Marrakech: Part 3 - "Nice wrists, nice eyes!"

Ok, so back to Part 1 when I mentioned the huge culture shock; this was my first time visiting a Muslim country. For me, the most interesting part of this was the call to prayer. They start between 5am and 6am, and will likely wake you up, but it’s almost soothing. And, should you happen to try to siesta later on, you’ll get woken up again around midday, mid-afternoon, sunset, and nighttime. The pre-sunrise one always seemed to last the longest though, with each mosque chiming in at a different time. I don’t know if it’s because they need more of a reminder to get out of bed and pray at that hour, or because it takes each person at each mosque that much longer to get up and start calling. It was mesmerizing to sit on our riad’s rooftop in the middle of the medina and listen to a call to prayer because of how it seemed to surround you, coming from one mosque on one side, and then one farther away, and then one right next to you.

One thing that always made me laugh (and only sometimes made me feel like a piece of meat) was some of the comments we heard, that are obviously used on every single tourist so they come out so naturally for them. I don’t know if they’ll have the same effect when you read them, but here’s a sampling.

“Shakira! Lady Gaga!”

This was how they tried to get our attention. We felt like real celebrities. Actually, that’s all that we respond to now. Oh, and neither of us are blonde?

“Need a place to eat?”

“No thanks, we just ate.”

“But you look Starvin Marvin!”

This we got a few times walking through the food stalls in the square at night, and it made me laugh so hard.

“How much can you pay?”

Bargaining is the name of the game, but no one seems to respond well to “nothing.”

“Everything is half off because tomorrow I close.”

“Oh, you’re closing?”

“Yeah, tomorrow is my day off.”

“Oh, so you re-open the next day?”

“Well, yeah.”

Good sales technique.

“Small store, small price. Big store, big price.”

In an effort to convince us he had better prices.

“I’ll take you to my brother’s / father’s / uncle’s / cousin’s / relative’s store where you’ll get the best deal.”

We even promised this kid who showed us to Terrasse des épices that we would visit his dad’s store after. We didn’t...

“Where are you from? English? Oh, Canada? I have a cousin there!”

Doesn’t everybody?

“No guide, no money, no problem.”

We wised up pretty quickly and told anyone who offered us directions that we had no money to give them.

“Oh, you’re looking for <insert any place here>? I’m actually going there right now, I’ll show you!”

See comment above.

“Wow, nice wrists, nice eyes.”

Just kidding, they were actually saying “nice breasts, nice ass” but it sounded a lot like wrists and eyes. Sweetest words a girl could ever hear?

Marrakech: Part 2 - When You're Not Eating

Ok, we’ve talked about the food; now, let’s talk about what to do between the eating. The first recommendation is to get lost in the souks. But, that’s not something you need to be told to do, because I promise you that even those of you with the best sense of direction will get lost. Take a map, but don’t trust it too much. We even gave our map to a couple of shop owners to show us where we were and they didn’t know. Be wary of those telling you (kids especially) that they’ll take you where you’re going because they happen to be going that way as well – it’ll cost you.

Hopefully while you’re lost in the souks you’ll find some cute shops, after all it is the place where I found bronze ostrich-skin shoes that were apparently only made in my size. Snap.

Also, bargain, bargain, bargain. The general rule of thumb is that you should pay half of the initially quoted price, and many of the things that you see will be in other stalls so you can easily say you’ll keep looking or come back. Must-buys include spices, amber, and argan oil. If you’re thinking about buying some leather, do yourself a favour and don’t go to see the tanneries. You see, there’s a reason they give you a sprig of mint to smell when you arrive at the tanneries, and that they have been banished to the outskirts of the medina – they treat the leather with pigeon poop and urine. Yep. You read that right. And once you smell that, you can never un-smell it, and you will forever think about how your new bag is so soft because it had a nice long bath in pigeon poop . . . and urine.

