After experiencing some of the fabulosity that is Sevilla, my parents and I headed off to Portugal for a little beach time. We rented a car (good thing Dad can drive manual!) in Sevilla and were on our way! The southern coast of Portugal is really pretty tiny, so there were no really long drives.
We arrived in Tavira after a couple hours and pretty randomly selected a parking spot and lunch restaurant. In Portugal they like to serve toasties- little grilled sandwiches with anything from ham to tuna to tomatoes on it. Then we strolled around Tavira, stumbling upon the fort and climbing it to see the city from up high. Tavira was pretty, but there wasn’t too much to do, so we wandered along the river back to the car to head further along Portugal’s coast. We had no lodging plans, but my mom’s instincts led us to Praia da Rocha (Rock Beach) in Portimao, a stunning coastal town less touristy than Albufeira (according to locals, this is because many Portuguese are too lazy to drive east or west from the main highway from Lisbon to Albufeira). Mom talked to some tourism people and police, who directed us to a great hotel right on the beach. The evening was approaching, so although it wasn’t primetime for sunbathing, the ‘rents and I took a gorgeous stroll along our beach. Seriously, Google Image Praia da Rocha- it’s stunning: a huge, wide white sand beach with Caribbean-hued waters with reddish-brown and yellow rocks guarding the coastline and edging out into the water to form stunning vistas from end to end. We took our walk in late afternoon in beautiful lighting and it was so relaxing- got some good pics.
We had an early dinner of fishy stuff (pretty much a Connolly rule: eat fish when fresh, caught-that-day-right-off-the-beach fish is available) and chicken piri piri- a slightly spicy Portuguese chicken dish. (Yes, thought you all should know what we ordered – nah I just want to pretend I’m a travel guide book for a second and presume to know the local flavors). We returned to our hotel, rode on up to the sixth floor (which the three us fondly came to call “Seis piso” as the elevator lady would tell us in an inexplicably awesome voice multiple times a day), and conked out.
The next day was kind of cool and cloudy so we hopped in the car for a drive west. First stop: Lagos. We ate lunch at the outdoor restaurant on the coast that hooks around so you can see the rest of Lagos and it was amazing! We toured the town and saw the old slave trading post and some churches. Then we drove to Ponte de Piedade, a cliffy, rocky point that sticks out of Lagos with a long stair path leading down to the stunning caves below. There was some fresh cement only hours old and I took the liberty of marking Tom, Dee and Acon’s names forever in Portugal.
Back in the car to drive to Sagres to see the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean. Sagres is the most southwestern point in Europe and is what Europeans once thought was the end of the world. There’s a huge cliff with a fort and then pretty much nothing else except a memorial sign for someone who fell off and died as a warning for viewers not to get too close to the fenceless edge. Heavy.
After enduring the quite chilly and strong winds from the west, we hopped back in the car with a gorgeous sunstreaked sky in the rearview mirror. And what do you know? We saw another rainbow! So it was a pretty good looking drive back to Portimao with sunset on one side and rainbow on the other.
Another great road trip we took was up through the mountains in Monchique. Not a far drive and not the tallest mountains, but the drive was beautiful and the distant views of the ocean were radical. Then we drove back to the western coast to a beach the hotel guide reported was his personal fave. The downside: it was wayyyy way too wavy. The upside: it was gorgeous and we were able to stand on a cliff and watch all the surfer dudes and dudettes ride the waves that would likely have swallowed us up.
We did want to find a beach for ourselves, though, so we drove back along the coast and returned to Lagos! The waves there were perfectly satisfactory for Dad and me to do some serious body surfing. The man is a pro- he had every kid and grown-up on the beach wanting to give it a shot, but they didn’t quite have the Connolly technique.
The rest of the trip mainly consisted of beaching and strolling, with some mouthwatering meals here and there. One night we ate at a super-nice cave restaurant built into the rocky side of the coast. It’s low season so there were hardly any people there and the food was out of this world. Yum.
And that, my friends, pretty much concludes the trip to Portugal! We drove back to Sevilla and I bid farewell to the parents Connolly after a fantastic 10 days. Miss you, parents!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
And then….Ready for round two, Portugal?
For the last weekend in April nearly everyone in my program booked a trip to Lagos with a student travel agency. I hadn’t planned on going because, well, I had just been, but since no one was in Sevilla and since Lagos was utterly gorgeous, I decided to go back. So I was back in Sevilla for 26 hours of unpacking, classes, packing, and then hopping on a bus back to Lagos!
I decided not to go with the travel agency group, so I stayed with a group of friends in a hostel, which meant we got an extra night in Lagos! This trip was a bit different than that with my parents. We beached all day, had a couple cocktails, and made rounds at the bars at night. We cooked and hung out with new friends in our hostel and made great use of the hostel’s rooftop terrace. One day we even took a boat tour of the caves I had seen with my parents from land. It was stunning! And our driver kept telling us what rock formations were supposed to look like elephants, faces, wedding cakes, etc. Verrr cool.
