Our Month in Spain - A Recap

Well, our housesitting assignment and therefore our time in Spain has come to an end. So, time for a recap! It's been an...interesting 4 weeks with great and not so great experiences. But overall we gained a love for Spain, and the feeling that we did a great job of seeing so much in the Region of Murcia. Due to an urgent family need, Jon boarded a flight early this morning to Madrid and then on to Seattle, Washington. He'll be gone for 10 days while I'm working my way up the Mediterranean coast to meet him when he returns in Frankfurt on the 29th of August.  It's weird - we haven't been apart for more than 3 days since June 2012! But that's a different blog post. We're moving from housesitting to try our hand at a work exchange and will be traveling to Todi, Italy in Tuscany from September 2-17 to tend a vineyard and help build a cantina. But anyway, on to the recap. The Beaches of Costa Calida in August

Although our 'home' for the month is basically in the middle of nowhere, we couldn't miss out on taking advantage of our region, aptly called "Home of the Sun." We made a point to visit the beach as often as we could. The beaches of Mar Menor are about 45 minutes from our housesit, but we decided to spend our time on the Mediterranean, which took us further south towards Cartegena and down the coast.

By far our favorite beaches became those at the Parque Regional de Calblanque. The water is crystal clear, the perfect temperature and not too rough. It's a bit of a drive, but so so beautiful. It's also nice that it's... 'naturalist' friendly because I discovered that I really do NOT enjoy tan lines...

We visited the town of Aguilas, south of Cartagena, a beautiful town right on the water, surrounded by coves and rocky cliffs. Aguilas, like La Union, has a great arts scene and there was a beautiful modern performing arts center just opened in 2011. It's so clear that everything inland really does close in August and that Spaniards head to the coast. Where Murcia and the town centers are like ghost towns, the coast is hopping - with multiple cultural and sporting events almost every night of the week.

We drove past Aguilas to try and find a spot in one of the many beautiful little cove beaches. We drove out of town and down a little road and were shocked at what we saw. Not just umbrellas and towels - but tiny little beaches packed with camping tents, tables, chairs stacks of coolers and people everywhere. These people come prepared to spend all hours of the day, with multiple meals and plenty of beverages. This was in the middle of the week! It wasn't just a case of a crowded beach - this is beach culture in its essence.

You know how guidebooks give you advice on when to go to a place and when not to because "beaches are crowded?" Yeah, they don't really tell you just how crowded they can be. When we arrived in late July, the beaches were occupied but not dominated. It's crazy to think that in about 8 days the beaches will probably be empty again.

Anyway. Note: do not go to the beach in August in Spain (except that it's awesome and beautiful and I actually have a tan, yipee).

Valle de Ricote Towns

Driving north out of Murcia, we drove up into the Valle de Ricote along the Rio Segura. A completely different setting from the wide flat valley of Murcia, the Valle de Ricote is complete with dramatic jagged rocky mountains, a green narrow river valley, and adorable little hill towns with small plazas and flags hanging between buildings over the street. Each little town has it's own specialty: Archena for  traditional sausages; Ojos for sweet sugary poundcakes; wine in Ricote; water wheels and bullfighting in Blanca and so on. It felt worlds away from the busy highways, industrial centers and urbanization near where we've been staying. Definitely worth a visit!

Driving in Spain

Speaking of driving - doing it in Spain sucks. It's like transportation planners tried to think of every contingency situation and overcompensated with every kind of sign on top of one another. Add roundabouts with lights in the middle of them, highway merge lanes where cars just come to a complete stop before entering traffic that's going 70mph and signs that tell you a town name, but have no directions (as in north, sound, east, west) and you've got a complete cluster f*!k.

Housesitting

It can't be understated how fortunate we feel for being able to spend 7 weeks overseas with free accommodations because of the housesitting assignments we've taken. That's pretty awesome. I do think that doing this for a vacation and having a home somewhere would be an amazing and inexpensive way to travel for the future. For us, it didn't quite deliver on what we hoped for.

First, we have yet to meet a single Spaniard. That's really sad since Jon is already gone and I'm leaving Wednesday. The two assignments we've taken were both very rural and therefore very isolated. Because of tourist season and the increased chance of non-Spaniards being stopped on the road, going out at night and even having one drink is out of the question. It makes us really love our 3 days in Alicante, when we stayed right in town and could be part of the action.

I've also learned that 5 dogs in a small space and 5 indoor cats in a one bedroom house is a recipe for disaster a less than desirable situation. We've scooped more kitty litter and cleaned up more animal mess than I ever want to. Uck. Really, this whole assignment would have been fine if we had a pool :)

Regardless, I'm incredibly grateful for our time here, and I love Spain more than ever. I love the sun, the food, the pace of life. And even though I spent years learning to speak French, I really enjoy speaking Spanish. I look forward to sharing the next 10 days of adventure with you.

Cheers.

