Last Lap Part 1- Bilbao again and much more Barcelona !!!

Well here I am again updating this blog. This is likely to be the last round for some time yet, but stay tuned because there are lots of updates coming. I had to be in Europe again for my MSc presentation. To cut the story short that went well and I am now in possession of what I came here for, bringing to a close yet another chapter of my life. Since I had to be all the way on this side of the world anyway, I decided to take the opportunity to travel a bit and cross a few more items off the bucket list while I could.

So let’s start off with my return to Bilbao. To be honest I’m not that nostalgic about Bilbao, and the only reason I was there again was because I had to be really. I doubt I’d go back randomly; it would definitely have to be for something specific. Before that I should explain the bit of hassle involved in getting to Bilbao. That same week, I had given a presentation at a conference in Houston, Texas on the 24th and needed to be in Bilbao by the 26^th- fun times. I had to fly from Houston to NYC, NYC to Madrid and then finally Madrid to Bilbao . It didn't end there though. I had to drop off my luggage the first hostel I stayed at, and then take a 45 mins or so metro ride out to Plentzia, which is where the presentations were set to take place at the marine station there. Needless to say, by the time I got there mid-morning of the 26^th, I was quite the zombie. In fact, I hate to admit it, but I actually fell asleep during the afternoon session. My presentation was the next day and it went well; I didn’t have to deflect any of the questions! Considering that I had just given a version of that presentation at a conference two days before, I felt I was in good stead. I ended up being pretty painless actually. It went well and now I have my MSc!!

 A little mix-up while making my reservations resulted in me having to change hostels for the rest of my time in Bilbao (I spent the first night at a hostel near the San Mamés football stadium). This new hostel was located in Casco Viejo, the old town. Due to an oversight on my part, I actually ended up in a mixed dorm. Of course with my luck, in the 4-bed dorm, there were 3 guys. Ahhhh bwoi. Would you believe that ALL three of them snored??? I didn’t realize it the first night I was there because I was out till the wee hours celebrating with my classmates. However it hit me full force the next night. Combined with jet lag and a disrupted sleep cycle due to the time difference, this made for a pretty sleepless night. Just great eh?

Regarding said celebration with my classmates, we met up in our usual spot in Calle Somera and did what we always do. Hang around in the street, bar crawl a bit and then end up somewhere trying to dance to questionable music. This time around it was some festivities- come street party in community near the old town . To be honest  Bilbao nightlife gets old pretty fast for me. It was fun though, especially knowing that this was the last hurrah for us as a group.

Cheers guys- we made it!!

The next night before I headed out for a bit, I ended up at a nearby KFC. I was really hungry and was in need of a stop-gap. I don’t really trust pintxos (Basque country tapas) that late at night. Many of them contain eggs or fish somewhere in the mix and some of them have been out on bar counters for hours. Other people eat them and are quite fine to be sure, but knowing my luck… So back to the KFC. Ordered my chicken “crujiente’ or Spicy because I already knew not to expect much in terms of flavour. I can definitely say if I lived here full time, I would be cured of any KFC cravings once and for all. You know you’re in Europe when the spicy is not NEARLY as spicy as the original in Jamdown. Bleh.

The hostel emptied out quite a bit on Sunday and quite a few rooms free dup totally. Guess which room however, still retained most of its occupants? Anyway, Sunday was a pretty lazy day for me. I went out to buy my train ticket for the next day, and have one last walk-about in the city. By this time I was pretty much over Bilbao and ready and rearing to move on.


BARCELONA

Now Barcelona is a whole different kettle of fish. I like the general vibe there much more. After the 7-hour train ride and finding my way to my hostel, I decided to keep the evening quiet.  Barcelona was HOT! I was a bit unprepared for that. I had relatively few warm-weather items. In fact, Bilbao had been pretty warm as well.  I had planned to wear a blazer to my presentation but I ditched that idea pretty fast. Not only would have I have been waaaay overdressed in comparison to my fellow students and the faculty present, but it was also waaaaay too hot.

The next morning, I struck off from the hostel in the direction of the Basilica  de la Sagrada Familia which I had missed the last time I was in town. Here one of my little travel shortcuts backfired on me. I had read that the best ways to by-pass the long queue was to either buy tickets before hand, or get them at a particular ATM nearby that not many people seemed to know about. So feeling smug, I trotted across the road only to find that the ATM wasn’t functioning correctly, so I ended up joining the line just like everyone elseL.
 The basilica is an awesome structure by famed Catalan desidner Antoni Gaudi. Construction began in the 1890s and is still ongoing. I know a lot of people aren’t fond of the exterior, but I like it, and I liked the interior even more. The details in the architecture and decorations are amazing. I don’t even know how Gaudi sat down and planned all this out. The stained glass, the staircases, the ceiling! I think I can now safely call myself a Gaudi fan.