I’d elaborate on the lying on the beach we did, but there’s not too much to say. Some people jumped off huge rocks and shredded their legs or backs. I hoped for some waves to show off my newly practiced body surfing, but it was flat flat flat. Overall, a fantastic round two of Portugal for me. If anyone wants a gorgeous vacation spot in Europe, Lagos is definitely a winner.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Feliz Cumpleaños, Parents, Feria, and Six Bulls
There was no time to rest post-Morocco. More plans for fun times were in store for me. Can you think of why, if we returned from the weekend on April 18? That’s right- I turned 21 April 20! We arrived home Sunday night, and then fortunately had Monday to recuperate, unpack, and sleep in a little before a big night of Birthday!
The big night started with dinner at a favorite tapas restaurant with a big group of friends before heading to Los Remedios (a neighborhood in Sevilla), where the extensive fairgrounds for FERIA are set up! ~~Feria is an enormous week-long festival every year in Spanish cities (the biggest and best of them in Sevilla) in which the city sets up hundreds of private and a few public tents called casetas, complete with bars, dancing and even an amusement park section! Women wear fabulous and ridiculously pricey flamenco dresses and men dress up in their sharpest suits- it’s one hell of a spectacle~~ Anyway, my friend Kayla and I were both to turn 21 at midnight Monday night/Tuesday morning, at the very moment when the light to start Feria is lit! So we scheduled an early dinner at Los Coloniales with about 14 friends where we wined and dined and then headed off to a bar to pre-game for Feria. (Okay, I’m officially 21 now and I was certainly of legal age to drink my whole time in Sevilla, so I’m not scoldable now for talking about drinking on my birthday. Well, we went to a bar famous for its quantity of shots. And since Kayla and I were the birthday girls, people bought us lots of them! We were in pretty good shape as we headed to Feria for the midnight lighting. It was such a fantastic and even cultural way to turn 21 in Spain! There was a little countdown and then a big celebration like New Year’s at the moment we turned 21! SO COOL!! Then we went into Feria and to the public casetas for an incredible 21st birthday night! SUCCESS.
April 20-
My parents came! Sure, I thought about the day-of feelings I would have after the nighttime birthday revelry, but my parents came to Sevilla to see me! So I sucked it up and woke up at 11 to go meet them and show them my city! It had been such a long time so I was thrilled to see them at last! They were a tad jet-lagged and starved, so we started slow with a cute outdoor café in the Santa Cruz district. Mom enjoyed a tinto de verano (very popular drink in Andalucia comprised of red wine and lemon soda), but I could only handle water and plain toast… We got to catch up and enjoy each other’s company, and then we walked through the city to my favorite place in Sevilla: the Alcazares. Los Reales Alcazares means the Royal Fortress, which is now a palace for the royal family of Spain when they come to Sevilla, as well as a museum. The buildings are fantastically decorated with lots of ornate Moorish influences and we got an audio-guided tour. My favorite part, however, is outside. The gardens of the Alcazares go on forever! There are mazes and fountains and paths and flowers and orange trees and even peacocks meandering around! It’s gorgeous! We refreshed ourselves after the heat and walking with some gelato before splitting to get cleaned up for the night.
I met my parents and three of my friends at La Isla for my big birthday dinner (round 2)! The place was lovely and my parents had fun meeting Abby, Maya and Rozina and getting to know the people I’ve been hanging with these past months! I had a birthday cheesecake and of course the table started singing to me. Then the whole room joined in to sing Feliz Cumpleanos, and then the Moroccan waiter even chimed in with the Arabic version! So I had Happy Birthday sung to me in three different languages and then had to stand up and curtsy to the room. I think because I’m 21 I will no longer be embarrassed by those kinds of shenanigans, and now I choose to enjoy them! So it was a blast! After dinner, my poor exhausted parents went back to get a good night’s rest, but since it was birthday, I was expected to go out. I was drained from the night before, but I rallied! We went back to Feria and met up with a group to celebrate once again! We made it over to the amusement park and went on a crazy-fast Ferris wheel and some other silly rides. And that, folks, is how I spent my 21st birthday. One for the record books.
The rest of the week my parents and I toured Sevilla and got to do some really cool things. Wednesday my parents came to my neighborhood Triana. I showed them some of my local haunts and then my señora Julia invited us for lunch. My roommate’s family was in Sevilla too, so we all sat down for a potentially conversation-stunted meal. Alas it went great! Christa and I translated really well (impressed the parents and let them know we were doing some work after all in Spain) and Julia was the center of it all! She didn’t feel awkward and even let me ask her about 792364 questions from my parents. We sat there for nearly three hours! I think it was a pretty special experience for our parents because they get to experience what a real Spanish señora, home and meal are like- nothing touristy or artificial, and they got to see how we have really been living these past months!
