Two Weeks, Two Continents Part VII: Salamanca

Alternate Title: Not Touristing, Visiting

Occasionally, I go somewhere not for the place, but for the person. This was the case for my trip to Salamanca. A friend of mine from college is currently studying there and since France was so close to Spain, I figured I might as well stop by and say hello.

Salamanca is a fairly small city. It kind of made me think of Aix. A nice compact downtown with a few other things surrounding it. My friend did her best to play tour guide. She had a whole itinerary planned before I even arrived and was ready to get to it immediately.

This was fine with me as usually I end up aimlessly wandering in a city so having a bit of a plan was a novelty for me. She sent me the itinerary to aid in my blog writing and it is adorable. Shame that when she visits me I will not be nearly so well prepared.

We started our adventure by stopping by the Plaza Mayor. This was very similar to the plaza mayor in Madrid, I assume Spain maintains a similar style in its big plazas. It also made me think of la Grand Place in Brussels, though that one is so much more ornate. We ate some pastries in the plaza. About half of my friend’s plan was food related, something I was certainly not against.

Next, we went to Palacio de la Salina which was a library which was holding a free exhibit thing. It was all about historical pictures and texts of Salamanca. And it was all in Spanish so I got to struggle through to understand. Nothing makes you feel so accomplished as understanding a random library exhibit written in foreign.

The library is housed in a very cool building with these grand statues and gargoyle type things. Salamanca had lots of weird statues and ornaments on its buildings.

They also have some really bizarre statues of fat women all over the place. We’re talkin’ obese people in minimal clothing dancing, biking, laughing, etc. I feel like some people find this charming. I was pretty much just confused. I thought they looked kind of weird, but not everyone can appreciate great art I guess.

We visited the cave of Salamanca. Which you couldn’t really enter but could look at. Instead of goingin the cave you were able to climb a tower next to it and look out over the city. This was a nice view and we stayed for a bit to chat.

We continued our chat into a nearby park the Huerto de Calixto y Melinda which was made famous due to the fact that some guy wrote about it. I say famous a bit lightly since I have never heard of it, but maybe some of you have. After all fame is relative to those that know of it.

We passed through the Casa de las Conchas, also a library. This one is known because the outside is covered with stone clamshells. It makes for an interesting polka dot pattern.

Next we spent awhile wandering around the Plaza del Oeste. The neighborhood surrounding the plaza is covered with murals, apparently the people there thought their homes were ugly and decided to spice them up with some dope graffiti art. I loved seeing the big murals and the little tags all over the place. Each corner held a new surprise.

We had some excellent cheesecake at a nearby restaurant and then enjoyed the nightime lights of the Plaza Mayor. It was gorgeous all lit up and filled with people. A little boy was kicking a ball around and constantly ended up accidentally hitting others who were more than happy to tap it back to him. I love seeing those little moments of life. You’ll see them no matter where you are.

We grabbed a few sandwiches for a proper dinner and then went our separate ways for bed.

The next morning we saw my favorite thing in Salamanca, the Cielo de Salamanca. It’s a large fresco that makes up one half of a dome. Apparently, there was never a second half, the architect just liked it this way. It’s hidden back by the university and walking in I was taken aback at how pretty it was. It was a sky filled with constellations and pictures of the corresponding stories. We stared into it for quite awhile and I loved it.

We then wandered into the museum of Salamanca, which was free for the weekend, the best type of museum. It was filled with art and some artifacts from the area. I really loved the photography room. People were caught in all sorts of interesting spots in there. They had some really beautiful stuff and I loved looking at it. I think photography gets under appreciated as an art form when compared to masterful paintings, but it can be just as impactful,

Outside the museum is the University of Salamanca and their overly ornate facade. It’s covered in little statues and designs. Apparently is you can find the hidden frog you will have good luck. I was unsuccessful on my own but after much prompting and pointing my friend was able to show it to me. I don’t think that counts for the luck, but I can say I saw it.

That was really it so far as activities for the trip. We got some pastries for lunch and hung out and talked for the remainder of my time in Salamanca. Salamanca was a nice city but what made it worthwhile was my friend. I loved seeing her after so long and getting to reminisce a little about college. Nothing can beat friendship.

I spent that night at the Madrid airport, always a party, and headed home to France in the morning. My February break was excellent. Filled with adventure and friends, I really enjoyed it. Now I gotta start planning my next adventure. Hope you enjoyed reading about this one!

Until next time à plus!

Two Weeks, Two Continents, Part VI: Madrid

Alternate Title: Going it Alone

After my little taste of Spanish practice on my desert trip it was time to really put my money where my mouth is in Spain. First stop: Madrid.

Not only was I trying to practice un poco español, I was also trying out some solo travel. This would be my first time really exploring a city all on my own. It turned out pretty good. When traveling alone there is no coordination. No asking “what do you want to do? Or “ what do you want to eat?” You just do it. I started my day with my favorite activity, a walking tour. I think it’s best to start with a tour because then you get to see many of the possible sites you may want to visit more in depth later. Our guide was very good, he showed us a lot of interesting places and had some great stories about the city.

My favorite fun facts were that Madrid comes not from a Spanish word, but an Arabic one. Madrid was occupied by Arabs from North Africa for a very long time before the Spanish laid claim to it. Another fun fact: Spain has excellent nicknames for their kings. My favorite is Philllip the Loser. Why bother remembering all those Roman numerals when you can just give the king an amazing nickname?

I was a little surprised to learn that Spain still has a king. After their dictator Franco died they restored the monarchy. It’s weird to me that less than 50 years ago a new(ish) monarchy was established. And although he did turn out to be cool and made a constitution and democracy, he was still a king. Maybe it’s just my American brain, but to me monarchies seem ancient, not new. But the Spanish seem more or less okay with their king, for now at least.

After our tour I decided to head over to the Palacio Real. The royal family no longer lives here, but they occasionally still hold state functions here, so it is still pretty palace-y. Apparently, it is the biggest palace in Western Europe, I definitely believe that.

It’s absolutely gorgeous. It’s filled with stunning paintings and enamel, and chandeliers made of thousands of crystals. It can 100% give Versailles a run for its money. Makes sense since it was made by the French Borbon family who took over the throne of Spain after the Hapsburg line died out. European monarchies are so interconnected it’s crazy.

Unfortunately, the prettiest part of the palace prohibited pictures. But that did not stop me from gawping at all the beauty and staring wide eyed at the ceiling. If you are ever in Madrid do not miss the palace. It is seriously awe inspiring.

Outside the decadent living chambers the palace had a temporary exhibit about Spain’s role in WWI. You may recall that Spain stayed neutral in both world wars, I didn’t, but you may have paid more attention in history class. Despite staying neutral the king Alfonso XIII, still wanted to help. He wanted to help the people more than the war.

So, Spain became a sort of liaison between the two sides. Feilding letters from families trying to find loved ones or get POWs freed. Throughout the war Spain was able to provided much wanted news to many families and help to make living conditions better for many soldiers. You hear so many depressing stories about the world wars that it is nice to see a country focused solely on helping the people affected by the war, rather than worrying how to better fight it.

The exhibit provided a challenge in understanding it as a lot of the information was only in Spanish. My two years of Spanish class were really tested, and I think they paid off. I didn’t get everything, nor was I willing to struggle through every plaque, but I think I got more information than I would have otherwise. Knowing more languages really does open your horizons and give you opportunities you wouldn’t have had. Everyone focuses on the job opportunities and ability to speak with more people, but languages can help in smaller ways, like helping you better enjoy a museum. It also gave me a confidence boost that I was able to understand as much as I did without needing to translate things.

After my foray into the royal palace I got some much needed lunch. And then to the Retiro park to relax and people watch for a bit. I found an empty bench by the big fountain and just watched for a while. Sitting and contemplating is an underrated tourist attraction. If you’ve been reading my blog long enough you’ll remember that my favorite activity in Paris was sitting by the Seine doing nothing. Sometimes it’s good to stop and enjoy the world and the city you are in.