Stained glass

Basilica de la Sagrada Familia

Stained glass details

Then after a quick lunch, it was on to Nou Camp; the home base of FC Barcelona and the largest stadium in Europe. When taking into consideration my budget, I almost skipped out on doing the tour here. I’m so glad I didn’t. It was a good interactive tour with lots of information to take in-the trophy room, locker rooms, press room, ringside at the pitch inside the stadium itself. I headed back to the hostel after this.

                                      

I could tell the other girls in the hostel room were a bit puzzled by the fact that I was back “early” each evening, I was always the first one back, but I know my limits. I had enough time to do the things I needed to, so no need to overextend myself. Besides I still had a month of travelling left and had a pretty hectic travel schedule just before that. So there was no sense in going until I absolutely overdid it with no energy to do anything else.

The next day, Parc Guell was the first order of business- designed by Gaudi (again). You have to go up one heck of a hillside to get there on foot from the metro. Very luckily there were escalators along the way to help out. If I hadn’t known beforehand that it had been designed by Gaudi, I would have probably figured it out in short order. He really had such a signature style. It was very pleasant strolling through here and stopping every now and then to admire the unique features.

Then I went to Parc Montjuic. There are several features including the Olympic Park, Gardens and a castle. If you know me very well, you may guess which one I decided on of the three. That’s right, the castle! I’m a sucker for monuments like that. Plus the view from the castle was supposed to be the best of the city.

 I ended up hiking a bit from the funicular stop to avoid paying for the touristy cable cars. Only to find out afterwards that there was a bus that went up the hill! If only I had known!!!  Montjuic supposedly has the best views of Barcelona to be had. 

Unfortunately, It got pretty overcast really quickly and the view wasn’t much of a view anymore. Eventually I made my way down (on the bus this time) to Placa Espana where I hung for a bit trying to find out which bus to take back to the hostel. I probably should have just taken the metro though. I would have gotten back at least 45 mins earlier than I did.

On my last day I kinda just winged it. I realized two things I hadn’t done was go to the beach or visit the old city centre (Ciutat Vella). I let the day play itself out. I walked down from my hostel to the beach and wandered along the coastline there for quite a while. The weather really wasn’t great, but I didn’t mind that much since I hadn’t planned on swimming or sun-bathing anyway.  I actually took a little nap on the beach that was rather pleasant.

Playa!!!

By this time my little free map was in tatters, but I had a general sense of where I needed to go to get to Ciutat Vella from where I was and I eventually found my way there. I bobbed and weaved through the medieval streets and the Gothic Quarter till I ended up at La Rambla. 

I had planned to walk up La Rambla to Placa Catalunya and take the metro from there, but by the time I got to the base of La Rambla I was beat. I had also stopped at a supermarket to rustle up some supplies for my ‘voyage’ to Rome (details below) and so I had that extra stuff weighing me down as well. So I just headed back to the hostel and collected my things from reception who had been so kind as to keep my luggage for the day even after I checked out. Then I moved on to the bar adjoining the hostel as I had some time yet before needing to make my way down to the docks and needed somewhere to chill. I was also really in need of something realllly cold.

 I then made the journey down to the docks, subway changes and all. Now there was supposed to be a bus near the statue of Columbus that would take passengers down to the terminals. I don’t know what happened but allllll now that bus nuh reach yet!! Of course the pier I needed to get to was alllll the way down the docks. By the time I got there, I was a miserable, sweaty, and unhappy camper. I checked in and then went to board. I had anticipated a relatively largish vessel; I knew it transported freight as well as vehicles etc. However I wasn’t quite prepared for how nice it was. While my inner budgeter had told me to just reserve a Pullman seat (simply a reclining chair) for the >20hr journey,  another little voice urged me to just spring for a bed in a cabin. So I did; It only cost about 12 euros more. Boy did I luck out, it was definitely worth it. I ended up in a 4-berth cabin with nobody else in it!!!! Awesomeness. NO awkward shuffling around or snoring strangers.

