Over land and sea -- back to Spain!

Right now I'm sitting in a hotel room in Valencia, Spain -- which is a long way from Fez, Morocco, where I last posted.  In the past two days we covered an enormous amount of terrain -- going from Fez to Granada yesterday, and then from Granada to Valencia today.  The trip covered (parts of) two continents, required three forms of transportation (train, car and boat) and took approximately 24 hours of actual travel time.  Most of it went exactly as planned; some of it went exactly the opposite of what we'd planned.  A fitting way to celebrate Pioneer Day, I think.  Here's a quick breakdown of the different stages.

Tuesday, 7/24, 7h10-12h40 -- Fez to Tangier.  At 7am on Tuesday we sleepily climbed on the first train to Tangier.  We had purchased first class tickets in the hopes of avoiding crowds, heat and smells; naturally we found our compartment occupied by a sleeping woman and her child.  Thinking that she was perhaps also assigned to the compartment, we gingerly tried to settle in around her, trying not to resent how her limbs sprawled over three seats and her shoes cluttered the floor.  Then the attendant came by, saw the situation, and escorted her somewhat unceremoniously from the compartment.  We felt bad for the woman but grateful for a comfortable place to sit.  From there on the ride went smoothly.  The first class car was roughly comparable to ordinary cars in places like France or the U.S.  We had to change trains at one point; a process that consisted of our first train stopping in the middle of nowhere, all the passengers getting out and waiting in the shade of the first train, and then climbing aboard a second train when it showed up twenty minutes later.  A second, unexpected delay came when we stopped (again in the middle of nowhere) to allow a train coming from the opposite direction to pass.  At least this time we were near a rural marketplace, so we could see the horses, women's hats and other activity of interest.

Our compartment -- sans Sleeping Beauty

Entertainment during train delays

Tuesday, 7/24, 12h40-13h40 -- Tangier to Tangier Med.  This was the tricky part of the trip.  We needed to get to Algeciras, Spain, before the car rental shop closed at 6:30pm, but we did not know ahead of time how that was going to work.  We had a general idea of two options:  (1) Take a quick ferry from Tangier to Tarifa, then find a way (cab?) to get ourselves from Tarifa to Algeciras; or (2) get ourselves from Tangier to a commercial port called Tangier Med and take a slower ferry directly to Algeciras.  Each trip had its advantages and disadvantages, as well as its own set of unknowns and risks, but on paper both of them worked.  We decided to go with Option 2 -- and, well, it turned out okay.  As soon as we got off the train in Tangier we found a cabbie who looked like a pirate and was willing to drive us to Tangier Med, which turned out to be about an hour away.  Fortunately, our cabbie needed no prompting to get us there quickly -- he had quite the lead foot on that coastal road.

The middle arrow is the path we took

Tuesday, 7/24, 13h40-18h30 -- Ferry from Tangier Med to Algeciras.  Once in Tangier Med, we bought a ticket for the 2pm ferry thinking that we'd be able to scramble on before it left.  Alas, due to several annoying delays (a pesky tout trying to "help" with our luggage, an overly chatty security guard who wanted to look at my ceramics, a shuttle driver who was napping when we got on the shuttle) they pulled the gangway right as we got to the quay.  Honestly, if they would have waited thirty seconds we would have made the boat.  But we didn't.  So it was back to the ferry terminal, back through passport control and security, back to the ticket counter so that I could change the tickets for the next ferry.  This involved my taking a piece of paper from office 1 to office 2, which then gave me a different piece of paper that I then took back to office 1, where I paid and got another set of papers to take back to office 2, who finally printed the new tickets.  Then back through security and passport control, back to the sleepy bus driver, and back down the ramp to a different ferry.  Which left an hour later.  The ferry ride itself was uneventful and perfectly pleasant -- I love boats.  I also loved the point at which, in the middle of the Straits of Gibraltar, I could see both Europe and Africa at once.

