Day 6 Fes and more

We woke up to sunshine and clear skies initially. Dragged the kids out of bed and down to breakfast. Crepes, bread and jam, fresh OJ, coffee and tea. OK Michael and Kate had Nesquick chocolate chemical cereals. We got ready after the breakfast and took the car out of the dug-out garage, a tricky maneuver involving no mirrors and avoiding a pillar by 2 cm, I kid you not. Using our innate sense of direction, we ended up on top of the hill overlooking the medina, near the Hotel des Merinides. We took panoramic photos and sold Kate for a few camels to some interested boys, but she was returned as difficult to manage within five minutes. So off we went to the five star hotel to check it out. They were excited to see us as the hotel seemed entirely devoid of guests, but it had a superb view of the city and a swimming pool that looked inviting despite the 16C temperature. Unfortunately they would not let us stay for free so we left and rolled down the hill in putt-putt (no gas required) to the nouvelle ville section of Fes. This is of course a misnomer as most of it was nouvelle back in the 1920's. Some of it has been updated and there are some nicer sections of apartments and houses. We found the gare and then the street Albert lives on, for which there was no sign despite that it is the main street leading away from the gare. We also walked around a few blocks, bought some postcards and then got sprayed with shaving cream by some little kids. Everyone helped us clean up. Then we went to the apartment only to find oout we were in the worng building.We phoned and the door did not open. So we went next door and finally had the right place. Albert welcomed us and showed us the apartment. He had two old  friends from France visiting and also the lady he works with, Latifah. o we all sat down to a lot of wine, Moroccan salads and a long dafina composed of too many courses for my stomach. Finally around 3:30 PM we pushed back from the table and said our goodbyes. We had the intention of seeing the Roman ruins of Volubilis outside of Meknes. So we took the highway and rolled back through Meknes 40 km away and up into the countryside towards the village of Moulay Idriss. The sky was darkening and we were in the mountains so we actually arrived at Volubilis as it was getting dark. We parked at the gate and despite the closing hour, the guard asked for full price and told us a guide was available (Please tip him at the end...) However, we didn't bite and I am sure we would not have seen much without flashlights as the sky started to rain again. We drove back up and down the twisty roads past the village which we didn't actually enter. Back to Fes again and we were all needing relief, so we stopped at a very trendy cafe, patisserie called La Villa. Just in time, we sat down with all the cool kids of town, dressed up for the local version of cruising. We ate a lite meal with coffee, tea and tasty Moroccan treats such as chocolate milkshake, and ice cream sundae. The more substantial meal was panini and crepes for the male elements. Another downpour while we ate so that the rest of the drive was puncutated by splashing other vehicles through large puddles. Amazingly we managed to find our way in through Bab Ziat, our gate to the medina and even into our garage. We were ably assisted in backing the car into a spot wide enough for a fat donkey and so putt-putt went to bed to rest up for the long drive toErfoud tomorrow. Safely back in the Riad Damia, we hitched up to the wonders of the Internet and Skype to be able to serenade my mother with Birthday wishes. Hopefully they will also follow this blog. The author appreciated the kind comments of our readers. Looking forward to another day. 

