Moving in Stereo

#RussInBali One - Intro

dangerruss — Mon, 30 Sep 2019 08:23:00 GMT

I usually try to write a lot along the way when traveling, but this trip I found myself posting to InstaBook more than writing (search #russinbali on Insta or Facebook for more pics and stories). However I had plenty of time on the long flight home (between episodes of the shows I downloaded) to catch up.

I decided to go to Bali in September. It’s supposed to be the end of the tourist season, nice weather, and a tropical paradise. I booked a ticket for 3 weeks but didn’t book much in between so I could wing it. I’m glad I did because I found Bali wasn’t what I was looking for, at least what I thought I was looking for.

Indonesia is a 17k+ island nation in South Asia. It is mostly Muslim, except Bali which is predominantly Hindu. They also have Christians and Buddhists officially and some other religions not officially. Some familiar names of places - mostly because they are coffee growing regions or their political history are Bali, Jakarta, Java, Sumatra, Timor, Papua (Papua New Guinea is a separate country but shares the island with Papua) among others. I now have a better idea of where these and other places are in the world. They have volcanoes all over the place. Some are active. They also get hella earthquakes. Last year in Lombok they had a series of earthquakes. Over 6.0 every week for 4 weeks. They are still rebuilding in many places.

BALI

I spent the first week tripping around Bali. It’s the most popular destination for Americans, Europeans, and a TON of Aussies. I wanted to get a feel for it but had no intention of spending too much time there. It’s a popular surfing destination so lots of foreign versions of the people I see in Santa Cruz. Mostly single lane roads. Driving on the left side of the road like in England. Traffic could be pretty rough at times. Lots of locals and tourists ride on scooters, zig zagging past each other, sneaking into the right lane every chance they get. Intersections still freak me out with people going each way and I’m still used to how we drive at home so I’m always visualizing going into the wrong lane- which is why I took cabs and hired drivers when I needed to get anywhere I couldn’t walk to. That and all the scooter accidents I heard about and witnessed. I hear that Jogjakarta has a decent train system, and I saw some public buses there, but I never needed it. Other than that I did not see much public transport in Indo. There are not a ton of traffic lights or stop signs. There ARE a ton of people directing traffic. Many hotels and restaurants had one or more people responsible for helping cars pull in or out of driveways and parking spaces. They walk out into the road with their hand in the air or blowing a whistle to try and get drivers’ attention so that they stop. This is also how I learned to cross the street at busier intersections when on foot (I’m grateful for the experience of growing up in NYC in the 80s where I got plenty of practice dodging traffic while jaywalking- like a game of frogger!) Sometimes in Jogjakarta I just waited for someone else to cross and walked on their far side. The traffic directors can also be seen standing in the middle of the busier intersections conducting traffic - it was pretty impressive. There is a system of honking, almost a secret language. Certain beeps mean “I’m going to pass you”, “Thank you for letting me pass”, “I’m coming around this tight corner”, “Look out for ___” and if they hold the horn more than a second or two it might mean “Screw you for ____”. It’s a pretty polite scene on the road all in all.

All over Indonesia they burn their garbage, plastic and all. Combine that with the exhaust from all the scooters and vehicles, most men smoke, there was open fire grilling going on everywhere I went - wood/coal/paper/dried coconut shell (and I know that they burn the rainforest in at least a few locations - I saw nothing) and you can begin to understand what air quality is like. I was not bothered at any point, but I feel bad for those on their scooters traveling behind the buses and trucks. That would suck. I guess that’s why I see so many people with face masks on. I thought it was because they were sick or trying not to catch other’s germs but now I get it.

Pretty much everything is set up for locals to make a few $ from tourists. You pay for entry to everything, even parking and photo opps. Plenty of restaurants with pictures on the menu. Souvenirs galore. On the flip side things can be unbelievably inexpensive. Many of the meals I had were the equivalent of under $2 or even just pocket change. I stayed in some nice hotel rooms that were less than $50 but would have been hundreds back home or in Europe.

WiFi is available almost everywhere, sometimes better than others. I got a SIM card and my phone always worked. They have their own alphabet but it’s not used very often except for some temples and official looking buildings. They often use “our” alphabet to spell their words. Like “air minum” - pronounced ah-ear min-um which means drinking water. By the time I left Indonesia i was familiar with many words like shop (toko) parking (parkir) hours (Jam!), push (dorong), pull (tarik), closed (tutup) etc - things you see on shop signs. I could say hello any time of day. Like Spanish you have to be specific about time of day when greeting - all start with Selamat. Then Pagi, Siang, Sore, or Malam depending on the time of day. Bali has it’s own language but they understand Indonesian. Thank you in Bali is Suksma and answered with Mawali. In Indonesian it’s Tarima Kasi and answered with Sama Sama. Some I figured out on my own, others I asked. Anywhere I go I try to learn some words and the longer I am there the better at the language I get. And locals always appreciate a westerner trying to speak the language. It’s a great conversation starter. Common sense but still a lot of fun.

Street art/graffiti all over the place. Some really nice work. Chickens, dogs, cats, and birds everywhere in Bali. Saw some monkeys along the roads in Bali. There’s a ton of world famous coffee growing regions all over the islands, but they generally serve instant coffee ... I wasn’t expecting that.

My first stop was Legian on the west coast of the island close to the airport. Felt like an Australian tourist trap. Many of the bars were Aussie owned. Didn’t run into many Americans but I could spot the Aussies pretty easy after the first day, verified by hearing the accent. I did meet a few nice Australians, but for the most part the aussies didn’t respond when I would say hello and smile - I literally do this to every person I pass on the streets everywhere I go and I have to say that the Indonesians almost always responded with a smile of their own - especially when I used their language. I really enjoyed meeting all the nice people of Indonesia.

After 24 hours of travel and the build up preparing to leave for the trip I had an agenda which is why I chose Legian- relax in a comfy room with all the proper amenities, get acquainted with the language and vibe, and get some beach time in. I did all this and a massage too. Tried a couple of Bali “staples” like a smoothie bowl, nasi goreng and spring rolls but I don’t recall anything too exciting. I was not too familiar with other dishes. Walked a lot. After spending time on the rest of the island I feel Legian is not representative of Bali culture, rather the spot to go if you want beach, English menus, and a party/spring break scene. The beach is lined with bars and surf shacks with resorts lining the back road that stretches along the beach. Same goes for Kuta which is just south of Legian. If that’s your thing you’ll be in heaven, but not me. So after Legian ... Ubud

April In New York; I love this city - Back in New York City; I hate this city

dangerruss — Mon, 4 Apr 2016 16:38:00 GMT

We all have inner struggles. Some of us try to work through them; others just ignore it and go through their lives without worrying (ignorance is bliss). Maybe there are other responses. For me, I try to work through some, ignore others. My love/hate relationship with New York is one I’m currently grappling with. Hence two titles to this post

I realize this may sound cynical at times, and it is. Cause I am a New Yorker and we can be cynical. Tough shit. Oh, and this rambles at times. Again, tough shit.

People say New York is the best city in the world. Sure, if you like being an asshole. Otherwise good luck. I used to like being an asshole but I don't want to anymore. I don't want to argue over a parking spot. I don't want to dodge people and fight to be first in line. I don’t want to say “tough shit” instead of actually working things out. It's that simple. Maybe Cali has taken me over.

I just watched a clip from Dinner with Andre, a great dialogue heavy movie from the early 80s. In it one of the characters compares New York to a concentration camp built and guarded by its own inmates. It's "bread and circus", a distraction from what's really happening in the world. To be honest I feel this way about sports more than anything, but that's for another post.

Sure there are all sorts of things to do here, but do you need that many options? Are we that easily bored? To be fair there is a lot of music and dance and art in New York, things that I feel are welcome distractions from what's happening in the world. Stuff you can only see in NY. Magical forces that have the power to heal, to produce positive change in the world. But even these powers of positive change can be co-opted by the corporations to be used as more fodder for the masses or as a tool to make the few richer, and the rest of us poorer (service fees? how much is that beer?)

Had 3 hours to kill in the city the other day. I walked passed Rockefeller Center, Radio City, Broadway, Times Square, 42nd street, Central Park. 30 Rock, BB Kings, Jimmy Fallon, Colbert. All the way from the East River to the Hudson on the West side and back again. Walked passed fifty or so Starbucks looking for a coffee shop that didn't look corporate. Got a coffee and pastry at a little bakery eventually. Saw a lady curse out a taxi driver, classic New York. A few trees are in bloom right now but many are still bare, which makes the blooming ones really stand out and look beautiful.

I saw statues, horse carriages, public squares, a few ornate buildings and a little bit of nice architecture. Things I went searching for overseas. NYC is a tourist town, and I think that's another reason I left. Not that it was a conscious decision. I just knew, even as a naive high school grad that I wanted to get out. I'm glad I did. And Long Island is even worse cause at least you can walk around the City and see all the things I did in the span of a few hours. If you don’t have a car on the Island you’re more or less screwed.

I'm going back into the city tonight to meet some friends for dinner at a Moroccan restaurant. New York has a million food options, pretty much any cuisine you want you can find. Though more of them are corporatized these days than when I grew up, you can still find some gems. I hope this is one.

Then I'm going to a show at Webster Hall, a venue I haven't been to in 20 years. I will see a benefit show for Bernie Worrell, a keyboard genius, one of the guys who made Parliament Funkadelic the sonic and funk powerhouse they became, and the basis for so much hip hop (Dr Dre may not exist- so much of his work samples P-Funk). Bernie helped the Talking Heads take it to the next level. He's a virtuoso, not just at playing but at creating tones and sounds, which as a keyboardist I know can be the hardest part. There's a laundry list of performers that are going to be there, Bootsy, Clinton, and Parker from P-Funk, Leo from the Meters, Living Color, Paul Shaffer, Nona Hendryx, Screaming Headless Torsos... that's something you can only see in a city like New York or New Orleans. Twenty five acts in one club on one night. And that’s just the show I chose for the evening, there’s plenty more going on in the city and in Brooklyn.

And the whole time I’m walking through the city I can’t get this Genesis song out of my head

"Back In N.Y.C."

I see faces and traces of home back in New York City-
So you think I'm a tough kid? Is that what you heard?
Well I like to see some action and it gets into my blood.
The call me the trail blazer-Rael-electric razor.
I'm the pitcher in the chain gang, we don't believe in pain
'cos we're only as strong, as the weakest link in the chain.
Let me out of Pontiac when I was just seventeen,
I had to get it out of me, if you know what I mean, what I mean.

You say I must be crazy, 'cos I don't care who I hit, who I hit.
But I know it's me that's hitting out and I'm not full of shit.
I don't care who I hurt, I don't care who I do wrong.
This is your mess I'm stuck in, I really don't belong.
When I take out my bottle, filled up high with gasoline,
You can tell by the night fires where Rael has been, has been.

As I cuddled the porcupine
He said I had none to blame, but me.
Held my heart, deep in hair,
Time to shave, shave it off, it off.
No time for romantic escape,
When your fluffy heart is ready for rape. No!
Off we go.

You're sitting in your comfort you don't believe I'm real,
You cannot buy protection from the way that I feel.
Your progressive hypocrites hand out their trash,
But it was mine in the first place, so I'll burn it to ash.
And I've tasted all the strongest meats,
And laid them down in colored sheets.
Who needs illusion of love and affection
When you're out walking the streets with your mainline connection?

I can and should write a post about California and Santa Cruz, but let’s wait until I get back there to start thinking about that.

So to sum it up, coming to New York makes me remember the reasons I don’t like New York, even when I take advantage of the things I love about New York. That’s my struggle.

