Days 196-197: Back in Cairo

Pallavi's parents and her sister decided to take a two week holiday to Egypt and Turkey, and we are going to join them. Before they arrive, we had one last weekend with Heba & Nayeli. What better weekend to pick than Halloween weekend. Apparently, Nayeli LOVES Halloween. She loves Halloween in an artsy-crafts months of pre-planning kind of way. She loves Halloween so much that we spent our entire trip in Morocco brainstorming various things that we could devise out of our limited backpacker clothes and turn into a costume.

I had all sorts of costume plans, but in true Sarah form, procrastination took its toll and I ended up with nothing by the time we landed! I owned up and prepared to face their wrath. What did I get? I got tons of creative last-minute costume ideas. We got up, brunched, went to the various Egyptian Pound stores, and pulled together the last crystal ball of Pallavi's fortune teller costume (which she had created already before Egypt) and a few boxes of cereal later, they had turned me into the Cereal Killer!

I really have missed my American holidays, but I'm so glad I got to spend Halloween with these ladies!

Then the next day, Heba & Nayeli invited us to join them to an Egyptian wedding that they had to attend. This was our second wedding in two months. Thankfully I had my Moroccan dress to wear (which apparently people really, really love). This wedding was completely different than the Moroccan one. There was liquor. There were men and women sitting together. Nobody was doing that great 'congratulations' chant that they do in Morocco. Hardly any woman was wearing a head scarf. The only thing that was similar was that it was a Muslim wedding (I think!).

The wedding was held in this beautiful venue, The Swiss Club. According to Heba, back in the day, there use to be many such clubs like this one. This club was for Swiss citizens to sit, relax, drink, play lawn games, etc. At the time, it was in a really nice Middle Class neighborhood. Now, it's a diamond in the rough. Not many of these clubs exist any longer, so I'm so glad that we got to experience this one. Nothing like a bit of American & Egyptian culture before we get back on the Egypt Tourism Trail.

Day 195: Travel to Egypt

We made the travel choice to sacrifice sleep for one more night in Asilah before our flight to Egypt from Casablanca. The only train option to reach Casablanca in time for our flight left at 6:05 a.m. In broken Spanish, I asked the hotel manager if he could reserve a taxi for us to pick us up at 5:00 a.m. and carry us the 2 kms to the train station. He told me no he couldn't reserve a taxi, but we could easily go just one street over and get one. Not trusting the first guy and/or my Spanish, we asked another one of the hotel managers the same question using hand gestures. He also told us it no problem.

Still in disbelief about the ease of getting a cab at 5 a.m. in this small town, we set our alarms, mapped the walking route to the train station (just in case), and made a plan to leave in the morning with enough time to walk to the train station, if necessary.

Morning came. We groggily got ourselves ready. We left the hotel, full moon and stars shining brightly, and walked to the street where supposed easy taxi would come. Did it come? Obviously not! We had to hoof it to the soundtrack of the moonlit ocean waves all the way to the train station. Did we get the train? Of course we did!

We needed to change trains in Casablanca to get to the airport, which made the perfect opportunity to meet with one of Pallavi's old friends, who is a Moroccan she met in Delhi. We made an audible and decided to get the 11:13 train to the airport after arriving at 10:20. No problem....however, her friend was late! By the time she arrived at 10:45, we had just enough time to down a quick cup of coffee and they had the elevator catchup! At least they got a chance to catch up. 30 minutes is better than nothing.

We got our flight (again, stepping back in time into international travel circa 2000 with our central TVs and chicken/beef options), arrived back in Cairo, did a power-duty free shop for our friends, and made it back to Heba and Nayeli's. 

Day 192-194:Asilah

We got out of Tangier and arrived at the Spanish-flavored Asilah. Spanish-flavoured indeed. No more does breakfast just come with bread. Oh no. Now it has rice. More greetings with 'hola' than with 'bonjour.' The medina is incredibly quiet and clean. It has this beautiful juxtaposition of medieval walls surrounding crisp white buildings with blue trim around all of the shutters.

We had read that this town is known for being quite artsy. It has a huge street art festival in September. The writings were right. No sooner than you cross a corner than you see another piece of street art tucked away on the white backdrop. The town is set right on the Atlantic Ocean, making sunsets on the ramparts incredibly beautiful.

The city use to be a key Portuguese asset when they ran the gold trade in the 16th century. Until a pirate took over! This pirate apparently was quiet dastardly. He use to kill people by pushing them off the castle walls on the medina and into the ocean. Oh, who doesn't love a good pirate tale?