My Empty cabin :) :)

 It definitely was the best decision. That bed and having access to a shower was everything!! I could explore without worrying about my things. Benefits of traveling outside the high-season I’m sure. Overall I think the boat trip was a good move. I had some time to kill anyway and it was less hassle than taking a flight would have been. Plus I got to sail across the Mediterranean and a chance for my body to rest a bit. 

Sardinia

The hours passed by quickly enough and soon I was in Civitavecchia, the closest port to Rome. I then got on the next train headed into the city where I hoped my friend Patrina would be waiting for me.

More to come soon. Italia at last!!!

Madrid and Barcelona

Well this update is waaaaaayyyy overdue; even more so than any other that I have been tardy with before. So much was going on this summer though, and then my laptop went in for repair which took longer than expected (and silly Ren didn’t back-up this particular document.) Anyhoo,I haven’t updated you guys yet on my trips to Madrid and Barcelona.  If I had been attending to business as I should, then each would have their own postings. As it stands I will just combine them so that I actually get it done. There is a lot to tell regarding both trips, but I will attempt to condense.

So Madrid. It all started one day when I looked in my planner and realized I had a relatively generous Easter holiday from school approaching; perfect opportunity to get some travelling in. At first the plan was just to pick up myself and go solo, but then a lightbulb went off. I messaged my friend Davia (who I stayed with in Toulouse and who was also in on the awesome Paris trip) something along the lines of “find a cheap flight and meet me in Madrid nuh?” And so it began.

We met in the bus station in Madrid and then it was off to find where we were staying. We were to be hosted by Almudena and Santi; I found them through a site I discovered called airbnb (check it out guys!!!). Essentially people rent out extra space they have in their homes on a regular basis or when they go on vacation ect. I love the concept. You can find anything from budget accommodation, to luxury villas in exotic places.  We stayed in Madrid for a good while without accommodation costs breaking our budget. The couple we stayed with were great. They were very accommodating and very willing to help us out. They lived in an area that was one train (not metro) stop away from the centre. It was a little further than I had originally anticipated, but once we got our bearings, it was pretty easy to get around.

The first major touristy thing that we did was to make it to the Plaza del Sol and from there to Plaza Mayor. There were lots of people out and about and we were essentially in the centre of Madrid.I had to say to Dav.. We’re having lunch and sipping Sangria in the Plaza Mayor of Madrid!!! Can you believe it? How cool is that?! Paris a couple months before, and now Madrid. We were on a roll. After , we set off walking and eventually ended up by the Royal Palace. Very impressive. It was a bright and sunny yes, but warm? Umm..no. Not to us anyway. We continued on and took a small break and had a rest in the gardens adjacent to the palace. This was followed by more exploration and taking in some of the major sights of the city.

Now the plan was for Davi and I both to head off to Morocco for a North African adventure. However, thoseplans hit a snag when we realized that Dav would have some visa issues that we didn’t realize before. As it was Easter Sunday the day we got to Madrid, we knew that there was nothing we could do about it immediately and so we put that aside just enjoyed the day.

The next day however, definitely had its ups and downs. We decided that first things first we would head to the Moroccan embassy and try to get Davia’s situation sorted. To cut a long story short, it didn’t work out. All that waiting in line and running around the consulate for nothing. This of course threw a seemingly huge monkey wrench into our plans.

We were pretty dejected after that as you can imagine. As we walked disconsolately away from the embassy, I realized that we were  around the corner from Bernabeu Stadium!! Ok, so here was a seemingly bright-ish spark right? After walking around for a bit, we went inside THE official Real madrid store. I played around with the idea of buying a jersey, with Ozil on the back most likely. That is until I saw the price tag….. Did I want the jersey? Yes. Coud I afford the jersey? Not if I wanted to eat for the rest of the month. Ok so maybe I’m exaggerating a little, but I don’t love Real Madrid that much, my student budget needed to be stretched elsewehere.To prevent regrets and second thoughts I just told myself that I would only be putting money in Cristiano Ronaldo’s pocket. That worked like a charm!!

So I’ll confess we broke an exploratory travel rule and decided to resort to familiar, well-needed comfort food for lunch. So TGI Friday’s it was. Ah the solace one can sometimes find in food! Never had a rack of ribs been more welcomed. Well I must say we were able to recover our spirits quite a bit after lunch.

During this whole time my mind was completely in a flurry. I was trying to think of what to do next. Added to my stress was the fact that my parents would NOT answer their phones for a consult, or call me back for that matter!! (turns out they had been palavering in the garden at home and were away from their phones;  I had suspected as much.)