Then after lunch we went to Feria to experience it in the daytime. I’m putting up an entire photo blog post next because the images I have can explain what everything’s like so much better than my words, particularly for Feria. The dresses, the tents (called casetas), the horses, the music- it’s an amazing sight. According to Julia, on any given day there might be as many as one million people there! And all the women and girls dress up in elaborate flamenco dresses with flowers and combs in their hair, color-coordinated jewelry, woven shawls, and bright flamenco shoes or espadrilles. I’m not kidding- they really go all out. It’s a stunning spectacle. The men have it easier, but they do look rather dapper in their sharp suits. Some special Sevillanos ride in horse-driven carriages decorated with bells and pom poms. We weren’t of the partying crew that day, but it was still thrilling to wander and people watch. We even saw a rainbow over Feria (rainbows are following me)! That night my friend Noah who was visiting Sevilla from Montpelier joined my parents and me for a delicious Spanish dinner at a cute restaurant on the river.
The next day we toured more of Sevilla. I showed them my university building, my usual routes to and from class, my gym, and, towering over all of the above, Sevilla’s Cathedral. There we ran into Noah, so he joined us for a few other adventures that day. The Cathedral is gorgeous, Moorish-influenced, and utterly massive- definitely not like walking into any other old church. Chapels upon chapels, a massively massive organ, rooms full of precious jewel and crowns, and the famous high point of Sevilla, the tall Giralda Tower. Dad, Noah and I climbed the tower and got to see all of my beautiful Sevilla from a fantastic spot. Then I took the three of them on a little tour of my Sevilla hot spots and we wound up at a tasty outdoor pizza place!
After lunch, the ‘rents and I had tickets to the bullfight! Some friends of mine had already been to one and told me they found it an incredibly sad and depressing experience. Each show consists of three matadors (with many skilled sidekicks) killing two bulls each- so the audience watches as six bulls are slowly butchered. The concept is a sad one, yes, but millions of Spaniards adore this “art,” and have for thousands of years, so I had to experience it for myself to judge.
We sat in an upper shaded area, which was a nice respite from the early searing sun. After muttering countless questions among ourselves (“Why is the bull already bleeding when it comes out?” “What’s the music for?” “Which one is the matador?”), I asked the couple sitting next to me to explain a thing or three (“They tag the bull to identify its owner so it bleeds a little,” “The band plays three times in each corrida to separate the jobs of the types of toreros,” “The matador comes out last with the red cape”), and they were our references for the remainder of the corrida.
First, all three matadors come out in their fine “trajes de luz” (literally “light suits” - they are the traditional, highly decorated, tight suits the matadors wear). Only the matadors have the right to wear white- some like the color for its stark contrast to the bull’s blood that will rub off on the matador if he is daring enough to get so close. The matadors prance around to applause and then return to safety outside the ring to let the first bull and a team of banderilleros out.
Banderilleros tease and tire the bull out by making him run from one pink bandera to another. Then three banderilleros stick the bull between the shoulder blades with two short blades with paper-covered poles that show the blood dripping out. Next, the picador comes out on a horse covered in heavy metal armor. For some reason the horse drives the bull crazy and he repeatedly spears the bull in its underbelly. Only decades ago the horse wasn’t covered at all and most died. The picador is the torero sitting on the horse with a super-long spear that he digs into the bull’s back. With this and the banderilleros’ hits, the bull gets weaker and weaker and finally the matador, the most experienced torero, enters the bullring.
In my opinion, the matador does much less than the other guys, but I suppose it takes plenty of experience to get to his level. The matador arrives with his red cape and some serious swagger. (Truth- they are the biggest celebrities in Spain- on par with Cristiano Ronaldo and Javier Bardem- these guys get all the ladies.) This is the artistic part: the matador heralds his red cape and teases the bull, coaxing him into a close blow, and then swirling out of the way of the bull’s deadly horns just at the last second. The closer the matador gets, the more swirling he does, and the more he has his back toward the bull, the more the crowd loves him. Some matadors were more impressive than others, and the crowd would shout and stand and yell for the band to play for the better moves they saw. Then, after much dancing around the bleeding, exhausted and humiliated bull, the matador pulls his sword out from behind the red cape and spears the beast through the heart. It’s obvious the moment it dies, crumbling to the ground, and then falling sideways and rigid. For its final humiliation, a team of donkeys arrives and drags the bull around the ring, drawing a victorious trail of blood out of the arena.