Photos: NEW YORK

dangerruss — Mon, 4 Apr 2016 16:36:00 GMT

where I come from

Departure and postscript

dangerruss — Fri, 1 Apr 2016 23:02:00 GMT

THURSDAY 31 March
No sleep. I rolled around in the bed for a few hours but I don't think I slept very much. Due to the shit that went down in Brussels they said I had to be at the airport 3 hours before departure. So I had to be up and out fairly early.
Except I really didn't need to get there 3 hours early in the end. I was through security, passport checks and by the gates in a half hour. Then I got an alert on my phone that the flight would be delayed because of a French air traffic strike. Ended up at the gate for 3 hours. Not cool man. Food options in the airport seriously lacking, I have no more dirhams because I converted it back to dollars before leaving the hotel, and since yesterday I've noticed people's ability to speak English has dwindled drastically. Not that that's their problem, it was my problem. I had questions and couldn't get answers. And I wanted a sandwich without cheese or tuna. First world problems. Obviously Grumpy russel is taking hold.
So I breathe, eat my ham sandwich, and remind myself to chill. That kind of worked. (Did you catch that, Ham sandwich... In Morocco! Not that it was any good)

I packed only one piece of reading material besides travel guides and that's Mindfulness magazine. I packed it cause I figure I can use more mindfulness in my life, a little meditation, and presence. I basically ignored it the whole trip, but on this flight to London I finally started reading it. I felt like I needed a reminder to chill.
I also have this beat making/sampling app on my phone that my friend Etienne swears can do some things that I wanted to do. I finally figured out how to use it, and you're right E, it is pretty easy to do. I started messing with a Flaming Lips track, chopping it up and reorganizing it.

The highlight of the flight was Seeing Tangier and Gibraltar from the sky. Nice way to cap off the trip.
So I mentioned earlier that my first flight was delayed. I made the mistake of booking the flight from London to NY a little close so this delay had me a bit worried I wouldn't make my connection in time. I figured I had to get out of customs, switch terminals, check into my next flight, and through passport checks and all in time to board. As we got closer to London I began Praying to the unicorn as I never have before, and practicing my breathing (thanks mindfulness). If you're wondering, praying to the unicorn basically involves thanking the unicorn for all good that it has witnessed in my life, and asking the unicorn to witness me making it on time through these next obstacles.

I was the First off the back of the plane, driven to the south terminal , where I was able to go through customs with no lines. I explained my situation and the lady just stamped my passport and directed me to where I need to go. Then as I came around the check In there was a huge line. I asked the unicorn (in the form of a security guard) if this was where my airline was lining up and he said no, and pointed to a clearing. I was able to Self check in at a machine. Then the screening line was quick too. Now I'm thanking the unicorn, out loud.
Cause I have time for
Ramen!
I was hungry and there was a ramen spot in the airport. As much as I enjoyed the food of Morocco I didn't realize how much I missed ramen. I kept forgetting that I was now in England, an English speaking country. I would say "permiso" or "pardon" instead of excuse me, and wanted to say shokran instead of thank you.
And now I'm On board with time to spare. So don't forget, breathe, and thank the unicorn.
I stayed up the whole 7.5 hour flight, watching documentaries about Tea, Rome, and the movie Suffragette. All pretty informative.
Then back to New York. Hanging with the fam.
This was a great trip. I met lots of good people, saw lots of new places. Traveled by plane, train, boat, bus, and car. I walked a lot. Stayed at hostels, hotels, a bus, a tent, and a home. Learned about history and other cultures. Spent time in cities, villages, mountains, on multiple coasts, the desert. I went to Africa and experienced life in a Muslim country, although to be fair Morocco is pretty liberal and pro-America comparatively speaking. Or so I am told, by the Moroccans and other travelers I met along the way.
Some people are surprised to find out I travel alone but I really thrive on it. I don't have to wait for anyone, can stay up or stay in when I want. Eat where and when I feel like. Traveling solo makes it easier to meet new people. It allowed me the time to keep this journal going and I'm really happy that I was able to write the entire time. There were moments that I would have liked to share with specific people and in all fairness traveling with others would have meant I might have had other good experiences. I still spent time with others and followed their lead which took me out of my element and allowed me to see or do things I wouldn't have sought out on my own.
If you have the ability or opportunity to go to Morocco I strongly endorse it. Do some research ahead of time, but don't book too many things in advance as I did this trip. I have traveled without an itinerary before and there are some stresses, hustles, and drama involved, but it's nice to go where and when you want. The biggest disadvantage to booking in advance is that I wasn't able to join others when I wanted unless they were going to the same destination as me. By booking in advanced I sometimes paid less than others and sometimes paid more, so in the end it all evens out.
And most importantly people are pretty much the same everywhere. They may believe in one fairy tale book or another which guides certain cultural practices, but we generally have the same needs and desires. Appreciate whatever you have cause someone somewhere doesn't. Appreciate where you are cause someone somewhere wishes they could be there or anywhere else but "here".
Ciao

Postscript ; This "journal" was typed entirely on my phone, while on the road. I started by taking really simple notes (hence random capitalization) then expanding on it. I tried my best to spell things correctly and use proper grammar, but I didn't get too hung up on the formalities either. I didn't share everything, but I tried to include some of my own inner dialogue when I felt like. I chose to upload stories while traveling cause it felt "improvised" and in the moment. I intend to edit and compile these entries when I get home. If and when I do I will publish it some other way. I want to leave this journal as is, in this space.
I appreciate all who read these or followed me vicariously through Facebook. It's because of your feedback and support that I kept it up. It's interesting that seeing comments, likes, and how many people where reading journal entries gave me a sense of connection. I enjoy traveling alone, but I didn't feel like I was alone. Thanks y'all.
Ciao. Salaam Alacham. Adios, or as I say a-unicornia (go with the unicorn)

Last Day in Marrakech

dangerruss — Wed, 30 Mar 2016 21:36:00 GMT

WEDNESDAY 30 March
Still waking early. Not sleeping that well but I never do at home anyway.
After coffee and bread at the hostel I went Back to find Dar Si Said. This time I didn't have to ask anyone, and took a different way and found it without too much turning around and doubling back. Today they were open. Unfortunately the music exhibit I thought they had was not there. Neither the Jewish history exhibit. I must have read an old review or totally switched this museum with another. Oh well. Still some cool old stuff and beautiful tile work, although like most everything in Morocco it's a bit rundown. I notice they spend a lot of time cleaning, yet everything is still dirty. Not complaining, just presenting the facts.
On my way back to the hostel I stopped for Bisara. Bisara is a dish made from fava beans, I don't know exactly the process but it seems like they cook it until it's mush. They serve it drizzled in olive oil and with cumin and salt. In the morning it's a runny breakfast soup you eat with bread. By the evening it's thicker and more like hummus. You eat that with bread too. Really you eat everything with bread here. It's good either way, but this was my first time locating it in time to try as a breakfast. I approve.
In Marrakech I'm getting Less Ali baba calls. I did make an old man with a beard and few teeth smile when, after one of the shop keepers called me Alibaba, I turned to him and asked "do they call you Ali baba too?"
For the past few days I've been eyeing this one stand that sells these leather "seats" - I think they're called poufs. Yesterday I walked in to sit and chat with the Berber guy who runs it. He told me about the different kinds and sizes, what kind of leathers they use, and even quoted me some prices, which is kind of rare. They usually hold out on the prices until you're ready to haggle.
I checked with another stand and it turns out he actually quoted me a decent price. So after the Bisara I went to meet up and see if I could get a special price, but his shop wasn't open yet.
Back at the hostel I told Zach that I was going to leave a day early and he was bummed for a second. I didn't ask for my money back. That made him less bummed. I went back out for a juice, some water and passed by the pouf guy but still he wasn't open. Back to the hostel to pack, then one last check with my pouf guy. I know there's a ton of places selling these things but I appreciated his zero pressure style and taking the time to explain stuff. He was just opening. Salaam Alachams all around "I'm glad you're open, Saha!" I say. We shook hands. He pulled a bunch of styles and sizes for me to consider, we haggled, and haggled some more, and eventually came to an agreement, although not as good of a deal as I was hoping for, but still good compared to another seller in another part of the medina. So I now own 2 small and 1 medium sized camel leather poufs with a cool design. Winning. Except I need to fit all my stuff in my bag cause I don't want to pay to check luggage on my 3 flights this week. I'll deal with that when I get to the hotel.
And I'm at the hotel. 5th floor with a balcony. Somewhat fancy but still a great deal. It's in the new city and it a much different than anything I've seen in Morocco. It looks like all new construction. Lots of big hotels, large avenues with gardens and walking paths in the middle. Kind of boring,

Another thing about new town is the women. This is by far the most "western" part of the country I've seen. I hear that Casablanca and Rabat are similar. In the medinas and smaller towns I visited there were attractive women, but not to the same degree, and they were generally in traditional clothes- which I do find attractive, but I saw more knees and elbows and even a couple of midriffs this afternoon than the past 2 weeks. What I'm trying to say is the women obviously feel freer here than the other places I visited. That is attractive.

I took a stroll around and did find lots of pretty Flowers, orange and olive trees. I can't get over the smell of the citrus blossoms everywhere.
Everywhere in Morocco you see Police and army guys with big Uzis (or whatever you call those big guns). In the new city there is also security guys that seem like real security and metal detectors at the entrance to hotels, restaurants and the mall. (Yes I visited the mall) It's interesting that I feel safer because of the guys with big guns everywhere. Interesting because I don't feel safe around cops back home.
What's called Moroccan salad is different every time. Not really a big deal just thought I'd mention it.
After 5 weeks of travel I'm all of a sudden getting a bit frustrated by Language today. Maybe it is time to go home.
Tisba allahcha

Marrakech Daze

dangerruss — Tue, 29 Mar 2016 23:11:00 GMT

TUESDAY 29 Mars

Marrakech
My top bunk is too high. My roommates all snore and fart and go to bed too early. Breakfast was crap. you get what you pay for. I will stay here tonight but move to a hotel for the last night.

So I went for an early walk through the Jemma Fna and saw the juice stands and fruit stands being opened. The square that was packed last night was near empty. Only the occasional vendor with basics. Went through some of the medina, then doubled back to look up directions to a museum I wanted to visit. Went walking in search of the museum, saw some signs but still got a little lost. I asked a taxi driver to point me the right way, and he did, but I wasn't sure so I asked a second taxi driver a few minutes later and he pointed me in the right direction as well. Unfortunately none of them or the website I had looked up mentioned that the museum is closed on Tuesday.
Marrakech has a much more diverse tourist population than the other cities I have been here in Morocco. It seems the only locals are running shops all day, and that everyone walking around is a tourist from somewhere, even other parts of Morocco.
Walking through the medina at day time is an obstacle coarse, there are many people milling about and going this way and that. The shop keepers are trying to draw you into their shops and you can't help but look and be distracted at all the pretty colors and shinny things. At the same time there are donkey carts, horses, people on scooters and small motor bikes whizzing by, and the occasional motor cart. There's also animal poo on the ground, but the shop owners often cover it with cardboard. I haven't seen an accident yet and that amazes me. I spoke to a lady at an herbal healing shop and she said she never sees accidents in the medina. There are apparently a lot of accidents on the highways between towns but I didn't see one my whole time here and I covered a lot of miles. I did read that before coming here too. She also pointed out that you see women riding scooters, bikes, and driving in Marrakech, but not in Fes. I didn't realize that but I wasn't paying attention to it. Marrakech is more liberal, but the most touristic of the places I visited.
I successfully haggled for a Kashmir scarf, original price 300 dirham, final price 110.
By 1 pm it was crazy hot, so I ducked into a restaurant with a terrace overlooking the Jemma and had a so-so couscous and some mint tea. For the first time this trip I was right next to one of the mosques during prayer time and could hear what they actually say on the loud speaker. I prefer hearing multiple ones from afar, but it's nice to know what it sounds like without the chorus of multiple chants at once.
I tried to go out some more after food but the sun was too much so I went back to the hostel to relax a little. It's 28 degrees, and I haven't bothered figuring out the conversion to Fahrenheit but I know that 13 is cool but bearable, 16 is comfortable, 20 is plenty hot, and unlike Fahrenheit every degree really makes a difference.
So I'm gonna wait it out a few hours since my head hurts a little (I am drinking plenty of water and staying away from coffee)
While hanging inside a few people checked in including a kid from Russia. Antoni doesn't speak any Arabic, nor French or English enough to communicate. He walked 2 hours from the airport in the heat I was escaping. He got lost and walked in circles.