When wandering through the Jemaa El Fna square, day or night, don’t make eye contact with the guys will monkeys or snakes, or the women offering henna tattoos. They will put a monkey on your shoulder, or grab your hand and start drawing!

In terms of sights, two places to see in the medina and to escape the heat would be the Ben Youssef Medersa, and the Saadian tombs. Check out the dorm rooms of the medersa, and try to imagine 5-10 people sleeping per room. It makes my old little Vancouver condo look positively luxurious.

Don’t bother with the Royal Palace, as it is never open to the public, and don’t believe anyone you pass on the way there who promises that today is the only day it is open. Lies. Also, the mosques are reserved for Muslims only, so you’ll just have to enjoy them via the call the prayer that you’ll hear five times a day, or from outside.

Take a break from the medina and head over to check out the Jardin Majorelle, if only to say you visited Yves Saint Laurent’s house. More importantly, the garden is spectacular, it’s a nice escape from the heat, and Majorelle blue is a colour best seen in person. It's also my future home, so you'll want to get familiar with it.

And remember, if you want to enjoy that new leather purchase, stay far away from the tanneries. Or, just come to visit me in Italy and buy some leather here!

I took a picture of this corner so we could find out way back to the riad, and caught this kid in the middle of telling me, ''No pictures, please!'' Sorry, kid.

The ''Look Up'' rule applies everywhere.

Yves Saint Laurent designed a Love card every year for the holidays. This is my year!
Jardin Majorelle photos below.

Jemaa El Fna square at night.

From the outside (of the medina) looking in . . . and around.

A mosque you cannot enter.
Souk photos below!

Marrakech: Part 1 - The Food, Obviously.

Last week I experienced my first genuine culture shock. Sure, reading this blog it may seem like I’ve travelled a lot this year, but I haven’t been outside of Europe. We had almost a week to explore Marrakech, and I think it’s safe to say I fell in love with it.

Before I start rambling about the trip, if you’re planning a visit, do check out Riad Ghali. We arrived there at about 9am, way too early to check-in, but after sitting for a few minutes waiting for word on whether our room was ready or not, they motioned us over to a table where they had set up a full breakfast for us. YES, PLEASE. The rooms are cute, the staff are so friendly, and the location is great. Oh and the freezing cold plunge pool when it’s pushing 35°C outside is a welcome bonus.

I’ve decided to break this trip down into a few entries, just because there’s so much to share! Let’s start with the most important: FOOD.

We had a list of a few things to try while we are there, and we travel-eat well together. We are both open to new foods and will probably try anything once. We had a list of places to try based on recommendations from an Italian friend who lives there, and we tried everything from swanky cafes to outdoor food courts.

One of our favourites foods that we ate was the pastilla. I think we ate chicken pastilla but there’s a good chance that it was pigeon. We've decided to just refer to it as chicken of the city. Sounds better, right? If you haven’t had pastilla before, you might not understand how delicious it is from the description. It’s shredded chicken cooked in spices, mixed with almonds, wrapped in crisp pastry layers, and covered with . . . wait for it . . . cinnamon and sugar. Think of it this way: In Canada, wrapping anything in bacon makes it taste better, but in Morocco, topping anything with cinnamon and sugar makes it taste better.

Also, get a freshly squeezed OJ in the square. You’ll have to choose from 20 men yelling at you from their stall, but just go with your gut and pick one.

Places to check out:

- Terrasse des épices: Try the pastilla. I guarantee you’ll get lost along the way, but that makes it even better when you finally get there.

- Cafe Arabe: Try the Harira soup. Please don't try the Italian food. You are in Morocco.

- Kosybar: Order a fresh fruit cocktail, and in case you order a dessert, note that the crunchy cigar is just a ladyfinger. Good marketing though.

- Dar Essalam: Get their 250 dirham tasting menu, and it will come with a side of belly dancing.

- Toubkal: Get their 45 dirham tasting menu, if only for the high/low experience.