Mar Menor & Cartagena, Spain

The post is overdue, I know, sorry about that. You know that the idea of "Seeking Fireflies" is about travel and inspiration. Well, unfortunately I can't say that our lack of writing is due to an overwhelming influx of inspiration. No, just laziness, and not a whole lot of activity. But! We have had the pleasure of visiting some of our surrounding areas which include the Mar Menor and the ancient Roman port city of Cartagena (not the one in Colombia...). Mar Menor

Mar Menor is an inland lagoon south of Alicante on the Costa Calida. It's 170 square kilometers of no more than 22 foot deep water. The lagoon is bordered by a thin strip of sandbar called La Manga that's only 350 feet wide at it's thinest. The lagoon water is flat, warm and a haven for watersports. The Mediterranean side has great beaches and swimming. So naturally you think, "Oh, there's probably so much open space and it's charming!"

But on the contrary. That little strip of land? It's completely developed with high rise apartments and hotels. Oh, and do you want a full English breakfast? Yep, you can find it here! This is where the Spanish and apparently the English come to holiday. There's very little that's natural about it. I will say that it's a great place for families, given that the lagoon is so shallow and warm.

On our wedding anniversary (hooray!!) we opted to surprise each other with separate activities. Jon took us to the lovely Calblanque beach down the coast of Mar Menor and I had opted to have us go kayaking on Mar Menor. The beach-going in the amazing natural reserve was beautiful and lovely. It was a Tuesday, but apparently that didn't mean uncrowded beaches. I'll tell you why in a bit. But driving up and down La Manga looking for the watersports rentals was not so lovely. Not that I'd ever thought about what a highly developed tiny strip of land might look like - now I know - Ew. And not that I'd ever thought about how to service the thousands of people that occupy this little strip - now I know, it's a smelly, sewer-y prospect. Double Ew. Thank goodness Jon planned a nice day at the beach!

We also decided to visit Los Alcazares, the main town on the lagoon side. Again, I can totally see why Spaniards and foreigners alike go to these charming beachy towns, with long waterfront walks and beachfront cafes. But for us, the beach is crowded and we prefer the tiny, gentle and clear coves of the Mediterranean. Seriously, who wouldn't?! I still want to go kayaking though. Or sailing, that would be nice too. We did end the day with a big bowl of ice cream, that even came with a sparkly "Date una Fiesta" poof on top - it's as if they knew!

Oh and going back to the note about why the beaches are crowded. Interestingly, most Spaniards apparently have 2 residencies. One in the place they work, and a second shared by the family at the coast. Given that it is SO hot in Spain in August, the country essentially closes and everyone goes to the beach. We've been on both a Monday and Tuesday, and on one day, there were lines to go to the beach because the car park was overflowed. Wow. So much for those cozy private beaches. It's not so bad - the Spanish are incredibly friendly, and...well, very attractive. It's good people watching :)

Cartagena

Love. This. City. For the history lovers, this town is oozing with historical significance. Founded during Phoenician times and central to the Roman Empire (known as Carthago Nova - new Carthage), Cartagena was and still is one of the major naval ports in the Mediterranean (source: wikipedia). It's also apparently one of the deepest ports in the world. Upon our arrival, we walked right up to the water, which is, because it's an active port, a built-up approach. Thinking it's a busy commercial place, one would figure that the water would be murky. But no, the water right in central Cartagena is perfectly blue and clear with little fishys swimming. It was so inviting I wanted to jump right in! We couldn't believe how clean and clear it was.

Cartegena's old city is welcoming and accessible, and the architecture is beautiful. Dominated by modernist and Art Nouveau-style facades, I couldn't help but keep my eyes moving above me, barely paying attention to what was in front of me.

Cartagena is filled with Museums, mostly related to Roman and Naval/Military history. Thanks to the Tourist Office recommendations, we opted to visit the Concepcion Castle, with a fantastic 360 degree view of the city. It probably wasn't the best activity to do at 12pm in the heat of the day, because we climbed the hill and arrived at the ticket desk dripping in sweat. The reception was fabulous and the gentleman at the desk helped us figure out how to get the most out of our visit and packaged 3 museums together for only 18 euros for the two of us. And the tickets were good for 2 weeks if we decided not go to to all of them! That's a great deal. I love the museum packages, we could have seen 6 museums for something like 25 euros.

The castle museum itself didn't actually have a lot to offer, but the audiovisual work that had been done was excellent and we learned a lot of history.

Next we headed towards the Roman Theatre - one of the largest outside of Rome. The museum there was apparently newly opened and of course I was thrilled to see that they have temporary and rotating modern art exhibits in the main entrance. I love the combination of ancient and new that I continually find in Europe! The museum is fantastic and walking around the theatre was great fun (despite the fact that the guard wouldn't let us sit down in the theatre - it's not like my bum was going to break it - it's thousands of years old!!!).

Our final stop after a picnic lunch took us to the Roman Baths Museum. I loved this museum. The Museum management could have easily left this an outdoor-blazing-in-the-sun site, since it's basically an archeological dig in the middle of a neighborhood. But instead, they built a very cool modern and open air ceiling with a mixture of steel and wood to compliment the ancient stones of the baths. Being able to see the floor foundations, original marble tiles, and even remnants of murals and frescoes was incredible. Great Museum totally worth a visit.