He finally found a cafe near the hostel that happens to be owned by the same people (although Antoni didn't know that) So he asked Mohamed (I swear I'm not just filling in Mohamed when I forget a name) at the cafe and I answered the door to a frustrated Antoni trying to get away from Mohamed, who Antoni thinks is a tout trying to collect his money for helping him find the hostel. I didn't see the beginning of this and I had to piece the story together. But here's where they enter -
Mohamed asks English? French?
Antoni - briefly speaks Russian, than says Russia, then goes "urgh" throws his hands up and walks towards the first doorway he sees.
By that point Mohamed is saying something like "I'm with the hostel. I'm trying to help check you in" , asking about the amount owed, and was picking up the book with the papers to fill out. I could see a similar look between Antoni's face and what mine must have looked like when I first arrived in Tangiers. I said " OK" real slow like and nodded my head up and down. Then they start trying to talk about money and Mohamed asks for euros (they like euros here in Morocco). Antoni says Dirhams Dirhams. I try to help using a conversion app and I think we may have peace between Marrakech and Moscow.
Antoni is directly outside the hostel a few minutes later as I was heading to the square for more food. He asks to join so I figured why not. I was really appreciative to have someone show me around when I first arrived, and though I'm an amateur, I was able to successfully take us through the souk so he got a sense of where the hostel is, and how to get to the Jemma Fna. We grabbed some food, I suggested a tagine, which I think he liked. And we watched the craziness of the square.
People tried to sell us watches, cell phones, honey, socks, glasses, paintings, and so on. The same guys would be walking back and forth asking again and again, like I'll change my mind and want to to start wearing a watch. There are beggars too. A lot. In most towns I will give some change to a street musician unless there's a whole bridge full of them (like in Budapest or Prague) or someone who gives me some form of entertainment without embarrassing or hurting themselves (a good joke does it sometimes)

Zachariah at the hostel has taken to calling me the boss. I told him I need to get my cut then. Now other guests are asking me questions like I work here. There are some Colombians here calling me jefe. Zach likes to tease everyone here. Germans get it the worst though I'm noticing.
Tomorrow's my last day. I'm gonna see if I can pick up a few little things before heading to the hotel.
Tisba Allacha

And the Road Goes on Forever

dangerruss — Tue, 29 Mar 2016 22:47:00 GMT

MONDAY 28 March- Ait Ben Haddou-Ouarzazate-Marrakech

This is the beginning of the end. This afternoon I take the bus to Marrakech. My final destination in Morocco. I may take a day trip somewhere from there, but I have no plans. No, I am not ready for this trip to end. Yes, I would love to stay in Morocco or go anywhere in the world but home. Yes, I am ready to be somewhere that I can more or less count on finding a usable public toilet, but No, I'm not ready to go back to the land where things are expensive.
But yes, I am content in the fact that I have spent a month on the road, longer than some people get to travel in their lifetime. I can now say I have been to 3 continents. From Alaska to San Diego to the Florida Keys to Nova Scotia and most spots in between. London, Barcelona, Venice, Prague, Paris, blah blah blah. Now I can add Africa to list. At least a bit if North Africa.
I live in Santa Cruz California, which most people here (and myself generally) consider paradise. I work full time and play music on the side, but I do not have to hustle the way many do. I don't have kids or a wife to support. I only have to buy 1 plane ticket, not 4. I am lucky, and I appreciate what I have and where I am.
I have met a lot of people here who do have to hustle. I have met others who seem to have it figured out, like Mohamed the owner of Bagdad cafe. He lived in France for many years and had to work hard to provide for his family. Then he decided to move back to Morocco and open a small hotel, which allows him to provide without having to stress, without having to roam the streets looking for tourists to offer one service or another to in hopes of making a few dirham. He's happy, relaxed and peaceful and you can tell.

I spent quality time talking with Mohamed yesterday and today, and we talked a lot about stress and hustle. About how things move slowly in Morocco, and how that's a good thing most times, although it can be frustrating. He taught me a few words in Arabic which I am trying to remember.
Chooya (sounds like Julia, without the J or L)means brother. Sa-ha is like Good or Cheers. I taught Mohamed "soon come" he liked that.
Instead of paying for a taxi to get back to the bus in Ouarzazate I was able to get a ride with a Danish family that was staying at the hotel. They live in Tangier but will be moving soon, for better education for the kids and a better way of life.
While waiting for the bus I sat at a cafe and got a Beef tagine. And it was good and cheap. Real spicy. Drank some tea. Relaxed.
A funeral procession just passed. At first I thought it was a critical mass as there were a number of people on bikes and foot filling the street. In the middle some people where carrying what must be the body of the deceased, covered in a blanket. Behind them many cars, some I assume part of the procession, others tourists or locals just tying to get somewhere. Soon come.
Couldn't stand relaxing any more so I walked around town a bit. Street art is not as prevalent in Morocco, but I found a few pieces worth shooting here. However for the most part the town of Ouarzazate is new buildings made to look sorta old or old buildings in decay. And the shops are not too exciting either. It's getting pretty hot now (I assume 21 or 22 degrees)? so I try to walk under trees, but even that proves too much. It is almost 3 pm, an hour before the bus departs so I sit in the shade. The same lady has asked me for change 3 times now. La (no).
Marrakech Express-
Got on the bus to Marrakech and ran into an American I met in Fes so we sat together and chatted the whole way. Conner was coming from the desert. At first the ride was more or less desert and rocks, a few old clay kasbah's, and it got beautiful pretty quick. We traversed the Atlas Mountains. We passed over peaks with snow on either side. From desert to green, and a few rivers and such. It was a long and winding road, and the bus driver was passing any vehicle we came up to. And honking all the time. Even around some hairy turns. Needless to say there was more than a few passengers puking, including the lady across from me. I pulled the Berber spice from my bag to mask the smell. We laughed about it since there's nothing we could do. On the way we passed Le Coq Hardi hotel. I'm sure you can google it.
Conner is part of the Sobon/Shenandoah family. They make some wines I really like, and that we sell at Staff of Life! Small world huh?
We both had to go to the Jemma Fna to find our hostels, so we shared a taxi and parted ways but decided to meet up after checking in.
Arrived at the hostel without incident. I'm starting to understand how these medinas work a little more (or at least what straight is) My bed is the equivalent of $5/ night. This includes a small breakfast, shower and toilet, tea and hash upon arrival, best wifi in Morocco and whatever. So I may splurge on a hotel closer to the airport the last night.
After the check in I went and found Conner in the Jemma. The Jemma Fna is a large open "square" loaded with food tents, merchants, performers, and buzzing with tons of people. During the day there are snake charmers, people with monkeys and other animals, henna artists, fortune tellers... I'll write more when I see it in the daytime. At night there are food and juice tents in the center with lots of musicians in groups performing local styles, a few games, kids selling those small light up things that fly really high that you see at many large squares around the world, beggars, and what not. We walked through the food tents and avoided all the guys trying to get our business until we finally succumbed. We asked the prices and both heard 14 and 16 dirham. So we sat down and ate. Then they asked for 100 dirham, 40 and 60. So began a long debate about what was said, a menu was produced to show he wasn't making up the price. We insisted what we heard, but he wasn't hearing it. So we offered double what we heard, 60 and said that was the final offer. We put down the money to get up to leave and the situation began to elevate slightly with multiple locals involved. I was happy to pay 100 dirham myself ( not that the meal was worth 10 bucks, but it's only 10 bucks). Conner was feeling the fight. After a bit more haggling and now a group of 4 different people trying to translate and the rather large cook getting closer and closer I finally just paid them the 100 so we could walk away.
Conner chipped in his share after and said "I can't believe I made such a big deal over $10". We agreed lesson learned.
After that he went to get a juice and thus began the new policy of verifying the price by holding up fingers. Lesson learned indeed.

While in the Jemma I ran into the Slovenian couple from yesterday, some Germans I met at another hostel, people that are staying at my hostel, and a couple who were on the bus with us that Conner met at a hostel a week ago. We both thought that was pretty cool, considering how many people are milling about.
Back to the hostel, where the guy who runs it Zachariah sings Doors songs but with the lyrics a bit off...
Tisba Allacha

Peaceful Respit- where's it's at

dangerruss — Tue, 29 Mar 2016 03:02:00 GMT

SUNDAY 27 March

Sounds in the morning- Birds, Trumps, goats, kids
Sunrise opposite the mountains, making vibrant colors on the mountains
Standard Moroccan breakfast.
Walking through the oasis again and getting lost.
Walking through town, too beat to try to get to the nice parts.
Instead I find a cafe and sit Drinking tea until I see a dish someone else is eating that looks good- fried eggs in olive oil with cumin, so I order that and eat with bread, no utensils.
Searching for tobacco, can't find the good stuff.
Omar the tout who tried to get my attention yesterday wants to sit and drink coffee/tea. Wants me to take a selfie and email it to him. Do I want a tour of the mountains? No. Has been to London, New York, Turkey, Barcelona ... I pay for the drinks, then he asks me for money. Nope. He walks with me to the bus stop hoping to get some work from a fresh arrival but I see him walk away without any tourists.

Then Supra tours bus to Ouarzazate (pronounced "where's it's at") - cramped, but AC works.
Along the way Plastic bags fooling me with color, so I think there's flowers in the desert landscape. Sat next to a young guy named Mohamed. He is finishing his studies and going to work for the government, and although his English wasn't bad I couldn't really understand what he will be doing.
Young kids staring at me at the gas station where we stop for a break along the way. I don't want to eat for fear of needing to use a bathroom. Bus stop bathrooms are pretty primitive.
I sometimes still feel like a tourist, not a traveler. I'm following an itinerary. I'm staying at places found online and in travel books. I'm eating some meals at places suggested that while good, are still filled with tourists. Often loosing the desire to haggle cause things are so cheap anyway.
Cherimoyas are available everywhere and I have enjoyed being able to eat them on the regular. Bananas taste really good, even when the skin still has green on it, not like the ones we get back home.
Got off the bus in Ouarzazate and met a couple from Slovenia who were also heading to Ait Bin Haddou. They had heard the taxi ride was 30 dirham per person if you fill the taxi. The first guy we asked wanted 300 total. No thanks.
The next guy 50 each. We settled for 40 each in the end. This area of Morocco is a common sight for major films. Like Laurence of Arabia, Gladiator, Prince of Persia, and Game of Thrones. The drive was pretty nice, part of it in a one lane road so the driver had to pull to the side often.
I arrived at Bagdad Cafe, my hotel for the night. Checked in and chatted with Mohamed the owner. I cannot keep track of how many Mohamed's I have met.
After tea and meeting his youngest son, I went for a Walk to the Ksar.
It's an old fortress, neighborhood, with winding paths and stairs. It is a Unesco world heritage site. There is no admission fee, no guards or anything official. People still live there, making and selling the usual crafts you see at the souks and in the medinas. To get there you have to cross a river, and there are rocks and sandbags placed there so you can get across. There is a bridge further down the road but that seems boring.
You can climb and explore as you wish around the Ksar which I really like. There were a lot of tourists which still bugs me. They all speak German, Italian, or Spanish, and they have selfie sticks and some have guides, and they all stop to take the same pictures, which makes me look for rocks and stairs and other things to photograph. I climbed to the top, where there was the biggest concentration of tourists, so I took a few shots and took my time on the way down. I was pretty hungry and I should have time to explore in the morning when there's usually less of "them" around so I didn't feel the need to hang out all night.
Dinner at the hotel was really good. Lemon chicken tagine is so tasty. I sopped up all the juices I could with french fries. When asked how dinner was I respond "Sa-ha, Moomtaz". Mohamed likes that I know a few words (I'm sure I am spelling them wrong) he says Shokran and some other words I need to learn.
Tisba Allahcha

Lost in Morocco

dangerruss — Mon, 28 Mar 2016 08:10:00 GMT

Saturday March 26
Bus ride to Somewhere.

Sunrise. Took a walk up onto a dune to watch the sunrise. Both the sunrise and the clouds to the west where perfect. One of the best sunrises I have seen, not that you can compare such things. The sky to the east was clear, with clouds to the west showing colors. A little brisk but not frigid.
Breakfast. Same as yesterday. I'm happy about that though- with the eggs and French toast it was a lot more filling than the standard Moroccan breakfast- coffee juice and lots of bread.
Too cold to shower. It doesn't even seem like the water is running this morning. So it wouldn't have been possible. And....

