Although the thrills of the Great 08 have come to a close, I have been asked to write for “Examiner San Francisco” as their budget travel writer. Check out the frequent posts for your weekly travel fix.
Thanks for the support you have shown me with all of the comments and emails throughout my year-long adventure. I hope to see most of you in person very soon!
Erin
With only a few moments left of this around-the-world trip, I have been pondering my favorite memories of 2008.
Because I can not choose the most beautiful country, or the friendliest people or the tastiest food, I have compiled a list of the times I felt overwhelmed with happiness and gratitude. If I could go back to these moments, I would be able to travel another full year!
Top Ten Adventures of a World Traveler
1. The four-day Mediterranean Blue Cruise from Fethiye- Turkey
2. The vineyard and bike journey through Mendoza´s wine country- Argentina
3. Waking up on a roof deck in Jerusalem to the smell of freshly baked bread and sensing the spiritual ambiance of the city – Israel
4. Coromandel Peninsula´s Hot Water Beach with friends- New Zealand (North Island)
5. All-night karaoke festivities- Hong Kong
6. Rottnest Island´s serene beaches and bike routes- Australia
7. Meeting up with family and old friends along the way- New Zealand, Australia, Thailand, Hong Kong, India, The Netherlands, Hungary, Greece, England, Italy and Argentina
8. Nha Trang´s massages and fresh fruit delivered right to the beach chair- Vietnam
9. Chiang Mai´s motorbike route into the countryside- Thailand
10. Reaching the top of The Golan Heights, overlooking the Sea of Galilee, after a 3 day steep bike journey- Israel
If you are interested in reading the details of any of these adventures, use the search box to type in a key word and find the entire article.
This is the final article of a three-part South American Adventure series.
PART THREE: ARGENTINA
The wine capital of Argentina, Mendoza, boasts some of the world’s leading wines and is a peaceful contrast to the touristy, clamoring metropolis of Buenos Aires.
After trekking through Inca Land in Peru and hiking Patagonia’s icy trails in Chile, a traveler will be thirsting for a glass of Argentinian Malbec, and maybe a pour of Cabernet Sauvignon and Tempranillo as well. But instead of ordering from a posh restaurant in Buenos Aires, where one may drink with more tourists than Argentinians, why not go to the country’s motherland of vino to sip straight from the vineyards?
Above: Vineyard in Mendoza’s Maipu region.
Over 80% of Argentina’s wine comes from Mendoza, a western region in foothills of the Andes. Sunshine glows over the endless rows of grapes during the growing season and transforms them into some of the world’s best wines. Malbec, a dark red wine with berry and spice aromas, is known to grow better here than anywhere in the world, producing award winners and famous wines sold everywhere.
Above: With these choice Argentinian wines, it’s difficult to know where to start.
Pick up a bike, winery map and bottle of water from “Bikes and Wines,” (30 minutes by local bus out of Mendoza’s city center in the town of Maipu) and start pedaling through sycamore-shaded lanes to your choice of 11 wineries, all within a few kilometers of each other.
Above: The ride between wineries
Above: Rent a bike and park at all of the wineries for free.
Some wineries have extravagant patios overlooking their estate, where wine lovers sample three full glasses for about $6 US. Others give a gratis tasting followed by a tour of their cellar and a demonstration of the wine-making process.
Above: Winery tours of oak barrels and the process complement the tastings.
Although it would be nice to sample everything, this may lead to a wobbly ride, so it is encouraged to split the tour into two days rather than to miss anything. Wine tasting can be done between meals of fresh salads or juicy steaks, found at Di Tommaso winery and cafe. Other treats are abundant in the Liqueur and Chocolateria named Historias & Sabores, where visitors can sample minty or hazelnut chocolate liqueurs, potent absinthe, or homemade salsas and jams. Bikers may choose this as their last stop, since it is hard to pass up buying souvenir bottles and jars of these specialties, which will need to be toted back with leg power alone.
Above: Homemade goods of Historias & Sabores
Another wine route exists a bit further out of town also through “Bikes and Wines.” The main deciding factor as to which route to take lies in whether one prefers drinkable chocolate and wine as mentioned previously or the lickable type; a “Heladeria,” or ice cream factory, exists on this second ride. After expending much energy to power a bicycle between wineries, one is rewarded with large quantities of Argentina’s famous ice cream. Flavors such as Malbec (a wine cream), dulce de leche (a carmel spread), mascarpone (a creamy cheese with berries), and maracuja (passion fruit sorbet) are sold by the scoop. One will find that Argentinians love large quantities of this dessert and it’s often served in half kilo containers, which is over a pound of ice cream, for those who have REALLY pedaled hard!
Above: A tasting of chocolate liqueur is an option on one of the wine routes.
Travelers surely rave about Argentina’s sweets, steaks, and especially the wine, which all promise to round out this three part journey through South America. This last stop in Argentina’s wine country is the perfect aide to celebrate an amazing three-country tour.
Above: Cheers to finishing the South American adventure trip!
This is part two of a three-part South American Adventure series.
PART TWO: CHILE
Patagonia is a wild dog, untamed and temperamental in nature and yet beautifully groomed and peaceful from a distance.