So this is the process of the bullfight. I try to tell it as artistically as I saw it. It’s such a practiced and appreciated art that it was easy to get drawn into the performance of it all. Still, I was one of few who did not clap. While I’m told the bulls are butchered and every part of the corpse is used after its death, and although I eat a cheeseburger without hesitation, I couldn’t help feeling that the slow, public murder of these animals wasn’t something to applaud. Still, I’m glad I went to see the historical and cultural event.
Where to begin again after the bullfight? Well let’s just start anew with Portugal for the next post. This one’s pretty darn long already!
The big night started with dinner at a favorite tapas restaurant with a big group of friends before heading to Los Remedios (a neighborhood in Sevilla), where the extensive fairgrounds for FERIA are set up! ~~Feria is an enormous week-long festival every year in Spanish cities (the biggest and best of them in Sevilla) in which the city sets up hundreds of private and a few public tents called casetas, complete with bars, dancing and even an amusement park section! Women wear fabulous and ridiculously pricey flamenco dresses and men dress up in their sharpest suits- it’s one hell of a spectacle~~ Anyway, my friend Kayla and I were both to turn 21 at midnight Monday night/Tuesday morning, at the very moment when the light to start Feria is lit! So we scheduled an early dinner at Los Coloniales with about 14 friends where we wined and dined and then headed off to a bar to pre-game for Feria. (Okay, I’m officially 21 now and I was certainly of legal age to drink my whole time in Sevilla, so I’m not scoldable now for talking about drinking on my birthday. Well, we went to a bar famous for its quantity of shots. And since Kayla and I were the birthday girls, people bought us lots of them! We were in pretty good shape as we headed to Feria for the midnight lighting. It was such a fantastic and even cultural way to turn 21 in Spain! There was a little countdown and then a big celebration like New Year’s at the moment we turned 21! SO COOL!! Then we went into Feria and to the public casetas for an incredible 21st birthday night! SUCCESS.
April 20-
My parents came! Sure, I thought about the day-of feelings I would have after the nighttime birthday revelry, but my parents came to Sevilla to see me! So I sucked it up and woke up at 11 to go meet them and show them my city! It had been such a long time so I was thrilled to see them at last! They were a tad jet-lagged and starved, so we started slow with a cute outdoor café in the Santa Cruz district. Mom enjoyed a tinto de verano (very popular drink in Andalucia comprised of red wine and lemon soda), but I could only handle water and plain toast… We got to catch up and enjoy each other’s company, and then we walked through the city to my favorite place in Sevilla: the Alcazares. Los Reales Alcazares means the Royal Fortress, which is now a palace for the royal family of Spain when they come to Sevilla, as well as a museum. The buildings are fantastically decorated with lots of ornate Moorish influences and we got an audio-guided tour. My favorite part, however, is outside. The gardens of the Alcazares go on forever! There are mazes and fountains and paths and flowers and orange trees and even peacocks meandering around! It’s gorgeous! We refreshed ourselves after the heat and walking with some gelato before splitting to get cleaned up for the night.
I met my parents and three of my friends at La Isla for my big birthday dinner (round 2)! The place was lovely and my parents had fun meeting Abby, Maya and Rozina and getting to know the people I’ve been hanging with these past months! I had a birthday cheesecake and of course the table started singing to me. Then the whole room joined in to sing Feliz Cumpleanos, and then the Moroccan waiter even chimed in with the Arabic version! So I had Happy Birthday sung to me in three different languages and then had to stand up and curtsy to the room. I think because I’m 21 I will no longer be embarrassed by those kinds of shenanigans, and now I choose to enjoy them! So it was a blast! After dinner, my poor exhausted parents went back to get a good night’s rest, but since it was birthday, I was expected to go out. I was drained from the night before, but I rallied! We went back to Feria and met up with a group to celebrate once again! We made it over to the amusement park and went on a crazy-fast Ferris wheel and some other silly rides. And that, folks, is how I spent my 21st birthday. One for the record books.
The rest of the week my parents and I toured Sevilla and got to do some really cool things. Wednesday my parents came to my neighborhood Triana. I showed them some of my local haunts and then my señora Julia invited us for lunch. My roommate’s family was in Sevilla too, so we all sat down for a potentially conversation-stunted meal. Alas it went great! Christa and I translated really well (impressed the parents and let them know we were doing some work after all in Spain) and Julia was the center of it all! She didn’t feel awkward and even let me ask her about 792364 questions from my parents. We sat there for nearly three hours! I think it was a pretty special experience for our parents because they get to experience what a real Spanish señora, home and meal are like- nothing touristy or artificial, and they got to see how we have really been living these past months!