We had planned to stay for dinner, but since it was only 6pm, dinner would start until at least 10pm, and we were gross from the heat of the day, we opted for a siesta at home and tapas in Murcia.

Cartagena is only 45 minutes from us, and I can't wait to go back and walk the city more just to be in what feels like a new and old uniquely Spanish city.

Cheers.

Living in Norway - First Thoughts

We've been in living in Norway now for about 6 days now and thought I'd share our initial observations on this beautiful northern country. For those catching up, we're here until July 16th or so on a housesitting assignment. It's an arrangement where we stay for free in someone's home while they're on holiday and take care of the house and pets. We're caring for 2 cats, Rimi and Poesje (pronounced pozya), and Bryan, a german sheep/terrier mix. Sweet animals! It's working out pretty well so far! Scenery

I don't know about you, but when I think of Norway, I think of incredible natural landscape, like fjords. Well, to be honest, we haven't seen that side of Norway...yet. We did see a little fjord flying in; but the south end of the country isn't where the spectacular-post-card-worthy views are. Our housesit is basically smack dab in the center of the country in a river valley 25km north of Lillehammer. It's beautifully green, foresty and lush. Honestly, my first impression of Norway was, "it looks like the Upper Peninsula of Michigan." Rocky inlets, super green land, lakes dotting the landscape - just like Michigan.

We'd like to take a little road trip at the end of our stay with a nice gentleman with whom we couchsurfed our first night here that would take us to the west coast, past some of the famous and outstanding fjords and mountains. Cross your fingers for that. In the meantime, we've been enjoying living in a quaint rural home with spectacular views of the valley below. The 6 hectares (or about 14 acres) of land on which our homeowners live is both field and forest and completely isolated. There is literally not another home within direct view of our house. It's a new feeling to not have to close shades and worry about privacy. The driveway gate is a good 1/2 - 3/4 miles from the house. I like it.

Language

I have no knowledge whatsoever of Norwegian. None. Ok, well now I know how to say thank you (Takk!) but other than that, it's completely foreign. This makes reading signs and trying to pronounce things really fun. Like this word: Havrekli oppskrifter. Say that. It meas "oatbran recipe". Or the word: hovmeister. It means, "butler." One phrase we do really enjoy is something along the line of: Vash de go, which means, "here you go" as in, here, eat this, bon appetit. There are a lot of similar sounding words which does make it easier. It's very fun though.

Money & Economics

It's no secret that Norway is expensive. Having been in Mali, Senegal and Morocco I'm used to experiencing what an underdeveloped country is like. In the UK we got used to being somewhere that had a stronger currency and was therefore more expensive. However, I have never been in what I would consider an overdeveloped country. Everything is at least 30% more expensive here than on the mainland of Europe. For every US dollar we spend, we go through 6 NOK (Norwegian Kroner). To give you an idea, the 1.5L bottle of Coca-Cola we bought today to go with our duty free rum was 29 NOK, just under $5. Petrol, or regular gas for the car, was 15.3 NOK per litre, that would be 56.61 NOK per gallon (roughly) or $9.4/gallon! I will never again complain about things being expensive in the US!

But why is it like this? My question was, if prices keep rising, and everyone complains about the cost of living, why are costs rising? Can't it be controlled? I still don't have an answer, but did read this interesting Reuters Article on Norway that gave a good overview of the situation. There's also this one, which explains that Norway is the second largest producer of oil in the world after Saudia Arabia (didn't know that!!). In short, this is a super rich country. High taxes equal strong social services, but also a high cost of living. Everything is pristine and efficient.  Ironic that the power in the entire valley went out our first day here; and since there's no natural gas lines in the country, everything is run on electricity. Everything.

Groceries & Living

Expensive living to us means lots of homey time doing homey things. Baking, cooking, walking the dog, etc. And since we have nothing but time and the sun never goes down our extra long days make for a perfect lifestyle of productivity, relaxation, nature-loving hikes and eating. No wonder the quality of life here is so good! We're making all our bread, cooking tons and we even bought a whole salmon which Jon impressively gutted, fileted and cut up - without the benefit of having a filet knife! Tomorrow = bread baking plus the great salmon cook-off as we prepare our 9-10 portions of beautiful salmon.

The grocery store was a fun experience, despite everything being 3-4 times more expensive than in the states. That salmon was by far the best deal of all - 117 NOK for 3 kilos! That's $20 for a whole 26" salmon! However, if you want to buy 250g of ground beef (about 8oz) you'll pay $6. Iceberg lettuce (isbergsalat) was $2.25 while a 1/2 gallon of milk (lett), and not fancy organic special milk, was $4. We were price hunting too and finding the cheapest products that also looked good.

We did treat ourselves though, because why travel if you're not going to branch out and try new things?? So our splurges included local sweet cheese (geitost ekte) and reindeer sausage (spekepolse reinsdy). Mmm I'm looking forward to it!