After a few more stops around the city, we eventually made our way to the Jardines del buen Retiro. Such a lovely public space. I think that if were living in Madrid, this would  be a hang-out spot. We even went rowing in the lake there!Following our respite in the park, we were just out and about wallking around the city. We actually ended up at Plaza Mayor again and decided to try some tapas.

In the end we decided that I would still go to Morocco (on a somewhat shortened version of the trip) and Davia would stay and chill out in Madrid. Luckily, they family that she lived with in Toulose would actually be visiting Madrid during that very period and so she would link up with them also. We would then meet up again of course upon my return. If you read my previous blog entry, then you know all the details about that adventure.

So picking up where the Morocco entry left off, I got back to the house in the early hours of the morning, and pretty exhausted. The plan was that we would go the the Sunday market at the Rastro. By the time we managed to get out of the house, people had begun packing up (albeit a litlle early)

The one thing I really wanted to do in Madrid that I wasn’t able to was to visit the Prado Museum (If you have been following this blog, you may have picked up by now that I am a museum hopper).  That was a bit disappointing, but on the evening that we managed to make it there, they closed early for some reason. Ah well, another time hopefully. At least we took pictures outside.

The last major thing we did during our stay was our day trip to Toledo. We took the train and went out to explore our second medieval town together. 

As far as medieval  towns go (granted I’d only visited two at this point), I would give Carcassonne the edge over Toledo. Carcassonne I think had more potent Middle Ages charm. Toledo, while still great, felt a bit more commercialized in comparison.

When I saw this sign I had to laugh out loud. I can’t recall ever visiting anywhere outside JA and seeing oxtail on offer. In addition, notice that all the other signs are in Spanish, but this was in English.

That night back at “home” we managed to order a pizza ourselves (and it even had the right toppings. Yay us!!) , chilled and watched a move. The next day unfortunatley, heralded the end to our little jaunt and we went our separate ways. She to Toulouse, and I back to (at the time) dreary, cold and rainy Bilbao.

  

Now onto Barca in a nutshell. My aunt e-mailed me one day to say that she and her friend Suzanne were going to be holidaying in Spain in May. Barcelona was their chosen destination. She had written to find out if there was the possibility of us meeting up. I don’t even know why that was a question. My aunt should know me well enough to know that I wasn’t going to let an opportunity like that slip past. It took a quite a bit of manoeuvring , and there were some nervous moments when it seemed I would be foiled. In the end however, I got it together.

I had actually been “living” in San Sebastian (yet again) for a few days because of a course we had at an institute there. Instead of commuting between cities every day, it made logistical (and economic) sense to stay over in San Sebastian for the duration. We got really lucky, and the institute at which we had the course actually paid for our accommodation at a lovely little hostel overlooking the city!

View from the hostel

I managed to get to Barcelona in time to meet up with Aunty and Suzanne for dinner. We went out to a bull-fighting themed restaurant (well at least the décor suggested that) and experimented with an array of tapas.

Yum right? :)

The plan for the next morning was to do some sight-seeing in Barca before picking up our rental car and heading out to the Costa Brava.

 As it turns out, I didn’t get to spend that much time in Barcelona proper as I had hoped. I think it might be worth re-visiting. After all, I actually didn’t get to visit Nou Camp ( FC Barcelona’s home stadium), which was one of the things I had always wanted to do if I ever made it to Barca.

In the afternoon , we picked up our rental vehicle, and were off. Immediately, I took up my new position as Navigator- in- Chief. I think I may state without reservation that there would have been chaos if I wasn’t there to provide that particular service. Eventually we arrived at our final destination of Begur; the charming town in which we were staying. The name of our hotel was Hostal Sa Rascassa. Rolls right off the tongue doesn’t it?

The plan for the next day was to visit the medieval town (I’m getting around to them aren’t I? J ) of Besalu. 

Besalu

Afterwards we tried to head over to Figures to the Salvador Dali museum, but unfortunately our research was a little off and we ended up getting there after closing hours. However on the following day, we made it back over to Figueres and were able to explore the museum. I’m so glad that we were able to do that. I swear, that man’s mind was on a whole different level. His artwork was fascinating. From his surrealist work  (ironically, his arguably most famous surrealist painting “The Persistence of Memory” was not housed there, but as luck would have it, I had been able to see it up close and personal at The MOMA New York, on a visit to the self-same aunt with whom I was touring now), to his Jewellery collection. That was definitely a highlight. 