Alas contemplation doesn’t last forever. My next stop was the Prada museum where I took advantage of their free entry time. Every day they allow guests in for free for the last two hours they are open. This is an excellent business model and I think everyone should adopt it. The palace actually does this as well, but I’m glad I paid for that one and gave myself more time. I was in there for about three hours.

An art museum doesn’t require quite as much time, for missing a painting doesn’t feel as devastating as missing a castle wing. I was mildly disappointed that the museum didn’t have more Impressionism, as that is my favorite style, but it did still have lots of cool art.

The best thing to do when looking at scenes with people is to look at the expressions. There were so many golden expressions of exasperation, delight, and mischief on the walls of the Prado, some of them made me laugh out loud and get bemused looks from security guards.

I also love getting real close to a painting and seeing how the artist used color. Seeing individual colors work together to create a different color all together is crazy. The best thing my art teacher ever told me was that black is never black. Unless you are looking at some new age abstract painting you will almost never see pure black on a painting. Shadows are always made of blues and purples and greens. Next time you see a painting look at it properly. Get up close and focus not on the whole but the individual aspects of the painting, you will not be disappointed.

The Prado was not my favorite art museum, that distinction was still lies with the Art Institute in Chicago (probably followed by Orsay in Paris) but it was still fun. I didn’t recognize any paintings which made everything an adventure. Every corner was new and unexpected.

The Prado was pretty much my last stop in Madrid, after that I grabbed dinner and headed back to my hostel. Madrid is a good city. It had lots of interesting things to do and see and a generally good energy. It pushed me to try and understand the words around me and use a bit of my own Spanish. Next up time to visit a friend in Salamanca.

Until next time, à plus!

Two Weeks, Two Continents Part V: The Sahara

Alternate Title: Hump Day

Every city or country has that thing that you do. You must climb the Eiffel Tower in France and see the Statue of Liberty in America. In Morocco, you must go to the desert and ride a camel.

While planning our trip we looked through countless websites to find the best tour company. In the end we chose a three day two night tour through igomorocco tours. Turns up the company doesn’t really matter as in our tour group we had people from four decades fervent companies on one bus. So if they all look the same, that’s cause they are.

Our tour was meant to pick us up from our hostel, so at 7:20 we were up and ready to adventure. The longer we waited the more anxious I got. Our tour company gave us a 25 minute window in which they might arrive but still I wanted them to arrive exactly on time.

One of the workers at our hostel did not help matters as he tried to get us to follow him and a few other people going on a desert tour saying he knew re we were meeting. He was pretty insistent despite us saying we were meant to wait at the hostel. I think he was genuinely trying to help but it was more confusing than anything else.

In the end our actual guide arrived, he knew our names and everything, and we made it onto our bus safe and sound. We specifically picked a group tour because I think private tours are kind of weird. I always feel awkward in a taxi for 10 minutes, I don’t wasn’t to be alone with a stranger for three days. So, I got to meet lots of people in our group from all over the world.

I got to practice my Spanish with a group of Spaniards near me on the bus. Primarily this means I eavesdropped o them. We ended up eating lunch together and one of them got real surprised when I laughed at her joke. Please note this was not only creepy eavesdropping, I did tell them I spoke some Spanish at the beginning of the meal. Never assume those around you don’t understand you, just because my speaking isn’t great in Spanish does not mean my comprehension is not good.

We also had a few French speakers on the bus so I got to practice a little bit of all my languages on the trip. Morocco is filled with foreigners and hearing two or three languages casually being thrown around seems pretty normal. Everyone here seems to speak at least two languages, if not three or four.

Our tour had a lot of driving in it, but we got some really excellent views. We started by driving through the Atlas mountains which were a gorgeous red color whith random stretches of blue thrown in. In order to see them I was constantly wiping condensation off my window. It was worth the little bit of extra effort to see the colors though. We stopped a few times to get some photos, including at the highest point in the mountains. The highest easily reachable point at least. We could see a few snowy peaks above us, and also some clouds below, so I think we got high enough.

Once we escaped the mountains and I had a quick nap we arrived at the UNESCO heritage city of Ait Ben Haddou. I feel like half of Europe is a UNESCO site so makes sense I saw one in Africa as well.

It’s what you classically think a desert city is. Squat adobe houses on a hillside. Maybe it’s the stereotype because it really is the stereotype. A lot of movies set in a desert were filmed here including Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator and most importantly, Game of Thrones. Once again I have accidentally stood where the khaleesi stood. Unfortunately, there were no dragons lying around.

A few structures remain from some old movies, but nothing recent. Once it was declared a UNESCO site all film companies are required to clean up after themselves. Like the old Girl Scout motto, take nothing but film reels leaving nothing but footprints.

We had a guide lead us through the city, which was pretty cool and had some good view of the desert. My favorite thing that we saw was a burning painting. They have a special painting technique where they use oils and natural ingredients to make a black design and then reveal their color when put against a heat source. A cool way to paint, or hide secret messages. You know, like something on, I don’t know the back of the Declaration of Independence. but that’s just one way you can use it.

We had an overpriced lunch and then back to the bus for another scenic and long drive. I’m not usually one to watch the window but I did little else on my desert tour. The landscape of Morocco just seems so different than that of America.

We reached our hotel which turned out to be much nicer than any I would book myself. We felt so pampered to be in a hotel not a hostel. We knew it was fancy when it included both towels and stealable soap.

We had a big tagine dinner and then got to listen to the staff play some traditional Berber drums. I love that drums are such an easily jammable instrument. It sounded awesome. After a half hour of good drum playing, we were allowed to give it a go. If I learned one thing in my years of percussion, it was rhythm, I was able to copy our host pretty well and keep a beat going, my friend was not so lucky and kept failing spectacularly when she tried to match someone else’s beat.We spent a good while messing around Ion the drums before heading to bed.

Our morning was going really well until we tried to retrieve our bags from our room after breakfast. When I put the key into our lock I turned it to no avail, we were locked out. This was not just our mistake but the door’s. The worker we asked for help ended up getting a screwdriver and pulling the handle off the door. We escaped the room after that and got back to the bus.

We started by going to a Berber village and learning more about the Berber people. The Berbers were the first group to live in Morocco, generally in the southern part of the country near the desert. Their language looks very cool. With all the respect in the world, my friend said it reminds her of the Wingdings font because to us westerners it looks more like symbols that an alphabet. It’s very cool seeing signs in Berber around the country.

We also learned about the nomadic people who live in the mountains. Apparently during the winter they come down and stay in the village while it’s cold and then ascend back into the mountains for the summer. Interesting that Morocco still has people that stay more separate from the “modern” lifestyle.

While in the village we visited a home where they made handmade rugs. We got a demonstration of how the rugs are made from the spinning all the way to the end product. It was very cool to see. I discovered the softest carpets were made of baby camel wool or agave silk. These were also the most expensive carpets of course.

After our rug tour we headed to the gorge to see the pretty rocks and the river. The cliff faces were huge, very very tall. Being at the bottom of a gorge really shows you how powerful a river can be. And now this majestic river which carved the canyon is more of a creek than anything.

On the side of the creek a man was hearding his goats and we got to see them fight a bit. Two of the goats were head butting each other over and over. They stopped after not too long so I guess they settled their differences.

After one more stretch on the bus it was time for the main event: camel riding.

Approaching the camels made me a bit nervous. I’d been eagerly awaiting this, but there was still a moment of fear and hesitation as I climbed aboard my noble steed. Camel riding is not like horse riding. First and foremost, no stirrups, so your feel just dangle on the side. Secondly, uncomfortable saddles. Horse saddles aren’t great either but camel saddles leave an immediate mark on your butt.