Strikingly enough, there are practically no tourists here. It's amazing considering it's proximity to Tangier and how beautiful the place is. It is a perfect town for exploration and a great place to end our journey.

We are so sad to leave Morocco. We are going to miss all of the amazing fresh bread and harissa at every turn. We are going to miss being enchanted by all of the different locations and the different traditional clothes. We are going to miss locals enthusiastically telling us, "welcome to Morocco."

Tomorrow, early morning train to Casablanca and then back off to Egypt. 

Day 190-191: Tangier

Tangier was a total bust. The town itself is actually incredibly different from the rest of the towns we've been in. Correction: it's not a town, it's a city. The city is sprawling and built on a series of hills, much like San Francisco. Also, much like San Francisco, it has stairs on its hilltops. We had wanted to check out Tangier because of it's strategic importance on the Straits of Gibraltar and its Free Trade Zone status in the early 20th century. I also thought Tangier would make an economic, great base for day trips. For example, Hercules' rumored home is under 30 kms away from Taniger.

However, that just wasn't meant to be. Tangier is quite an expensive city to stay in. We took a field trip to a place our Moroccan train friends, Nadia, had recommended we visit in Taniger: Cafe Hafa. Cafe Hafa is a restaurant for Moroccans to drink large mint teas set on a cliff overlooking the Mediterranean and Spain, just 13 kms across the Straits of Gibraltar. It really is quite beautiful and only a 1.5 km walk...uphill!

We also went to go to the American Legation Museum. Apparently, Morocco was one of the first countries to recognize the US upon it's independence. Morocco was also one of the first countries with a US embassy. Additionally, this museum is the only such museum outside of the US. We went, but ultimately decided not to go in. Seeing George Washington's signature just wasn't worth the whopping $3 for us! I can go see that in DC for free!

Anyway, since we also aren't crossing the Straits to Spain, and weren't feeling Tangier, we decided to settle for a small town just 45 minutes south of Tangier, called Asilah, which was never part of the French Protectorate. Rather, it was part of the Spanish. Time to put my rusty Spanish to the test! 

Day 187-189: Chefchaouen

After an unexpectedly windy and carsick-driving bus ride through the Rif Mountains, we arrived in the town of Chefchaouen, “The Blue City.” This city had been recommended to us by everybody. The city was formed in the 15^th century, by Muslim and Jewish refugees from Grenada. My history is a bit rusty, but I’d say they didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition. They came here, banned Christians from entering the city and spoke a medieval form of Castilian until the Spanish opened the city up in 1920, and coloured everything blue! Everything in the city is blue. The stairs are blue. The doors are blue. The buildings are blue. Sometimes, you turn a corner  and it looks like a blue igloo – where the buildings almost look like they have been built with one of those gelatinous plaster machines that blows more of a blob that, if you don’t smooth out, just looks like a blob.

The city is incredibly charming and a wee bit cool. Not sure if it’s because we are in the mountains, or because we’re closer to the Mediterranean, or because it’s late October, but now we are starting to take out our sweaters. It also makes the whole igloo theme make a bit more sense.

Another thing that makes this city different and reflects its history is the Spanish mosque that overlooks the city. Lonely Planet recommends it as a lovely 1.5 km hike to the top the Spanish mosque’s hill. We overheard one of the girls, Maya, from our hostel say she was keen on going so we invited her to come along. We got to the top of the hill and relaxed for a bit to enjoy the view. After 30 minutes or so, we thought we’d get up and check out the other side of the mosque. We found a small path into the mountains. Feeling adventurous, we thought we’d check it out. It looked pretty level and well-trodden, so we figured it wouldn’t hurt anything.

Wrong! Maya suddenly had this desire to pick one of these cactus fruits we’d seen for sale in the markets. She was like Sleeping Beauty with the spindle. She just had to get that fruit. She picked up a stick, she approached it, and she got it off of the cactus with care. That’s when she realized that the fruit wasn’t just covered with a few visible thorns. Oh no. The fruit was covered with hair-like thorns which were now embedded in every single one of her fingers! In a split second, she had turned into the latest superhero, Cacti Woman! Thankfully she didn’t eat it!

We grabbed her coat for her, and she held her poor hands so she couldn’t touch anything, and we started to walk down to the village. As we walked, we approached a local and asked him if he knew how to get the thorns out. He said to put some dirt on them to help relieve the sting. Then he invited us back to his farm to see the farm and to have his aunt help pull out the thorns. We asked the price for the farm visit, and he said no too much. Off to the farm we went.

