yogurt with honey, and tea with honey. As of now, I am back to protein shake breakfasts and lunches. That is until the Nuest'as next adventure!
(Continue to stay tunes . . . As I will be posting more blog entries and photos over the coming days and weeks)
Contrary to our expectations, check-in is a breeze. Though perhaps I should refrain from too much gashing until we see our luggage at LAX. With time to spare, we make our way to the VIP Lounge for a quick look-around — look around that is by Gypsy and me for handsome men traveling alone . . . we've gotten bad, but it is so damn entertaining, why stop? On the way to our gate, a few stops to buy chocolate and a magazine or two. In a bookstore, I attempt to buy a Moroccan design book that has $19.95US and $24CANADIAN printed on the back cover. After handing over my credit care, I ask the price in Euros with thought of using my remaining 2o. I am told 40Euros. "What? No way!" I said as I shake my head and grab back my credit card. No doubt I came across as another ugly American, but really almost $65/US for a book that says $19.95? I just hope I can find it through Amazon! My next stop is a chocolatier . . . one of the sales girls comes over to sell me some of the hand-made truffles. Unfortunately, she doesn't speak English well, and as I don't speak French. Meanwhile, another salesgirl approached Jewel who did speak English more clearly, so I turn my attention to her. "My" gal storms off in a huff, and when the other indicates that she was not stealing her customer, she hotly replies something clearly not flattering to the other and storms off in a huff — ignoring us both. A very uncomfortable situation for Jewel's salesgirl, who was not at fault and did not deserve the tongue lashing from her co-worker. In the end, I made my purchases of several small gift boxes of truffles for Jewel and Gypsy through the nice salesgirl, who was unnecessarily apologetic for her colleague.
The countryside in Spain looks amazing from the air — large rivers, much more mountainous, and open than I had imagined. Another country to add to that ever-growing bucket list! Disembarking, Gypsy saddles up behind Mr. Gorgeous and asks him if he speaks English. "Yes." Then she proceeds to show him Jewel's note adding that he made our flight! Walking up the concourse, she finds out that he is a photographer and good friend of one of the Moroccan King's sisters. He is one of the King's "official" photographers, and is returning from a visit with his sister. Our time in Madrid is short. Thankfully, we are on one of the wonderful Iberia planes on the long flight to New York City. The pace of the trip is starting to catch up with me . . . a glass of champagne, a few bites of dinner, and I fall asleep listening to Spanish music. It is literally not until we are approaching JFK that I wake. How different it all looks from Morocco and even my glimpses of Spain. Flight to JFK was uneventful. Customs went quickly and smoothly. Slept most of the way back to Los Angeles. Our driver picked us up and whisked us back to Santa Barbara, transferred vehicles, then home!
Sharing a bit about our guy(de) Tahar Najoui is long overdue. The more time I and the other Nuest'as travel with him, the more we come to appreciate his special-ness. Tahar has been our driver, overall guide, translator and interpreter, cultural teacher, and sometimes cook. Built like a bodyguard, his sheer presence keeps everyone at a safe distance. A non-fundamentalist Muslim, and Berber by birth, he was raised in the south of Morocco in the city of Agadir (one of his most favorite places we are told repeatedly), and now lives with his wife and daughter in Ouarzazate. He also has a son who studying at a university in France. Most of all, Tahar has an open heart! Immediately upon meeting us, Tahar began our Arabic and Berber language lessons. And, though we each came to Morocco with Nuesta names, he instantly assigned us Berber ones which he exclusively called us by . . . to him, Gypsy is Talia; Jewel is Eto; Mama Rosa is Eja; and I am Touda. It was not until we met his wife that we found out these names are traditional Berber names from the past. Hm-m-m-m, does that mean he thinks we're old? ? ? Importantly, Tahar is patient . . . how many guys would sit in a hot car (napping) while we are off shopping or taking photographs of gardens? Train-able . . . Gypsy taught him to pull over to the side of the road so she could feed stray dogs leftovers from our meals. He also has a great sense of humor . . . in less then a day of knowing him he drove us on a hair-raising adventure headlong straight into opposing traffic a one-way street — in Casablanca where only the craziest of drivers are permitted behind the wheel! And, he loves music — all genres. While traveling we often listened to his extensive collection of traditional Berber and Gnaoua music as well as American and European pop, blues, jazz and rock. In fact, in his younger years he was a disc