Their walk is very gentle though; you get into the swaying rhythm pretty quickly and that part is pretty nice.

Riding into the Sahara was surreal. The sand near the town is dirty and filled with pebbles, and suddenly it just turns into orangey-peach, dunes. Dunes which feel more like mountains than sand piles surround you. As far out as you look they swoop through the horizon dipping and changing just a bit as the breeze shifts the sand.

There was more than one time where I just stopped and thought to myself, “this is the Sahara desert, I’m on a camel.” You don’t really get used to the idea. But I did not only ponder the universe on my camel, I got distracted by some excitement.

We had three lines of camels, my group bringing up the rear. I’m pretty sure one of the camels in the group ahead was French because he decided to go on strike. Without much warning he just dropped down and the guy riding him jumped off real quick. our guides had to deal with the rouge camel. This meant that our line no longer had anyone leading it. The girl in front was not a fan of this development but her camel did a good job of sticking to the path and staying with the group.

The camel’s rider understandably did not want to get back on, so he ended up getting a lift to camp on an ATV.

This rebellion also lead to us naming our camels. The camel behind me kept sneezing so I named him Sneezy and then the rebellious camel became Grumpy. Once realizing the dwarf theme one girl demanded the name Thorin. However given His namesake’s insanity we decided to nix that and go with Gloin. Our lead camel ended up being called Dave because I misheard it’s rider try to name him Dane. The last two camels who had no riders were christened Kili and Fili and I named mine after my favorite honorary dwarf, Legolas.

Legolas did a great job the whole ride, we walked smoothly and had no rebellions. We made it camp and I demounted without trouble. Unfortunately, one of the things I had been looking forward to was the desert sky. The sunrises on the dunes and the endless stars in the sky. So typically, we had clouds all night covering any awesome stars. I figured this was karma, I had sun in Edinburgh and clouds in Africa.

It was still cool to camp in the desert. We had another tagine dinner and then played more music around the campfire. This time we ended up doing some really bad dancing. It was fun, everyone was being silly and shimmying and showing off their worst dance moves. Occasionally, we tried and failed to make a group dance move happen. There was general sense of camaraderie and shared amusement between us that was wonderful to experience.

After our drums and dancing ended I went out and sat on one of the dunes and looked at the moon, the only thing you could see through the cloud cover. It still sent cool shadows over the dunes and created a breathtaking atmosphere. The middle of the desert is very quiet, indescribably so. Even with the occasional human and camel noises it still felt utterly still and calm.

After a while of chatting and pondering the moon we went headed back into camp. I ended up sitting near the fire chatting with some of the guides for a bit. I finally got to see some Moroccan tea being made. Turns out it’s just green tea with a whole lot of sugar added. Our guided literally added half a brick of sugar to the pot.

A little after midnight I went to bed. I had heard many cautionary tales of how unbelievably cold the desert is at night. I didn’t really find it too bad. It was about as cold as any other camping trip. Maybe a bit more since it was February, but not the crazy cold people were describing. We also got three blankets each, so we didn’t really suffer.

In the morning it was out bright and early to our camels. Once again greeted by cloudy skies, so no sunrise. I’ll have the go find a nice desert sunrise somewhere to make up for my loss.

Getting back on Legolas definitely pushed on some sore spots so the second ride wasn’t quite as nice as the first, but we still had a good time watching the desert wake up.

After breakfast at a nearby hotel it was off in a nice long drive to Marrakech. I would 100% recommend going on a desert tour in Morocco. It was an experience you can’t really imagine until you do it. My night in the desert was definitely the highlight of my stay in Morocco.

Two Weeks, Two Continents, Part IV: Marrekech

Alternate title: Fez but Flat

The worst thing about an overnight bus is not sleeping on the bus, but the awkward arrival time. We left Fez at about 8 at night and arrived in Marrakech at 6 am. Which is way too early to do anything.

Being so early, we wanted to give our hostel a bit of time to wake up before we arrived so we decided to walk from the bus station to our hostel. The taxi drivers didn’t seem to get this message. As we walked down the street every a few feet another taxi would pull aside and offer us a ride. After about 20 no’s we were finally far enough from the bus stop that the taxis stopped swarming. Good effort guys, but you’d think after we rejected the first three taxis the others might have received the message.

We still ended up at our hostel pretty early and ended up awkwardly sitting twin the lobby for a bit. Eventually, we abandoned our bags at the hostel and set off on an adventure into the city.

Our hostel workers in Fez described Marrakech as “It’s Fez, but flat.” This described the medina pretty well honestly, and thank heavens for that. My calves were in sore need of a break from all the hills. Marrakech does have something Fez doesn’t: big museums.

Our first stop after breakfast was the Bahia palace. We heard this was the prettier palace in Marrakech, and since boats cost 70Dh we went for beauty. And boy was it beautiful. Carvings and mosaics litter the courtyards and the ceilings were covered in amazing murals and tiles.

I love the use of Arabic in the carving at the palace. Arabic is a beautiful language, both to hear and see. I could stare at the calligraphy for hours wondering what it says and appreciating the gentle curves If the words.

After the Bahia palace we stumbled into some tourist signs pointing the tapestry museum. When you don’t know much about a city randomly following tourist signs is a pretty good way to spend your time.

The museum was filled with the history of Moroccan rugs and the different styles and techniques. I loved watching the videos of artisans at work weaving. Weaving seems like witchcraft to me. I can’t wrap my head around how the thread stays in place and out comes a rug. Not the mention how wool twists into usable thread with no adhesive or anything. Rugs are crazy, man.

A lot of the rest of our day was spent wandering the medina and seeing the city center. Several times we ended in the famed Jemaa el-Fnaa square. They say this is the busiest square in Africa and I believe it. The place is absolutely massive with stalls and street performers constantly trying to get you to buy from them. My friend was approached by several shoe shiners looking for a client. Luckily no one wanted to shine my old tennis shoes so I was only bothered my every other type of vendor on the square.

Unlike the medina which is overwhelming but cool, the square is mostly just overwhelming, You can’t stop for a moment without being accosted by several different people. I wasn’t really a fan of the square. But it was cool to see once and a good landmark to use to navigate.

For our lunch we went to. Sort of Moroccan fusion restaurant where my friend got herself a camel burger. I had a bite and can confirm that it tasted a lot like a regular beef burger. The difference was in the texture which was a little more dense than a typical burger in the US. It’s always a little terrifying trying a new meat as your you never know why you are getting into.

 

Next was back into the medina for a few hours to some window shopping. My favorite section was the lamp market. I’ve always loved the lamp aisles at hardware stores and here was a whole section of an old time medina illuminated by gorgeous metal lamps. If I had more money and a proper house I’d be swimming in Moroccan lamps because I love them so much.

After a good wander we went back to our hostel for the night. I got to eat dinner at the hostel with a whole bunch of other guests as we chatted over tagine and bread. Hostels are great for meeting people and I chatted with some polish people for quite awhile. It’s always interesting to see different people’s perspectives on travelling. There is always that question of “why did you come here?” Which I feel like 90% of the time is answered with a “Why not?” It seems like most travelers do it just because. After all, why would you need a reason to explore the world?

The next morning saw us heading out bright and early onto a three day desert adventure. My second day in Marrekech after we returned wasn’t really noteworthy, pretty much I wandered and bought souvenirs for my family. I’m terrible at shopping Im way to indecisive about everything. Even when I have a set shopping list I’ll dither over it for ages trying to find exactly what I want. I’ll save you the boredom of reading about my suffering and just let you know that in the end, I did successfully get my souvenirs.

And that was Marrekech! It was a nice city and I liked getting to wander around so much. My next entry will tell you about my favorite part of my Moroccan trip: my trip into the Sahara.