It seems like the good deals at the grocery stores include yarn (there's a very large yarn section), hot dogs (called grillposer- don't know why, but they're a good deal), and frozen fish (salmon is orret rund).

Anyway I know I've talked about the cost of things here, but that's the way it is. And it's not just us, everyone we've met is focused on money and the cost of living - and also of course living a good life. Makes me really appreciate our daily sauna time. Yay.

Don't forget you can see all our pics on our Seeking Fireflies Flickr page!

Newcastle's Castle Keep

A visit to the Castle Keep in Newcastle, England shows you the inside of the castle as well as sweeping views of the city. [youtube url="http://youtu.be/A_Czb_yxVoQ" fs="1"]

When you rule the world...shouldn't you get their food?

It has been awhile since I wrote a food post and after a month in England, I think it is about time. There are those who would have you believe that English food sucks, and they're kinda right to a point; but the ever growing number of Michelin stars points in the other direction. However, I can't afford to eat in a Michelin starred restaurant!!! With the pound at $1.53 and our budget travels in full effect, even lunch would be extravagant. I would also point out that the great majority of English people can't afford to eat there either. So what does that leave us with: Normal food for normal folks, and thats what I'm gonna talk about.

There is a way that most English food comes: Fried, to within and inch of its life, or in a pastry crust. The one exception is cheap curry (a left over from Indian occupation and a welcome addition to British cuisine). Fish and chips, pasties, pies, etc. are everywhere and relatively cheap.

Their are a couple of classics that are worth a note:

Pasty - A pastry sort of pie (think small flaky calzone) with traditional fillings such as steak and ale, lamb and mint, and the Cornish pasty which is like beef stew in in pastry. Cheap.

Pies (hopefully pork :) -  These are free standing little pies filled with similar things as in pasties with the exception of the pork pie. One of my favorite British snack foods, the pork pie is a lump of minced and spiced pork with a substantial layer of gelatin in a pie crust. It is meant to be eaten slightly chilled, but this may make the gelatin layer a little off-putting for some. Jess found them to be intensely "meaty". Cheap.

Black pudding - This is a blood sausage that is cut into a little disk and usually fried. It is part of the traditional Scotish and Irish breakfast. It is quite solid and has a lightly spiced taste and is mostly oats or some sort of grain with small bits of meat and blood. There is really no way to make it sound appetizing but I assure you that a lightly fried egg on top of black pudding is an amazing way to start the day! Cheap.

Little places that do what I like - There is a picture of a whole pig in which Jess and I partook in Edinburgh. It just goes to show that there are little places who take their stuff seriously and offer great food at reasonable prices. I had a good sized sandwich stuffed with tender pork and a piece of the cracklin, topped with BBQ and haggis (spreadable kind of the Scottish classic) for under 4 pounds. A great find. Thanks Jess!

In general, a lot of food is consumed in pubs in small towns and villages (before 8:30!!!, good luck getting food after 9 PM any night in the UK, unless is is donar or a similar fast food). Larger cities of course have various restaurants and there is a large difference in price and quality. You can usually find an okay meal in a pub, like a pie and mash or burger, for about 8-10 pounds. Good food cost a lot of money and is comparable to US prices except that it is in pounds!

Now, on to beer, another English staple. The beer here is generously poured (20 oz pints), a fair price (about 3 pounds per beer), and really rather uninspiring. There is a craze to have "real ales" which are basically English made beers that are pulled from the barrel without carbonation. Some are okay, but I really believe that this beer is meant to be consumed in volume. From someone that is used to an ESB type of beer, and that is mostly what is availible to them, this will seem quite nice; but I'm from Portland and we like our beers to be aggressive, strong (UK beer is between 3-4.5% alcohol by volume; Bud is over 5% to give an example; most NW beers are well over 5%), and packed with flavor which is about as far away from British beer as you can get. Imported beer is available on tap (called a lager) and is usually at least 25-50% more expensive.

A real surprise is that there are a number of very impressive ciders about in England that are exactly the opposite of their beer. Note, I'm not talking about Strongbow, which is basically fortified apple juice and not very good; I'm talk'in scrumpy! Scrumpy is quite flavorful (although it can have an unpleasant bitter taste for some), sits at about 7% abv, and cost as much as the beer. A 50 CL bottle will set you back about 2 pounds in a store and a pint (20 oz) will cost maybe 3 pounds and lay you out on the floor.  4-5 pints equals a kick to the head the next day, so indulge at your own risk.

Wine is expensive and not good here. Granted, we just came from France, but even English people know their wine sucks and import it. Unfortunately, it seems importing wine to the UK makes it about 4x more expensive than in France and with half the quality.

What about spirits you might ask? Well, this is a mixed bag. You know there is something north of England called Scotland and they make a little drink up there, maybe you heard of it. In all seriousness, Scotch is an amazing spirit and really unique in the world of liquor. Too bad it is so damned expensive (I believe more expensive here than in the US much of the time). So here is the rub:

Bartender: Would you like a scotch?

Me: Why yes I would love one.