jockey in Casablanca clubs, but a fter a temporary loss of hearing, he switched careers to become a driver for movie stars and directors filming in Morocco, as well as Exploration Travel tourists like us. According to Tahar, we are only one degree of separation from Oliver Reed, Heath Ledger, Penelope Cruz, Matthew McConaughey and many others. Pretty cool, huh? We Nuest'as think Tahar is very cool! I am truly sad to say good-bye after only one-full day here. Not nearly enough time to explore the medina and no time at all to venture into the "New City," which undoubtedly has some wonderful shops and art galleries . . . another time. Our leaving also signals our last day in Morocco, and while we've covered a lot of miles, I am left with the sense that we've only scratched a small portion of Morocco's surface. Amazingly, we still fit in Tahar's 4-wheel drive vehicle — us, our suitcases, and three boxes filled to the brim with souvenirs that were not already shipped home. That in itself is a testament of restraint. The drive north along the coast is beautiful — long expanses of open land and undeveloped beaches dotted with farms and upscale estates. Apparently, too, some good places for surfing . . . Further along, we pass by Kasbah Hamidouch, which we are told is in ruins. Unfortunately, our journey to Casablanca is long, so there is no time for additional stops. We also drive through Safi, an important sardine-processing port city and industrial center, and Oualidia, known for its outstanding oysters. Unfortunately, we do not stop! Instead, Tahar has made us wait (kicking and screaming) for lunch until we arrive at El-Jadida (The New One). Our lunch spot is Café Cousteau, which has reasonable fish entree's that are either broiled or fried. Previously known as Mazagan under the Portuguese, El Jadida was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2004. Parking across from the ramparts, we head to lunch — seafood. Afterwards, we visit one of the most magical places I've seen, the Manueline Cistern, which we are told was built underground in 1514. First used as an arsenal, then an armory, it did not function as an actual cistern until 1541. In modern times, it wasn't rediscovered until 1916, when by chance a shopkeeper knocked out a wall. Square in shape, its vaults rest on twenty-five columns, arranged in five rows. The well sits in the center of the "roof," which allows for daylight to enter and create amazing reflections in the shallow stagnant water giving it an ethereal and mysterious ambiance. So captivated was Orson Wells by the Cistern, he used it as a location in his film Othello (1952). Back in sunlight, we head up to the ramparts, which originally included five bastions — only four were rebuilt after Sidi Mohammed destroyed the town as the Portuguese fled in 1769. From here there are great views of the old town as well as the ocean. We meet a young boy who runs along the top of the rampart wall and jumps off into the water. Accepting no coins, he does it again and again. We also encounter a young couple, who seemingly are meeting clandestinely as it is otherwise "improper." Next, we beeline for Casablanca. South of the city the air gets thick and hazy and we begin wondering what is going on. We discover that this is Jorf Lasfar, Morocco's second most important port and a major producer of fertilizer and petrochemicals. The domed structures along the coastline are the country's largest independent producers of electricity, which I learn later was primarily funded from a joint Swedish and Swiss com pay along with America's CMS Energy. Morocco needs air quality standards and an OSHA-type agency to ensure that the country doesn't kill its people from hazardous substances as it boosts its national economy! I am beyond sad as we drive into Casablanca . . . the end our journey is just hours away. Ever since leaving Essaouria, my mind has been pulling me home — thinking of all that will need my attention. Checking into the Val d'Anfa, the same hotel we began our adventure, the chaos begins. First, the air conditioning isn't working. Next, repacking needs to be tackled. By dinnertime, Jewel has decided not to join Gypsy and me for our final gastronomic experience in Morocco . . . this trip. At the pre-arranged hour, Tehar picks us up and whisks us along the Corniche to the Restaurant La Mer. Much to our amazement the restaurant is virtually empty. We are seated beside a wall of glass looking out into the Atlantic Ocean. New York is just beyond the horizon — somewhere. First time that I can remember watching the sun set over the Atlantic Ocean. Pretty beautiful. And, as lovely as dinner is our moods are more melancholy than expectant for what tomorrow will bring. Though there are few patrons in the restaurant, service is slow. How slow? Tehar is back promptly after 90 minutes to pick us up and there is no time for dessert. No worries, we have dessert at the Val d'Anfa, which regrettably was not worth photographing!