Two Weeks Two Continents Part III: Fez

Alternate title: Fezzes Are Cool

After the blue city it was time for something a bit bigger, or a whole lot bigger: Fez. Why Fez? you ask, cause Fez is cool. Or maybe cause fezzes are cool, I’m never quite sure where Doctor Who ends and I begin.

We got into Fez at about 10 pm, so once we made it to our hostel it was time to flop int bed. But when morning came we were well enough rested and ready to go.

Our hostel in Fez had an excellent breakfast including delicious Moroccan tea and freshly cooked over easy eggs. Hostel breakfasts are such a toss up that really good ones are noteworthy.

After stuffing myself with hostel food it was time to explore. We started with a mission to reach the musée Batha, an art museum that we knew little about. We got pretty turned around on the way. If I could have one wish granted it would be that offline google maps would give walking directions. Fez has so many non drivable streets that getting turned around is inevitable.

We did eventually make it to the museum. It no cost 20Dh so it was very plainly worth it, but nothing inside was extraordinary. They had some cool mannequins wearing traditional clothes which I thought were very cool, and they had some nice pottery and metalwork. Like the museum in Tangiers this one was inside an old palace, so the tile work in the garden was beautiful. Moroccan gardens are much more wild than most that I see in Europe, rather than manicured lawns and hedges, they have ancient trees and leafy groundcover. I really love them.

Next we stumbled into the King’s palace, well his Fez palace anyway. From the outside it’s mostly a just a wall with a green roof, but it does have some very pretty Moroccan doors. Morocco is full of good doors and these weren’t especially noteworthy, but they were royal, so we snapped a picture. My friend was very amused by the guards outside who were all clustered in the shade, not quite the unmoving stony faces at Buckingham Palace, but still a palace guard.

Next we followed some random tourist signs and found my favorite place in Fez the Jardin Jnane Sibilant, a gorgeous botanical garden which is a free public park. My favorite part is that it is filled with water. There was a huge lake and a big fountain the shot at least ten feet into the air. They also had majestic old trees, a cactus garden, and a bamboo forest, all within one park. The weirdest thing was the birds. On one side they had a big bird cage which on one side, held either some pigeons or some doves, we were not sure. The other side had a peacock and his peahen posse. His feathers were glorious. He was sitting up in a branch so you could see his tail spayed below him, nothing beats a nice peacock.

We sat by the big fountain for awhile, appreciating it’s prettiness. Then the workers of the park betrayed me by turning it off. This gave us the kick in the pants we needed to head out of the park and into the medina.

They say the medina in Fez is the oldest in the world and also the biggest, I believe them. It is fit to bursting with shops and vendors winding through twisting corridors. It’s always bustling with people and vendors calling out trying to get you into their shops.

I started getting amused by the conversations the vendors had with themselves. They’d call out “Hello, where are you from? How are you?” And I would ignore them all, then a few would reply to themselves “I’m fine, thanks.” No matter how nice they seem don’t talk to the vendors unless you are interested in their shop, or they will certainly try very hard to pull you in.

The Fez medina is rampant with people trying to guide you to this tannery or some other one. They also can’t wait to ask for money to guide you to wherever you want to go. Ignore these people, especially the children. Don’t encourage them by accepting their offers.

I bought a trinket from one of the stalls and got to watch once again while they scrambled to find change. Everyone in Morocco wants to be payed in cash but no one has change. You’ll watch the vendor run down the street to find a friend who has some change he can give you. Even our hostel had to promise to give change to someone the next morning after they arrived. Cash culture is fine, but having change is sort of a must.

We ended up getting a lunch with a view from a little cafe we stumbled upon. They had a rooftop terrace which gave a wonderful panorama of the city and the mountains bedside it. They also had some really dope tagine. After much study, I think my favorite tagine is Kefta, also called meatball on many a English menus. It’s very delicious.

After that we took on the perilous task of trying to escape the medina. Between google maps, and random tourist signs, we eventually made it out of the medina and out into the world. Here we had a new goal, to go to the bus station and get tickets to Marrakech for the next day. We had forgotten to pick up tickets when we arrived the night before so had to make an extra trip. This actually turned out to be a great thing as it allowed us to discover Fez’s secondary bus station that is right next to the medina. This station was about a 15 minute walk from our hostel and the other is an hour walk. So our original oversight turned into blessing.

Tickets acquired we wandered in the market for a bit longer before heading to our hostel. There we ended up talking with the other people staying there and forming a group to get a light dinner.

We ended up eating at a little French restaurant near our hostel where I got to be a super millennial and eat some avocado toast. But worry not boomers, it was only about $3 so I have not broken the bank with my indulgence. After that it was home to my bed.

Day 2

On day two we decided to wander down a different road from the roundabout by our hostel. This road lead us a bit farther out from the tourist heavy area and we found a trade school. Unlike most colleges this one had a sign out front inviting tourists to come in and take a look at their exhibition space where they sold the students work. The room was jam packed with all the Moroccan handicrafts we had seen in the market, my friend ended up buying a few reasoning that although probably not the best price she could get, it supported the school and its students. It also had actual price tag, no haggling required.

We were also allowed to peek through the windows into the classrooms. We saw a room full of looms which was pretty neat. However, when a guy waved at us from his class we decided we should stop distracting students and move on.

We ended up by my favorite park and stopped to see my fountain, once again running happily. We watched a guard hustle across the park to yell at some people innocently sitting on a wall. Apparently you should only sit in the benches in Morocco, wall sting seems frowned upon.

At the park we made a game plan to head up to the tombeaux de Merindes where our hostel said we could get a good view. they was right as we saw many good views from above Fez.

Before we even reached the tombs we found a treacherous cliff path my friend and many others were eager to climb in to get a cooler view. I pulled together my courage and inched across the path carefully placing my feet. In reality, this path was nothing too dangerous as long as you were careful. But when I can stare down at my feet and see cliffs on either side with no boundary, I get a but antsy.

On the way to the tomb we passed the musee de Baird Nord which we knew nothing about, and was closed until 2, we agreed to stop in on our way back and continued on.

The tomb turned out to be nothing special, a few ruins overlooking the city. But they too had a great view. When in Fez definitely make the walk up there. The hill is very gentle and the view is more than worth it.

Despite spending a good amount of time sitting and ogling the view at the tomb it still wasn’t quite time for the museum to open. We decided to kill half an hour sitting at a cafe while my friend had coffee. This ended up as an awkward mistake.

We were outside the main tourist area and in a residential part of town. At the cafe it became very apparent we were female as everyone else was male and it seemed we weren’t really meant to be there. We were sitting outside, and no one bothered us, and they were nice, but it just felt wrong.

Let me say that as a female traveler with a female buddy, I have not felt unsafe in Morocco. Nor have I felt judged or out of place without a hijab. I don’t feel preyed upon or inferior, but in some situations I have felt my gender more than I ever have before. This was that time. Inside the tourist area, it’s almost a nonissue, so from now on my friend and I will be staying out of the residential bit of town.

We booked it out of the cafe as soon as my friend had payed for her coffee and we ended up sitting by the museum gate. We shouldn’t have needed to wait, as we arrived about 15 minutes after they opened but the workers were going by their own clock so the gate did not unlock until half an hour after the posted opening time. The museum, which turned out to be an arms museum was not worth the wait but it was worth the 10Dh fee so it turned out okay.

After about an hour in the museum we headed back near the medina to grab some dinner lunch. I got to try a miorrocan pastille, which is a nice flaky pastry filled with food. Mine was vegetarian and it ended up basically being a fajita in a pastry shell, which was a okay with me.

We also had some jawhara for dessert, which is a specialty in Fez. It was a layered pastry and cream desert and it confused my taste buds at first because it was a bit spicy. Spice and dessert rarely mix in America so this took me a moment to adjust to. But it was very delicious once I got used to the idea.

We spent another hour in the medina where my friend exhibited her terrible bargaining skills. Pro tip, don’t ask the vendor if they’ll go lower, tell them a lower number and see how they counter. As I have said before don’t be afraid to leave a bad deal.