Where and when am I going?
So I did a dumb thing and canceled the reservation for the cave because I didn't think I could make it there. When I found out transport wasn't going to be a problem it was too late. Addi had a waiting list and filled my spot immediately. Sara said she was working out plans for me, which was nice since I didn't want to sit around trying to work that out myself when I was trying to sit around, relax, and explore. But I still don't know what this plan is, I was just told it's time to go. I'm ready. Yallah, let's go.

Ali drives me to the bus station, back through the desert and I like that. I like "off roading" but I don't get many chances to do it. No doubt it's fun. Ali forgot to bring the print out of where I'm staying. He told me what town to take the bus to and that people there will meet me at the station. Ok. I'll go with the flow and trust in the unicorn in the sky. And I have a few Moroccans phone numbers, maybe I'll actually have to use them.
Just as I'm about to board the bus he returns with a handwritten piece of paper with the name of the place I will stay and my hosts names and phone number just in case. Winning. Thanks unicorn.

Bus ride, this is the first bus ride in the country that had no obvious Moroccans on board for a good portion of the ride. One or two hopped on along the way. Mostly young backpacking travelers from Germany and Spain. The driver played a radio station broadcasting prayers on the speakers almost the whole morning, than it switched to talk radio.
We drove through a dry mountainous region to Tinghir, a small town near the gorge I was trying to get to. This part of Morocco reminds me of New Mexico and Arizona. Even similar artistic embellishments to some of the buildings.
I arrived and was approached by a guy (we met again the next day, his name is Omar) but I didn't think he was my contact. Another guy walked up to me and said Rafael? I said no and kept walking. Omar tried again and I said "I'm looking for Mustapha". Then the other guy comes back and says he's Mustapha. I said I'm not Rafael but then he confirmed that Sara had sent him. We had a good laugh about this at dinner later. So I met Mustapha, my host who is a Berber who grew up in a village we can see from his house. He saw a friend at the bus stop with a car and we got a ride half way to his place, then we walked the rest of the way.
He lives in a small village that is so fascinating to me. The homes are made of mud and straw and there was a bad snow storm 40 or so years ago that did some serious damage to the town. Most people moved to the other side of the road and built new houses out of concrete. He moved here five years ago and has been renovating his place along with his wife Fanny, from France. and it is a beautiful home. It looks like he is in the middle of Roman ruins. A perfect filming location. So cool. It's not a hotel or B&B. No signs. Just a family home where they sometimes host travelers. They live right off of a "palm oasis" but it's much more than palms, which produce dates. I went for an afternoon walk and there's pomegranate, fig, peach, almond, and olive trees as well as fennel and some other herbs. I assume there's a lot more growing I just don't know enough about identifying the plants. I could use a Joe Rubin or Johnny B to help. And I know nothing about birds but Ive seen and heard a bunch of cool ones. But I'm jumping ahead.

I arrived at the home and was served mint tea. Then they went about preparing lunch. Mustapha is a trained French chef. They cook eat food that is locally grown and produced- Fanny mentioned that she feeds her compost to the animals so she knows what they eat. Mustapha only likes to cook with fresh food. Yesterday's gatherings and groceries goes to the animals too.
Fanny and I had a conversation about books. She's reading a book by Jack London that talks about the Chicago uprising in 1913 and I suggested she check out The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair. She also has a copy of People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn. She said it was given to her by another American traveler who told her it may make her cry. and we talked about her trip to America many years ago and how much she enjoyed the train from Chicago to San Fransisco during Christmas and the her trip down the coast to San Diego from there.
There is another couple staying here, a Brazilian and his French wife. They are renovating a place not far from here and hope to move in by December. Lunch was a tomato, avocado, and onion salad, roasted potatoes and some meat skewers grilled on a small barbie in the yard.
The walk through the grove was very interesting. I enjoy trying to identify the trees and plants, and it was apparent that this was a town a long time ago (I found out later it was over 1000 years ago) There is very little recorded history of the region, but people are trying to figure it all out.
The paths I walked on seem like they used to be the walls of homes. They are dirt paths about 2 feet wide and 5 or 6 feet high from the ground, sometimes higher even. Below the paths people have little plots to garden. There are intricate canals all through the oasis, made to guide the water to the plots. Lots of alfalfa and beans are starting to get about knee high. A guy with a few Trumps passed by, and a few kids were playing and hanging around which I passed. They all said bonjour and giggled.
The stars here are vibrant and very visible here. I went to the roof for a great panoramic view.
So I've tried the Tangier sub par offerings. Chefchaouen had its powdery style. But I've heard that Ketama's the best source for hash and I think I can now say what I've heard is true.
After the pre-game it was time for Dinner. Mustapha and Fanny prepared a cauliflower soup, and a kafta tagine, which are like small spiced meatballs, with green beans and carrots. Yummy.
After dinner the conversation got past me for the most part as there was a lot of French and Berber spoken, neither of which I can understand. We spoke a little Spanish at some points and I amazingly held my own, understanding and communicating more than I expected to.
But I appreciated this as one of the things I have been able to experience this trip is being the Outsider. Not like I've never been around a group of people speaking a language I don't understand before. This is just a world which I for the most part don't understand. But I'm learning.
There are 3 official languages in Morocco; Berber, French and Arabic. Although there are some English signs in some places, it's rare. "Donny, you're out of your element" I enjoy the change from "the norm"
Tis bah allahcha.

TEA IN THE SAHARA

dangerruss — Sat, 26 Mar 2016 06:30:00 GMT

FRIDAY 25 March
Arrived at the bus station around 7am. Caught the sun rise over the desert. You could see the mountains of Algeria. Waited for the cab driver asking for James Bond, my code name per Sara my host. The road was a normal paved road with desert on either side. We stopped at a hotel where I was picked up by Ali. Then we drove through the desert, unpaved roads, no markings, just make a left at that bush and bear right following a set of tracks already laid by a previous vehicle. No signs, no buildings. Just some tents along the way. It's crazy to think people know their way around here when the landscape changes.
I am in the Sahara. Dunes, sand, random palms, flies, lots of them, and a lot of spaniards. They are all here in Morocco escaping Semana Santa.

Moroccan time is like Santa Cruz time. "Soon come" as the Jamaicans say. I have done some waiting since I've been here. "Right away" isn't exactly right away. But no worries mon, I'm on vacation.

I was served breakfast when we arrived. Berber omelette which is eggs stewed in tomatoes in a tagine pot. Yogurt, bread, French toast, coffee and juice, then shown to my tent. I relaxed a little while the sun wasn't blaring yet. Then moved into the shade tent for more relaxing. I took a few strolls through the sand up and down dunes and back again. Drank some Tea in the Sahara. Relaxed some more. Ate lunch- canned sardines warmed over sliced tomato and onion in a tagine, bread, and mashed potatoes. Relaxed some more. I'm going to wait until later to ride the camels since it is pretty sunny right now and I'd rather do a sunset ride. Not sure of the temp but it is hot, not unbearable.
It's nice here at the spot I'm staying. There's only a few other tents occupied, and it feels like I have the place to myself for the most part. I've gone for a few walks through the sand to look at more sand, a few plants, a random bird or bird print in the sand, and these little black beetle looking bugs. One tried to get fresh with my toe but I declined.
And relaxed on the hammock, in the shade tents, and in the sun a little. Smoking the last of the Chefchaouen stash. Listening to music sometimes; Fela Kuti, Oumou Sangare, and Hiatus Kaiyote mainly. Great soundtrack. Also took a nap to Ahmad Jamal "Live at the Pershing" That just sounds good on any speakers, anywhere.

Ali and Saras Desert Palace is a collection of permanent large tents, maybe 12' by 12' or even larger. Nice big comfy bed, electricity, rugs and blankets lining the walls.
There are separate little straw shacks on permanent foundations each with a toilet, shower, and sink- electricity and running water. There are a number of shade tents and a recreation tent with books, games, and a few instruments.

The temp changed drastically throughout the day. The morning heated up quick, then stayed hot for a few hours. By early afternoon
the winds picked up and it was too cool in the shade. Before sunset the winds died down and it was really comfortable out in the sun. Then after sundown it was cold. I didn't have to wear everything I packed, so it wasn't too bad, but I was pretty layered up.
Taking good pictures here has been super easy. At least I think it is. Who needs all that fancy equipment. National Geographic should send me around the world to take photos.

Took an evening camel ride to the watch the sunset. Technically it's a dromedary not a camel since it had one hump. His name was Bob Marley, and I'm calling him a camel cause it's easier to type. It was a good experience. It wasn't the best thing I've ever done, but it was worth it for the bragging rights and some pictures (and not having to walk all the way to the spot) I liked watching the sand and sky change color as the sun moved. The mountain range that forms the border between Morocco and Algeria, only 30 km away, got lit up by the sun, so it was clearer and more defined than any other time of day. So I can say I've "seen" Algeria. Also the sunset caused shadows to appear on the sand because of the dunes, which was cool to watch. We listened to Fela Kuti, Quantic Soul Orchestra, and Bob Marley on my speaker. The camels didn't seem to mind. The ride was a little bumpy but totally bearable. Some people complain that they end up walking with the camel cause of their ass hurts. I could have rode for hours it seemed.
When I arrived back at the camp there was a fire going and we started jamming. There were a number of hand drums, and an electric guitar. I got a turn at both. There was a younger guy named Hassin that was working there who played some pretty good guitar- he played the right handed guitar left handed, so I called him Jimi Hendrix. He played a style that involved lots of single note lines, with lots of trills. Time signatures fluctuated between 9/8 and 12/8 for the most part. I didn't pay enough attention to the harmonic structure to describe it, but when I get home I know I can pull up examples to demonstrate the sound.
When it was my turn to play, as usual I couldn't really think of anything special, so I would play a few chords from a Fela tune and repeat them. We made up vocals, mainly repeating Africa and Sahara.
I tried my hand at some hi-life style broken chords and failed. Back to the drums, which I felt a little better about.
I have heard not to miss the stars in the desert. From where we were the stars where nice but nothing I have not experienced. I think because the moon is still mostly full the sky was a little too bright to get the full experience. I walked away from the camp a little to see if it helped, but it didn't. Also my camera doesn't do the best star pics, so you will have to take my word for it.
Is the single Italian mom who has 2 whiny girls trying to hit on me? I can't tell, but I'm really not interested. Not my kinda Milf. Nice lady though.
Onto bed, the tent is cold but it's warm under the blankets provided. Maybe I should have tried to get an Italian cuddle buddy :)
Tisba Allachay

FES 24March Thursday

dangerruss — Fri, 25 Mar 2016 23:13:00 GMT

I have been waking up early pretty much the whole trip. Waking up early in a hostel is generally lame as most normal humans sleep in, and since I'm sharing close quarters with other humans I try not to be too annoying. This morning I just put on some dirty clothes and went for a stroll. Found a cafe to sit and have coffee while relaxing. Then went into the medina for a walk as they were just getting some stalls open. While less stimulating, it is a nice walk and I watched as they opened doors and transformed bare walls and tiny stalls into typical shops with colorful clothes, leather works, spices, produce and whatever.

You can smell the Trumps before you see them. I am now very familiar with the smell. It's really the only foul oder I have noticed. Usually it's spices, grilling meat, cilantro/onion/banana, hash wafting from an alley, or coffee.