We learn that back in the 7th century BC, the Phoenicians founded a base here and in the 1st century BC it was the center for the manufacturing of purple dye derived from a shellfish that inhabits the coast. Later, in the 15th century, the Portuguese established a military presence and trading center they named Mogador. However, it wasn't until the mid 1700s that the town, harbor and fortifications were built by Sidi Mohammed ben Abdallah (Mohammed III). Our first stop is to ramparts facing the sea, which are crenellated to give protection from naval attack. Designed in the Islamic style, they are built of stone with three gates or "Babs" that lead into the medina. At the Sqala de la Ville — one of two sea bastions — are a row of Spanish cannons that were used to defend the northern end of the city. From here, we follow the rampart wall past stalls and shops to the Sqala du Port where the fishing fleet is harbored. In the 18th century, forty percent of Atlantic sea traffic passed through Essaouria, and more recently it was one of Morocco's largest sardine ports. Today, however only about 500 or so families make their living from fishing. We wind our way past fish vendors and boat builders. Due to high winds, the fishing fleet has been in port for several days.
After lunch we head back to the Riad Dar Maya to undertake packing up all of the things we have been collecting on our adventure to bring home. Unfortunately, I did not have presence of mind to photograph the three motley looking boxes filled with a donkey pannier, silver-plated mint teapots, small carpets, books, a flower distiller, argan oil, rose water, several varieties of honey, and more! On the way back to our favorite restaurant Madada, we pop into Gallery Frédéric Damgaard to view some local contemporary art by a group of painters known as "free artists." The work is fascinating in part because Morocco, as an Islamic country, had no tradition of representing human and animal forms in its art. Each artists works in their own unique style. I am especially drawn to the style they refer to as Naive Painting by self-taught artists. Some of the work reminds me of aboriginal art in that it is imbued with a sense of dreamtime and mysticism. Sadly, none capture my attention to the point of purchase and figuring out shipping arrangements at this late hour and our leaving early tomorrow morning, but the art of several artists is now on my radar screen — particularly Abdallah el Atrach! Dinner is a sumptuous redux of last night — piña colada, lobster pastilla, and a lamb tagine. Perfect. Also known by its Portuguese name Mogador, the city of Essaouira —"the wall" — was so named for the fortress walls that originally enclosed the city. The bay on which the city is sited is partially sheltered by the island of Mogador, giving it a relatively protected harbor against the strong Atlantic winds. The city has been the backdrop for movies as well as the inspiration of artists of all genres. Here, in the early 1950s, Orson Welles shot some of the labyrinthine streets and alleyways of the medina for his movie "Othello." It is said that the seagulls inspired Alfred Hitchcock's movie "The Birds" and Jimi Hendrix was inspired to write "Castles Made of Sand." For me, I am inspired to photograph the quality of light here as it plays on the walls and hidden recesses of the alleyways that make up the medina. Last evening, after settling into the Riad Dar Maya, I began my exploration of Essaouira. Dinner at La Table Madada was so-o-o-o good last night . . . starting with the best fresh coconut daiquiri I've had in many years. And, no, there was not an umbrella! The ambiance is lovely. Once a carob bean warehouse, it is now a trendy restaurant with deep-purple chairs and banquettes, stone arches and giant lampshades hanging from the ceiling. But it is more than that . . . the food is delicious with original Moroccan and Mediterranean dishes including many freshly caught seafood offerings, and there is even a cooking school, L'Atelier Madada, if only there was more time.