Then after lunch we went to Feria to experience it in the daytime. I’m putting up an entire photo blog post next because the images I have can explain what everything’s like so much better than my words, particularly for Feria. The dresses, the tents (called casetas), the horses, the music- it’s an amazing sight. According to Julia, on any given day there might be as many as one million people there! And all the women and girls dress up in elaborate flamenco dresses with flowers and combs in their hair, color-coordinated jewelry, woven shawls, and bright flamenco shoes or espadrilles. I’m not kidding- they really go all out. It’s a stunning spectacle. The men have it easier, but they do look rather dapper in their sharp suits. Some special Sevillanos ride in horse-driven carriages decorated with bells and pom poms. We weren’t of the partying crew that day, but it was still thrilling to wander and people watch. We even saw a rainbow over Feria (rainbows are following me)! That night my friend Noah who was visiting Sevilla from Montpelier joined my parents and me for a delicious Spanish dinner at a cute restaurant on the river.
The next day we toured more of Sevilla. I showed them my university building, my usual routes to and from class, my gym, and, towering over all of the above, Sevilla’s Cathedral. There we ran into Noah, so he joined us for a few other adventures that day. The Cathedral is gorgeous, Moorish-influenced, and utterly massive- definitely not like walking into any other old church. Chapels upon chapels, a massively massive organ, rooms full of precious jewel and crowns, and the famous high point of Sevilla, the tall Giralda Tower. Dad, Noah and I climbed the tower and got to see all of my beautiful Sevilla from a fantastic spot. Then I took the three of them on a little tour of my Sevilla hot spots and we wound up at a tasty outdoor pizza place!
After lunch, the ‘rents and I had tickets to the bullfight! Some friends of mine had already been to one and told me they found it an incredibly sad and depressing experience. Each show consists of three matadors (with many skilled sidekicks) killing two bulls each- so the audience watches as six bulls are slowly butchered. The concept is a sad one, yes, but millions of Spaniards adore this “art,” and have for thousands of years, so I had to experience it for myself to judge.
We sat in an upper shaded area, which was a nice respite from the early searing sun. After muttering countless questions among ourselves (“Why is the bull already bleeding when it comes out?” “What’s the music for?” “Which one is the matador?”), I asked the couple sitting next to me to explain a thing or three (“They tag the bull to identify its owner so it bleeds a little,” “The band plays three times in each corrida to separate the jobs of the types of toreros,” “The matador comes out last with the red cape”), and they were our references for the remainder of the corrida.
First, all three matadors come out in their fine “trajes de luz” (literally “light suits” - they are the traditional, highly decorated, tight suits the matadors wear). Only the matadors have the right to wear white- some like the color for its stark contrast to the bull’s blood that will rub off on the matador if he is daring enough to get so close. The matadors prance around to applause and then return to safety outside the ring to let the first bull and a team of banderilleros out.
Banderilleros tease and tire the bull out by making him run from one pink bandera to another. Then three banderilleros stick the bull between the shoulder blades with two short blades with paper-covered poles that show the blood dripping out. Next, the picador comes out on a horse covered in heavy metal armor. For some reason the horse drives the bull crazy and he repeatedly spears the bull in its underbelly. Only decades ago the horse wasn’t covered at all and most died. The picador is the torero sitting on the horse with a super-long spear that he digs into the bull’s back. With this and the banderilleros’ hits, the bull gets weaker and weaker and finally the matador, the most experienced torero, enters the bullring.
In my opinion, the matador does much less than the other guys, but I suppose it takes plenty of experience to get to his level. The matador arrives with his red cape and some serious swagger. (Truth- they are the biggest celebrities in Spain- on par with Cristiano Ronaldo and Javier Bardem- these guys get all the ladies.) This is the artistic part: the matador heralds his red cape and teases the bull, coaxing him into a close blow, and then swirling out of the way of the bull’s deadly horns just at the last second. The closer the matador gets, the more swirling he does, and the more he has his back toward the bull, the more the crowd loves him. Some matadors were more impressive than others, and the crowd would shout and stand and yell for the band to play for the better moves they saw. Then, after much dancing around the bleeding, exhausted and humiliated bull, the matador pulls his sword out from behind the red cape and spears the beast through the heart. It’s obvious the moment it dies, crumbling to the ground, and then falling sideways and rigid. For its final humiliation, a team of donkeys arrives and drags the bull around the ring, drawing a victorious trail of blood out of the arena.
So this is the process of the bullfight. I try to tell it as artistically as I saw it. It’s such a practiced and appreciated art that it was easy to get drawn into the performance of it all. Still, I was one of few who did not clap. While I’m told the bulls are butchered and every part of the corpse is used after its death, and although I eat a cheeseburger without hesitation, I couldn’t help feeling that the slow, public murder of these animals wasn’t something to applaud. Still, I’m glad I went to see the historical and cultural event.
Where to begin again after the bullfight? Well let’s just start anew with Portugal for the next post. This one’s pretty darn long already!
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Painting the town blue in Morocco!
April flew by so fast! After my adventures in Italy, I had a week of class, a fun weekend at the beach, another week of class, and then a whirlwind of activity!