After my stroll and a little breakfast at the Riad it was off to the hammam. Hammam means bath in Arabic. Every Muslim neighborhood must have 5 important things; a mosque, an oven, a fountain for hand washing, a Koran school for the kids, and a hammam.
It was a little less sauna than I had hoped for, and while they scrub you pretty good, you also lay on the floor- in what essentially is a community bath/sauna type room. So I feel kinda dirty and clean at the same time. It's one of those things I'm happy to do for the experience; people have been going to hammam for a long time.
It starts by stripping down to your underwear. Then you go into the room, which was a large room where multiple people could be washing at once... There was only one other guy in there while I was there. Men and women bathe at different times of the day. You hand the attendant your black soap which you purchase prior in the medina. He pours a few buckets of hot water on the floor and motions for you to lay on your back (the only word he used which I understood was "bien?" which he was asking <I assume> to make sure the temp was ok, he didn't say much else) and he goes to refill the buckets. Then he pours a bunch of hot water on me, first using a cup to direct it to individual areas, then a whole bucket or 2. After that he applies the black soap all over. Scrubs a bit, then fills up the buckets again and starts rinsing. Next a few little back cracks and arm stretches, then begins the scrubbing. They use a glove which is pretty coarse and rub down the whole body, scrubbing away the toxins, maybe some actual skin with it, using the same scrubber he's used on who knows how many people, but I'm more interested in the experience than worrying too much about cooties. Then I pulled out my shampoo and he proceeded to wash my hair, twice, with a lot of shampoo, like a lot a lot. Rinsing In between. Then a final rinse and we're done. Merci beacoupe i say.

I will try another in a different city to see if there are any differences.
The medina is not exactly as I pictured, I was expecting more of a flea market tent situation but this was all buildings, albeit pretty old ones, some people just had tables set up in an alley, some with an awning, but most had a space inside the buildings and sprawled out. Not a complaint, just sayin.
I cleaned up after the cleanup and then it was off to a Restaurant overlooking the blue gate. Food was ok, view was nice.

I remember that yesterday I tried something really good- sliced oranges with cinnamon.
Pretty simple and tasty. You can make it at home. Take an orange, peel it and slice it, then pour some cinnamon on it, then eat it. Come on you lazy bum, you probably have all the ingredients.
Ok There, we just shared the experience.

Communal cups. At most fountains there is a cup and it seems to be a communal cup. At a random sandwich stand in the medina last night I noticed multiple patrons and the cook drinking from one cup. I was told Moroccans are not as concerned about cooties as the westerners. I can see that.

Tonight I take the overnight bus to Merzouga where I will meet up with Ali and Sara to take me to the desert tomorrow night.

Before leaving I had a so so sandwich, then sat at a cafe enjoying coffee and great conversation with a gentleman named Ahmed and his friend a music teacher whose name I can't recall. Ahmed spoke English fairly well. His friend not so much, so we didn't talk too much about music. Ahmed spoke about how " it was difficult for Americans to travel under Bush because, well, he's Bush. Now Obama is a very smart president, a good man. But this Trump... will he win? Who do you vote for?" I say Bernie and he says, oh no, Bernie won't win, but I insist it's possible.
I mention how it is a reflection of our dwindling investment in a complete education that Trump can gain popularity, even within "a portion of a portion of the people" but he interjects, appropriately, that compared to Morocco we have an excellent education system in the US. Moroccans are taught by "superstition" he says. I took this to refer to the fact that they are taught Koran at a young age, and there is some arithmetic and what not, but generally he described it as primitive and most importantly the students are not taught to think. I believe I have an understanding of what he means.
The idea of thinking for oneself. Reading and studying in order to form one's own opinion. Not just following information by rote, but asking questions, looking it up, or going out and searching for yourself. That's a reason I am here, now.
I came to Morocco for many reasons, and as I stated previously I'm still learning why.
Yes this is a Muslim country, but it is a very unique country even in the Arabic world. They have a specific dialect and language here that differs from others. They are a very liberal country, albeit there is no doubt it is an Arabic country. While I am told there is alcohol here I have yet to see it for sale. Certainly not at restaurants. No pork of any kind that I have seen. Mosques and minarets everywhere you turn.
But women are out and about, I have seen them driving, I say hi and they say hi back ( salaam actually) they don't hide when men show up, some wear traditional headwear, some full vails, only a handful of full on burka action. teenage boys and girls are allowed to hang out, and I have not seen any instance of ill treatment. I'm sure it's not all unicorns and rainbows, but at least it ain't fire and stones, ya know?

Why come to a country and not talk to people? Reading websites and talking to family and friends I was warned to be wary of pick pockets and con artists. While I keep my wits about me, I am not gonna just keep to myself. I refuse to think every person is trying to pick my pocket or that they see me as a mark. Instead I try to say hello to everyone. If it doesn't feel right I do my best to remove myself from the situation. In reality I have met some of the kindest people here in Morocco. In the bus ride I sat next to Mohamed. Mohamed was a nice kid who gave me his number "just in case you need anything" That's the fourth Moroccan now to give me his number. Nobody in Spain or Portugal offered me their phone number. Do Moroccans offer their number cause they think something will happen? Because he has something to sell me? I don't think so. He just wanted to ensure I enjoyed my time here.
He suggested I read the Koran. I told him I actually picked up an English version in Spain so I could see what it says myself, not just go by hear say. I haven't gotten very far, but I was happy to tell him I already have a copy. We shared food, talked, it got a little political and religious but then we got to talking about music. He likes Jazz.

I am trying to be careful not to offend anyone but sometimes I'm not even sure what may be offensive.

Another observation - I am a minority here. I'm a white American Jew. It's a good thing to experience. In Spain and Portugal I did not notice it as much. I was still an outsider but I "felt" like I knew what was up all the time. Here I do not feel that way. I do not know what is up or down or all around... You know? I just go with the flow, ask questions when I can, and point and gesture when I can't.

Long bus ride. Drove through the snow covered mountains to the desert. Almost thought I was back in New Mexico. Sunrise over the desert from the bus was a nice way to start.

Ali Baba signing off

Tisba Allacha

Fez

dangerruss — Fri, 25 Mar 2016 05:18:00 GMT

FES 23 March Wednesday.

Woke up to the sounds of very interesting bird calls. There were multiple ones and its hard for me to describe but it was beautiful.
Also waking up to the fact that I have to scramble to alter my plans. The bus is pretty much the only option for my path and the schedule is not working out to my favor.
I can skip the cave, and not loose any money. I mention cause I will need to take an overnight bus tomorrow to get to my desert excursion. That means the room I booked for tomorrow is getting paid for even though I'll be on the bus and see the town for 20 minutes at 1:30am. At least it was cheap.

Since the internet sucks here and at every hostel in Morocco it's hard to work out some of the details and everyone gives you conflicting information. So after breakfast at the hostel I hired a guide to walk me and a young Korean girl who is studying in London around the old medina and give us the Fez treatment. It was very informative and it was everything you read about and see in films and documentaries.
Some highlights- we were able to see inside some of the mosques. Not go inside, but we could look in when the doors were open before prayers. The mosques are not very elaborate inside compared to the outside in most cases. We passed donkeys ( I call them Trumps) and kids running and playing. Stalls have all kinds of things. Lots of leather, weaved products, metal, wood, spices, nuts, pastries, little convenience stalls with bottled water, candy, napkin packs, and whatever else. You pass by little doorways and you can see inside little spaces where people are tailoring clothes, fabricating some item, dry cleaners, or butchers including camel meat- you know it's camel meat cause they hang the head of the Camel right there to prove it. egg sellers, chicken hawkers, like live chickens, candle stick makers, and whatever else you can think of.
There are lots of parts of the old medina being renovated. He took us to a tannery but they weren't actually tanning, their spot was being renovated. And I felt like we were rushed through. I was a little disappointed so I didn't buy anything.
Korean girl wanted to get argon oil so we went to the women's cooperative to see them "making the oil" and try some. She bought some oil, I got a harisa spice blend.
We also went to a weaver, saw them making a carpet, and I got a scarf (not the blue one in the photo). There are areas of the old medina that focus on specific crafts. The metal working area was cool hearing all the different clangs happening simultaneously.
None of the places he brought us allowed haggling, which was kinda boring.
The alleys are real narrow in a lot of places. Although they do a clean up every morning before sunrise, by noon when we went out there was plenty of trash on the streets.
After we went to a spot for lunch then Korean girl was off to the airport.
I relaxed at the hostel for a bit, then went out to the bus station to get the info from the source. I indeed need to take an overnight bus tomorrow. Oh well, it's only $20, and Morocco has been so under-budget so far I'm ok with loosing it.
So now I was ready to attempt the medina myself. I had been warned about it being really confusing, but even though the sun was already down I found a good starting point and made my way back and forth just fine. I picked up a sandwich, then some cookies and brought them to a cafe by the gate and drank coffee while watching people go by. My name really is Ali Baba. I don't like the "40 thieves" connection, but it's cool that I'm well known in Morocco. Most people do not have beards here, or if someone does have facial hair it's not as bushy. So I stick out a little.

Then later back at the hostel I got an email that looks like I may be able to make the cave after all. We'll see what happens. I keep losing wifi, it takes hours to sit here trying to connect just to work out a few plans.
Tisba Allacha
Ciao

Chefchaouen to Fes

dangerruss — Fri, 25 Mar 2016 05:02:00 GMT

CHEF TO FES; 22 March-

After breakfast took a stroll through some streets before most things were open. It was nice and peaceful, just some locals going about their business, kids with backpacks and such. Now it's raining again, so I'm relaxing a bit at the hotel before heading out to the bus station.
Most sandwich shops don't really have napkins, they just give you an extra piece of the coarse paper used to wrap the sandwiches or french fries. So I carry a handkerchief since Tangier. I also carry a little TP since most public bathrooms do not have any, not that I would want to need it anyway considering some of the conditions. I will admit so far it has been better than I assumed it would be though. My next few stops until Marrakesh may prove otherwise.
Hairy cab ride to the bus. The driver had a broken hand, driving manual, and on his mobil phone most of the ride yelling, while it was raining, tailgating and driving on the wrong side of the road to get around slower drivers. That kind of hairy.
In the bus now (you can get on the bus, I'm getting in it- adapted from George Carlin RIP). Riding up and through the Rif mountains. Beautiful green rolling hills, valleys, trees, wildflowers, rivers. Sheep and goats and cows and a few donkeys here or there. Old houses, some painted shades of blue. There are many houses and buildings being constructed. They build with red brick, then plaster over it, then eventually paint it from the stages I can see.
The sky is pretty big here, and it's currently bright and clear, but at times it looks like where heading towards Mordor, or whatever it's called- dark ominous gloomy clouds obscuring the peeks of the mountain tops and all.
Now we're down closer to the ground passing small and medium size towns. The smaller towns are very primitive. Huts or tents, lots of roofless domiciles, and tarp-ed abodes. More make shift homes than buildings as in Tangier or Chefchaouen.
We stopped at a road side restaurant. They had whole goats, skinned and ready for prep hanging outside of the counter. You give them 20 dirham and they give you some raw ground meat or ribs. You bring that to the barbecue stand and get it cooked and served with a bun. I actually skipped it, more cause I was really not hungry after stuffing my face before and during the bus ride. I didn't think there would be a full food stop along the way.
There are lots of cops and military type guys in the cities and in the roads. There are random checkpoints on the road. They take security seriously here. Also I learned that when your passport is stamped you get a unique number. This number follows you through the country, and when you give your passport info to the hostel or hotel they report that to the government. If your number is not documented somewhere after 3 days at any point after entering Morocco they assume you are either up to no good or in trouble. If I were to stay with a friend or want to go camping, I or my host family would need to register with the police or whoever. I feel as safe here as I would anywhere.

Saw a pretty ill rainbow, in fact a double rainbow appeared. The colors on the main rainbow where so vibrant. And the full thing really stood out. Pretty rad.

Some master clusterfucks on the way into Fes from the bus station. Traffic circle with cars going every way and construction at the same time. The ride was not visually exciting and my walk to the hostel was uneventful. Thanks to some great directions it was easy.

The hostal, Riad Sara is beautiful. It is a Riad (hence the name) which is like a palace on the inside. They have a few hostel rooms besides I think some "regular rooms" which is awesome. I got here late enough that I decided to just chill here, have some dinner, and unwind.

They cook dinner here with local ingredients, etc so I ordered the chicken pastilla, which is like a phyllo dough wrapped chicken pie with sweet spices. It's a Moroccan dish I didn't think I would like, but I did. Since it's already dark and still raining I'm gonna stay in and recharge for tomorrow adventure in the Fes medina.