After that we headed back to our hostel to grab our bags and hop on the night bus to Marrakech. Fez was nice. The medina could definitely be overwhelming, but in a lively, exciting way mostly. Not sure I’d want to see it in the peak tourist season though.

Two Weeks, Two Continets Part II: Chefchaouen

Alternate Title: Embracing My Aesthetic

My friends have a running joke that the color blue is my aesthetic. Why? Because it really is, about 85% of my possessions are blue. It’s not my fault that I like blue, okay? It’s pretty. So in order to uphold my blue reputation I had to go visit the blue city of Morocco: Chefchaouen, or just Chaouen if you are lazy.

We were greeted in Chefchaouen by an enormous hill we had to climb. The city is built on the side of a mountain which means beautiful views and all of the climbing.

By the time we made it to our hostel I was dying from the heat. See despite it being February, the weather here has been beautiful. About 70ish degrees Fahrenheit everyday. But since Moroccan culture is more conservative clothing wise, I am less likely to take off my coat. Not that my shirts are risqué just not super conservative. This has been the first place where I have felt that pressure to conform, although a few hot spells have seen me tying my jacket around my waist.

After de-sweating at the hostel we set off a wandering. Most of our time in Chaouen was spent aimlessly wandering. Unlike most of blog entries where I give you a great play by play of events this will be more about my musings and random stuff that we saw around.

One special event that did happen was my first successful bargaining! I like to buy art from the different places I go, just little cheap scenes to remind me of my travels. Moroccan culture says that instead of pricing objects you must bargain for absolutely everything. I had never tried bargaining before, but turns out I’m not half bad at it. If you are cheap as hell and willing to leave the shopkeeper will give you the price you want. I was literally outside the shop and partway down the street when he agreed to the price I wanted. Instead of his original price of one painting for 200DH I got two for 130, not bad at all.

The best thing about wandering Chaouen is seeing the multitudes of blue everywhere. Deep indigos, sky blues, periwinkles, name it and it’s in the walls if Chaouen. It also works well at keeping the Medina cool. I imagine in the summer it makes the Medina even more of a haven from the heat.

We ended our first day by wandering partway up a nearby mountain to look out over the city. From there you could see all the hues of the city as well as the valley and other mountains beyond, absolutely gorgeous. You also got to see people selling their wares right on the mountainside. One man was selling small metal tiles and also carving more while awaiting customers. Another guy was making daisy chains and another had his art hung right on the side of the mountain. I suppose on a mountain trail you don’t need a stall.

That was pretty much the end of our day and we headed back to our hostel. It did take a bit of trial and error to make it home, as google maps refuses to give walking directions through the Medina when you are offline. I got spoiled in Europe with my French data plan, here in Africa it’s up to me and my map reading skills. Luckily, we made it to bed in the end.

 

Day 2

Our hostel sadly did not come with breakfast so we had to wander out an find a nearby cafe. I ended up getting Raghid which was sort of like a stiff crepe, it was very good and I left a happy camper.

From there we left with the possible intention of visiting the Kasbah. The reviews online weren’t great and we weren’t sure in the price was 10 Durham or 60. Turns out if you are Moroccan it’s 10 if you are anything else it’s 60. Since we were not Moroccan but still cheap, we gave the Kasbah a pass. 60DH isn’t especially expensive, but we didn’t think it was worth it to look at some gardens and see a nice view.

We then tried to return to the mountain from the day before and the creek at its base to hang by the water. This ended with us getting real lost and seeing lots more of the west of Chaouen than we had before. This was a more residential area, but still beautiful. In the end we made it to the water, but not before we saw all the animals.

Morocco as a whole seems to be filled to the brim with stray cats, and stray dogs are common enough. But near the river in Chaouen everyone brings their weird animals for tourists to pay to take pictures with, the first we saw were a pair of gorgeous peacocks then we saw a donkey, although he was more for hauling than amusing tourists and then we saw the weirdest one, the ostrich. Ostriches look pretty tall in zoos but even taller when they are stand8ng next to you on the side of the road.

Our next bout of aimless wandering brought us up above the city. We somehow got behind the wall that for some rain exists on the mountain behind the city. Not sure what that wall keeps out, but it wasn’t very good at keeping us in. Looking down on Chaouen was one of those stupid petty moments. Where everythng is just too beautiful and you can’t quite fathom how it all works.

At the top of the city we got not only to see the beauty of Chefchaouen, but hear it as well when the call to prayer sounded. Everyday 5 times a day the mosques in the city call out to bring the followers in the pray. Unlike the Christians bells, the Muslims have people yell out the masses and bring them in. From above we could hear at least a dozen voices calling over each other welcoming in their people. It was surreal to hear the voices overlap and meld together. Although I did not understand the Arabic words the message was still there and absolutely beautiful.

We then had a late lunch/dinner at the most stereotypically Moroccan restaurant we could find. There were rugs on all the walls and cushions aplenty. Despite the tourist trappings, it was still very cheap and very good. I greatly enjoyed my meal.

From there it was more wandering and then off to the bus station to take the late bus to Fez. Although I didn’t “do” much in Chefchaouen I did like the city. It is definitely a great instagram spot, and a better day trip than a destination, but nonetheless beautiful.

 

 

Two Weeks, Two Continents, Part I: Tangers

Alternate title: Three Continents Duke

I was talking with a friend recently about how, the more you travel, the more jaded you get. You realize that no matter where you go people are people and cities are cities. Not that I don’t want to keep traveling everywhere I can, but I realize that not every location will send shivers down my spine in awe of my new locale.

And then I set foot in Africa. I felt my smile growing wider and wider as I walked across the tarmac and it hit me that this was not only a new country, but a new continent. Forget Kansas, Toto, we’re not even in Europe anymore. The last time I felt this wonderment was in Venice, when I span around in front of the grand canal. This time I settled for grinning like a fool in the airport of Tangers.

After getting through customs and exchanging some euro for dirhams, we had to face our first hurdle, getting into the city. The only way to get out of the airport is via taxi. I generally don’t like taxis. I don’t like negotiating fares and I feel awkward in the back of a stranger’s car, but we had no choice.

For a while we suffered near the taxi stand wondering how to get a taxi and trying to pluck up our courage when a very nice girl stopped and asked if we were confused and where we were trying to go. She took a look at our map with where our hostel was and called over a taxi driver and talked to him rapidly in Arabic. She tried to get us a ride for 100 Dirhams (about $10) but the driver would only do it for 150. We were fine with that and thanked the girl for saving us from struggling for another 15 minutes.

Although we arrived early our hostel was happy to check us in and let us put our bags into our room despite the fact that the cleaning lady was in there at the time. I love when a hostel bends the rules a bit like that. Unlike a French hostel where the people will always speak to you in English no matter what you do, the Moroccan hostel workers were thrilled to learn we spoke French and immediately switched into French over English. It was nice to be valued for our language skills,.

We then headed to lunch. We tried to follow directions given by our hostel to a good lunch spot but quickly ended up turned around in the twists and turns of the medina. Only after sitting down and looking at the restaurant’s name in the menu did I realize we had accidentally made it to our recommended lunch spot. I had myself a mountain of couscous for only about 60DH ( that’s the sign for the Moroccan dirham) and then we tried to leave.

I say tried because upon signaling the waiter to get out check, instead of a check he brought over a pot of mint tea on the house. Moroccan mint tea is very, very sweet. At least half a dose of your daily sugar. It was good though I couldn’t imagine drinking more than s a small glass. Before we could have to check we were once again offered a free desert. Not one to say no, I accepted. And only then did we finally get to actually pay for our meal.