Bartender: Okay, just let me grab the metal 35 ml (about a child's finger at the bottom of the glass) pour device required by the UK government and i'll charge you 3 pounds. Enjoy!

This sucks. Charge me what you want, but good lord, pour me a proper drink!  Here is another thing: I'm in Scotland, but it is discouraged for bars to arrange tastings and you are expected to just buy a full pour. I know just enough about scotch that I can be expensive in a bar doing something like this. If you have the means, it is apparent to me that distillery tours are the way to go.

Well, there is a whole world of food and drink up here that I did not touch on, but you will have to read about it elsewhere as I have been rambling on for some time and we try to keep these things manageable. I look forward to siting down to a lovely NW pint and telling you all about it!

Video: 16 Hours in York

Jon and I spent a short overnight in York - here's what we were up to! [youtube url="http://youtu.be/K0BPk0ztl2E" fs="1"]

Weekly Fireflies - Essouira

I know I just posted a couple of days ago, but I am going to make an effort to post weekly, so here goes. Catching up! Essaouira

I-swear-a it’s a good place (hehe, I love turning city names into phrases). This laid back beach town is a craft-lovers dreamscape. It seems everyone is an artist in their own right – whether it’s the inlaid woodcraft, silver filigree, weaving or stitching, this place not only is downright beautiful in and of itself, but it’s full of beautiful things. I can see why it’s a popular vacation spot for Moroccans and foreigners alike.

The food in Essaouira is also particularly good. Jon talked a bit about it in his recent post – but we’ve had a great time sharing meals with our AirBnB host, Hamid. Every night we’ve gone to the souk, picked out our meat of choice, visited Hamid’s favorite spice guy, his preferred vegetable vendor and we were on our way to the best meals we’ve had in Morocco. It drove home the point that home cooking is where it’s at here, and I’m so glad we were able to do the airbnb thing and stay with Moroccans.

Pan-Africa

One of the most fascinating opportunities we’ve had has been to travel overland from Mali to Senegal through Mauritania and up through Morocco. To experience cultural shifts and changes and to see qualities that are similar has been such a wonderful learning experience. Things as simple as the tea service that has gone from a multi-hour super strong syrupy green tea in Mali, to the even sweeter but minty-er brew in Senegal, to the very light even more minty tea of Mauritania to tea that is served in every café on ever corner in Morocco – this is something in which nearly everyone in this region of the world partakes.

It’s been fascinating to watch mannerisms change from the kind and gentle but indirect communications of Malians to the abrasive, loud and argumentative ways of Mauritanians. We’ve seen the similarities and differences in how people negotiate for prices, and how plumbing does and doesn’t work and just what service and hospitality means to different cultures.

Pan-African Health

It apparently is hard to stay healthy! I realized today that between the two of us, Jon and I have had some sort of ailment since week 2 of this trip. Wowza. Here’s to good health!

Being a woman in Morocco

Gender has been a topic of discussion often between Jon and me, mostly because my experience when doing something alone is entirely different from when we’re together. In Mali I could walk around safely and unbothered just about anywhere. In Senegal I knew the culture well enough to know how to deal with just about anything that came my way. In Mauritania, I covered up and hung back quietly.

Morocco has been the most complex and challenging for me, as this is clearly a country that has a conservative and traditional past for women, but whose position is rapidly changing. In 2004 the new king passed laws giving women more equal rights, abolishing polygamy and paving the way for women to have more choices. But it’s still awkward and difficult for me to go to a café alone, walking in a souk by myself warrants unending cat calls and hassle, and conversations with Moroccans about the egalitarian nature of my marriage confounds most. What’s also interesting is that it’s challenging for Moroccan women as well. Many experience the same hassle as I have, and I imagine that many young independent women feel pressures from family and potential husbands to adhere to certain cultural norms. All I can do is be grateful for the opportunity to experience these cultures and understand a world different from my own.

Transport Tally

One thing’s for certain about our first 2 months of 2013 – we did a lot of moving around. After final tally and some guesswork, I figured out that we took about 85 different types of transport trips. Here’s how we got around from leaving Portland, getting to Belgium, and moving through Mali, Senegal, Morocco and Mauritania:

• 10 Buses
• 5 Airplanes
• 4 Bush Taxis
• 2 Taxi Clandeau (shared inner city taxis)
• 5 Trains
• 2 Ferries
• 1 Pirogue
• 3 Car Rapide
• 4 Metro/Subways
• 2 Rental Vehicles
• 1 Mini Bus
• 1 Ride with Mom (that would be Jon’s, thanks for getting us to the airport Sheryl!)
• Approx 45 taxi rides (I had to guess, we really weren’t counting)

Phew! No wonder we’re tired. By the way, I wished I started taking photos of the taxis in every place we’ve been. Taxis in Bamako are all yellow. In Senegal, always yellow and black (except in the Casamance where they spray paint some blue stripes on a car). In Mauritania, I have no idea, they aren’t identifiable – like so many other confusing things about that place. In Dakhla and on the Moroccan coast, white with a blue stripe, or all blue with a white top. In Agadir, bright red. Finally, in Marrakesh – tan or..mud brown/yellow – not attractive.