"The Living Flower"

Replica of "The Persistence of Memory"

The weather on the outside had not really been co-operating and it poured and poured. In any event, we decided to try and make a run for Cadaques, one of the more popular towns on the Costa Brava. The trip carried us up pretty near to the French border in fact. Unfortunately the gloomy weather pursued us to Cadaques and we didn’t manage to see much, but were able to have a nice lunch despite all that. Cadaques had actually been on the list of potential towns to saty in, but I’m really glad it wasn’t our base. The only way in and out was a somewhat tedious, over-mountain route that did not offer much by way of scenery.

That evening, the restaurant at Sa Rascassa was closed, and so we had to venture out to find somewhere for dinner. We drove casually around the area, in and out of several little coves nearby until we stopped at one called Aiguafrieda at a restaurant by the sea.  I would have really loved to see this place in full sunlight; I’m sure it would be gorgeous.

Aunty and Suzanne still had a couple days left, but unfortunately I had to return to the purpose for which I was on that side of the world in the first place. School. So I had to grab a coach bus in Begur and hustle back to Barca to catch my flight to Bilbao ( where I was hoping to get back to in time before the last metro, otherwise I wasn’t really sure how I’d have gotten home to my suburb in Getxo).

Morocco!!!

  My trip to Morocco started with me tearing through the Madrid Barajas airport for what seemed like hours trying to get to the gate. Yes I was late (due to some bad metro route planning by Davia and myself) and I arrived huffing and puffing to find that there had been some delay and nobody had boarded yet. Prayers answered. It also started on a somewhat low note, as traveling solo was not the original plan. Davia had had some visa timing issues and so here I was alone.

Anyway the flight was uneventful (if somewhat noisy) and soon I touched down in Marrakech! Since I had nothing else apart from my backpack, I was out of the airport in no time. One of the best decisions I made during this trip was to arrange an airport pick-up with the hotel I was staying at. When I finally got there, I knew there was NO way I would have found it at night, on my own. The Riad I stayed at was pretty nice considering the price. The room was spacious; I had my own bathroom, lots of extra blankets provided etc.

The only hiccup I had at this place was that the manager for the night told me he couldn’t operate the card machine (not sure if it was down or if he really couldn’t) and so I had to pay my balance in cash. I really didn’t want to hear that. I had just arrived, at night-time in a city that I knew absolutely nothing about and I hadn’t got the chance to get any local cash out yet. So the next half-hour saw me out and about in pursuit of an ATM. When I got to the ATM that he directed me to, OF COURSE it wasn’t working, so I had to work my way around to a more lively commercial area. If I knew what I know now, I would have struck off in the opposite direction to that which I went in, but it turned out fine anyway. Unbeknown to me, the main square would have still been quite active at that time, but I didn’t know and so I thought it best to get back to the hotel as quickly as possible and get some rest. How I managed to remember the twists and turns to find the place, I don’t know.

The next morning, they were pretty decent about breakfast. I had figured I would just have to miss out since I would have left before the regular time, but they actually made arrangements for me to have some before I set out. So I struck off on foot to the main square of the medina named Djemaa-el-fna. It was relatively close by and I managed to ask for directions (in French!!) to the meeting point. There I met one of the tour co-ordinators and together we waited for the rest of the tour group and soon we were off!

Driving through the Atlas Mountains was simply amazing. I really can’t do them justice. Unfortunately my photos aren’t able to do them much justice either as my camera sucks at taking moving pics. (I need to rectify that).Soon after we crossed the mountains we arrived at our first major sight-seeing spot- The Kasbahs of Ait-Ben-Haddou. 

 The Kasbahs of Ait-Ben-Haddou

It’s a pretty famous spot and is one of the main attractions around the Ouarzazate area. The site is actually a UNESCO world heritage site and is essentially a 13^th century fortress. Our guide told us that only 10 families still live there, due in part I suppose to the lack of electricity, running water etc. Not to mention the hordes of tourists tramping through on a daily basis. I would imagine that could make things a bit awkward. We were told that several movies (such as Gladiator, Price of Persia, Lawrence of Arabia among others), had scenes shot by or adjacent to the Kasbahs. The guide even showed me the spot where they constructed the small arena for Gladiator.

The small arena in "Gladiator" was that pit to the left!

                For lunch we had traditional Moroccan fare and I had tagine kefta. Tagine  "is a Berber dish from North Africa that is named after the special earthenware pot in which it is cooked". My kefta was a meatball kinda thing and don’t ask me what meat it was because I’m honestly not sure. I think it was lamb though.