Then we started wandering, very quickly we seemed to acquire a man trying to lead us to what he called the Berber market and what I think were just some of his friends’ shops. He was hard to shake off because even if we tried to stop or go into a random store, he would stick around outside. My friend was no help as she kept talking to him as her midwestern sensibilities said it was rude to ignore people. Finally, I was able to get her to stop talking and adamantly tell him to leave us alone.

We then started wandering. We somehow found a gorgeous view of the water and then found the musée de Kasbah. I was happy enough to pay 20 DH to see the beautiful architecture and artifacts inside. It was an archaeology museum, that although it didn’t have much, did have some cool stuff.

The museum presented the exciting challenge of having no English descriptions, on French and Arabic. I was able to read the French, but it did take me a bit longer to understand what everything was. I have on idea how foreigners get by in American all English museums. Props that them for being good enough at English to understand everything that is going on.

The coolest thing was an old world map. Which from my western viewpoint was upside down and from any viewpoint was not very accurate. But it did show the gist of the Eurasian continent and Northern Africa. It was neat to see what people knew of geography in ancient times.

The museum also had a beautiful garden full of what felt like very exotic plants. It had this enormous palm tree that looked nothing like any other palm tree I had seen before. It also had banana trees. I had never seen a banana tree before and was fascinated by the hanging fruit. I didn’t even know it was real at first, I was convinced it was some sort of man made attachment.

Upon exiting we somehow acquired another guy trying to lead us around, who my friends again talked to. She has since been given firm instructions not to engage people on the street who talk to her. None of these people seemed to have malicious intent, they were trying to make a few bucks or promote their stores. I get that and no shame to them for trying to make a living. All shame to idiot tourists for falling for the bait and encouraging them to continue these tactics.

Next up we wandered through some of the many tourist shops and saw some cool rugs and trinkets. Morocco has been the first place where I really like the bits and bobs in the tourist shops I’m sure I’ll pick a few up before I leave. Our night ended watching the sunset from the top of the Medina.

Here is where I would normally fade to black into day two but I had one more late night adventure. See at about 2am I was awakened by mysterious rustling on my bed. In my foggy disorientation it took me a moment t realize what this was: a cat.

Tangers is fit to bursting with cats and one lived at our hostel. Our room was weird in that it had a window that opened into the hostel rather than outside. So, although our door was shut, the cat was able to hop through the window. I tried to let him stay but as I don’t usually sleep with animals, I had to kick him out. I tried to just bring him out of the room hoping he’d get the hint. But about five minutes later he hopped back through the window and right to my bed. Take two saw me closing the shutters, which I tried to do quietly but instead ended up with a loud bang that no doubt scared my roommates. But this time when the cat was ejected he stayed out.

Day 2

Our hostel breakfast was surprisingly great, filled with Moroccan breads jams, cheese and olives. They had these awesome pancake things that I could not stop eating. We also had some good conversation with some fellow hostel goers and ended up picking up a friend to wander around with us. He was just finishing up a 7 month worldwide adventure and it was cool to have someone new to join us in our exploring.

We started our day at the American Legation museum. This museum highlighted the freindship and shared history between America and Morocco. Historic fun fact: Morocco was the first country to recognize America as an independant nation way back in the day. Unfortunately we did not return the favor when Morocco asked for help dealing with its colonizers.

The museum is also home to the so called Moroccan Mona Lisa. I can see the resemblance as she is a pretty portrait which isn’t actually all that impressive. They also had a garden, no bananas trees but they did have some live turtles. Thank goodness we noticed them; because I nearly stepped on one.

After getting a nice daily dose of American freedom, we headed out to do some more shopping and wandering. Moroccan shopkeepers can be pretty aggressive in trying to get you to enter their shops and then show off their wares, but the shops are actually very neat.

Most of them have that antique store vibe. Where everything is a bit dim and cluttered. It sort of does feel like you are looting around for hidden treasure. My one friend ended up buying a traditional Moroccan djellaba which is a robe thing that I have seen a lot of people wearing. She got the male one. But as she plans to use it as a robe/comfy loungewear in her house I think it’ll be okay,

On our way to find some lunch we came across a strange site. A huge line of caterpillars inching across the pavement. I’ve only ever seen ants act like that, so caterpillars were pretty neat. A kind Samaritan ended up scooping up the caterpillars and returning them into the pask so they wouldn’t get stepped on or run over on their current path to the road.

After a lunch of cheap and delicious tagine we took a break at our hostel and hung out on the roof overlooking the city. After our rest we went on an adventure to find the bus station and buy a ticket for the next morning to get to Chefchaoun. This brought us out of the old Medina and into the bustling city of Tangers.

To any who think of Africa as solely tribes and villages I would like to present exhibit A: downtown Tangers which looks more like Chicago than any stereotypical African ideal. My friend and I agreed that it actually looks a lot like Marseille, with white high rises and huge roundabouts.

After buying our bus tickets we headed to the beach to laze around. We stayed mostly on the pier and got some ice cream to snack on as we watched the waves and the sunset. it was lovely, just a bit chilly but nothing too bad.

On our way back to the hostel we discovered some lights up fountains that sprang up in patterns out of the ground. Like many tourists around us we reveled in the light and tried to take artsy photos. Didn’t quite succeed but had a good time and finished our night with some smiles.

We had a nice lazy morning before leaving Tangers and spent a good half an a hour lounging on the roof hammocking looking out onto the city. Tangiers was a wonderful city. I would agree with the internet and say a day in Tangers is plenty, I still enjoyed it and would recommend taking the time to explore not only the Medina but the urban city area as well. Tangers was a great start to our African adventure and I really enjoyed it.

How Not to Bise: A Beginner’s Guide to Awkward

In  America greeting people is no big deal. A quiet “sup?” with a slight head nod is more than enough in casual settings. In a formal environment you might need a handshake and a more proper “how are you?” Still, easy enough to execute even for beginners.

France, on the other hand, has one important cultural milestone that must be crossed everytime someone walks into a room: la bise. La bise, prounounced bees, known to Americans as a “the French cheek kiss thing” is an essential skill to acquire in France. Without mastery of the subtle art of the bise you will never succeed at blending into French society.

Unluckily for all of you, I have no idea how to properly bise, as I keep failing spectacularly. So, given my lack of knowledge, I have compiled a list of frequently asked questions which I ask myself as I fail at kissing the air.

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Who do I bise?

Everyone? No one? It depends on the situation, but at most greetings you will bise the person you are meeting, whether they are a friend or not. Apparently, boys do it less, but to be honest I still have no idea.

Where do I kiss?

Do not, I repeat, do not make contact with the face. Kiss the air near their cheek but do not try to connect in any way. Bumping cheeks, glasses etc, may happen and will leave you in an angsty state of embarrassment for at least a week, avoid at all costs.

Which side do I start on?

Never ask this question it is a trap. Different regions of France start on different sides, or do a different number of kisses, it’s a mess. Always try to follow the lead of whoever is attempting to greet you. No matter how many times you have done la bise never assume you know anything.

Is it a hug? Do they need to get past me?

If a French person ever approaches you with an arm extended they are not trying to hug you. If the ever approach slightly to the left they are not trying to get past you. They are trying to kiss the air near your face. Do not try to hug them or lean away, accept the air kiss and reciprocate. If you do mess up and not immediately bise, look onto the next question.

How do I escape the awkward situation I have entered?

 Now that you have awkwardly sat/stood with a French person near your face for too long you must plot an escape plan. Unfortuantely once you have entered this situation there is no escape. You must kiss the air and try desperately to laugh off your incompetence. Never leave the scene of a bise without completing at least two cheek kisses.

What do I do if no one tries to bise me?

Count your blessings and awkwardly stand by as everyone else in the room receives their air kisses. This is what I do at any rate.

How do I initiate a bise?

Just never try. Bam, problem solved. Only true masters of French culture know when it is appropriate to bise and how to go about the act of giving someone the bise. Approach initiating a bise with great caution.

How long does this take?