The weekend of April 16 I went to Morocco with my interest group. This was a trip organized by my program so we a packed itinerary and a big group.
April 16-
We left early in the morning and bussed to the coast to board a ferry to Morocco. It was an indoor ferry and moved a lot so there was a bit of seasickness among the group. My friend and I wanted to walk about, and had to zig-zag everywhere! Not the kind of ferry I’m used to, but it was fun! Then we arrived on the African continent!! We were technically still in Spain because we had to go through customs over there, so it underwhelming, but we eventually passed into Morocco! We drove through Morocco to our hotel in Tangier- it was less scenic than planned because heavy fog covered the views of the mountains. We dropped our stuff at the rather seedy hotel and bussed off to our lunch at this great restaurant in Tangier. We had cous cous and other traditional Moroccan food. They love their tea in Morocco, so that was plentiful. I’m not a big tea person, but my friends were happy to drink mine.
We were all exhausted after rising early, traveling and a big meal. We had no idea what a long day we had ahead of us! Our guide’s name was Abdul, though he thought it was funny to ask us to call him Michael Douglas. I did not. He was not my favorite guide, but he brought us to some cool places.
First we went to an art school, where students from six to 16 created all sorts of amazing things: ceramics, fabrics, weaving, whittling, metalwork- it was astounding! If they had had a gift shop, I would definitely have bought some of their amazing art!
Then we walked through the market streets where we saw EVERYTHING. First we saw pens of dozens of live chickens. Then next door were the butcher shops with plucked dead chickens hanging from the ceiling. There were piles of dead fish, tables of fresh produce, and baskets upon baskets of colorful and deliciously fragrant spices. The smells were super varied at every step as the stalls showcased different edible products.
Speaking of smells, we wound our way through the markets, stopping at the tenery. I didn’t know quite what to expect, but got a little worried when Abdul handed each of us a handful of fresh spearmint, “for your nose,” he said. We stepped into the tenery clutching our mint leaves and soon stuffed them up our noses. There were giant pools of animal hides all around us, and they reeeeeeked. In hindsight, it was cool to see the process of making leather, but at that moment, we wanted OUT. We passed a few more disgusting sights that I’ll refrain from mentioning, and finally left the tenery.
The rest of the day consisted of touring the town, stopping every 100 feet for an explanation of some doorway or mosque or Jewish quarter or type of clothing. Everything we learned was really fascinating, but everyone was exhausted and had a hard time retaining everything. We had some evening tea, and a Muslim man came to tell us about Islam and allow us to ask questions. It was really interesting, actually, but he only let about four people ask questions before quickly saying, “No more, ok, bye!” and booking it. At least we got a little info. From there we returned to our hotel for dinner and goodnight.
April 17-
Up early and out to visit different towns in Morocco. We traveled to the coastal town of Assilah first. It was stunning. Right on the Atlantic side with a gorgeous village and little fishing boats. As we walked up toward the lookout point, a man showed up with a monkey! He started putting it on peoples’ shoulders and then the monkey got a little more playful and hopped up to their heads! I had a monkey on my head! It was so cool and the monkey so adorable that I didn’t mind giving the man a Euro. Come to think about it, he must make a lot of money with that monkey- there were a lot of us! After wandering along the edge of a fort and seeing the beautiful ocean view, we had free time to wander (i.e. shop). Abby and I made our way toward the leather goods stalls. I snagged a few gifts for some lucky people back home. I also found a great leather purse that has already broken. Hopefully the two adorable pairs of colorful leather flats I bought will meet a kinder fate. Then we made our way back to the bus to go grab lunch at a restaurant that looked out over the intersection of the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean!
After lunch we bussed a small parking lot filled with camels. Yeah, riding camels is so touristy now that all you have to do is pull up on the side of the road and a camel will walk you around in a circle or two. I jest, but it was such a fun experience. I watched a few people take their turns and wondered why everyone leaned back and shrieked at nearly every movement the camel made. Then Abby and I hopped on for our turn. I was in the front and now I understand perfectly the extreme leaning. I do believe camels are very strong and capable animals, but it felt like he was about to do a somersault I was leaning forward so much! So I squished poor Abby and leaned back as far as I could as we stood up. Then we took our turn around the lot. That camel switched it hips so wide I almost wanted to try the posting I learned at horseback riding camp so many years ago! We had so much fun and were hysterically laughing the entire time. Then came the terrifying leaning experience when we had to go down again. As much fun as I had, I did feel a little bad for the camels- image having to squat and stand over and over again carrying two humans on your back. Poor things. They’d probably rather be in the desert.