- Nightly food court in the square: Again, go with your gut and just point at a few things that you want to try. Every place is numbered, and every place will hound you to try theirs. 

Basically, just try to eat as much Moroccan food as you can. And pick up some spices while you're there, because you'll be inspired to recreate it when you get home! Or, if you're me, you'll pick up some spices just to close your eyes and imagine that you're back there every time you open the cupboard and smell them.

Riad Ghali

Daily breakfast. It should be illegal to start the day without fresh OJ.

View from the terrace of Kosybar.

Is something on fire? Nope. That's just meat smoke, from delicious meat being grilled.

This woman had skills. I would not dance around a room with a tray of fire on my head.

Terrasse des epices. So good that we went twice. And got lost both times.

Permesso: Part 3,847

I started off the new year on a good note, with my hard-earned permesso in hand. Hard-earned, you ask? What could be so hard about getting a permesso if you already have your visa? Well, friends. Sometimes it feels like the entire country of Italy has conspired against foreigners. You remember this permesso story. And, this one.

In November I was shooed away from the questura with a, "No, you need to wait at least three months." "But the guy told me it would be ready in two weeks." <Shrug>

On December 30, I said BASTA and went back to the main questura. After finally getting to the woman at the front, she looks at my file and tells me my permesso has been ready since November 6th. Well, colour me surprised (but not really). She tells me to go to my questura immediately, and tell them that they must give me my permesso, even if it isn't "permesso handing-out day." I arrive there, and the conversation goes pretty much exactly like this (in Italian, but translated for your convenience):

"Hi, I'm here to pick up my permesso. The woman at the main questura told me you had to give it to me today."

"But today we can't give out permessos. That only happens on Saturdays."

"It's ok. You can. She told me you could."

"But we can't. It's Monday today. We only give them out on Saturdays."

"It's ok. You can."

"But we can't."

"But you can."

"Let me call the guy who deals with permessos."

So this guy arrives, and we proceed to pretty much have the same conversation. Once he realizes that I'm really not going anywhere, he tells me that he'll see what he can do and tells me to wait. After a couple of hours, he finally calls me in and has my permesso right there. Joy! So I sign whatever I need to, confirm my fingerprints, and just as we're finishing up he says, "I can tell someone helped you with this. You must know someone at the questura, eh?"

.

.

.

I'm not often left speechless, but there I was. I thought maybe I misunderstood his Italian, and asked him what he meant. He repeated the same thing. Apparently, someone helped me with this permesso application and made it easier for me. I still, to this day, do not understand what he meant. Even when I explained that this process has been one of the most difficult and confusing things I've ever had to do, he insisted that someone had helped me. I hate to think of where I'd be right now without that supposed help.

Oh Italy, I might love you, but I will never understand you.

*I write these permesso stories more as a PSA. I searched all four corners of the internet to find information on visas and permessos, so if any of this information can be useful to someone out there in my shoes, I will be happy. Actually, if someone out there does stumble upon this, feel free to message me directly and I will share more information about permessos that you could ever think possible!

The Other Monaco.

I want to live in Munich. If anyone has any tips on how to make this happen, please let me know immediately. The city is beautiful, and like all things German, it works. Some of the simplest things blew my mind. For example, you know how annoying it is when you’re trying to get off the metro and everyone trying to get on is standing in front of the doors? I mean, I’m not Moses, get out of my way. In Munich, you get on the train on one side, while everyone is getting off on the other side. Genius. Smarty pants.

Walking tours have also become my new favourite travel activity. The history is Munich is fascinating, and a walking tour makes for a much more interesting way to see a city. Anyway, back to the city. A place that offers you beer, sausages, and pretzels as breakfast can’t really be that bad, right? And this is coming from a person who prior to December 2013 was a self-confessed non beer-drinker.