Not wanting to go to France – um, what?

I never thought I’d say that I don’t want to go to France. Jon and I are leaving Morocco today to head to a small village outside of Lyon. We’ll be in France for six weeks working for a camp that teaches English to French kids. Maybe it’s because I haven’t had a steady job in 3 months, or because I just like waking up at 10am every day, but I’d really like to just head back to the Dades Gorge and hang with our friend Ismail. My perspective on life must be really off when my choices are spending 6 weeks in France or skipping out on responsibility and immersing myself in a lush green valley tucked in a range of snow-peaked desert mountains.

Well, its been a nice ride…

…no, I’m not referring to the terrifying journey across the Middle Atlas Mts by bus in which Jess and I were certain we would careen off the cliff (more on that from Jess’ post); it is almost time to leave Africa for France for our summer camp jobs (we're teaching english to french kiddos for 6 weeks).

A week or two ago I would have welcomed a night in France and the extra income, but it will be damned hard to leave Morocco. I finally feel like Jess and I are getting the swing of things here and starting to have some qualitative experiences with locals. We met an awesome guy in the Dade’s  Gorge and didn’t want to leave (again, more on this from Jess’ post) and are now in Essouaria at a riad-home of another cool Moroccan. We are definitely not having our best experiences in cities, and I’m glad we decided to have our last stay in Morocco in a smaller place than Fez or Meknes. We hope to get back to Morocco after we get back to France in May, after Jeremy’s (Jess’ brother) wedding.

Upon arrival to our current Riad, we were invited to dine with our host and he taught me how to cook using the tangine.  I’ll practice a few more times and write another blog post on the details :). Another awesome thing is that since the rare rain in Morocco the last few days, Essouaria fisherman could catch lungfish for a short while, which we used in our tangine. The fish was amazing…it was very tender and creamy like eel but with a very light fishy taste. In the tangine with onions, garlic, tomato, preserved lemon, a medium pepper, olive oil and a chili spice mixture for fish, it was one of the best things I have had in months. I’m amazed at the depth of flavor we got with very little fat, zero stock, a pinch of salt, and lovely local veggies and spices.

Jess and I had a walk through the souk here and it is a wonderful gathering of color and smell. I feel like this is the experience I was hoping for in Morocco. The medina (usually the old fortified space in a city) seems vast and one can easily get lost, but unlike what we experienced in Marrakech, it is fairly easy to navigate. I’m hoping to get some pigeons later and make tangine again with our host. I might even see if the butchers can find some camel for us!

Only three more days! I’ve gotta get back to it and make the most of the freak’in awesome town and country. More soon!

Part 2: Senegal to Morocco: Impressively Bleak

The road out of the Mauritanian side of Rosso was rough. There were so many impressions of the road to Nouakchott and the next 3 days were so strange and interesting, I’ve decided to share them as the fleeting thoughts I jotted down as we traversed Mauritania. Read on for the story of Senegal to Morocco. Scrub turns to beautiful orange sand dunes, camels, goats, people with flowing robes of blue, white and black and turbans to guard from the desert. The real desert – the Sahara. Skeletons in the sand – cars, cows, this place claims everything. Close call passing a car, our extra passenger starts shouting match with driver – so much more dangerous! Major insults being past back and forth - woah this is a different place! Lasted a long time; they’re pointing fingers in each other’s faces, yelling. But, then they made up, passenger bought snacks for everyone and then proceeded to invite us to stay at his home. Huh. Maybe Mauritanians are really nice, but just direct? Incredible desert sunset. Can’t believe I’m in the Sahara. Nightime arrival. So. Tired. Dusty. Hot. Africa – Arab Africa – it’s a different place.

Nouakchott

We paid our driver a bit more than the regular taxi fare to drive us across town and stop at a bank plus deliver us to the Auberge Sahara (on the road to Nouadhibou). Thierno offers to come in the morning for breakfast and to help us get to Nouadhibou. WOW. This guy is amazing. Thank you Senegal.

Auberge Sahara great for meeting travelers, but not so clean. Our room littered with cigarette butts. Gross. Mama Africa across the street had excellent plates (I recommend the beef) for cheap. We went back there for lunch. Upon paying for the room, I asked the group of gentlemen in the office what the best way to get to Nouadhibou would be and the owner, Mohammed Sidi, said, “oh well, if you want you can come in my car, and if you’re not pressed for time, I’m accompanying 15 French RV’s for a night of camping in the desert and then we’re going to Nouadhibou. If you want to camp with us I’ll loan you a tent and then drive you all the way to the Moroccan border the next morning.” Wow. 30euro buys us transport (with A/C!) to the desert and to the border, meals, a tent, and the experience of witnessing an entourage of French RV tourists. We didn’t sleep – too worried about the potential for bed bugs, while getting eaten by mosquitoes and trying not to breathe in the everlasting scent of stale cigarettes.