After the camels, we headed to Tetuan and had a tea planned with some Moroccan students. We were both supposed to practice our Spanish and learn about each other’s lifestyles, but there were only four Moroccans and about 25 of us, so really we just got drinks and chatted amongst ourselves. And then we were released for more shopping! A less successful shopping trip than the previous day’s, but then again, that’s probably good for me. I did get to wander through some more markets and snapped a picture of a kitten staring at the chicken butchering counter- it’s like he was posing for me. So after not shopping and being hassled beyond decency by vendors, we were back on the bus and to the hotel.
April 18-
This might have been the coolest day of the weekend, but it ended up pouring like crazy. (Yes, it does rain in Africa! In Morocco, in fact, it rained a TON!) We drove to a town called Chefchaouen in the mountains. The drive alone was utterly fantastic- stunning vistas of well-watered mountains amidst the graceful fog. Then we came to the blue town. Apparently in Chefchaouen, the Jewish neighborhoods used to be painted blue to identify themselves. Now, it’s all blue! In an act of social and cultural inclusion some years ago, the people of Chefchaouen decided to paint the entire city (or up to as far as their brushed could reach, usually about 10 feet high) blue! And they scheduled our arrival for Europe’s Earth Day, which in Chefchaouen means that everyone comes out with their paint buckets to repaint their walls. It was the cutest/coolest thing! We had to be careful taking pictures, though, as our guide told us people didn’t like having their pictures taken because they were afraid of ending up on postcards as cultural spectacles. I’m not selling any postcards, so I took a few subtle pictures and some obvious ones of the people who didn’t mind as much.
After the blue town tour, we had more free time to shop. I got a few gifts before running out of dirham. 11 dirham = 1 Euro. I tell you this because I got very pissed when I tried to buy some adorable colored leather bracelets for 1 Euro each (they were supposed to be 10 dirham) and the guy wouldn’t let me buy them because he decided 8 dirham = 1 Euro. Anyhoo, I got my bracelets because the wonderful Abby had dirham and accepted my Euros. I found most of the salespeople in Morocco to be not super friendly- just my experience. Anyway, halfway through our shopping ventures, the rain came. Sheets and sheets of rain ran down the dirt streets and it was just a mess. We arrived at the lunch restaurant soaked and rather freezing (not how we pictured our Africa weekend). The delicious lunch made up for it, though. Then, sadly, we slowly made our way back toward Ceuta to the ferry and bus on the other side. We ended our trip with a fun ride home, annoying the bus driver with everything from Mulan to Moulin Rouge. And a rainbow followed us! So all in all, yes, Morocco was the shit.
The weekend of April 16 I went to Morocco with my interest group. This was a trip organized by my program so we a packed itinerary and a big group.
April 16-
We left early in the morning and bussed to the coast to board a ferry to Morocco. It was an indoor ferry and moved a lot so there was a bit of seasickness among the group. My friend and I wanted to walk about, and had to zig-zag everywhere! Not the kind of ferry I’m used to, but it was fun! Then we arrived on the African continent!! We were technically still in Spain because we had to go through customs over there, so it underwhelming, but we eventually passed into Morocco! We drove through Morocco to our hotel in Tangier- it was less scenic than planned because heavy fog covered the views of the mountains. We dropped our stuff at the rather seedy hotel and bussed off to our lunch at this great restaurant in Tangier. We had cous cous and other traditional Moroccan food. They love their tea in Morocco, so that was plentiful. I’m not a big tea person, but my friends were happy to drink mine.
We were all exhausted after rising early, traveling and a big meal. We had no idea what a long day we had ahead of us! Our guide’s name was Abdul, though he thought it was funny to ask us to call him Michael Douglas. I did not. He was not my favorite guide, but he brought us to some cool places.
First we went to an art school, where students from six to 16 created all sorts of amazing things: ceramics, fabrics, weaving, whittling, metalwork- it was astounding! If they had had a gift shop, I would definitely have bought some of their amazing art!
Then we walked through the market streets where we saw EVERYTHING. First we saw pens of dozens of live chickens. Then next door were the butcher shops with plucked dead chickens hanging from the ceiling. There were piles of dead fish, tables of fresh produce, and baskets upon baskets of colorful and deliciously fragrant spices. The smells were super varied at every step as the stalls showcased different edible products.
Speaking of smells, we wound our way through the markets, stopping at the tenery. I didn’t know quite what to expect, but got a little worried when Abdul handed each of us a handful of fresh spearmint, “for your nose,” he said. We stepped into the tenery clutching our mint leaves and soon stuffed them up our noses. There were giant pools of animal hides all around us, and they reeeeeeked. In hindsight, it was cool to see the process of making leather, but at that moment, we wanted OUT. We passed a few more disgusting sights that I’ll refrain from mentioning, and finally left the tenery.