We got there, saw the farm, applied olive oil to the hands (which apparently allows you to brush off the thorns), and then started to argue when he quoted us a ridiculous price for having taken us to see the farm. We finally paid what we felt was fair and we went back down to the village, complaining about this particular bargaining style of the Moroccan people.

When we arrived at the hostel, ready to go and get some tea, Maya looked in her bag and suddenly declared, “where’s my phone?” That’s right. Another phone had gone missing in our lives within a two week period. Pallavi and I confirmed that the phone was in her hand when we were at the Spanish mosque chilling on the wall. We also confirmed that there wasn’t anything in her hand after she became Cacti Woman. The phone may have fallen out of the bag at the guy’s farm, but it’s most likely back up the 1.5 km walk to the mosque. Pallavi and I refused to let Maya go back up by herself, given that it was sunset.

Back up to the top of the mosque we went. No sooner did we get to the top than we met the same guy. He called his aunt to see if the phone was there but with no luck. We searched the ramparts near the mosque to see if she had dropped the phone while we were sitting. No luck. Finally, we thought we’d walk towards the cactus to see if, by some random chance, she had set the phone down on the ground and forgotten it while she was be-spelled by the plant.

There it was! The guy was so excited that we’d found it that we were invited back to his mother’s house for celebratory tea.  Moroccans may have a curiously aggressive bargaining style, but they still are incredibly helpful and generous when you’re in a pinch. 

Day 186, Part 2: The Moroccan Wedding in Fes

What do you wear to a Moroccan wedding? You wear the traditional, simple, but nice Moroccan dresses that the girl you met on the train, Nadia's, family gives you to wear, and then insists that you keep! I have heard that in traditional Muslim houses that guests are like god. Today, I felt like a real Muslim guest.

This wedding was my first non-Christian wedding. It was completely different to what I know. The wedding was held in Nadia's house. The men and women were kept separately. Additionally, apparently there are two wedding receptions: one on one day for the bride's family and one on another day for the groom's family.

Unlike our wedding receptions where we eat first, listen to Frank Sinatra, do our Dad/Daughter dance, and then break open the dance floor, in a Moroccan wedding, the first thing you do immediately do to start dancing. The Arabic music came on, the hips started moving, the shoulders started shaking, and the hands started floating.

Then, just when you needed a breather from the dancing, the bride and groom make their 1st grand entrance. That's right. They don't make just one entrance. They don't make two entrances. No. They make five entrances! Each entrance requires a different ensemble.

The reason? Nobody could actually tell us at the wedding. Neither could Wikipedia. For now, it'll have to remain a mystery.

Entrance One:
The bride wore a white Moroccan dress and the groom wore a traditional Moroccan robe. They made their entry. However, the bride didn't enter the room on her own feet. No, she was lead to a chair on the ground, where the groom's friends, in traditional Berber robes, lifted her on a palate and danced her into the room. and then they sat on this stage-come-throne that was made for them in front of all of the guests.

After they sat, this master of ceremonies and the bride's attendants (all hired people to help make sure everything goes well), made sure everything was settled. Then the bride and groom had what appeared to be the marriage ceremony. First, they held a bowl of cow's milk with rose water for each other to drink. Next, they passed the bowl around for the guests to drink. We researched this tradition and we believe its meant to symbolize purity. Then, the couple then fed each some sort of stuffed date, and then dates were handed out for the guests to eat. Finally, there was an exchange of rings. Obviously the couple then posed for pictures,

Then the groom just left. We couldn't figure out if he'd had enough of the women-only party or what. We waited and the bride just sat there on her throne. Finally, after 10-15 minutes, the groom returned bearing gifts which he presented. He gave flowers, clothes, and carried in gifts of henna, sugar, dates, etc. in large silver tagine-shaped platters. Okay, bounty given, the guests could then pose with the bride and groom. Finally, the bride and groom left.

Interlude One:

The music came back on and people continued dancing. Now, these weren't just young people dancing. Oh no! Those older women tied their scarves around their waists and started shaking their hips just as much as the younger women. I've never seen older women dance like this! They only sat when delicious cookies and juice started to be served. This is only the 2nd dry wedding I've ever attended, and I cannot imagine how much more these people would dance if they had alcohol!

Entrance Two:
The bride and groom entered wearing costume #2 - this time, the groom wore a suit/tie and the bride wore a green, velvety Moroccan dress. Again, they sat, posed, people took pictures with them, and then dancing continued.