How good is the restaurant? Well, we went back the next night and even ordered some of the same again — lobster pastilla! Need I say more . . . Morning traffic in Marrakech — yikes — What a nightmare! Intersections are free-for-alls with everyone abandoning the notion of "lanes." Thankfully Tahar is driving . . . Not quite as aggressive as some (probably because clients are in the car), but more aggressive than we're use to back home even on the 101 and 405 highways. Unfortunately, just as we are to break out of traffic a call comes in from La Maison Arabe — my grey carry-on bag was left in the hotel. Instead of paying attention to be sure all my bags had been brought down from my room and stowed in our vehicle, I'd gone off to buy a couple of last minute gifts. Damn! Good natured, Tahar weaves our way back to the riad, picks up my bag, and dives back into traffic. Once out of the city, the sky "blues-up" and as we head towards the coast the landscape turns pastorale. Along the way we pass orchards of Argon trees (argania spinosa) that produce the valuable oil whose flavor is similar to toasted hazelnuts. It is a plant unique to this region called the Souss and which holds great attraction to goats — as we discovered! Spotting some munching in the trees, we stop. While Jewel and I take photos, Gypsy immediately picks up and cradles a young baby — the perfect antidote for time spent in the city! Soon we are yelling for her to move as a gorgeous white goat goat high up in the tree above her begins to pee . . . clear miss . . . whew! Our next stop is at Le Val d'Argan vineyard about 12 miles from Essaouira and the only one in south Morocco. It was founded about 20 years ago by a Frenchman, Charles Mélia, whose family owns Font du Loup in Chateauneuf-du-Pape. His Moroccan vineyard is dedicated to growing red and white grape varietals from the Rhone Valley. Today, the vineyard has almost 80 acres under vines, which we are told yield over 100,000 bottles a year. Our vineyard guide is a young man who is interning. His family, he tells us, owns a small vineyard in France. After the tour we head to the vineyard restaurant for a bit of morning wine tasting and wondering why he chose to intern here rather than Italy, New Zealand, or the United States! Starving, we arrive in Essaouira about 30 minutes later. Tahar parks down by the waterfront and takes us to one of several seafood shops where they will grill whatever we select . . . It all looks great — and not a tagine in sight! We choose a Spider crab, handfuls of shrimp, calamari, and a mild fish. Yummy, but not inexpensive. Since reading on-line that customers can negotiate the prices at these waterfront cafés . . . we do so . . . successfully! Too bad our trip is winding down . . . we're getting better and better at this way of buying almost everything. I suspect it will take a few days once we are home to get back in the habit of pay full-fare in stores! Essaouira's medina is pedestrian, which means that porters have been arranged to take our luggage by hand cart to our accommodation for the next two nights — Dar Maya. Unlike a riad, which is typically an traditional residence that is organized around a courtyard, a "dar" is house that is more in the fashion of bed & breakfast. Dar Maya is lovely and perfectly situated so that it is easy to get around, yet quiet. Behind a traditional wooden door on a narrow alleyway, the four-story home is tastefully modern inside. There are spacious guest rooms (5) that are beautifully, but simply decorated — all looking onto a lovely open courtyard. There is also a fourth-floor lounge that I discovered in the last hours of our stay and along with a roof-top terrace with outside bar and small plunge pool. The day is not over . . . stay tuned for pics of our self-exploration after settling into our hotel . . .