The rest of the day consisted of touring the town, stopping every 100 feet for an explanation of some doorway or mosque or Jewish quarter or type of clothing. Everything we learned was really fascinating, but everyone was exhausted and had a hard time retaining everything. We had some evening tea, and a Muslim man came to tell us about Islam and allow us to ask questions. It was really interesting, actually, but he only let about four people ask questions before quickly saying, “No more, ok, bye!” and booking it. At least we got a little info. From there we returned to our hotel for dinner and goodnight.
April 17-
Up early and out to visit different towns in Morocco. We traveled to the coastal town of Assilah first. It was stunning. Right on the Atlantic side with a gorgeous village and little fishing boats. As we walked up toward the lookout point, a man showed up with a monkey! He started putting it on peoples’ shoulders and then the monkey got a little more playful and hopped up to their heads! I had a monkey on my head! It was so cool and the monkey so adorable that I didn’t mind giving the man a Euro. Come to think about it, he must make a lot of money with that monkey- there were a lot of us! After wandering along the edge of a fort and seeing the beautiful ocean view, we had free time to wander (i.e. shop). Abby and I made our way toward the leather goods stalls. I snagged a few gifts for some lucky people back home. I also found a great leather purse that has already broken. Hopefully the two adorable pairs of colorful leather flats I bought will meet a kinder fate. Then we made our way back to the bus to go grab lunch at a restaurant that looked out over the intersection of the Mediterranean Sea and the Atlantic Ocean!
After lunch we bussed a small parking lot filled with camels. Yeah, riding camels is so touristy now that all you have to do is pull up on the side of the road and a camel will walk you around in a circle or two. I jest, but it was such a fun experience. I watched a few people take their turns and wondered why everyone leaned back and shrieked at nearly every movement the camel made. Then Abby and I hopped on for our turn. I was in the front and now I understand perfectly the extreme leaning. I do believe camels are very strong and capable animals, but it felt like he was about to do a somersault I was leaning forward so much! So I squished poor Abby and leaned back as far as I could as we stood up. Then we took our turn around the lot. That camel switched it hips so wide I almost wanted to try the posting I learned at horseback riding camp so many years ago! We had so much fun and were hysterically laughing the entire time. Then came the terrifying leaning experience when we had to go down again. As much fun as I had, I did feel a little bad for the camels- image having to squat and stand over and over again carrying two humans on your back. Poor things. They’d probably rather be in the desert.
After the camels, we headed to Tetuan and had a tea planned with some Moroccan students. We were both supposed to practice our Spanish and learn about each other’s lifestyles, but there were only four Moroccans and about 25 of us, so really we just got drinks and chatted amongst ourselves. And then we were released for more shopping! A less successful shopping trip than the previous day’s, but then again, that’s probably good for me. I did get to wander through some more markets and snapped a picture of a kitten staring at the chicken butchering counter- it’s like he was posing for me. So after not shopping and being hassled beyond decency by vendors, we were back on the bus and to the hotel.
April 18-
This might have been the coolest day of the weekend, but it ended up pouring like crazy. (Yes, it does rain in Africa! In Morocco, in fact, it rained a TON!) We drove to a town called Chefchaouen in the mountains. The drive alone was utterly fantastic- stunning vistas of well-watered mountains amidst the graceful fog. Then we came to the blue town. Apparently in Chefchaouen, the Jewish neighborhoods used to be painted blue to identify themselves. Now, it’s all blue! In an act of social and cultural inclusion some years ago, the people of Chefchaouen decided to paint the entire city (or up to as far as their brushed could reach, usually about 10 feet high) blue! And they scheduled our arrival for Europe’s Earth Day, which in Chefchaouen means that everyone comes out with their paint buckets to repaint their walls. It was the cutest/coolest thing! We had to be careful taking pictures, though, as our guide told us people didn’t like having their pictures taken because they were afraid of ending up on postcards as cultural spectacles. I’m not selling any postcards, so I took a few subtle pictures and some obvious ones of the people who didn’t mind as much.
After the blue town tour, we had more free time to shop. I got a few gifts before running out of dirham. 11 dirham = 1 Euro. I tell you this because I got very pissed when I tried to buy some adorable colored leather bracelets for 1 Euro each (they were supposed to be 10 dirham) and the guy wouldn’t let me buy them because he decided 8 dirham = 1 Euro. Anyhoo, I got my bracelets because the wonderful Abby had dirham and accepted my Euros. I found most of the salespeople in Morocco to be not super friendly- just my experience. Anyway, halfway through our shopping ventures, the rain came. Sheets and sheets of rain ran down the dirt streets and it was just a mess. We arrived at the lunch restaurant soaked and rather freezing (not how we pictured our Africa weekend). The delicious lunch made up for it, though. Then, sadly, we slowly made our way back toward Ceuta to the ferry and bus on the other side. We ended our trip with a fun ride home, annoying the bus driver with everything from Mulan to Moulin Rouge. And a rainbow followed us! So all in all, yes, Morocco was the shit.
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