older man that couldn't understand the concept of ordering just two sardines!! After much talking, "maybe it will be ok", "it will come soon", "bread", the rest we don't understand, our two salty sardines (I have recently increased my salt intake by tenfold, thank goodness!! ie no salt to ten spoons per bite) and bread arrived, providing much comedic value to those around us.
Thus, we are sitting inside, a storm has arrived, and we can't face the hills that require climbing to get anywhere, talking to the most Aussies we have been with over our whole trip, finding out that we have all been meeting the same people : )