Nouakchott -> Nouadhibou

The road = flat, expansive nothingness. Blue sky on the left signals reflection of the ocean, yellow on the right signals reflection of the desert. Again with the fiche – we used 4, with the potential for 3 more but since we were with Sidi who apparently knew everyone on the road, we didn’t have to use as many. This land is like a painting – orange sand dotted with flecks of green brush. Camels – more of them than people here. Wind blowing ripples in the sand dunes like mist – incredible. And this is just the side of the road. Camping in the desert – not so glorious as it sounded. It’s the uninteresting part of the desert. French RV tourists are kinda… unincorporated or unaware of their surrounding culture. Spent most of our time hanging out with the Mauritanians, drinking tea, chatting. The soldiers are really nice. Wished we’d planned to stay here longer.

Nouadhibou -> Moroccan Border

Nouadhibou = under-developed, spread out, strange town we couldn’t figure out. French RVs stayed near an expensive hotel (that we ended up staying in for too much – despite being told it was a 4-star hotel we’d get for cheap…some other kinds of 4 stars I guess, and it was NOT cheap), inconveniently out of the town center. How the heck do we get a taxi? Where to eat? Why are ouygias (the currency) so darn expensive?? I do not get this place at all. People are aloof, not open like in Senegal/Mali. Got to have lunch in a home though. No one wants me to take their picture. So glad we’re not staying here longer. Up side was getting to tag along with the RV tourists for their music/cultural night, their ride and tour of the world’s longest train – the iron ore train that travels 650km east into the desert, and a trip to the market. We got a big chunk of shea butter for $.35. YES. Nouadhibou is still strange. It’s surrounded by beautiful ocean, but the developments are in the center of the land, not on the water. Massive amounts of undeveloped space, littered with trash. I know the people are nice here, but how do you access them? At least we tagged along with the auberge owner and got a ride to the Moroccan border, nice!

Travel tip: On both sides of the border of Mauritania and Morocco there are 4km of no mans land. This means that if you don’t have a car – you must take a taxi or bus through the checkpoints on either side, and then past each “Poste Police”. You cannot walk across the ‘no mans land.’ Since it doesn’t belong to any country, the “road” is barely a path beaten into the rock – and it’s 4km long. It is also apparently heavily mined, which is why you can’t go on foot. Coming from Mauritania, basically you’ll have to cross 2 sections of 4km areas to actually get into Morocco. I imagine taxis can be expensive: it’s a niche market. We’re happy we had a ride. On the Moroccan side, our auberge host’s wife runs into another tourism friend, who, like Thierno, befriends us and helps us make the crossing. He is dressed in a billowing sky blue boubou with a white turban and has the kindest face. We have Moroccan breakfast – flatbread with olive oil and jam, and mint tea together. Yay.

 Western Sahara

The differences between where we’d been and where we arrived were stark and noticeable. #1: No trash. None on the Moroccan side. #2: Actual buildings, meaning, real structures that probably have working plumbing and aren’t crumbling. Combined with the trash, Jon points out this is a country that pays attention to detail. #3: Open and friendly border guards and police, all with a smile ready to help you get through. Basically we weren’t met with the skepticism that said, “why are you coming to Mauritania, no really, whatever you say we won’t believe you…”

Not surprisingly, the beginnings of Western Sahara are the same as northern Mauritania. Impressively bleak. I was delighted at the presence of any kind of topography, a pile of rock here, and a distant sandune there – anything calling out – I’m interesting look at me! But for the most part the drive presents itself with the challenge of simply appreciating the flat and expansive nothingness.

Dakhla is a small but developed town on a spit of land, like Nouadhibou, surrounded by blue/green ocean that changes color depending on the direction of the sun. Apparently the bay creates a haven for kite surfers. Perhaps another trip. I’m intimidated by Moroccans thus far, and thrilled when I meet Senegalese in town. I realize how little I know about Moroccan culture – good thing there’s time to learn. The food is good and cheap, and the weather is great. We’ve stayed in Dakhla a few more days to help Jon heal another small wound, which is getting better Allhumdililaay. This sleepy town is a nice intro nonetheless. It’s easygoing, no one hassles us, and we met THE guy with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. He is so happy, and it makes us happy. His name is Ibrahim, although we call him Aladdin. I am happy to be here – and very much looking forward to the beauty that I know awaits in this North African country.

450km to Layounne tomorrow. Then to Essouira and Marrakesh.

What are your strangest travel experiences?

Senegalese Taranga to Mauritanian Spirit

I’ve been trying to come up with a clever phrase to describe the experience we’ve had in the last week – and it’s been a challenge. Rifs on the movie title Extremely Loud Incredibly Close come to mind – extremely hot, incredibly dusty; extremely kind, incredibly strange – but the one that seems to fit the best is one that the writers of Rough Guide: Morocoo coined: impressively bleak. St. Louis, Senegal to Dakhla, Morocco has certainly been one of the more curious experiences I’ve had in my (short) life. I’ve divided this into 2 posts because it was just getting so long. The first part is Senegal to Mauritania. The Second is Mauritania and into Morocco. Enjoy!