There's a lot of Germans here. In the hostel and in Morocco in general. They are nice and all. There's also a kid from Chico but studying in Germany. Kinda annoying.
And after all of this planning I may have made a mistake about transport for my next few moves. Quickly re-evaluating the cave stop.
Ciao

Chefchaouen

dangerruss — Wed, 23 Mar 2016 05:05:00 GMT

CHEF Monday 21 March

Hello. Bonjour. Hola. Salaam. It gets confusing to decide which I feel like using but I try to greet everyone I pass. Most people respond.
Everyone is calling me Ali Baba, because of the beard they say. I like it. You can call me that now.

Everyone says they have "the best hash" , at least everyone that offers it, which is about half the population of Chef.
I may have been mistaken when I said they were subtle yesterday, but maybe that's cause I'm making the effort to say hi. I've learned it's hard not to assume that everyone is offering hash, but if I live by that assumption I'm ignoring anyone that tries to talk to me. And I know that's a dick move. So I am now friends with Mohamads, Ottmans, Abduls, Mustaphas, and so on. Many similar names.
As of this morning I am getting the hang of the streets of Chef a little better. I did some online research today and this town was formed in the mid 15th century by Moors and Jews fleeing the whole inquisition business on the Iberian peninsula (Spain and Portugal)
The reason I did online research is because there are no official signs (and I can miss some things) that the Jews where here. The Jews began the tradition of painting the walls blue, which the populations since have continued. Although I have met people who speak Hebrew and some who are part Jewish, I have not seen or heard anything about a current Jewish culture here.

It's so easy to take amazing pictures here. Like point and click, you don't even have to look. I've stopped trying at this point. Mainly because I just want to seem less like a tourist. There are a lot of them here, although not as overwhelming as other places I've been. It is also a Monday during the "off season". Granted, they are getting less and less of an off season as the popularity of Chef has boomed in the last 15 years according to the locals I spoke with today.

Walked up to the Spanish mosque. They built it in the wrong direction so it doesn't get used. It's way up, 20 minutes up hill, more like up mountain, and has some more great views of the entire town. It's also the way to many of the hash farms, and there where multiple offers to visit them along the way and when I got to the top. While the thought of seeing a Moroccan ganja farm is tempting, it's one of those things I would only do under specific circumstances (say what you want, either way) and following a random dude on the path is just not one of those circumstances I'm whiling to do. I know they're not close to the mosque, so if nothing else I'm not looking to spend the whole day on that adventure.
It started pouring when I got to the top so it was a pretty wet walk down on slippery rocks. No falls, but I did get my pants pretty muddy.
After I got cleaned up I went for Lunch at a small place called bab sour. It was suggested by the hotel. While there I was seated with some people from Oakland. They are traveling Morocco with a guide. Their guide suggested this place. Then a Japanese man with a guide was seated next to me. His guide brought him here too. Now I'm excited. Lunch was so good. I got a dish called espinica, like spinach, but actually some other green herb plant done up like an Indian Saag that was tasty. Then a fava bean thick mush soup that was really good too. I saw that the guide got served one right after me and followed his style of adding olive oil, cumin, and salt. Then sopped it up with a whole grain bread. And finally my first real tagine, lamb and veggies, slow roasted and served in a clay pot, meat falling off the bone, potatoes and carrots turning to mush, so freakin tasty! (I tried some of someone else's shrimp tagine in Tangiers and it was really good too) Topped it off with some Moroccan mint tea. The whole meal with tip was 70 dirham. Like $7.15. Just crazy. And the owner speaks the usual 5 languages plus German, Portuguese, and Japanese!

After that I went and stopped by to visit "John" at "a" Hostal. (Names changed just in case) A friend of a new friend runs the hostel and I heard that there's lots of hash smoking going in there. So I went and introduced myself and in less than a minute I was rolling for the 2 of us. Eventually I asked to get some, knowing he would pinch a little off the top, but feeling like its my contribution to the local economy. On Moroccan time now. While "waiting for the man" I had the opportunity to just sit outside and watch and meet people.
This is more like blond hash, or really just pressed kief. Breaks into a fine powder. Tangier's was darker, and had stems in its contents, and was most likely cooked a little. "John" says Tangier buys Chef hash and then mixes it with crap weed.
Small town this is. Running into people I have met both locals and foreigners. Even saw some folks who were at the hostel with me in Tangier.
In the main square by the kasbah, which is the place I usually go to begin getting lost now, there are guys who stand in the walkway with menus like any tourist town, trying to draw you in for food or tea. When I decline they then ask if I need "the best hash" or anything else. I generally decline all of their offers. I have passed this one guy maybe 10 times in the last 24 hours, and he catches me every time. My responses at first where pretty bland "I'm all good". "I just ate" "I don't need hash". After a few more direct responses I felt OK with being a smart ass a few times "How can your hash be the best when Ottman told me his is the best". "No speakie English" and so on. Finally I told him it's not personal, I just don't eat places that have a hype man and higher prices than the places I have been eating in town. If I see him tomorrow I will ask him his name. He's a good sport.
Did I mention that there is a rooftop terrace at this hotel too?!?!? I love these. Gavin, if you're reading, when's the rooftop terrace gonna be done on your pad?

More people are randomly calling me Ali baba.
And lastly I'm not really sure how I'm gonna get to some of the places I am going. I may have to see if I can rent a car 1 way from fez to Marrakech. Oy vey!

Good night, pronounced "tis ba, allah hay" in Arabic.

Blue-tiful Chefchaouen

dangerruss — Mon, 21 Mar 2016 20:34:00 GMT

Tangier to Chefchaouen
Sunday March 20

Successfully navigated my way to the bus station this morning. I will be heading east to Chefchaouen. It's supposed to be a beautiful city. My cab driver Mohamed was a nice guy. We spoke broken Spanish to each other and he asked "trump or mujher?" I said Bernie Sanders, and he knew Bernie.
How many of us in America could recognize the name of the people running for office in another country? Not the actual leaders, just the random people running. He also speaks multiple languages.
Although I know better, I feel like we in the states are given the impression that Africa is uncivilized and the population uneducated, but I would counter the people I have met so far are multi linguistic, know how to use technology in amazing creative ways, and are extremely resourceful. There are different concerns and customs then we have, and they are working with a completely different economy. Formal Education can be hard to come by, but the few young Moroccans I have had the time to talk to are all studying somewhere.

At the bus station. There is a prayer room here. In the bus now. Driving through a valley with scattered homes, trash, wildflowers yellows orange purples, beautiful green rolling hills. Donkeys goats and cows just grazing along the road. Seat is broken but it's not a long ride. A very scenic ride from Tangier to Chef. People having picnics, cooking food on open fires.

In London when I saw a trash bag on the street it had an official notice that it was being investigated for illegal dumping. In Portugal and southern Spain, outside of the cities, I would seer some trash strewn out in fields.
Here in Morocco it's everywhere, just out in the streets, along the side of the road, and most unfortunately, as I took this first ride along the "countryside" the rivers where full of trash.

It rained in tangier every morning but cleared up by 9 ish. I picked up some bread and fresh dates still on the vine in Tangier for snacks on the bus. Yummy.

Sporadically raining then sunny here in chef. I arrived and took a petite taxi to the hotel because it's on a crazy hill. Did some laundry in the sink, then I went out to explore the medina.
Chef is a beautiful town, painted mostly a light blue. Exactly like it looks in all the online pictures and guidebooks. It's set on a mountainside, kinda like San Fransisco on the hills, but prettier and not very city like.
The people in the Tangier medina were pretty direct about selling you stuff. The people here are more subtle. They are all friendly but it sucks that they are still trying to sell you something.
For example as I was making my way back to the hotel a guy asked where I am from. I said California. He said he used to live in San Francisco with his exwife. We exchanged some pleasantries and he invited me for tea. An invitation to tea is code for "i want to sell you a rug or something"
I decided no matter how much I've read the stories it would be crazy not to see the experience first hand so I accepted. He said This was an invite to some tea and conversation as he has only been speaking English for a year and wanted the practice. He is originally from southern Spain and his family is half Muslim and half Jewish (Mohamed Ben Ayud is his name)
We sat and chatted for a while. Moroccan tea takes a while to prepare. He introduced me to his uncle. Still waiting for the tea he casually mentions that he would love to show me some of the rugs they had for sale.
I told him I was in no way buying anything on this trip and I did not want him to waste his valuable time opening rugs for me. I also said, politely, that I would not drink tea with him if his intention was to sell me something, but otherwise I would enjoy sitting, talking, and drinking tea so we can learn more about each other and the world.
We had a nice conversation, pretty casual, and he mentioned that when he was in SF he was selling lots of custom leather goods to the the gay community for good money, but not enough to live in SF or keep his wife happy. He mentioned the rugs and other goods a few times so eventually I said "I am not traveling to buy things. I don't need things, I am traveling for experiences, to meet people, and to see the world. I am on a tight budget and I just couldn't afford to start spending money on stuff." If you have lived with me you know I don't need more things. While I have picked up a few small mementoes along the way, this is mostly true. Especially because I am using cash here in Morocco, no credit card, which is where most of my travel monies were coming from for this trip.
I also repeated, that I didn't want to waste his time if this was just a sales meeting but I would be happy to continue talking and drink the tea when it's ready. Then the tea making sped up a little.
He then showed me his guest book, which was notes from all the people who did buy something from him. "Mohamed gave us wonderful tea and we got a beautiful ____ from him at a great price" was the basic form. Nice tactic.
We had tea and then he said he would like to give me a gift. Either they have all the angles or I'm the biggest asshole in the world.Most likely both.
He really wanted me to have a gift and I said I would feel bad taking something without paying for it. Again he insisted. So I took a leather pouch for tobacco. I offered to give him 20dirham (about 2 bucks) but he refused. He asked me to write in his book which I did ("we are brothers, both sons of Abraham" I put in there for the next reader) Then I rolled him a cigarette. I told him if he came back to Cali I would be happy to offer him mint tea. He said he'd prefer a beer, we both laughed, and with that I said thank you and goodbye.
In the end this was a great experience. I'm glad I accepted his invitation and stood my ground. I do believe that the people are nice and genuine here, even when they are trying to sell you something. I obviously have an underlying need not to be taken advantage of by someone trying to get over on me and I wouldn't say it is the healthiest attitude, but I'm trying my best to still be outgoing.

I generally think I have a decent sense of direction, but here in the medinas it's a shit show. People say go straight but there is no straight. Not that I have figured out yet. Got lost every time I went in.

Chef is the hash capital of Morocco and I'm getting offered a lot of it on the streets. I'm gonna stop by a hostel today in hopes of meeting others so I can try some cause I don't want to buy off the streets.

And check this out, I think I'm allergic to eggplants. Can you believe that? I'm not happy about it, I like plenty of things with eggplant but I'm pretty sure that's what set my stomach off last week.
Ciao

More reports from the InterZone

dangerruss — Sun, 20 Mar 2016 19:08:00 GMT

TANGIER Day 2
Don't bogart that joint my friend... Moroccans seem to like that song. Casablanca-Humphrey bogart

Hit up the 2 "famous" cafes today - Cafe tijis for some coffee, which was good but more about the experience of just sitting outside talking and watching everything happening, buyers and sellers, tourists and locals, kids and really old folk, traditional clothes and crazy European styles, colors... Then the Rolling Stones' old hang out Cafe baba where there was mint tea and way
More smoke

We returned later for the "famous" tortilla sandwich sold across from the cafe in a little stall by this old guy. It's a Spanish style tortilla, which is like a scrambled egg and potato omelet. If you want to see what I'm talking about just check out the Anthony Bourdain episode from tangier.

I had the good luck of befriending a few of the people at the hostel who have been in Morocco for a while including Shannon who is a French Canadian and was a great unofficial guide. Also Ayoub who grew up here and runs the hostel came out with us both nights. They explained a lot about the culture and lifestyle. I have basically been tagging along with them and it has helped make the transition to Morocco a little easier.
It really is like nothing I have experienced. The medina is as confusing as they say it is. I almost think I have it figured out and then I'm lost again. The languages are all confusing to me- Moroccan Arabic, French, and then when they speak Spanish I don't realize it cause of the accent. Except the younger generation, they usually speak all of the above and English.