These Arabic words are emblazoned everywhere in Morocco. 
They signify "God, Country and King".

The Rock of Gibraltar

Giant container ship

Tuesday, 7/24, 18h30 - Wednesday, 7/25, 01h00 -- Algeciras to Granada.  As our ferry slowly docked in the Algeciras port, we were beside ourselves with anxiety about our car rental.  In order for the rest of this trip to work, we needed to get to Granada that night -- and in order to do that, we needed to have a car.  And the rental place closed at 7pm.  Here we were, just barely docking at 6:30; we still needed to get off the boat, go through passport control and customs and figure out how to get to the rental office.  So I called the office to let them know we were coming and could they please wait for us.  The guy's response:  "You have no reservation."  What!?!!  We had reserved this car over a month ago and had received several confirmation emails, including one only a couple of days ago!!  Nope, nothing in the system.  "And in any case, I don't have any cars."  Click.  Well, there went all of our best laid plans down the drain -- we were in a seedy port town without a car or hotel, and it was already after 7pm.  [Despairing sigh]  We ran to a WiFi hotspot in the ferry terminal and started doing some frantic homework -- Amanda was running through Algeciras hotel listings (it's a seedy port town, not known for its accommodations) and I started calling every rental office I could find in the city.  No luck.  Then I spotted some cars with rental company logos on the sides parked outside, so I went out to see if I could find the drivers and have them direct me to the office.  Turns out something better happened:  Once I was in the parking lot, I saw a shop front around the corner -- it was a rental company, and it was OPEN!  From then on, everything was right with the world.  The rental process couldn't have been easier; the clerk was super helpful and friendly.  Within half an hour we were rolling out of Algeciras in a little gray Citroen.  An hour later we were starving (we hadn't eaten anything of substance since breakfast at 6am), so we pulled over at a random resort town hoping to find something decent.  The first thing we saw was a Hard Rock Cafe.  Not exactly our typical fare, but we were too hungry and tired to care -- we devoured giant hamburgers with French fries and ketchup, and they were delicious!  Then it was back into the car for another 3.5 hours to Granada.  We arrived around 1am at our little hotel (a converted 15th century mansion) and went right to bed.  We were exhausted but happy to have arrived safely!

Our rental car

La Casa del Capitel Nazari

Wednesday, 7/25 -- Granada to Valencia.  After a too-short night in our comfortable hotel, we spent the morning and early afternoon visiting the Alhambra (which will get its own post) and then left for Valencia.  The trip took us about 6 hours, total, and thankfully was completely uneventful.  We arrived at the Hotel Ad Hoc around 8:30pm, convinced them to give us a room with two beds, and then went out searching for dinner.  The Michelin guide told us there was a one-star restaurant down the block from the hotel; alas, we found the location but the restaurant had changed hands -- the ambience and presentation was fantastic, but the food wasn't outstanding.  We'll stay in Valencia through lunch tomorrow so that we can visit some of the famous architecture and try a different Michelin restaurant for lunch (fingers crossed the guide is more reliable a second time around).  Then we'll be off to Barcelona for the last leg of the trip!

Fez, Day 3: What we ate

Breakfast in the riad was the same as before, though with slightly better bread.  I explored the honey and the lemon marmalade.

I'm going to miss breakfasting in courtards like this

I wonder if I could keep a turtle on my balcony...

For lunch we returned to the Cafe Clock.  It's conveniently located at one end of the market, and we were in the mood again for something non-Moroccan.

Falafel, hummus and tabouleh

Dinner ended up being quite the boondoggle.  We tried five different restaurants, each of which was closed for Ramadan.  So we ended up going back to Thani -- along with every other Western tourist in the city.  Fortunately, the staff is super friendly and the food tasty.  We certainly could have done worse on our last night in Morocco.