Day 5 Fez Medina

Awoke at 8AM after sleeping deeply in a four poster bed in our apartment up on the third floor of the Riad Damia. The sun was shining and the air was fresh. We had an elegant breakfast en famille down in the lobby with a private corner for us.Coffee with warm milk, yogurt, mouflettas, bread and jam, hot chocolate all on nnice china. Adnin was very helpful. After packing our audio visual gear and rain coats, we met our guide, Rachid, in the lobby. He is a middle-aged Fassi, like me, with a calm, casual manner. We set off walking the crooked and narrow streets of the medina of Fez, one of the largest iin the world, as everyone reminds us. Thousands of people live and work here especially creating the crafts Morocco is known for, leather, pottery, jewelry, fabric, carpets, argan oil products. What was most fascinating is how life is conducted within these alleys, with transport by hand cart, donkey and mule, motorcycle and thousands of feet. There are thousands of alley ways, mostly unmarked for the unintiated to find. Behind the walls are beautiful homes, mosques, stores, and thousands of little shops and merchants. You can find restaurants, hair salons, pharmacies, banks and ATMs as well as every kind of shop. Some are a whole in the wall and as Rachid showed us, some are a hole in the ground. He took us to see the men stoking the fires for a hammam, the weavers creating scarves and bedspreads in a rainbow of colours, the leather merchants and the colourful tanneries where people paraded knee deep in leather dye vats (smells terrible) and worked to restore crafts and sites that date back hundreds of years. Rachid led us up and down to see mosques from the outside, the Karoyine University, several restored medersas and several shops. We were always treated with a smooth and professional sales pitch. At a carpet cooperative, we explored the three stiry building and were taken up to the roof tosee a view of Fez 360 degreees. In the buildings, we saw beautiful tile work, fountains, carved plaster and wood friezes and walls, always around a central courtyard. We were entertained by a carpet salesman who knew how to work through Kate and Guittel. We almost bought some of the beautiful Fez carpets, ready for shipment by "Fed Ex or DHL" right to your door. The sales pitch was accompanied by mint tea made fresh on the spot. We visited a Women's cooperative store where they showed us how the argan tree was used for its fruit and oil for cosmetics. Unfortunately it was Friday and a lot of souks were closing up so we did not see as much jewelry or food shops as we would have liked. However, the hours passed quickly and all were enjoying the sights, sounds and smells. We ate lunch in a restaurant near the upper areas of the medina with our guide. Delicious soups, pastilla, and shrimps pil-pil with tea at the end. Then Rachid took us to see the inside of a wealthy, Fassi home. A maid let us in to see the house of an absentee wealthy man with a huge interior courtyard, fabulous furniture and antiques. She served us more mint tea and cake and then showed us the multiple huge upstairs bedrooms, each with its own bath. All faced out on the central courtyard. The kids wanted to buy the place on the spot, forgetting where it is located in the heart of old Fez. However, for all of us it was an eye opener to show us that behind walls all can be hidden and sometimes imagination is needed to understand how things work and appear.
Around 4PM, we arrived back at the Riad for a 'pit stop' and we all climbed into putt-putt, rescued from the garage man, to head down to a pottery factory where evrythjing is created from the clay of the local soil. Many hands are needed to spin the clay, mold it, cook it, paint it, and then cut and shape it into tiles, mosaics, fountains, dishes and other objects.Although the sales pitch and explanations were smooth, the prices were high  and we succumbed to only buying our house address numbers in porcelain. Again we were assured that the Fez craftsmen were the best and shipping around the world to our door was no problem. Considering the internet and the way you can withdraw money from an ATM in the medina which dates back 8 centuries as if you were at the home branch in Montreal, I have to believe that shipping is no problem and ordering by Internet also is easy.
I was also impressed by the easy way people switch languages from Arabic, to French, to English, with Italian, Spanish and German thrown in for good measure.

At the end of the day  we gathered back in our Riad apartment and watched the hundreds of digital phot memories we have accumulated in just four days. Our batteries recharged (literally), we  had a delicious Moroccan meal prepared by our host and his wife, washed down by a bottle of Moroccan rosé from Meknes. Jazz was playing and we all were relaxed enjoying Moroccan salads, chicken with olives and lemon and fresh oranges. The rain started up again and so we were all happy to be sheltered behind the strong door and walls of our Riad Damia. Tomorrow Fez, nouvelle ville and Volubilis we hope.