But better than the fruit punch beer, or breakfast sausages, or pretzels at every corner, was the Feuerzangenbowle. If you haven’t had this before, all I can do is feel a bit of pity for you and then copy and paste the definition: “Feuerzangenbowle is a traditional German alcoholic drink for which a rum-soaked sugarloaf is set on fire and drips into mulled wine. It is often part of a Christmas or New Year's Eve tradition. The name translates literally to fire-tongs punch.”

Rum-soaked sugarloaf.

Mulled wine.

Rum-soaked sugarloaf and mulled wine.

Weak in the knees yet?

There’s a picture of us standing in front of an enormous cauldron of it below. Literally a market dedicated to the amazingness of this drink.

And no, Feuerzangenbowle is not the only reason I want to move back to Munich.

That's a burning pot of delicious behind us.

Obviously I had to see the Michael Jackson memorial in Munich.

Gute Fahrt provided hours of giggles. HOURS.

Gluhwein! I mean, Berlin!

Mid-December I set off to see my friend Jenn in Germany. I’ve never felt a huge pull towards Germany, but it might just be because I’m not a beer drinker, so I never understood what I would drink there? Good news, this trip changed my view entirely of Germany.

Berlin is somewhere I’ll have to go back to for a better taste of the city. We were only there for a few days, and saw mostly Christmas markets (awesome), stores, and bars. We lucked out with the weather, as I was warned (by a Calgarian no less) that no one in their right mind should go to Berlin in December and expect to do anything except freeze. We drank (gluhwein should be a basic human right), ate, enjoyed German efficiency, and finally started to understand the Berlin transportation network on the final day.

We did take a day-trip to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp, and that was sobering and eye-opening. I tend to make light of most situations (I don’t think I’m very good at being serious) but there’s nothing to make light of here. The calculated cruelty that people were capable of (and still are, for that matter) is appalling. Please, if you do one thing while in Germany, spend a day at a concentration camp and do the guided tour; it wouldn’t have had nearly the same effect without the guide.

Somewhere close by, there is a hidden camera filming confused tourists that don't understand how a street can intersect with itself.

Sachsenhausen concentration camp.

Sachsenhausen camp prison.

Italians like to use castles for advertising revenue. Germans like to use them as a backdrop for Christmas markets.

Bergamo: Not Just a Hub for Cheap Flights

I’ve realized a few things about myself while writing this blog. 1. I like writing, and love when people tell me that they like reading what I write (no, I’m not fishing for compliments!). 2. Sometimes I forget to write... for a really, really long time. On that note, I have trips that I haven’t shared with you, and some stories to make you laugh!

In early December, my Canadian and I trekked off to visit my friend Monica in Bergamo for the day. I've been to Bergamo a few times to take advantage of a cheap flight with RyanAir, but for most of us, that’s the only time we go to Bergamo. After this day, I'd go back in a heartbeat. There’s the modern lower town, and the historic upper town. On top of that, there’s even San Vigilio with views that you can’t even imagine. Mind you, my view for weeks before going there was pretty much just the sidewalks of Milan because so much time is spent looking down to avoid stepping in dog poo! So, I might be exaggerating the views... but we did also get lucky with a spectacularly beautiful sunny day. 

People from Bergamo are known for never leaving Bergamo. After this visit, I understand why.

You should try to make a point in life of going to Bergamo - all three areas mentioned above. We wanted to take the cable-car (is that the right word?) to San Vigilio for lunch, and we asked the closest ticket vendor for three tickets. You would think (and this is a phrase you should NEVER use in Italy) that he would tell us that it doesn’t run during the lunch break. You would think. Instead, we go back to the cable-car, tickets in hand, to find out that it doesn’t run between 1pm and 3pm (ish). No problem, we take the bus. Again, you would think that with only a handful of people on the bus, the bus driver might announce the stop in San Vigilio. But, once we start going back down the hill we realize that almost all of us aboard have missed the San Vigilio stop. Luckily we got off not too far away and wandered back up where we had a delicious lunch and even more delicious views. It was a great break from everyday life in Milan, and I’d definitely go back to wander around some more.

Would you like a little view with your coffee?