My Tagine kefta

 During lunch I was able to properly meet the other people on the tour. There were eight of us in total. There were three Mexicans, who are all studying in Europe; two in Barcelona, one in Paris and then four American girls who are Peace Corps volunteers stationed in The Gambia. We were then off through more amazing landscape in the Draa Valley until our destination of Zagora. When I saw Zagora in the distance, it looked like it had some dark haze sitting right on it. That my friends, turned out to be sand.  I think when we got there was a mini-wind storm going on; so sand everywhere!!

Approaching Zagora

Religious considerations aside, if you live in or near the desert, you’re gonna WANT to be wrapped up in all that cloth. Trust me that sand is no joke, and when the wind whips it up, you feel SO glad to be properly covered up. That said, I did not hesitate to buy a turban; I think it was well worth it. The vendor even tied it for me so I could rock a somewhat authentic desert look! 

Yeah!!

Interestingly enough (of course the whole Jamaican thing came up)  one of the guys there told me that they had once been visited by Rita and Ziggy Marley (Bob’s wife and one of their sons) and that they camped for 2 nights in the desert with their company. Funny the little tidbits you can pick up. Then it was time to meet our camels!!!!!! 

I was at the front of one of the “processions” (the camels were in two lines and tied together) and for some reason I seemed to be on the biggest one. I was all turbaned up at this point and the guide even asked me before we set off if I spoke Arabic. Talk about blending in! I would just like to add that this camel riding thing is NOT as easy as it seems.....

Made it to camp and the American girls invited me to bunk with them. By the time we got to the camp it was practically nightfall, so there wasn’t much to see. After sorting out sleeping arrangements, we went to the main tent where we were served tea- Green tea in glasses, good stuff. A little later we were served dinner which was soup, followed by bread with chicken tagine with vegetables and more tea.

                It was interesting to observe the differences among the Berber guides with regard to clothing, the way they wrapped their turbans etc etc. One of the guides looked like a mysterious villain-eventually-turned-hero straight out of a bad romance novel. Seriously! His face was all wrapped up in a black turban so that ONLY his eyes were visible for the entire time, and they were pretty intense. During a moment when we weren’t really doing anything, I let my imagination run wild a little and made up a story about him; western female damsel in distress, kidnapping etc ect; in essence, all the elements required for a cheesy Mills & Boon plot! Anyway back to reality.  After dinner and a bit of chit chat, the Berber guys started some traditional drumming and singing, and then eventually some dancing.

Drum time!

  I’m not sure if the ones dancing would be regarded as pros back in their villages. It was fun anyway, because they were really enjoying themselves. Then after about a full hour of all of this, they were trying to encourage us to participate. Of course I ended up drumming, and I didn’t do badly at all if I may say so myself. Unfortunately I can’t say quite the same for the German girl beside me. She tried though. When we were all drummed out, we headed off to our tents for the night.


 One of the features in the description of the tour online was "Those that wish to can sleep directly under the stars......The stars in the desert are a great opportunity to see as there are no artificial lights around and you can fully appreciate the glory of the skies above. " I was really looking forward to that part, but it soon became clear that there would be no star-gazing for me that night. Firstly, it was overcast, so no stars. Secondly it was very, very windy that night. I don't know if that's how it is every night, but I surely wasn't tempted when our guide suggested it. the wind was really fierce; I remember waking up at one point during the night feeling sure the tent was about to collapse upon us.

Just to show all the sand blowing about

No such disaster struck however and before we knew it, it was morning. We went out and explore a bit over the dunes and whatnot before it was time for breakfast. I was in the Sahara Desert people!!! How cool is that? :)

I'm on a dune!

We then decided to go and take some pictures with the camels when lo and behold, in the middle of my taking a snap for the American girls, it started to RAIN. Say what? Rain? On the one day that I’m in the desert? No way right? But…. I have the rainbow captured to prove it!!!

Rainbow in the desert

I can’t really say that I expected that at all. It was only a short shower however, and when it was over it was time to set off on our camels again. I must say the rain certainly did not improve the camels. I can easily see why nobody has ever come up with a “wet camel” scent. So off we were again to a rendezvous point with our driver.