A single bise only takes a few seconds. But when a person enters a full room they must greet every person in said room with their own special air kiss. Rinse and repeat with each new person.

Can I say no?

Probably. It is your personal cheek air space, but declining seems like it could be a lot of unnecessary awkward.

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Voila! These are my tips and tricks on how to be awkward when trying to greet the French. Before anyone tries to defend my honor and assume that I am better at the bise then I think; let me assure you that I am not. I am fully aware of my lack of knowledge and more than willing to make a joke about it to hide my never ending shame.

All that being said, I love the idea of the bise. It’s a neat cultural quirk that I wish I understood better. The more I witness it the more I like it. I just wish I could better grasp the subtleties on when you should bise. Only time will tell if I’ll ever actually learn anything.

North, South, Not East, and West Part VI: Barcelona

Alternate Title: No Not the Planet, These Dogs Had Noses

Sometimes the best/easiest way to get somewhere is not the cheapest way. And, as a real cheap traveler, I will almost always pick the cheap way over the easy way. This time the cheap way landed me in Barcelona.

See flying to Barcelona, staying a day, and then busing lot Aix was cheaper than a direct flight from Malta to Aix. So voila! ¡Hola Espagne!

Our flight came in real late at night, so we got to sneak around our hostel as quietly as possible and then fall directly to sleep. Since we were only spending a day in the city, in the morning it was off to the races.

We decided to take a walking tour of the city to see as many sights as possible and get some good stories. On the way we passed a really big statue of Columbus pointing to the water. You know Columbus, the overhyped explorer that never made it to India. This statue captured his essence perfectly because despite all his majesty, he is not, in fact, pointing to America. Even his statue can’t get it right.

Our tour, as always, had lots of interesting stories about the history of Barcelona. Our guide gleefully pointed out all the fake gothic architecture to us. You see, in the 1880’s Barcelona decided to reinvent itself and put itself on the tourist Europe map. And what do European tourists love? Gothicism apparently, or Barcelona thought so. And so fake facades and random bridges were thrown up around the old town. To my untrained eye they looked gothic enough, so I suppose they succeeded in their mission. I’m not sure it was worth it, but it has stuck around.

We also got to hear the tales of way of the former patron saint of Barcelona, Santa Eulalia. Like lots of saints, Eulalia stood up to tyranny and refused to denounce her fate. Obviously, the government tried to kill her. But no matter what they tried, she lived. There were a lot of good tales of her not death, too many to put here, so if you are interest3d look up Santa Eulalia, you will not be disappointed.

Part way through our tour we got to stop and try some tapas at a bar. I liked the variety, and I still have no idea what I ended up eating, but it was delicious. Unfortunately, you had to pay for each item separately, it made me long for the aperitivo in Italy. Alas can’t have it all.

On the tour I also finally understood why I was so bad at understanding everything. I;ve been studying Spanish for about two years now. I’d like to think that I’m okay at it. Yet everywhere I turned there’d be a word that didn’t seem quite right. I kept double taking at signs and berating my failing Spanish. And then our guide mentioned the root cause of my problem: Catalan.

In case you didn’t know know Barcelona is firmly in the region Catalonia, which has been trying to break off of Spain for ages. Because of this you are just as likely to find a Spanish sign as a Catalonian one. This was murder on my understanding of Spanish, but I also loved it. Good on the Catalonians for not bowing to Spanish influence and oreserving their language and culture, no matter how much the other Spaniards protest.

After the tour ended we headed to el Parc de Ciutadella. Not just for the beautiful nature, but also on a hunt. A hunt for a mammoth. My friend had been to Barcelona before and she had two requests for her second visit, 1: paella, 2: to find the mammoth statue. The way she hyped it I thought this was a legitimate tourist stop, but no, it’s just a neat statue. It was cool to see, but probably not worth a hunt.

What did make the park worth it was the fountain. I don’t know its name but it was huge and absolutely gorgeous. The sun was also reflecting perfectly off the water making it sparkle. Go to Ciutadella for the mammoth and stay for the fountain.

We then walked all the way to the Sangrada Familia, a big famous church by Barcelona’s favorite architect Antoni Gaudi. It’s an interesting modern gothic mix. One side looks like it’s melting which is neat, but a bit off putting. Maybe it’s sacrilege to say, but I am not a big fan of the Sangrada Famillia, not the outside at least.

Going in was pretty expensive, so my friend and I debated over it for a while. In the end, what we wanted did’t matter since all the tickets were sold out for the day. If nothing else, the gods were looking out for my wallet that day.

Next, we headed to Parc Guëll once again debating whether or not to pay too much money to see some more architecture. Getting to the park required some serious climbing. We took the subway from the Sangrada Familia and then climbed for what felt like an eternity.

The non-architecture part of the park was very pretty, and the terrible climb meant we got some beautiful views of Barcelona. Even given the maximum effort we gave to get to the park, we were still debating whether or not to pay to see the architecture up close. You could see bits of murals and facades from afar, but the full experience was going to cost us.

Once again, the fates looked out for broke Becca because all the tickets for the day were sold out. Turns out that if you want to pay for stuff in Barcelona you have to plan. Lucky broke me never plans ahead, in theory I should maybe start doing that, but we’ll see.

As nice as the fates were to me in Barcelona, they did have one little laugh at my expense. For after cresting the stupidly tall hill, we decided to go down the other side and there we found the most beautiful yet depressing sight I have ever seen. Outdoor escalators. That’s right, the hill side that I did not climb had escalators. I could have been saved so much pain and suffering. My friend was super amused by the idea of an outdoor escalator and rode one needlessly for the heck of it, but I couldn’t do it. I felt too betrayed by the gods.

For dinner we hunted down some real Barcelonian Paella for my friend. As a fish hater, I got some non seafood like a normal human. We ended our night by wandering around a food market just as it closed. The next morning it was bright and early to the bus stop and back to Aix.

And thus concludes our saga of Becca’s winter break. It was a great mix of a lot of things. I covered a lot of ground in Europe, first up north to Scotland, then super south to malta and ending up over in Spain. Just goes to show that you don’t need to go places that are close together. Sometimes a little farther travel can end with a more interesting experience.

And now, as this posts, I’m headed off on another vacation. The TAPIF program has many faults, but lack of time off is not one of them. I will be trying to post more blog entries that are not just about travelling, but we’ll see how I do at that. Thanks for sticking by me through my adventures I hope they’ve amused you just a bit.

Until next time dear reader, à plus!

North, South, Not East, and West Part V: Aquarium, New Year’s, Mosta, and Ta’Qali

Alternate Title: New Year, New Adventures

Day 5

On New Year’s Eve most of the sites on our heritage Malta pass were closed, but not the aquarium, so it was fish time. But before fish time we had a goal. That goal was Cinnabon.

Becca, that’s a stupid goal, you say. And you are right. But we kept passing it on the bus and my Wisconsin friend wanted it, apparently all Cinnabon have closed in Wisconsin and she needed a fix. So, it was time for a quest!

If you do nothing else on a vacation go on a few dumb quests, they bring joy and that’s what matters. Vacation is about more than just sightseeing, it’s about having fun too. We had fun, and succeeded in our quest and ate some delicious gooey cinnabon. 10/10 would quest again.

After our breakfast, we went to the only Heritage Malta attraction open on New Year’s, the aquarium. Now I don’t quite see how aquariums fit into heritage, but I’m always down for some fishies, so I’m not complaining.

The aquarium in Malta is very okay. It’s pretty small, but it does have some cool parts. There were a few good spots to take neat pictures. There was a shark tunnel as well, so we got to be encompassed by sharks.

The weirdest thing we found had nothing to do with fish. Someone before us had messed around with one of the interactive video boards and somehow got it onto Youtube. Now I’m a pretty good person, and I’m not here to mess with the aquarium, but how can one ignore such a great opportunity? After a bit of pondering, my friend and I left the board playing a new video. Since we are good(ish) noodles we set it to play Geography Now! Malta. Which is educational, so basically, we provided a public service, you’re welcome Malta.