Couscous with chicken and vegetables
(one of the better couscouses on this trip)

The upside of all that fruitless restaurant-hunting?  Getting to practice my navigation skills (aided at times with GPS) through the narrow streets of the medina and discovering a little viewpoint where we could see the countryside beyond the city walls.

Fez, Day 3: Shipping and shopping

What to say about our last full day in Fez?  I'm not really sure.  It was productive and exhausting, more like work than play.  One of those days that come a little after the midpoint of these two-week vacations, when you just need a break to take care of business and recharge your batteries. 

The primary business of the day had been following us since Marrakesh in the form of bundled carpets.  Each of us had bought several carpets in the red city, but we hadn't had time to ship them to the US before leaving for the desert.  No chance of shipping from the desert, and when we arrived in Fez everything was closed for the weekend.  Given that tomorrow we leave again for Spain, today was our only window for shipping. 

We prepared last night by researching the various options:  The Moroccan postal service was recommended by the locals as being significantly cheaper than FedEx or DHL.  But the Moroccan postal service has no website (at least that we could find) and we were leary of losing parcels en route.  FedEx, on the other hand, would likely be more expensive but also more reliable.  Plus, they had a website with hours, locations, etc. -- all very helpful, confidence-building information.

Well, it would have been helpful information if it had been correct.  It was hard enough to find a taxi that would take us from the old city into the new city (three different cabbies claimed never to have heard of the major street where we wanted to go, despite my willingness to show them a map), but then, when we finally got there, we found nary a trace of FedEx.  We puzzled for a minute and then asked a woman sitting on a nearby stoop whether she knew of the FedEx office.  "Oh, yes," she said, "it's gone." 

Right.  Of course, gone.  I asked her if she had any idea where it had gone to, and she threw out a few ideas, then solicited a few more ideas from a fellow stoop-sitter.  As they debated amongst themselves as to the new location of FedEx, a third man came out from the door behind them and gave me yet a third location:  Next to the studios for one of the main TV stations.  Because naturally I know where those are.  When I asked for an address everyone assured me that no one had any idea what the address was, but it was somewhere over there (general wave to the north) and that it would be easy to find. 

Turns out they were right.  I hailed yet another taxi and told him we wanted to go to the TV studios; he nodded and took off through the traffic.  After a few winding turns we found ourselves on a strange little road full of miscellaneous shops and, at the corner, a very closed-looking FedEx.  Closed-looking but not actually closed -- thank heavens -- so in we charged, looking forward to wrapping up this adventure.

What followed instead was an adventure in wrapping up.  The FedEx clerk took one look at our pre-wrapped bundles (prepared so carefully by the carpet shops) and told us that they would cost nearly three times to ship as it would cost for us to repackage everything into the standard FedEx boxes (which themselves cost a small fortune).  Amanda quickly calculated that she'd be better off paying the airlines surcharge for extra baggage, so she kept her carpets wrapped.  I, on the other hand, needed to send a box -- and so with razor blade in hand, I went to town on my little bundles and the mounds of wool inside.  It took some doing, but between me and the two incredibly helpful FedEx employees, we were able smash everything into a single box.

Then came the paperwork and the payment (gasp) and the decision to delay shipment of the package long enough to ensure that I would be back in the States and available to respond to any customs questions on the day of delivery.  I left that office sweaty, tired and very grateful for polished American business operations (even if they cost a lot and can't figure out how to update their address on the website).

Having finished that project, we found ourselves with an unscheduled half-day ahead of us.  We decided to dive back into the markets to see if we couldn't find some lamps, ceramics, textiles and other gift items that had evaded us so far.  We succeeded in finding each of those items but were less successful in completing the purchases. 

In the textiles department, I found exactly the embroidery I'd hoped to find -- rich, heavy embroidery typical of this region of Morocco.  And yet the shopkeeper was totally uninterested in selling it to me.  Indeed, after letting me into his store and turning on the light, he went back outside and sat in the street until we left.  The fasting of Ramadan seemed to have sapped his salesman's zeal.