Entrance Three:
The couple left, came back with costume #3, the groom wore the same ensemble, and the bride wore a velvety red Moroccan dress. I  must say, this was probably the most boring of the costumes. It felt a bit like they were an exhibit at a festival. You could pick with what costume you wanted your picture with the bride and groom. Do you think the green dress would flatter what you're wearing more? Okay, wait for that dress before you climb up onto the stage alongside them and get your picture taken.

I must also confess that I did start to wonder where the heck the food was? I mean, sure, they were giving us lots of cookies and sweets, but I'm more of a 'cookie and sweets for dessert', not a 'cookie and sweets for appetizers' kind of person. Plus, all of that dancing was making me really hot, sweaty, and hungry! There isn't even alcohol to give me courage - I have to go 'au natural' with my dancing. That can't be good for anybody.

Entrance Four:

Costume #4 was intense. The groom wore a traditional Moroccan costume, complete with the red hat. The bride wore this intense white dress with huge head gear. It was like Moroccan Cleopatra with a giant breast plate. Pallavi thought she looked a bit like the Hindu goddess Kali, which is intimidating, scary, and beautiful. To add to the intensity, this time they were both put onto their palates and both lifted up into the air. They only looked afraid of being dropped or hitting their heads on the chandeliers a few times.

Again, dancing interlude. By this time, we were well into Arabic pop music.

Entrance Five:

Finally, costume #5 came. The bride wore what Christians would call a traditional wedding dress and the groom wore a tux. They posed for one last photo session before they waved to the crowd, did their version of a Sound of Music 'So Long, Farewell,' and left! Apparently they go downstairs, where they eat dinner by themselves, before the family sends them off in a more private goodbye.

In the meantime, we all finally got to eat!! Food was served on a central platter and each guest was given a plate, cutlery, and a piece of bread. You could put the food on your plate, but everybody just grabbed a piece of bread and tore the meat off of the chicken on the central platter and ate it directly. Who needs the middle man of a plate?! If you waste time with the plate, you'll miss all of the food! You could tell how hungry people were based on the amount of bones that ended up scattered on the table! However, we didn't plan our eating strategy properly. There wasn't just one dish! Rookie mistake. Of course there were 2 dishes plus a fruit dessert platter.

We left completely stuffed to the gills, filled with amazement and hospitality, and with great memories and friends we'll never forget. What a great experience that just fell into our lap. Moral of the story: be friendlier to the people who sit next to you on the train! They might just invite you to a wedding.

[To probably be edited later when I figure out a funnier way to tell this story]

Day 186, Part 1: Pallavi gets a bargain in Fes

Sarah needs a new pair of shoes. My poor Toms, which I had thought about throwing away before we left in April, have become my new Energizer Bunny. They just keep going on, and on, and on. The key to their success? Lavender scented inserts that keep the sole clean and fresh. However, these inserts also have a lifespan. Long story short, Sarah needs a new pair of shoes.

We had tried to buy a new pair of leather shoes yesterday, right before we went to the Henna ceremony. The man who had the shoes we liked quoted us an outrageous price! He quoted us 600 dirham for two pairs of shoes (as long as I'm getting one, Pallavi is getting one too). That is about $90 AUD. We can buy leather shoes for that price in Australia. No way are we paying that in Morocco. By that time, we were running about 30 minutes late for our henna ceremony, so Pallavi said she didn't have time to bargain properly, and so we left.

The next day, on the way to the wedding, we thought we'd give shoe shopping on last go. As we searched for shoes, we saw the same guy, who invited us back in. That's when Pallavi really got to work. She went back and forth, she sweet talked the guy, she told him she knew that the shoes were good, but we didn't have jobs, so 240 dirham for two pairs of shoes was our limit.

He wouldn't meet our price. He started at 500 dirham this time. Then he moved to 400. Then his best price was 350. Then he invited us into the shop to reveal his best best price - 330. Again, Pallavi countered that we couldn't go up anymore on our price, so we left the shop. He came after us! He brought us back again, his best, best, best price was 280 for the two pairs.

This time, Pallavi said she could go up to 250 but that's as far as we could go. We went back and forth. Okay, 270, he said. Final price. That's just 10 dirhams more for Pallavi and 10 dirhams more for me to pay. Pallavi then said, well, if it is just 10 dirhams, then just let it go!

After 30 minutes of hard bargaining, he let it go. 250 dirhams for 2 pairs of leather shoes! That's $17 AUD per pair.

Now, we have a wedding to get to!