After our cooking class, I met up with Jewel and Tahar and headed back to the wonderful shop Amazonite: Antiquités Objets d'Arts. The owners sister Sabah had agreed to specially open her shop for us. What we had thought would be a relatively short (30 minutes or so) stop, turned into several hours as Jewel and I looked and tried on earrings, necklaces, bracelets as well as at a few more exquisite rugs. For my part, I helped keep the Moroccan economy and Amazonite's payroll strong by purchasing an incredible necklace from the tribe of southern Berbers and an Tuareg amulet (medicine) bag. Jewel also did her part . . . So long we'd been, Tehar was fast asleep, napping in the heat of the afternoon! Stopping at Le Maison Arabe to pick up Gypsy, Tehar dropped us off at La Mamounia Hotel to tour the gardens, which were originally on the site of a residence that belonged to the son of the Alaouite sultan Sidi Mohammed in the 18th century. Many famous people have stayed here, including Alfred Hitchcock who wrote "The Birds" during his visit . . . in fact, the story was inspired by our next destination (Essaouira). While at LaMamounia we photographed, ate gelatos, and enjoyed refreshing cocktails in a piano bar. While the hotel is lovely — a blending of Art Deco and Moorish styles — and the grounds beautifully manicured, the staff while immaculately and gorgeously attired are impersonal. Over refreshing cocktails, we three agreed that the lovely intimacy and friendliness of the staff at La Maison Arabe was much more to our liking. For me, being greeted warmly each morning by the staff and welcomed at the end of the day by the bartender with a non-alcoholic concoction and asking what we did, how we enjoyed our day in Marrakech, and offering to make us a special cocktail tailored to how we are feeling . . . enhances my experience. Afterwards, indulging Jewel's desire to experience the snake charmers, trained monkeys and crowds, Tehar took us to the main plaza in the medina. I must admit, my first impression of the plaza two-days ago did not change. It has a contrived, pseudo-authentic feel as hustlers working with the snake charmers, magicians, water carriers, etc. block your sight unless you pay up. Instead, I found interest and amusement in people-watching. Spying three good looking European men with an odd contraption — a long pole with eight SLR cameras taped to it — Gypsy and I went over to ask what they were doing. Why, taking 360-degree photos of the plaza. And then there were the guys who carried large plastic tarps that they opened in a relatively open space in the plaza to reveal clothes — scores of women descended upon them to check them out and make their purchases. There was also a woman and her young on selling several dozen rolls. Having made the plaza "rounds," we were ready to head back to La Maison Arabe — but how? In our "democracy" the voice of "one" rules, and as Jewel was really keen on taking one of the horse drawn carriages back to our Riad, Gypsy and I agreed to go along so long as one with a "healthy" horse with a caring driver could be found. Easily, we each achieved our 10,000 steps that day as we circled around and around, and around and around the horse drawn carriages — saying "no thank you" to each driver that did his best to entice us into his carriage. In more than the time it would have taken us to walk back to our Riad, Jewel and Gypsy found us a suitable carriage . . . away we went. As the three of us piled into the carriage, I suggested to Jewel that she ride beside the driver to get the "full effect" — with delight, she did.
Back at La Maison Arabe, we enjoy our last dinner in the piano bar listening to ballad standards, sipping our favorite cocktails, and sharing a dinner of soup, tagine, meat, and dessert. Before heading off to pack and bed, our beloved bartender suggests a few photographs to remember our stay . . . see why I love La Maison Arabe?!? |
AuthorMy "nuesta" name is Prism … and like my name implies, my passion and dedication lie in collecting experiences, internal reflection, and dispersing light in its fullest complement of colors. Archives
December 2014
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Destination … Morocco
Born of earth energies, nurtured by the light of the sun and moon, we travel the world to bathe in pure waters, listen to the voices of the ancestors carried on faraway winds, and feast on cultures that stimulate our senses and imaginations. We — Mama Rosa, Gypsy, Jewel, Petunia and Prism — are the Traveling Nuestas . . .