Day 4 Rabat to Fez

Grey sky in Rabat. We packed up and had breakfast at Le Pietri. Settled bill there and then brought the car around to load it. The street "attendant" wanted to get paid for two days supervision. I offered some change but he wanted more and made a fuss. Guittel mentionned that our tires had been slashed and he said  that it was not in their culture to do that. Who knows, because it may have been kids on the street, which meant he wasn't watching anyway. The hundred year old man survived until this morning and he had his hand out for more money as well. Anyway we left and circled around several banks trying to change traveller's cheques and getting refused. Then we drove to the Royal Palace and this time were turned away by being at the worng gate. His loss anyway. Then we drove through the outskirts and onto the highway to Meknes. Good divided highway with many speed traps as welll as clean rest stops. At the side of the road, sheep, cows, and roasted chestnut vendors. As we drove on the scenery changed and became more rural and more mountainous.
 We arrived on the outskirts of Meknes and somehow Guittel remembered the way into the nouvelle ville and we found her grandmother's old apartment and then her grandparents old house (newly restored in the no longer Jewish district). Then back across town to find the old cemetery grounds where relatives were buried. In the rain, Guittel and Kate went in and found the graves. They took some pictures and then came back to the car. It was pouring and our search for a "suitable" restaurant somehow took us to the Moroccan Meknessi Pizza Hut branch. The look was right but the menu featured Pizza Schwarma Deluxe which was actually quite tasty, much to my embarassment. Yesterday Mega Mall , today Pizza Hut. Never again. American culture is a weapon of mass destruction....
After lunch we went to see the remains of the Royal Granaries built by Moulay Idriss in the seventeenth century. A guid latched onto us and impressed Guittel into an "extravagant" tip at the end of a twenty minute tour and several photos. The building was impressive in size and you can imagine what it was supposed to be like. The walls around the city were also huge. Rain came down again and we felt that going to Volubilis would be too much so we headed onward to Fes. Somehow we found the old medina after passing through a big chunk of the Nouvelle ville, actually looking more prosperous and clean than Rabat or Casa had been. We got lost looking for our riad but a guy on a motorcycle resuced us and guided us to a garage and the Riad Damia, whiich we had reserved. The alleys were narrow and the garage looked even more dodgy with the requisite somewaht toothless attendant. We parked and dragged our bags a bit up the hillside to the bolted, studded door of the riad. The motorcyclist was thanked and he offered the help of his brother the official guide for tomorrow. The Riad main room was impressively high and elaborate. It was the former home of the owner's grandparents and so filled with antiques. We were warmly welcomed by the manager Adnin and escorted up to our apartment on the top floor, a bedroom, a second smaller room, a large living room and a full bathroom with a smaller WC. Not as modern as I expected but quite nice. The view was difficult to appreciate at night and with another strong downpour. Mint tea in the lobby and a little internet helped us relax. Our host arranged for a "real guide" for the medina for tomorrow AM. We had verbalinstructions how to go to a nearby restaurant. The maze of streets got us off kilter quickly and we all were afraid of being lost until a young Fassi took pity on us and walked us to a nice restaurnat called Dar Batha. It was a beautiful room with two musicians and the usual Moroccan decor. We ordered and were fed fully and well sated. Nerves were calmed and our young guide even came by to walk us back to the Riad, since he lived almost next door. He refused money and offered his services to guide us around the medina as well. Clealry we have too many guides and not a clue how to get around! To top off the evening, first one grandfather called on the cellphone and then we reached the other grandparents through the miracle of Skype. Thank you Martha and Shura for your news and even with the echo it worked out okay. I hope they will follow along with this blog. Tomorrow, Xmas Day and Friday here in Fes will be an exciting and we hope dry day. Good night from all.