We then headed towards Ouarzazate and stopped at a small museum/antiquities store. The short tour we had here was pretty interesting. We were given some insight into the uses of various authentic Berber/Tuareg items and then we were shown to the carpet room. We were given tea, of course, and then our guide began to explain to us about how you could identify which tribe a carpet was from, the various methods used, the symbolism ect. Some of them were amazingly beautiful (and of course they were for sale). Being true sales men, one of the attendants noticed me eyeballing a beautiful Tuareg, hand-woven silk carpet. I was soooooooooo tempted to buy it, and I guess they could sense that. We back-and-forthed over it for a while but good sense prevailed eventually. How was I even going to get that back to Madrid, then Bilbao and then eventually home anyway? It was probably going to be more trouble than I wanted in any event. Plus, I would have wanted my mother’s opinion before splurging, which of course I couldn't have at that moment. After all it was supposed to be for her living room. He promised me that I was getting an amazing deal, which I honestly think I was, but oh well. In the end, I bought an ornate silver/copper/bronze Berber traditional knife from them; a far more sensible purchase given the circumstances. After I bought it I wondered for a second what my parents might think. It occurred to me that on my trip to Santo Domingo about a year before, I bought a machete (complete with a decorated scabbard) as a souvenir. Was there some kind of trend developing here? Come to think of it, I’ve always wanted a Samurai sword……

 Anyway, after that we stopped in Ouarzazate and had the opportunity to tour a bit and have lunch. Ok. Look at this picture that I took there. 

Notice the weather. Well, an hour and a half later into the mountains THIS was now the view!

Amazing huh? From desert, to snow-capped peaks? Awesome.

The ride through the mountains that day was very enjoyable. It almost seemed like we had taken another route. What with the snowfall overnight in the highest parts, and then the rain lower down, it was a totally different experience. The rain really highlighted how green and lush some areas were, brought back some life to a few rivers, and energized a couple waterfalls. I had to remind myself a few times that just moments before I was in the desert. 

By the end of the day we were back in Marrakech and I didn’t really have a plan. The American girls suggested that I hang out with them and so we went hostel searching. Eventually we found one that had been suggested to them by some other Peace Corps volunteers. It was a pretty decent place, especially considering the price. It cost me about 5 euros for the night. Quite a steal. After sorting that out, we headed back out into the streets for a bit.

Did I mention how awesome it can be sometimes being a Jamaican? When we were walking the streets that night, I decided to buy a decorative ceramic bowl for mommy. The owner of the shop says to me after hearing me speaking with my friends “hey you kind of sound Jamaican”. Interesting conversation followed. Turns out he has actually been to Jamaica before on vacation- to Ocho Rios and Montego-Bay to be exact, where he enjoyed himself thoroughly. In the end all this banter resulted in me getting a discount on my purchase, I didn’t have to haggle at all. Yesss!! Later that same evening, I benefitted yet again. The guys from the shops usually try to say something to get your attention as you walk by. This guy was asking me if I was English, French, whatever, using a different language each time…… and I was like “no, Jamaican actually”. His reaction was so funny; he immediately took my hand and said “really? Well then I have a gift for you!” I fully expected this “gift” to come with some monetary strings attached, but I was mistaken. He gave me what looked like a little clay sculpture, but then he explained to me that it was actually traditional Berber lipstick. Really cool. All I had to do in return was take his card. How nice.

The next day was the day for the famous souks of Marrakech. What is a souk? - A really, really huge market where you can find just about anything. Before we ventured in, I had a strange encounter with an ATM which heralded the beginning of some troubles that were yet to come. For some strange reason, the ATM wouldn’t allow me to take more than X amount of money. I was quite confused because based on my calculations; there was no way that I could have been that low on cash, but this ATM was telling me otherwise. A bit confused, I decided to stash my train ticket money and then think about it later. Plus I had a credit card on me so that should save me if things got dire right? More on that later. It was rather interesting, walking around. You couldn’t even look at somebody’s merchandise for a second without someone pouncing on you to try to make a sale. Just like in any other market of this sort I suppose.

At the Souks

 Clothes, shoes, ceramics, leather products-shoes, bags and belts, souvenirs, oils and spices, Moroccan lamps!  Wanted a lamp, but yet again, how the heck would I get it home? There were some things that I had on my definite to- get list and sticking to this list became even more important after my spending power was apparently curtailed by the ATM incident.

 You have to take reviews, especially from people living in first world countries, with a grain of salt sometimes. Based on the things I saw on the net, I expected to be hassled beyond belief being a female and worse, traveling solo. But wait, you might say, with your complexion, maybe you blended in; you’re not exactly blonde and Caucasian. However, for quite a bit of my time there, I was travelling with some blonde Caucasian people and to be honest they didn’t get hassled more than you would expect.