One of our companions wanted a tagine, but it was late for that. A tagine is a stew slow cooked for hours. When you go for tagine they should have have them sitting there cooking already and you just walk up and check out which one you want and ask how much. We went searching by the Grand Soco, like a plaza, and the guys from the restaurant all wave you over. Shannon went in to inspect, asked the guy if they had tagine and the guy said "we can make you a tagine in a few minutes". So Shannon said no thanks (this was mostly in French or Arabic)
The guy was holding onto shannons arm and the other guys were all trying Very hard to get us to stay. We decided to go, it was too much.

The Bathrooms. Showers are just part of the room here at the hostel, some faucets better placed than others. There's a drain on the floor. When you take a shower, you end up soaking the toilet. Cafe Baba just had a floor piece thingy with a hole and some foot spots, stand or squat, there is no sit. I really don't want to take bathroom pics.

The evening prayers are best heard from the upper terrace of the hostel, i have figured out. Up here one can hear multiple towers broadcasting the prayers, coming in and out at different times, sometimes from what must be miles away. They all crescendo and rise in pitch, making the whole thing sound intense and surreal, then you hear them trailing off further and further away into the distance. Cool

There's also other sounds; roosters in the morning , children playing games and babies crying, cars, sirens (not very often for such a large dense city) merchants hawking foods, people haggling over some deal or who knows what most of the time. Cats meowing, and birds. And as I am writing this late Saturday night on the terrace looking out over the rooftops of the medina I hear music in the far distance which remind me of the horns of Joujouka maybe performing a Sufi prayer. And the smells of spices and foods both fresh and cooked , all mingling in the air. I can see how so many people get stuck here. And I see why the poets and artists and writers all flocked to Tangier.

Tangier Morocco Day 1- unedited

dangerruss — Sun, 20 Mar 2016 04:47:00 GMT

Tangier;Morocco;Africa; "the Wild West"
Friday 18 March-

Mellow morning in Tarifa making final preparations for the trip. Nothing worth reporting, except the good news that Matt has booked a room at the same hostel in Tangiers last night and will join me on the ferry. I was hoping to have someone to travel with for this first leg.
Getting on the ferry was no big deal. The ride was nice, but nothing crazy, and the view was nothing to write about.
Once we arrived we found out we were supposed to get our passports stamped on the boat, so they sent Matt back to the boat with our passports while I waited with our bags. Only took a few minutes and we were on our way to the baggage screening. It was a joke. They had 2 ladies there, one was watching the X-ray screen while the other was checking someone's bag. No other security. The metal detector made a negative beep when I went through, but no one stopped me. There was no real barricade to keep you from skipping the line altogether, we watched little kids jumping over it, obviously for fun. We're not in Kansas anymore toto.

Then we're off on our own and I spotted some blue cabs which I was pretty sure where the petite taxis we wanted in the distance and avoided those people waiting outside the terminal trying to offer rides. The first guy asked "where are you going?" And I replied La shokran, which I think means No Thank you. He laughed, repeated my statement in a way that makes me think I wasn't using it correctly and said something like chill out, you're ok. So I told him we are gonna to catch a petite taxi over there, but thank you.
The next guy asked the same question and I just said we already have a taxi and kept walking. The 3rd guy asked as we were approaching the taxis. I had a feeling he was one of the drivers so I tried to tell him where we needed to go and he did not understand me. We tried a few times, I tried to bring it up on my phone but he still wasn't sure. Another guy was waiting there who did not speak English but speaks Arabic, French, and Spanish. He ended up in the cab with us, and we tried to communicate in a poor broken English/Spanish. We made it to the square we were looking for.

We were Immediately approached by Aleh who wanted to show us how to get to our hostel. I told him I had no money for him and we were happy to find it ourselves. He followed us anyway. I repeated that I had no money for him and he assured me he was happy to show us the way. I asked a few questions to ensure he knew where we wanted to go, and so we allowed him to lead the way.
I knew the walk should only take a few minutes so I said "2 minutes or else we turn around and find it ourselves"
He did get us right place and then sure enough asked for money, I think he wanted 10 Euros. I reminded him that I said no money, I was upfront, but I decided to give him just a few euros anyway since he didn't take us on an adventure elsewhere. He said we're now friends. We saw him again the next day.
Matt says I did a good job. To be honest I never would have found the place. It all worked out. Thanks New York for preparing me for this.

The hostel is pretty much what I was expecting in a good way, all decked out in Morocco style. Tiles of different color everywhere. Wall paintings. Our room is accessed from the terrace so I can see the city from my bed.

I heard the prayer calls today and it was insane. All of the mosques, and there's a few, broadcast the prayers 5 times a day and they start staggered, gradually crescendoing to a peak. It was breathtaking.

... Tangier conversations and observations.... Not all my words or ideas. ... After the hash...

Religion and how's it's all the same and made to explain Mother Nature and instill morals and control the people. If it stops people from raping their daughters I'm down. When it cause people to fight and control other's actions I'm not.

Politics. America is fucked. Even when Bernie wins he will be in control of a military that's fucked up and continues to screw with the world. A country whose style of capitalism does not look out for the population but is geared towards every man for him self. (They are calling me a communist :))

Molecules, that's all we are.
Tangerine tangerine (this is its birthplace)
Playing Soccer in the tiny lobby

I wrote a sci-fi paper as an arrogant punk kid in high school about how recycling and renewable energy was hurting the planet because the earth needs garbage to heal itself. I got in trouble cause I made fun of classmates in the process. We had a discussion about the reality that humans are a parasite. Which lead to the Cosmos show and humans are only a small blip in the timeline of the planet. Which made me realize the poignancy of the paper.

Map.me is an amazing app for offline mapping.
Ayoub, the kid who runs the hostel is pretty cool, and a tech wiz.

In the evening , after sundown, there were a lot of Kids playing in the street in Tarifa and Tangiers which was cool.
However a little later in Tangiers there are Kids on glue and gasoline, that is pretty sad.

Cats everywhere in the streets.

Went out for meat Skewers and lentils with a group of folks from the hostel then to Coffee and crepe at a pretty beautiful spot. Was nice to be out with a crew including those that could order.

Late night hash smoking, talking about Quantum computing ,, Internet of everything,
Later night jamming on guitars.
Ciao

Photos: Morocco

dangerruss — Sun, 20 Mar 2016 04:42:00 GMT

Tangier, etc

Tarifa

dangerruss — Fri, 18 Mar 2016 11:14:00 GMT

Granada to Ronda to Tarifa March 15;

My intention starting the trip to Morocco by way of Europe was I didn't want to fly straight to morocco and deal with jet lag and any of the other normal travel issues in a completely foreign land. I started by inching my way east in the states, then London where I can speak the language. Then Lisbon, a city I'm somewhat familiar with, onto Spain where I'm less competent than a child with the language but it's also not completely foreign.
I hope that was the right idea and that I feel completely better before disembarking from Tarifa to Tangiers on Friday. I'm definitely feeling better than when I woke yesterday, but I'm not a 100% yet.

The train to Ronda was pretty cool. Lots of rocky cliffs, more olive trees, fields of sheep, horses and cows. And gorges. It was a little overcast, and pictures from a moving train can only show so much. I had a whole train car to myself.
I took a brief stroll through Ronda. Stopped at a vista point and relaxed for a moment, then found a cafe for some coffee and croissant. The city center is cute and all, but after the cafe I started walking again and realized my nose and throat were burning, the car exhaust in the air is overwhelming. And I had to look at the ground to ensure I didn't step in the plethora of dog poo on the sidewalks. I can see coming back but staying away from the center. For those who enjoy hiking and camping this would be a wonderful destination.

Now I'm taking the train to Algeciras where I pick up a bus to Tarifa, my next destination. I have 3 nights booked so I have time to take a trip to the Rock of Gibraltar, and maybe another day trip. Also this will be my time to prepare for Morocco, pick up a ticket for the ferry, download some maps, and practice my Arabic. I know how to say thank you, you're welcome, lover, and good job ( Thanks Laura Korey)

The train ride from Ronda to Algeciras is over the top, breathtaking, majestic, use whatever words you want. Epic is accurate an accurate way to describe the todays travels. I was going back and forth one side of the train to the other, like a kid, in awe of the beauty. Trees, water, mountains, rocks, farms, animals, waterfalls.... Easily matches the beauty of driving through the sawtooth mts in Idaho, wind river reservation in Wyoming and the PCH in Cali. I could ride the train back and forth 10 times. I think this area deserves a car rental and some time if I get the chance in the future.
People actually hike this route and I think it takes 10-12 days which isn't crazy for some, but more than I could handle. I could see some hikers from the train. There's a couple guys who can't be much younger than me on the train staring at their laptops. I guess reruns of the Big Bang theory saved in the hard drive are more important than these views.

So I ran from the train to the bus just in time. The bus ride was along winding roads down a mountain full of green and gorges to the coast. We could see Africa across the Atlantic. Ain't gonna lie, I was pretty giddy. What an awesome travel day.
Then I arrived at the hostel. Fairly standard. Even a little rundown, but not bad. It's right near the beach, in a surfing town, so it's about what I would expect. From the roof terrace I get a pretty good view of the mountains of Africa. The wifi is terrible hence less updates while I've been here. Gonna go check out the beach at sunset.
I was offered hash 2 times in the hour or so I've been here.
Now I'm at a tapas spot. Good food and so cheap. Less than 10euro for 3 dishes and a glass of wine. I think my excitement is helping my stomach and energy, although I don't want to push it. I'm gonna take it easy tonight.

I don't understand why I get astonished stares all the time. Is it the beard? The hat? The hoody? Do they think I'm a refugee? I'm not gonna change anything, and I'm not interested in being an asshole while traveling, but I'm getting close to just asking someone "what?" next time I get stared at.

Tarifa is a typical beach town, right on the coast. It's not mobbed by tourists which I like. The beach is a 2 minute walk from the hostel. However it does differ from the standard US beach town a little. There's a small old town (like 1000 years old) with narrow alleys, and a couple cool old fortress/castles on the cliffs overlooking the water. I'm gonna see if I can climb one for the view.

I went to a "nice" restaurant for dinner, it was good, but not worth the money. I should have went back to the tapas spot.

March 16
Thought I was doing better. Then I wasn't. Not puking again, but stomach is definitely off and I'm pretty low energy. Decided to take a walk to the castle, get some sun and fresh air. It was originally a Roman settlement, then the Arabs came from Africa in 960 and built a tower. In the mid 1200's the Christians came and did their thing, turning it into a castle and fortress. It has great views from the top, and a museum, with lots of info about the history. This is the southernmost point of Europe (as opposed to Sagres which was the southWestern most point) so it has been an important location for whoever occupied the area.
I came back to the hostel afterwards cause I was feeling pretty off. Came to the conclusion I needed to lay off the "local" foods for a day and find something healthy.
Did a quick Google search and found an Eco health center just 3 blocks away. They have a small health food store, and a restaurant. Usually when I find a place I really want to hit they are closed, but I got here in time. I loaded up on some supplies and stayed for lunch. I ordered an Indian dish, Daal, which is like a thick whole lentil soup/stew with veggies and Indian spice. It was mild, and I know that it is a good choice when one's stomach is off. They served their dishes in stones with herb sprigs. Major points for presentation.
While eating I met a German couple Andre and Andrea (which made me think of Victor/Vitoria... ) who walked in and were interested in what I was eating. They sat down to eat and we chatted. They are kundalini yoga teachers (like my friend Naomi) who were in Sagres teaching classes. We had a nice chat sharing in the love of Sagres (they get to go 3 times a year to teach, I told them how jealous I am), talked about Santa Cruz, and I told them about where I had been and where I'm off to. Also suggested they eat at Chiccas next time they go to Sagres. They were also feeling a little sick. Andrea said something about how it's no fun to be sick while traveling, but I said "if I wasn't feeling ill I would not have searched out this spot, and we would not have met. It's not the destination, it's the journey".

Eventually made it back to the beach. Spent the afternoon watching kite surfers, then a little late siesta. The kite surfers where all over, it looked like the Albuquerque hot air balloon fiesta. I can't believe they didn't all mash into each other.