Day 3, Rabat

Same old, same old. Rain and wind at night but today it continued almost all day, with heavy downpours and large puddles lakes all over the roads.After a relatively late wake up and breakfast in the Pietri restaurant, we took off in our putt-putt to the gas station and filled up on gasoil. Then through the horn symphony and the bumper cars around the medina to the tip of the city overlooking the Atlantic. This is the original city, the Kasbah Oudaya, walled and a veritable hilltop maze. We parked and entered through the wall into an isolated and quiet enclave with twisty laneways (wide enough for 2 people mostly). A young "student" latched on to us to be our guide. He spoke English, French, Arabic and Italian and his brother lives in Copenhagen ("where it is too cold"). He showed us a few lookouts over the Atlantic where the cannons used to be as well as many of the current houses of the quarter, where supposedly many Europeans live. Each house is mostly a wall  with just a door from the alleyway. So each door represents a work of art, identification and protection. Wooden, studded, painted and carved. Quite ornate with hardware such as scissors to designate the profession (doctor) or some point of history. The alleys were painted white with blue bases, somewhat like in Greece. Cats were part of the decoration. One of the doors reminded Guittel of her aunt Rebecca's door in the Meknes Mellah. Eventually our guide deposited us in the Cafe Maure overlooking the Bou regreg delta, after a little 'discussion' about his fee. We drank mint tea and ate a local pastry while the rain started and stopped repeatedly. Our time in the Andalusian garden was limited by another downpour. So back to the car and up and down the hills looking for the mall  we had heard about in Suissy, south of downtown. After a few more u-turns and several pardonnez-moi, ou se trouve..... Tout drrroit madame., directions we found an ersatz American enclosed mall complete with skating rink (real ice) and a bowling alley as well as the requisite food court. As the rain was pounding down, this seemed to be good activity to occupy the family. Lunch was schwarma, sandwiches and lip licking chicken nuggets (Southern Fried Chicken) for Michael of course. Guittel had the best capuccino of her life (so far), while the shops were inspected and found wanting by our spoiled Canadian mall rats. Of note, everything was in French with scarcely a letter of arabic visible. The customers wore the latest chi-chi clothes with winter accessories of ski jackets and Ugg boots despite the 18 degree outside temperatures. Suitably satisfied at this touch of Anywhere world, Rabat style, we took off again in the rain and traversed the town several times trying to see into the Royal Palace grounds. We tried driving through a gate but we did not look official enough in our rented Renault and so were told to come back tomorrow (like in the Wizard of Oz). So as a consolation prize, we again circled the downtown back to the tip of the city and the rue des Consuls. I am not sure if any consuls ever saw this  lace but it is a mini market street of Moroccan crafts and anything else that can be sold. Surprisingly all the vendors sat quietly, likely because their pants were waterlogged and they were afraid to chase the five measly tourists available (us, I think) for a sale. Kate tried to buy a pair of pink Chanel babbouche (probably not an original design....) for a few dhirams short of a loaf of bread at home. The vendor did not want to part with them although Canadian customs might have enjoyed looking for the copyright mark under the large CC . Finally we had enough and we blithely shared the road with two hundred side by side petit taxis back to near our hotel in Centre Ville.Fortunately we were able to park with the help of a toothless old man somewhere under a hundred years old. He promised to watch our car until the morning or death, whichever came first. We will see in the morning. A few dhhirams should keep him going. We did not want any incidents as with our first car where it appears the tires were slashed in front of the hotel door. Amine sent his man back from Casa to Rabat at 7PM with our spare tire and we reinstalled it under the car in case of emergency. He was also "dentally challenged" but grateful for a small pourboire.
Kate and Guittel meanwhile enjoyed the daily mint tea in the hotel restaurant surrounded by many hard drinking business men of the capital.
After consulting our many guidebooks, we settled on a restaurant nearby known for its Moroccan and Jewish cuisine. Unfortunately this curiosity on rue Patrice Lumumba could not be found in the dark, likely as the owner had safely emigrated to cold wintry Montreal, I suppose. So we settled for our hotel rstaurant again to get out of the light drizzle. We were all in a good mood and enjoyed the food. Dessert and coffee and it was late enough to go back to the room and research our trip to Fes tomorrow.