After hanging with the fish for about two hours, we went down to the coast. Once again, stupidly beautiful views. This time with added rock danger. I’m known as the boring one when it comes to dangerous adventure. By dangerous I mean “I might fall and hit my head, or fall and get wet, or just fall.” I’m all for adventure, not so much for minimal risk. But my friend started climbing on the rocky terrain and I plucked up my courage and followed, slowly.

Our, very mildly dangerous expedition led us to the water’s edge where we tried to take good pictures. The thing is, I was not made to be an Instagram star. I don’t know how to take pictures, at all. My friend kept having to set up her camera for me so I would take a half decent shot of her. I’m willing to take pictures of you whenever, just don’t expect much.

Sorta okay pictures in hand, we started walking around the town and we found a Planet Walk, which is, apparently a thing? Basically, a line of planet statues that you are meant to follow. My friend was really enthused but I was mostly confused. We followed along and then I was betrayed, why? Because we couldn’t find Neptune. I was already sad that Pluto was nowhere to be found, but Neptune too? What is the Solar System coming too?

Devastated by the lack of Neptune, We headed back to our hotel to have a break before heading to Valetta for the big New Year’s celebration. I haven’t really celebrated New Year’s in ages. I always babysat in High School and mostly stayed home in college, so going out was sort of exciting.

We didn’t get too crazy. We started by finding some of Malta’s signature thick hot chocolate. This was Thick with two c’s, basically a soup; and it was heavenly. Others may turn to alcohol for a good time, not this girl, chocolate all the way.

We then headed into the big square where the National celebration was being held. They had a big stage with lights, smoke, the whole nine yards. When we first arrived there was a singer, who I thought was very good. About twenty minutes before midnight they switched to a DJ which was a bit of a step down. The best part was every now and then a burst of Streamers would cover the crowd. They were awesome to watch.

When the time came, we counted down together and just after zero: fireworks. We had chosen to come to Valetta specifically for the Fireworks and boy were we disappointed. Think like one step below Minor League Baseball. Still fireworks, but not exactly spectacular. We think it may have been because of the wind, which there was a lot of, but really, who knows? Malta’s websites are basically impossible to decipher.

After our brief disappointment it was time to head home. We had to take a bus back to our hostel, and so did half of Malta apparently. The bus stop was absolutely packed. Every time a new bus arrived the people in the back of the line pushed and pushed making moving an impossibility. It was like mosh pit but instead of getting closer to a stage, you were trying to get closer to your bed. Rather then being worried for our own ability to breathe, my friend and I were preoccupied trying to keep space around a little girl next to us. We fought hard to stand our ground and keep a bit of breathing room for the girl, but she still looked petrified by the mob crushing around her.

By some miracle we made it safely on the bus and were even on quick enough to grab seats. The little girl also made it on unscathed, but not untraumatized. I understand wanting to get on the bus and get home, but pushing rarely makes anything better. I witnessed several people give up and leave the bus stop due to the mob and one French lady kept yelling about how ridiculous it was. She wasn’t wrong, but she was incredibly annoying and not very helpful.

All in all, a great start to the New Year.

Day 6 and 7

New Year’s Day was incredibly chill. Lots of things were closed, so we decided to hang near to our hostel and look around San Giljan. San Giljan seems to be the posh, nightclub district of Malta. Lots of fancy bars and restaurants.

It also has a lot of hotels and such, so definitely a tourist district. I wasn’t very enthralled by San Giljan, it does; however have a beautiful coast. Most of our day was spent lounging on the beach watching the tide roll in and hanging out by the harbor watching boats.

As you can see, not a super interesting day, but very necessary on a long vacation. Even I cannot go touristing nonstop, I need to take a day or two to relax every now and then.

Our last day in Malta was a bit more interesting. Our first stop was the Rotunda of Mosta. You know that this church is mildly special because I bothered to look up its name rather than just saying “some pretty church.” That begs the question, why the special treatment?

You see this church is more than just pretty, it has a story to go along with the beauty. Remember how I mentioned that Malta was hit hard by bombings back in World War II? Well churches were just as likely to be hit as anyone else, and the Rotunda was hit with a big old bomb dropping right through the beautiful dome.

The bomb hit during the middle of service, yet, no one was killed or injured, because the bomb did not go off. Every single person made it out safe and the bomb was disposed of. I was surprised to learn that this has not been recognized as a miracle by the Vatican, but the people of Mosta certainly regard it as one. And they should, I think it’s miraculous.

Be warned if you visit the church expecting to see the bomb that fell, as my friend did, the memorial they have is merely a replica, not the OG bomb. You can however see right where it fell as the ceiling, while repaired, was never repainted.

After seeing our miracle, we headed on our way to the Ta’Qali craft village. I didn’t really know what to expect when we went, and I’m still not quite sure what we found. The crafts village is definitely a work in progress, the idea is to have a large collection of craftsman and artisans making and selling goods in one place, but at the moment it’s a little weird.

The bus drops you right in front of a big old construction site, so, like sane humans, we bypassed that and walked down the road a bit to the Mdina glass factory. I love a good glass shop, but what I love even more is watching glass blowers. Inside the giant glass store there was a workshop where about ten artisans worked together to make some awesome handmade glass. I watched for at least twenty minutes. There’s something about true craftsmanship that is hard to look away from.

We then left the factory and tried to find the rest of the village. See the glass factory is huge and sort of isolated, but we knew there had to be more, so wandering we went. And went and went and went. We wandered around a big park looking for artisans and kept coming up short. After at least an hour of confused wandering, we decided to cut our losses and head back to the bus stop.

Only there did we notice the mysterious sign pointing into the construction site. But no, we reasoned, they wouldn’t want tourists walking into an active construction site. Turns out, we underestimated Malta’s disregard for sanity. After seeing a different tourist traipse right out of the mysteriously open construction gate, we decided to give it a go. Lo and behold, once you passed construction you found crafts!

There were quite a few shops selling all kinds of nifty crafts. Turns out that a lot of souvenirs that you can buy on the island really are handmade at Ta’Qali. I think in a few years, once construction is completed, this will be an excellent spot to come for souvenirs, right now it’s mostly really confusing and mildly unsafe. But if you won’t walk through construction for crafts, did you deserve them in the first place?

As we waited at the bus stop mother nature decided we had had too nice of weather on our adventure thus far. So the skys opened onto our unprotected heads and doused us in water. Torrential downpour are the words I would use to describe this glorious event. Never have I wished more for a bus shelter. By the time we made it onto the bus my friend and I were joking that I wouldn’t make it onto the plane later because I had more than 100oz of liquid in my jeans.

We made another stop in Mosta on our way to grab our luggage and head to the airport. We did some shopping and ate some delicious Maltese pastries and then it was time to go.

Getting to the airport and onto the plane posed no problems. On the plane we actually had a bit of excitement in our safety demonstration. It started as usual, and then some random guy decided this was the best time to use the toilet. The prerecorded message was cut off and the guy was asked to sit back down and listen.

Recording starts back up again and all the flight attendants start pointing at the exits when, once again, the recording is cut. A very annoyed voice comes over the speakers, “Are you really taking pictures right now? Seriously?” A few rows behind me a lady had gotten out of her seat to snap those ever important Instagram pics. It was a little astonishing that not one, but two people so completely disregarded the safety demonstration that they were willing to let the whole plane know how little they cared about it. It’s common knowledge that no one really listens, but try to not listen from your seat when flying.

In the end everyone heard how to be safe and we took off, saying a last goodbye to Malta. I really enjoyed my time there. I had never thought about Malta before, but now it’s definitely on my list of recommendations. Turns out there’s more to the island than falcons and beaches, who’d have guessed?