After that started talking about the healthy spot to some folks at the hostel and a couple of Americans came to join me for a second round. We had a decent meal and great conversation. One of the guys works in software development and is doing work while on his first trip overseas. He fell in love with Lisbon, specifically with Brazilian Farro dancing, and a girl who dances, which he wasn't expecting. But that's part of the fun of travel. Sometimes you don't know why until you get there. The other just turned 20, he's from Sacramento, and he's on his first trip overseas, trying to get into working on a farm in Spain, but got a job in Portugal.

I not one to take notes while having interesting conversations like we had that evening so this may be a little disjointed. We talked about Historical sites and why they are special. Did the ancient Greeks have a "unesco" kind of organization to preserve historical buildings during their time? One of the reasons I appreciate that these buildings are being preserved is we can really see and feel history in a way books or stories would never match. My mom says you can feel the ghosts. I told them how the museum in Belem outside of Lisbon had a lot of the archeological finds with signs that said "they might have used this tool for _____. They may have done _____ with _____." Basically, we're always guessing. What will people think in 1000 years when they find a cell phone, or a computer? Our paper and paintings may not last, hard drives won't matter.
Did they have technology we don't know about thousands of years ago? Then the conversation went into How have borders changed over the years? I kept having answers to questions (there's a video you can google -Europe borders 1000 years 3 minutes, fascinating) albeit sometimes with more questions. Made me realize I do more research than I thought. And I have some good experiences under my belt in the time I have spent traveling, reading, and watching documentaries.

Thursday- March 17
Tarifa has been fun, and a great town to relax in before leaving for Morocco.
This next part involves a little more complaining, but I want to stress that I came back to the hostel so happy I made the trip today.
Let's skip right to Gibraltar. Because as soon as I crossed the airstrip, just passed border control, I wished I HAD skipped Gibraltar.
Let me start at the beginning. On this journey through southern most points, and seeing Africa from Spain, I was excited to go to Gibraltar. It's technically in England. Although it's at the tip of southern Spain and jutting into the Mediterranean, it is a British territory. It's another spot you can "see Africa from". It's got mad history linking it to Northern Africa and yeah, I like that shit. The 20 year old named Adam from Sacramento joined me on the bus ride there. That bus ride involved going back to Algeciras which was one highlight of day to me cause I loved the ride down the other day.

You must go through border control to get to the Rock of Gibraltar since you're leaving Europe and entering Great Britain . And for my second time entering England I was given the third degree. This time they wanted to check me and my stuff. I think they were looking for drugs. I have some lavender pouches to keep my bags from smelling. They were curious about that. Screw you England. I had nothing.

After the border you cross an active airport runway. I didn't have to dodge any planes. Then you pass through the first entrance arch and I realized I made a terrible mistake. (Yo Speas, It's a trap!) the place is mobbed with tourists. I didn't do enough research about what goes on there. I just did a lot of walking in the sun, dodging people, (I also neglected to consider it is St Patties day in a British territory). I knew I didn't want to climb the rock, I was already hot and tired, and I didn't want to wait in a line to pay to get to the top. Adam was stoked to ride the gondola up to the monkeys (I think they are technically apes) so we parted ways. I found out later he didn't end up taking the gondola cause it turned out that was lame and expensive.
I saw the rock, I bought a magnet, I decided to leave.

Before leaving "England" I decided to get fish and chips since I didn't do it in London. Why? I have no idea, I've had plenty of mediocre fried fish and French fries before. There is nothing they could do to make it more exciting. I don't know what I was expecting. And due to the fact that they charge you in British pounds, it was pricey.

Due to this unnecessary step I missed the early direct bus back to Tarifa, so took a local bus to Algeciras and hung out at an Arabic cafe and had some mint tea and a snack waiting for the next bus to Tarifa. While drinking tea they were showing a nature special in the tv with the monkeys on it, so I saw the monkeys... Mission accomplished. Screw you England!

Then I had one last chance to ride the bus from Algeciras to Tarifa, and this time I had the clearest view of the African coast since I've been here. All in all it was a good trip, and I learned a little more about what I like and don't like. And I made good on my previous statement that I could do that bus ride multiple times.

After a few relaxing moments at the hostel I went out for some more awesome tapas, since this is my last chance for tapas in Spain for now. And again they were great, cheap, and I was able to speak Spanish the whole time. I am told there's a lot of Spanish spoken in Morocco, so I'll keep trying to improve.
Tomorrow I take the ferry to Morocco! I'm feeling a lot better, and I'm ready for this. Except I tried to get an idea of how to read Arabic today, and that shits insane. Hopefully there won't be too much in tangier and I can ease my way in.
Ciao

PS- I will try to edit this and other posts when I get to New York/Santa Cruz and can work from a computer and not feel like I'm "wasting" travel time. This includes adding more pics and links to videos and music.

Córdoba y Granada

dangerruss — Tue, 15 Mar 2016 14:09:00 GMT

Train to Córdoba and a mellow night in Granada.

Before we get into this one, I should mention that I'm writing this journal on my phone. It's difficult to edit since I can't see the whole thing and I am updating my notes constantly, therefore sometimes the tenses may seem a little off.

Sunday March 13

Less than 4 hours sleep and I was up and in a taxi to the train station shortly after 6.
I had planned on waking up at 6, taking my time and walking the half hour or so to the station to catch a slightly later train. But since I was up I decided to skip the shower, grab my stuff and pay a few bucks for a taxi and I made it in time to grab coffee and a muffin at the station before boarding the 7am train. Train ride was quick and I was at the hotel by 8 am. Took a quick sink shower since they never let you check in that early. Then I left my bags with them and set out to explore.
There's a lot to see here, but there's 2 main sights, the Alcazar and the Mezquita. The mez is free tomorrow morning, so I booked it to the alcazar and got in before the crowds. I have heard lines can be crazy there so I think I made the right move. The alcazar is a huge castle with expansive gardens, Roman ruins, and a tower. Always climb the tower if you can, it's usually worth the view. I could see the castle was originally a Roman site, then Muslim, then the Christians came and turned into the huge castle that stands today. This is a common theme in this part of the world. Of course the Romans weren't the first to build, I believe they built over former "pagan" sites (I hate to use pagan to describe everybody else before the Romans, which is really what I am doing in this case, and I could be wrong about that. I welcome any corrections. I'm trying to look stuff up and educate myself about what I snoozed through in school, but I'm also trying to get out and see things and not stare at my phone)

Hung out there for a few hours, then checked out the royal baths, known as hammams in Arabic. (wish they were still in operation)
It started warming up, so I stopped back at the hotel to drop off the warm stuff and my room was ready!
This city has Roman, Arabic, and church influence all mashed up in a typical Spanish setting all around. I really like it. I am getting excited to get to Morocco now. I really love the Arabic architecture. And the closer I get to Morocco the more I see this influence.

I went for a walk on the Roman bridge, and along the river (notice a trend, I like climbing towers and walking along rivers) There's a Roman archway on this side of the river and a tower on the other side.

Then some lunch, my first sub par meal in Spain, but it's not Spain's fault it's mine. I was hungry and tired. The place I wanted to check out wasn't open. I broke my rule and ate at a place that had pictures of the food on the walls. I assumed I knew what I was ordering and I was wrong. It wasn't bad, just not what I was expecting or satisfying compared to everything else I have eaten here. after lunch I went back for a siesta.

I've been asked why I want to go to Morocco and it's a somewhat difficult question to answer but the further I get in the trip the more I think I understand. On the surface I want to travel somewhere that is not Americanized. Somewhere that doesn't have Burger King, Subway and Starbucks on every other corner. I like going places that retain their history. Also it seems like a good introduction to the African continent.
In light of recent events I am realizing that another reason is because I want to visit a Muslim country and Morocco is one that I am welcome in currently. The reason I want to visit a Muslim country is because I know, despite how they have been portrayed in the news, tv shows, movies, and even my Facebook feed, that the majority of Muslims are friendly and genuine people. Just like in other religions there are extremists and zealots, and the "sheep-le" who follow them. But I know deep down that those are the minority, no matter what we are led to believe. I'm on a journey to see for myself.

The Jews have been kicked out of almost every town they settled in at one point or another throughout history. The creation of a Jewish state was a very important and necessary step in our history. Consider just the past 200 years. The inquisition ended in 1834 and then the holocaust happened 100 years later. That's only a handful of generations ago and so many Jewish (AND Muslim) families were displaced or killed off. I lost family because of the holocaust. However no matter which side of the fence you stand on, it's fucked up that in order to create this Jewish state Muslim families were displaced and killed. I don't condone the hatred of Israel, but I understand.

By traveling to Morocco I hope to demonstrate that not all Americans are "fat, lazy, racist dicks". I know that Jews and Muslims have coexisted in Morocco for a very long time, and although I'm not a follower of the religion, I still represent the tribe.

Wow, enough of that. Where was I. Siesta. Then back at it again. This is a great city to walk around and get lost in. Tons of little alleys, old buildings, and somehow I keep ending up where I want to be with very little map reading. There is an old Jewish quarter which is basically the area I'm staying in. I will try to see the old synagogue that's here.
Today I saw a few processions of men in black robes walking really slowly . Some had a large crucifix and then there's kids following with these huge candles. Then there's families, and the tourists line the streets to take pics and videos. I snapped a shot for prosperity. Semana Santa is already taking over. Or maybe that's just normal.

After all that walking I got hungry and found a better spot to eat, right by the river, right as the sun was setting. I had the local specialty Salmorejo Cordobes, a creamy tomato soup without cream served cold and topped with bacon and pieces of hard boiled egg. Yummers. Then a salmon dish that was also really good.

Then I just strolled for a few hours and I'm going to bed early so I can get to Mez while it's free.

Monday March 14

You know the saying "“The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang afta-gley." ? Me neither, but I do know "The best laid plans of mice and men always go awry".

I woke up around 4am with my stomach feeling weird, and within moments I was throwing up. And that went on for about 6 hours, I would go back to sleep for a half hour, then back to the bathroom floor. I'm assuming it was something I ate.
Hope I'm not pregnant! Ha. I wish you were here to hold back my facial hair. Ha. And dad, I saved you no chunks, big or small. Those were all the jokes I would have shared with you dear reader had you been there.
I joke because I want to assure you, as much as puking sucks, it's not the end of the world, and after struggling for a few hours I think I'm gonna be ok. The worst part was, I kept thinking "I'm gonna miss the Mez for free" And due to this I missed the Mez altogether. I'll check out some pics online or whatever. The perils of travel.

People always say "you can't miss _____ if you're in _____ " and guess what, I did. I still enjoyed Córdoba very much. What I did see was fascinating, and I had a nice room in a nice hotel for the morning I woke up sick (for instance, as I write this from Granada I am in a small room and the way the bathroom is set up it would be awkward to puke in the toilet, and if I were in a hostel that would have not been comfortable at all)

So now I'm sitting at the train station testing my limits with oj and a croissant and so far it's all good. Gonna head to Granada where I have a room booked. I'll try to get some sleep along the way in hopes I can make it out of my room today since I'm moving onto Tarifa tomorrow morning through Ronda.

Although I got to the station on time the train was sold out, so I had to wait for the next one about an hour later. I used the time to look up the schedule for the next leg so I can get tickets in advance this time. While I am waiting at the station 2 police just asked to see my passport. They were nice about it, but it was still a little stressful. Not that I'm doing anything wrong, it was just a little unnerving. I'm never comfortable around law enforcement.
The ride to Granada was a beautiful ride with rolling hills of olive trees and some fairly tall rocky mountain peaks. Those are the Sierra Nevadas.
By the time I got to the hotel I passed out for a bit. Then I forced myself to go out for a walk and look around and find some food. I found some kombucha along the way and I hope that helps my belly a little. I'm definitely low energy, and there's a tinge of nausea but I haven't felt the need to chuck anymore.

So I apologize but you won't be getting much from me regarding Granada. I've taken 3 or 4 pictures. At least this hotel has a nice rooftop balcony that I sat on for a while getting some fresh air and looking at the Alhambra.

Now its 2:30 am and I'm awake. Feeling a little better. I'll have an orange, update the blog, and try to get back to sleep.
Ciao