1) Pay attention to cactus. It hurts when you walk into one.
2) Careful where you put your hands. Seagull crap is pretty much invisible when it's on white stucco.
Showing posts with label Morocco. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Morocco. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
English lessons
1) A little kid started following us through the narrow streets one night as we were walking home to our riad. He was asking us for change, alternately in Arabic and French. He eventually became frustrated with my condescending smile and my repeated "No...no money, sorry..." and blurted out an emphatic "fuck you man!!" before running away. Jacqueline and I glanced at each other and laughed--there was something tentative about the way he said it, like he had just learned it and didn't really trust that it would work, or that he was even saying it right.
2) Another night, we were walking through the outdoor food stalls in the Djemaa el Fna; one of the young-ish menu-wielding vendors called out to us: "try our food it's finger licking good!!" We giggled but kept walking. Seeing our reaction he launched into every bit of English he could conjure: "Seeyoulateralligator!! Afterawhilecrocodile!! "Iscreamyouscreamweallscreamforicecream!! Dingoes ate my baby!!!" At that last one we completely cracked up, and had to ask him: "Where did you LEARN that!!??" He said he had an older sister who lived in Melbourne.
2) Another night, we were walking through the outdoor food stalls in the Djemaa el Fna; one of the young-ish menu-wielding vendors called out to us: "try our food it's finger licking good!!" We giggled but kept walking. Seeing our reaction he launched into every bit of English he could conjure: "Seeyoulateralligator!! Afterawhilecrocodile!! "Iscreamyouscreamweallscreamforicecream!! Dingoes ate my baby!!!" At that last one we completely cracked up, and had to ask him: "Where did you LEARN that!!??" He said he had an older sister who lived in Melbourne.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Inevitable complications
Our flight to Marrakech was canceled, sort of. Though the flight number remained, the departure time, the date and even the airport had changed at the last minute (Departing a day later from Milan Bergamo instead of Milan Malpensa). Oops.
This all happened the day before we were supposed to leave, and we were faced with a choice: 1) stay in Milan an extra day, try to find an available room somewhere, and eat the cost of the Marrakech riad we had booked. 2) Try to get a flight to Marrakech for the very next day, and eat the cost of our other plane ticket.
We calculated that we stood to loose pretty much the same amount of money whatever we ended up choosing. We had already booked a riad, and were going to be charged for it whether we stayed there or not. Also, there was the issue of finding a place to stay in Milan for an extra night—there were several big conferences going on in the city that week, and most places were booked. The afternoon was spent web surfing on internet connections that didn't work, making calls on phones with spotty connections, trying to get emails printed out on non-functioning printers, enlisting help from concierges that seemed as lost as we were, and contacting an airline that wouldn't accept our credit card-- but wouldn't take our cash either (I'm no financial whiz, but I think that's a poorly thought-out business model).
After what seemed like hours of comic mishaps, Jacqueline found what seemed like the last available room in the city, in a small hotel a few metro stops away. So ultimately we got an extra day in Milan, and were able to see parts of the city we weren't able to while we were busy scrambling...
This all happened the day before we were supposed to leave, and we were faced with a choice: 1) stay in Milan an extra day, try to find an available room somewhere, and eat the cost of the Marrakech riad we had booked. 2) Try to get a flight to Marrakech for the very next day, and eat the cost of our other plane ticket.
We calculated that we stood to loose pretty much the same amount of money whatever we ended up choosing. We had already booked a riad, and were going to be charged for it whether we stayed there or not. Also, there was the issue of finding a place to stay in Milan for an extra night—there were several big conferences going on in the city that week, and most places were booked. The afternoon was spent web surfing on internet connections that didn't work, making calls on phones with spotty connections, trying to get emails printed out on non-functioning printers, enlisting help from concierges that seemed as lost as we were, and contacting an airline that wouldn't accept our credit card-- but wouldn't take our cash either (I'm no financial whiz, but I think that's a poorly thought-out business model).
After what seemed like hours of comic mishaps, Jacqueline found what seemed like the last available room in the city, in a small hotel a few metro stops away. So ultimately we got an extra day in Milan, and were able to see parts of the city we weren't able to while we were busy scrambling...
Sunday, October 21, 2007
A late night in Palais el Badii
One night last summer Keith came home from work with the news: Puro Beach (the lounge/beach club we enjoyed in Mallorca a while back) was sponsoring an Arabian Nights-themed bash in Marrakech in October. A number of cool DJs and musicians were expected to perform outdoors in the ruins of Palais el Badii. "How about we time our arrival in Morocco with Puro?" Keith asked.
Medieval ruins under the stars, desert breezes, music, drink, food, Eurotrash, and of course, Bryan Ferry! How could we miss this?
We got to Morocco a day late because of an unusual flight change. Not only did our flight time change last minute, but so did the day, and even the actual airport. We lost most of a day in Milan trying to either get another flight (700 Euros!) or find lodging in Milan. We decided to just stay the extra day in Milan, resigning ourselves to eating the cost of our first riad in Marrakech.
Up at 3:45am to catch our flight, we waited in the cold morning air at the train station to get the airport shuttle. At the Milan Bergamo airport we started to get a flavor of Morocco: Robed women with tattooed faces (three vertical lines running from the bottom lip to the chins), hennaed hands & feet stood with us in line, along with their many small children. Men were wearing traditional hooded jellabas, looking very Darth Maul (sp?) from Star Wars.