Day 2 Rabat

All night long the wind was howling and the rain was beating against the windows, I thought I was dreaming or in some bad Hollywood storm scene. By 6 AM, I was planning some hasty itinerary change to the south in bed. Then we slept in until 8:30 and the rain gods were letting up. Breakfast buffet was good in the hotel, coffee, juices, brioche, eggs, fruits and yogurt. We prepared for the rain and headed out  to sightsee. Then a miracle, the rain stopped and the sun came out for the rest of the days, all despite a forecast which said rain for the whole day. We roasted in happiness, over dressed. Money changer and SIM cards were satisfied, but the most satisfied was Guittel. She literally regressed before us at the sight of her old apartment and the elementary school she attended. She went up to the third floor of the Vidal Assurance Building and knocked on the door, introduced herself and toured the office that now occupies the space. At the school, which was not in session,, she rang the bell and the watchman let us in to see the small yard and the outdoor areas. What appeared large in childhood was actually quite small for adult perspective. More of the same, we walked the few blocks around and saw the same patisseries that had been there 40 years ago. Howeveer, not only memory changed, but the conditions of the buildings and streets suffered a decline mostly from the years of the former French influence.
At the same moment the sun was shining and we walked along a newly repaved Rue d'Alger with preparatory work for an urban tramway through Rabat from the Gare centrale towards (to) Salé. After a few blocks of embassies we reached La Tour Hassan and the remnants from the twelfth century attempt to build a huge mosque on the hilltop overlooking the Bou regreg River and the distant ocean. The Tower is only half built and the rows of pillars stand only 2-3 metres in height but still pretty impressive. In the same area was the Tomb of Mohammed V, the grandfather of the current monarch. The tiles and guards made for a great photo op with the colours contrasting with the white marble stonework. Then a slow walk back to the Hotel Le Pietri, a few phone calls to our car rental company agent, Amine, and we headed to a Rabat landmark for pizza called La Mama. Moroccan in staff and ownership but definitely Italian in quality. Tasty pizzas, some with bacon, saucisse and jambon washed down with beer or wine (the place was busy with "business men" or government employees). Good lunch. For digestion, we walked along the Boulevard Mohammed V, the formerly fashionable main street through Nouvelle Ville and then through the wall into the crowded and poor medina. Lots of vendors, small stores, bootleggers with DVDs and video games as well as more traditional vendors of fruits, nuts, nougat, pastries with flies nd bees circling the merchandise more than customers. It was quite a sight for our young explorers and even for the older ones.
End of the afternoon and more "excitement" about the Kangoo. We convinced the agent to change the car for the tire problem and because the back doors didn't lock. So he sent a driver with a new Kangoo from Casablanca and this toothless wonder arrived around 7 PM. We had a chance to have some mint tea in the restaurant while waiting wile the boys napped and read. The man arrived, traded cars and papers with us and then clicked the remote button on the key which I had not noticed in my imperialist way, assuming that the thing was manual locking only. The guy drove away with the flat tire and went to find a garage. We prepared and walked a few blocks to a Moroccan Restaurant, Le Petit Beurre, for dinner. But on our way, the cell phone rang and Amine asked if there had been problems with two tires not just one. He said two tires had been punctured or slashed. This stunned us and I suspected that the street watchman whom we had not paid off, had taken his revenge. We were reassured y the hotel staff that this was not so. In any case, we had to return to the hotel and give the driver our spare tire so that he could fix the other car, with the promise that it would be returned tomorrow.  To make matters worse, I drove the new Kangoo around the block to park in front of the hotel again. I again had trouble getting into reverse gearsetting up an impatient driver behind me and a hotel employee rescued me by parking the car. Was I embarassed again! Anyways, the kids were happy to find out that Dad was an incompetent whom they could aspire to match or to surpass sometime in the near future.
With this charade out of the way we returned to our restaurant and finally sat down to a delicious Moroccan meal of choukchouka, pastilla and tagines of lamb, beef and chicken. The usual bickering from the kids turned into appreciation for the food as the Moroccan musician serenedaded the guests. Good meal, then finally late back to the hotel. A rock band was playing in our restaurant so bedtime became midnight as the noise carried  up to the third floor.Hopefully tomorrow will go forward and not too much in reverse as we visit other parts of Rabat.