Not every shopkeeper was so afflicted.  We stopped in a leather shop and came away with an item that Amanda had been eyeing all week.  We also stopped in a ceramics souq and encountered our most aggressive salesman yet.  He was a young guy, a bundle of faux-friendly aggression, clearly hoping to make a big sale on an otherwise slow day.  He hounded us through the souq and into his backdoor warehouse -- which turned out to be quite a treasure trove of ceramics, lamps and other sundries.  Amanda migrated toward the lamps; I focused on ceramics -- Fez being known for its beautiful white and blue ceramics. 

After about an hour we had narrowed down our selection to a very smart array of finalists:  a set of vases and plates for me; two bronze lamps for Amanda.  It was time to talk numbers.  And talk we did -- but unlike other negotiations, where both parties understood they were playing a game and were willing to play by the rules, these negotiations took on a more frustrating turn. 

The problem stemmed from the absolutely outrageous initial quotes from the shopkeeper.  I mean, honestly, there is no way he could seriously have expected me to pay more than $1,200 for the set of ceramics I'd selected.  Yes, they were pretty, and yes, they seemed to be good quality.  But puh-lease.  I'm not an idiot. 

I did, however, speak too quickly in responding.  In the excitement of the moment, I countered with a number that seemed right -- as a percentage of the original quote -- but then immediately regretted it when I calculated the conversion into dollars:  I had just said I would spen more than $500 on dishes.  Egad.  So I started backpedaling -- I told him I had misspoken and needed to cut out two-thirds of the pile and get the price down to a reasonable place.  He wasn't happy, but I held my ground.  After a contentious back-and-forth, which involved his meeting and just barely beating my initial counter-offer, and my awkwardly renegging on that counter-offer (and then nearly getting up and leaving), we finally came to an understanding:  I got nearly all of my original pile (less one dish only) for a small fraction of the original asking price.  It was exhausting and neither party, I think, came away with a particularly good feeling. 

Amanda, unfortunately, had worse luck.  The shopkeeper's asking price for the two lamps was even higher than his quote for my dishes.  Having priced similar lamps in Marrakesh, Amanda knew he was trying to fleece her and countered with an equally absurd counter-offer.  The problem, though, is that although he had been willing to go the rounds with me, he apparently had no interest in doing so with Amanda.  Was it because he was tired of dealing with me?  Were the lamps really worth more?  Or did he not take her seriously becuase she was a woman?  Probably some of all three.  The last one, in particular, seems plausible.  While many shopkeepers will engage in "couples jokes" in which the woman is declared to be "the boss", I've noticed that in nearly every situation where I've been an active presence, I've been taken more seriously during the negotiations.  To the point that I've started to subtly engage even in negotiations where I have no interest and have been sitting on the sidelines the whole time.  If I feel like Amanda isn't getting her way, I will start shifting about as if I'm about to leave the store.  I haven't been methodical enough to tell if this has actually made a difference, but these gender dynamics of negotiating in Morocco have been super interesting.

In any event, we left the shop with lots of dishes and no lamps.  Naturally our shopkeeper dragged us to a nearby carpet shop, where we were treated to a tour of a gorgeous 15th century home and a presentation of the most beautiful carpets we've seen so far in Morocco. 

View of the carpet showroom from above

But we were tired and feeling shopped-out -- and as much as we subscribe to the theory that you can't have too many beautiful carpets, we haven't yet reached the point where pocketbooks allow that theory to become reality.  So we thanked the shopkeeper for his time (this guy, unlike our ceramics guy, was unbelievably polished in his approach -- the detour was worth it just to see him in action) and headed back out into the streets to lug our treasures back to the riad.

Now we have to figure out how to get them home in one piece . . . .

Fez, Day 2: What we ate

Breakfast at the Riad.  All the little pots of jam and olives were a welcome expansion on the standard fare we've had for the past week.