We took a taxi to the medina, where we were to meet someone to walk us to our riad. A crippled luggage porter with a wheeled cart appeared. He brought our bags the rest of the way, and we hurried to keep pace with him, weaving through narrow muddy alleys, staying clear of the various bikes, motor scooters, feral cats, and hanging sides of lamb that were covered in flies(“Remind me not to have the lamb” I said).
They served us a delicious lunch at the riad, made from scratch. It took almost 2 hours to prepare; they took our order and then went out to buy all the ingredients. After this amazing meal (and two bottles of wine) we went to our room and crashed. Waking up cranky 3 hours later, the last thing I wanted to do was get ready to go to an all-night rave.
Around 9pm we wandered over to the Palais el Badii. Camels and Moroccan musicians lined the route into the castle. Lanterns and rugs were laid end to end along the path—-an Arabian red carpet. In the low lying areas of the ruins, fields of hurricane lanterns were lit, giving the grounds an exotic glow. Fire pits with aromatic woods and multiple “lounging areas” of pillows and torches were set up for the VIP crowd (unfortunately that wasn’t us—- we got the General Admission tickets).
It looked as if the venue could have accommodated two thousand, but less than half that number were in attendance. To make up for the anemic crowd, the organizers temporarily opened the front stage area to everyone. When Bryan Ferry eventually came on stage, it felt like we were at a small concert, right up near the stage, with no crowds, and no pushing our way through. Our target was in sight! I had a mission-- a Bryan Ferry autograph was my intended souvenir of the evening, even though it meant sneaking into the VIP area.
It took a little work, and there were a few setbacks, but after befriending a few of the Morroccan security guards, twisting our wristbands inside out (from cheapseats-purple to VIP-white) and using a little creative smalltalk, we were in. Keith and I triumphantly surveyed the scene, ready to enjoy all the free food and cocktails. We strolled by torchlight among the tall beautiful VIPs, pretending to belong. Bryan Ferry & entourage were lounging around as we suspected. We chatted up members of his band, and I even spoke with the charming Mr Ferry for a while. Mission accomplished:
…and on our Wallpaper book, no less. How perfect is that!?
(Heather if you’re reading this, we know you’re a big fan... we have something for you as well; keep an eye on your mailbox;-)
Medieval ruins under the stars, desert breezes, music, drink, food, Eurotrash, and of course, Bryan Ferry! How could we miss this?
We got to Morocco a day late because of an unusual flight change. Not only did our flight time change last minute, but so did the day, and even the actual airport. We lost most of a day in Milan trying to either get another flight (700 Euros!) or find lodging in Milan. We decided to just stay the extra day in Milan, resigning ourselves to eating the cost of our first riad in Marrakech.
Up at 3:45am to catch our flight, we waited in the cold morning air at the train station to get the airport shuttle. At the Milan Bergamo airport we started to get a flavor of Morocco: Robed women with tattooed faces (three vertical lines running from the bottom lip to the chins), hennaed hands & feet stood with us in line, along with their many small children. Men were wearing traditional hooded jellabas, looking very Darth Maul (sp?) from Star Wars.
We took a taxi to the medina, where we were to meet someone to walk us to our riad. A crippled luggage porter with a wheeled cart appeared. He brought our bags the rest of the way, and we hurried to keep pace with him, weaving through narrow muddy alleys, staying clear of the various bikes, motor scooters, feral cats, and hanging sides of lamb that were covered in flies(“Remind me not to have the lamb” I said).
They served us a delicious lunch at the riad, made from scratch. It took almost 2 hours to prepare; they took our order and then went out to buy all the ingredients. After this amazing meal (and two bottles of wine) we went to our room and crashed. Waking up cranky 3 hours later, the last thing I wanted to do was get ready to go to an all-night rave.
Around 9pm we wandered over to the Palais el Badii. Camels and Moroccan musicians lined the route into the castle. Lanterns and rugs were laid end to end along the path—-an Arabian red carpet. In the low lying areas of the ruins, fields of hurricane lanterns were lit, giving the grounds an exotic glow. Fire pits with aromatic woods and multiple “lounging areas” of pillows and torches were set up for the VIP crowd (unfortunately that wasn’t us—- we got the General Admission tickets).
It looked as if the venue could have accommodated two thousand, but less than half that number were in attendance. To make up for the anemic crowd, the organizers temporarily opened the front stage area to everyone. When Bryan Ferry eventually came on stage, it felt like we were at a small concert, right up near the stage, with no crowds, and no pushing our way through. Our target was in sight! I had a mission-- a Bryan Ferry autograph was my intended souvenir of the evening, even though it meant sneaking into the VIP area.
It took a little work, and there were a few setbacks, but after befriending a few of the Morroccan security guards, twisting our wristbands inside out (from cheapseats-purple to VIP-white) and using a little creative smalltalk, we were in. Keith and I triumphantly surveyed the scene, ready to enjoy all the free food and cocktails. We strolled by torchlight among the tall beautiful VIPs, pretending to belong. Bryan Ferry & entourage were lounging around as we suspected. We chatted up members of his band, and I even spoke with the charming Mr Ferry for a while. Mission accomplished:
…and on our Wallpaper book, no less. How perfect is that!?
(Heather if you’re reading this, we know you’re a big fan... we have something for you as well; keep an eye on your mailbox;-)
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