Dakar -> St. Louis

We woke up early after only a couple hours of sleep on Feb. 10 after going dancing in Dakar with our hosts Dieyna and Abdou and the two LC students who are studying in Dakar, the same as I did 10 years ago. Senegalese night clubs don’t get going until 2am so we didn’t get home until about 5am. It was a fun night, but exhausting – nonetheless I was happy to get my fix of live mbalax and people watching.

We headed by taxi to the Gare Routière Pompière to take a bush taxi to St. Louis. The 150km ride was long but not horrible (I am SO tired of sitting on the middle bump!) and we arrived at the St. Louis Gare Routière in the late afternoon. We took another taxi 12km to the Zebrabar – a campement outside of the city that’s beachy and is right on the River Senegal in the Parc Nationale de la Langue de Barbarie. The accommodations were cheap, but the meals were outrageously expensive. Bummer.

2 days later we headed to St. Louis to stay in the heart of Ile Nord – the old colonial center of St. Louis (which was the colonial capital of all of west Africa in the 18th – 19th centuries). I think I’ve decided to rename St. Louis to Stinky Louis because frankly, this town is rank. The combination of fishing village, trash, river and ocean, not to mention very old plumbing is well – really smelly. If it weren’t for the decidedly charming city center, great bars, actual coffee and friendly people – I don’t think I’d want to spend much time in St. Louis.

Another 2 days later we prepared to say goodbye to Senegal. Although we were ready, Senegal left us with its best. Our last night we had a fantastic meal at a tiny restaurant aptly called Restaurant Taranga, where we ate for a total of 4000cfa ($8) with beverages. Nothing fancy about this place, but the owner was over and above kind. A good laugh at a local boutique, and a nice chat with the door guard for the hotel left a smile on my face and a thought of ‘oh geez, I do love this country.’

St. Louis -> Rosso Border Crossing

I will not lie in saying that given the lonely planet thorn tree forum reviews of this place, I was downright nervous. But before I could act on my nerves, we had to wait almost 2 hours before leaving. We were convinced to take a Ndiaye Ndiaye (big white bus – 25 seats) to Rosso instead of a sept places. We realized as soon as we bought our ticket and boarded that there was no way the bus was leaving ‘toute de suite’ (right away). I knew that these buses didn’t leave until filled, but for some reason I let the driver convince me that we’d leave right away, when really, ‘toute de suite’ in African transportation lingo means ‘sometime today.’ Awesome.

Travel Tip: Don’t confuse Rosso with Ross-Berthio. They are different. When we stopped in Ross-Berthio I was concerned we should get out and I asked the gentleman sitting next to me if this was our stop for going to Mauritania. He said no, and that he was going in the same direction. Ahh, we should share a car! I said. Best. Move. Ever. Our new friend Thierno Ba, gave us one last parting gift of Senegalese Taranga and essentially took us under his wing for the rest of our journey. Not only did he make sure no one took advantage of us, made sure we were always headed in the right direction, and he paid for all our fares, which was incredibly generous.

I can see why people have trouble at Rosso. There are certainly grifters waiting for anyone looking the slightest bit confused, and there are no signs or any indications of how to get from the Gare Routière to the pirogue; or how much it should cost. The single best tool (aside from the fiche) was a sincere and hearty “Asalaam Malekum” coupled with a smile to greet anyone looking official. This and any wolof you might know does wonders for softening officials; and people trying to grift you for that matter. Aside from the extreme heat, all in all it wasn’t a bad experience. The river is a scene, with kids diving and playing in the seafoam green water. It’s a nice last display of the Senegal that’s all out in the open and in your face; the Senegal that teases, and vexes, that’s easy and hard all the same; the Senegal that’s continually fascinating. I smiled as we crossed the River and I looked back to say goodbye, not sure of the next return, if ever.

If you’re reading this and preparing to cross the border, see our lonely planet post for details. Border Travel Tips.

Rosso

I knew we had arrived into an even more arid place, when dust and sand billowed from the taxi seat as we got in to connect with the bush taxis to Nouakchott. Our cab driver was especially proud that the passenger door was held together by a rope – “C’est uniquement comme ca en Afrique!” he exclaimed with a big smile (It’s unique in Africa!). It’s things like this that you just have to laugh at and call it good. I couldn’t even be worried that I would fall out if the door swung open – there’s a rope there of course it will catch me!

The kindness of our new friend, Thierno, was overhelming in that without having someone speak Arabic or Wolof, connecting from the Rosso Gare Routière to Nouakchott would be difficult. The drivers of the various modes of transport descended on him like vultures, all tugging and pulling. This is a culture of in-your-face dealings. Thierno says they all just want money – perhaps it’s true? People at the border seemed really kind. Getting a coke, we were overpriced, even though there’s a fixed price for everything. Boo. We finally decided to take a 4-seat Mercedes car instead of a shared taxi – more expensive but much more comfortable. We paid for all 4 seats (even though were 3), and then the driver decided to take another passenger. Awesome. This should be interesting.

Next stop: Nouakchott.