Lunch at Cafe Clock.  We picked this British-owned place because it was recommended in all of our guides, and because we wanted a break from traditional Moroccan fare.  Finding it was a trick, since the entrance is down a long, narrow crevice in the walls of the souq.  But the lamb burger with mint was tasty and very satisfying.



Lamb burger with mint and tomato-and-cucumber salsa



Dinner at La Kasbah.  Although recommended by our riad and the guidebooks, this restaurant is the weakest we've seen since that awful "authentic Moroccan" place we went to in Marrakesh.  The food was mediocre and the presentation subpar.  In fact, I'm pretty sure they didn't even cook my "tagine" in a tagine -- whereas every other tagine I've ordered comes boiling in the dish, the meat and vegetables in this one had quite obviously been spooned onto a cold tagine dish just moments before being served.  On the other hand, it was nice to sit on the roof-top terrace with views over the place below.

Amuse bouche with lentils

Tagine with chicken and vegetables

Overlooking the square

 

Fez, Day 2: City streets

In the spirit of giving Fez a second chance, we set out on a walking tour of the Fez medina after returning from Volubilis.  We still were struck by how different it looked and felt from the souqs in Marrakesh, but the longer we walked the more it grew on me.  The whiteness of the city is lovely, and the bewilderingly chaotic energy is contagious.  Well, it's off-putting at first, because there are no street signs and it's easy to feel lost in the maze.  But once you power up the Blackberry GPS and start tracking your location to within a meter of where you're actually standing, you start to feel like you know where you're going (and like you aren't going to get lost forever). 

Apparently people have been making and selling copper and
other metal goods on this square for centuries

Each of these squares is reserved for political parties to hang
posters during elections

It's hard to see, but there were about 15 boys playing
in this fountain -- doing belly flops into 18 inches of water

Fez, Day 2: Volubilis

By the second century BC, the Roman empire extended through a network of fishing cities in northern Africa.  During the last century BC, they established themselves in Volubilis, not far from current-day Fez.  The city remained under Roman control until the Berbers drove them out in the 300s AD.  The Arabs took over in the 8th century AD and remained until the place was leveled in the 1755 Lisbon earthquake.  Today, it's a city in ruins set among fields and olive orchards.  We hired a driver to take us out to visit it.  We've seen Roman ruins before, and in general these ruins didn't stand out as particularly remarkable.  But the mosaics were incredible -- some of the best I've seen.  Plus, everything was Roman and therefore familiar; it felt kind of like coming home and seeing all your old friends.

Main thoroughfare - toward Tangier gate

Main thoroughfare - toward Rabat gate

In front of the triumphal arch

Initially a legal complex, this building became a Catholic basilica after
Constantine converted to Christianity

Behind the basilica:  Temple of Jupiter with sacrificial alter

Olive oil press

Roman houses were generally rectangular, laid out around  a central courtyard.  Many of these houses were still largely intact (at least, as far as their floorplan went).  It was neat to get a sense of what a house was like and to see the varieties of courtyards:

Circular yard with corner gardens and columns

Courtyard with central basin and gardens

This one had jets of water in the middle, and pools
around the edge -- the scallopingcreates seating spots
for the family:  each person gets his own nook
in which to sun himself while soaking

Too much sun, not enough soaking

As I mentioned, many remarkable floor mosaics remained in their original location, largely untouched by time.  Each piece is a colored stone (as opposed to tile), so they don't need any further protection from the elements.

This one has standard Roman gods but African animals,
some of which are now extinct from this region

Hercules

Acrobat riding a horse backward while clutching a trophy

This was a house of ill repute; lots of "coupling chambers" leading
off the main courtyard

Have you ever wondered about the origin of the "carat" as a unit of weight measurement?  Me neither.  But I learned the answer today:  Our guide explained that carob beans are consistently identical in weight with every other carob bean on the planet.  So the Romans would use those beans when measuring out gold, etc.  From "carob" came the word "carat."  Cool.



Carob seed pod