Arriving

December 21, 2009

After a few month's planning, many hours of Internet trolling for riads, hotels, cars and places to go, we actually took off on Sunday evening Dec. 20th from wintry Montreal. The plane was a crowded 767 filled with passengers going to Casablanca. Most seemed like Moroccans living in Montreal returning for the end of year period. The flight was uneventful if you count the usual babies screaming, late arriving passengers and general chaos when 300 people squeeze into a giant cigar tube and try to listen to security dialogue in three garbled languages (Arabic, French and English). The food and coffee were actually good. The film mediocre and the sleep poor quality. The kids slept well especially Kate and Michael.
Arriving in Casablanca in the early morning of the 21st, there was a glimpse of sunshine and then clouds. The airport was third world with the usual long lines of fonctionnaires and forms. The baggage also descended slowly from the plane. No losses out of five. Finally we cleared the third line up and were in the arrival hall looking for the man with the rental car.
We found him after a bit and then we paraded outside to meet our Renault Kangoo and fill in papers. Things went well except the vehicle already had 83, 000 km and few dents to boot. The diesel was on E and he told to check the tires. (Why?) Our bags did fit in the back and we all piled in while waiting for Guittel to change some currency. The agent took off, promising to meet us in Agadir on the third (weird way of returning the car)and I realised I could not get the car in reverse. We asked some chuckling parking attendant how and he quickly showed me there was a knob on the shifter to engage before putting it in reverse. Oops. We then managed to exit the parking and the airport to find the first gas spot. Fill up with gasoil and yes reinflate the left front tire. Then off to Casablanca sharing a secondary road with an assortment of crazed humans, crazed donkepys, trucks, buses and potholes. Had to learn how to enter the rotaries and still be able to survive and exit.
I drove into Casablanca not recognizing any street names (most signs are non existent). The streets are teeming with honking, careening, red petit taxis, mopeds, motorcycles, horse drawn carts (yes in a city of 3.5 million) buses, trucks, expensive cars and barely mobile clunkers. The all circulate without regard for rules, red lights (okay sometimes)and right of way. I was dodging and weaving while shifting the reluctant manual transmission and coaxing some speed out of the Renault. The buildings were concrete jungles with street vendors, garages, shops and clinics. Mostly there were just many people, everywhere on cells and crossing in the middle of the streets. After an hour of zigging and zaggging successfully, we arrived at the Grand mosque of Hassan II. It is a huge building with a towering minaret, perched over the edge of the Atlantic. We all took snapshots but could not go in. Then we drove downtown to the port with fewer questions on the way (tout drroit monsieur) to the port area. We ate lunch at the Restaurant du Port- an old fashioned restau with an excess of waiters but also some fresh fish. Our quick lunch included shrimps grilled and pil-pil (mildly spicy) as well as fried calamari. All quite good and rapidly served. I grossed out the kids by eating the shrimp heads and Mark followed my example (adventurous at least when it comes to food).
After lunch came the deluge. The skies clouded over ominously and then a downpour started and persisted all afternoon (sunny Morocco, eh!). We drove our putt-putt out of Casablanca and onto the divided highway to Rabat. Visibility was terrible and all were fatigued. Kids asleep in the back and I had to pull off the road a few times to rest for five minutes. A delicious coffee to go woke me back uo and we got to Rabat by 4 PM. Still pouring so we somehow navigated to our hotel, Le Pietri, down a side street somewhere near Guittel's old apartment. Through the wet windshield we glimpsed some of the walls of the old city and some more interesting buildings than in Casablanca.
We parked in front of our little hotel and checked in. Two rooms, third floor as reserved, business like but pleasant. A very nice mint tea in the very pleasant restaurant- bar and we all crashed for a bit before supper. We ate in the Pietri restaurant- good tagines and entrecote- quite tasty and satisfying. The doorman showed our poor Renault after dinner with a flat tire (the one we had inflated earlier). Oops, we've been given a lemon. For now to sleep but tomorrow the prospect of changing a flat in the rain or calling for help.... Salaam ou aleikum.