We spent the greater part of the day there and then we went outside the medina to the newer part of Marrakech to have lunch at a somewhat swanky restaurant. The American girls were looking forward to this in particular; apparently nice restaurants are not easy to come by where the live in The Gambia. Back at the hostel, I began to pack my things. The plan was to take the night train to Tangier, and then take ferry back to Spain and make my way back to Madrid from there. Now there’s a story, but I’ll soon come to that. We then went into the square and went to a spot that had a “panoramic” view and watched the sunset and the activity in the square. Like the snake charmers. Did I mention before that there were snake charmers?

Djemaa-el-fna @ nighht

The American girls had a craving for KFC (don’t judge them lol, they can’t get that kind of fast food in the Gambia) and I headed there with them as it was on my way anyway. 

Now the girls had mentioned to me that it had cost them X amount to get from the train station to the main square, so I had that budgeted out. Unfortunately we didn’t take into account the surcharge for night-time trips. So make that X times 2. I eventually got into a taxi, not knowing HOW I was going to pay the driver without dipping into my train ticket money. A little risky, but it was either that or risk missing the train. While in the taxi I fumbled about in my bag looking for stray coins that are always around. None were forthcoming. So I was planning an act for the taxi driver that involved tears and real distress to explain why I couldn’t pay the full amount when a lightbulb went off and I remembered that I had some stray $US hanging around in my purse. Bingo! So I paid half my fare with that and skipped off to the train station. Now you may ask why at this point I didn’t go to the ATM again?  Well I would probably say fear. I was afraid that what had happened earlier was not a fluke, that I had made some grave miscalculation and that I was truly and completely broke, in the middle of the night, in a foreign country, with my journey back not even half-way completed. I honestly did not want to find out at that particular moment. I would cross that bridge later.

So I bought my ticket and I was off to Tangier. It was an 11 hour train ride, but of course I slept for most of that which is the beauty of the night train. So now I’m in Tangier and need to get to the port to get my ferry to Algeciras. Need to get a taxi, need cash. I hold my breath and go to the ATM, where this time, it only allows me to withdraw a pittance. I can hear my father I my head at this point berating me over my seemingly poor financial planning. Ok. One step at a time Ren, one step at a time.  Eventually I get to the port and think, I have no cash but surely I can buy my ferry ticket with a credit card. Credit card machine system is down……..bring on the tearing out of hair and nervous breakdown. The next ferry is leaving in about 10 minutes and I need to get a ticket. In desperation I head to the ATM again…fail- tells me something about not being able to verify my details. What? Again in desperation, I try the machine beside it; strangely enough it allows me to withdraw enough to buy a ticket!

Finally on the ferry. Turns out then 10 minute departure didn’t happen and I was on that thing for more than an hour before we finally got moving. I must say that at this point, I was not the happiest camper, especially when I realized that with the ferry delay I was in all likelihood going to miss the bus I had planned on taking back to Madrid. Anyway, what could I do about it? I was thankful to even be on the ferry in the first place. I eventually went out on deck for a bit after having a strange conversation with a creepy Moroccan man. I realized that we were sailing past Gibraltar and managed to get some pics in!

Gibraltar

When we finally get off the boat and through immigration (hassle all around) I can see that the weather is quite bad. I try to find my way around to the office to buy my bus ticket to Madrid. The bus company that I usually take to get around did not service this route and so I had to go with another one, the only one in fact. The first company I mentioned takes credit cards, so I had no fear on that front….but OF COURSE this company didn’t. Really? Really? In the “1^st World” and at an international port at that? So off to try my luck at the ATM again. Back in Spain, the ATM worked FINE. I was not broke; I had MORE than enough money in my account, as I originally thought. I don’t know what the heck was going on in Morocco!!!!!!!

As I suspected I had missed the bus that I was aiming for and so had to wait for the next one in another 6 hours or so. *Sigh*. Got some well needed food and then made my way out in the rain to find some internet access. Found a seedy little place and blew about two hours in there which included trying to ward off this guy from Cameroon who wanted to treat me to a coffee and a meal, and who couldn’t take a hint. Hey, he could have been perfectly well-intentioned, but it was not a risk I was willing to take as a solo female traveller. Nope, not, happening; and to be perfectly honest, he was a little annoying.

Finally. Departure time came and I was finally off on an eight hour or so journey to Madrid. Got in at about five-something the next morning and luckily the train line I need to get to our base in Madrid ran by this station. So I made my way there in a semi-zombie state, managed to give Davia some semi-lucid details about the trip and then I was off to la-la-land for some much appreciated rest.


Full update on the Madrid part of the trip coming soon!