Whistling wind and winter weather help categorize Patagonia’s “W” trek through the Andes as the rugged and wild adventure it is. But the name of the route actually derives from the shape of the trek, rather than the many w-word conditions; wet, winding, wicked, and the list could go on…
The Torres del Paine National Park owns this beastly chunk of land, where thousands of campers, ice climbers and hikers come annually to pay respect to the glacier-fed lakes and granite peaks. The “W” trek is just one route of many but a popular choice for those who wish to see a bit of everything that the park offers in a week’s time.
Above: The black trail shows the “W” route of Torres del Paine’s most famous trek. View Larger Map
So what does it take to navigate this ferocious “W” trail, carved out by rivers and pinned between ridges with awe-striking names such as “Towers of Pain?”
Some high-class travelers will claim that the only necessity on a trip to Torres del Paine is rain gear, including waterproof shoes and pants. Everything else can be purchased throughout the journey, including hot meals and rooms in cozy “refugios,” or refuges. However, if one wishes to explore the untamed elements of this place at its full capacity, these luxuries can be traded for camping-style food and a cold weather sleeping bag, loaded into a backpack and strapped snugly around the waist.
Above: Luxurious “refugios” provide a comfy, expensive stay while trekking through Torres del Paine. Many budget travelers choose a tent.
The backpackers’ route starts at the eastern point of the “W,” near the entrance to Torres del Paine National Park. If hauling a personal tent, one may wish to plan the trek carefully, making sure to arrive in the free camp sites before dark. Another option is to leave the heavy tent behind and use the pre-erected tents outside of the refugios for about $12 US per night. These can not be reserved ahead of time.
Along the “W” route, hikers will first climb, most likely among snowflakes, to Refugio El Chileno and continue on to a look-out point if weather permits. From this area, it is possible to see the famous granite towers after which the park was named and the reflective lake below.
Above: Torres del Paine granite rocks, translated as the Towers of Pain. Photo by Ryan Thomas, a fellow traveler.
For the next three or four days, the weather is sure to shift drastically and the scenery can be affected tremendously due to snow or fog. If the day is bright and the sun is glistening on the icy peaks, many choose to go a few extra miles because with only 20 days of tranquility in the year, it is more common for Patagonia to snarl and show its teeth than to be still.
Above: The rocky coastline of Lake Nordenskjold makes for a good photo opportunity when the weather is decent.
Not to be missed along the route is the glacier north of Lake Grey, with its fluorescent blue chunks swirling in its runoff waters. Leave backpacks at Refugio Pehoe’s warming hut and then hike the three hours to the glacial lookout. Because the wind whips with such vigor near the glacier, a backpack is just another item for the fierce Patagonia to huff and puff and blow down, which can be disastrous if a hiker is attached to the other side.
Above: The glacier’s blue ice chunks float in Lake Grey.
After four or five days of trekking, travelers will be ready to retrace their steps on the “W” path and head back to the starting line, or most likely will jump in line for the easier exit strategy, a climate-controlled ferry, complete with complimentary coffee and tea. The boat leaves from Refugio Pehoe and drops tired passengers off at the bus headed out of the park back toward Puerto Natales.
Above: The ferry from Pehoe leaves twice a day to take hikers to their exiting buses.
Although this trek is quite the feat, the scenery is unsurpassed. Surviving the beastly Patagonian blows is worth it, tenfold.
With the Andes mountains zipping together this continent, the Amazon River lurking through its dense jungles, and Patagonian glaciers chilling the terrain, South America offers a mystic feel to adventure travelers. This series of trips within the heart of Peru, Chile and Argentina calls for experienced trekkers, who are willing to face exposure, high elevations and many breathtaking moments. Read on to discover if your next vacation will be a South American adventure trip.
PART ONE: PERU
Trekking to The Ancient Inca City of Machu Picchu
The gem of this five-day trek is the lost city of the Incas, Machu Picchu, but that notion slips the mind due to all of the enchanting distractions along the way. Hiking the rocky Salkantay trail, outdoorsy types are occupied as they traverse waterfalls by means of make-shift sod bridges, spot orchids and miniature strawberry plants framing the walkway, and suck on coca leaves to ease the effects of elevation.
Above: Bridges made from the earth stretch across waterfalls and line the Salkantay trail.
Lead by an Inca research expert and local Peruvian outdoor enthusiast, this tour to Machu Picchu is not as crowded as the popular Inca Trail and winds travelers up to a breathtaking height of 15,000 feet, where snow and hail often flex their muscles, competing with even the strongest trekkers who may decide to hide out in a cave instead of battle icy pellets.
Above: The first day’s trail, the Apurimac River Valley, with snowy Salkantay in the background.
Also challenging the fitness egos of hikers are the local porters who breeze past tourists as they run behind work horses in plastic flip flops, cold mud squishing between their toes. These men are some of the strongest villagers and thrive off of the tourists’ gawks when watching these men dominate cold, highly elevated trails wearing only short-sleeved shirts. Loaded down and often stubborn, the long line of work horses need to hear “Mule!” screamed in their direction by the porters to halt the shrub munching and continue the urgent trot up the mountain. Horses and porters are an extra fee to trekkers but are considered a necessary luxury to many since they lug heavy backpacks, food and tents to each campsite along the way.
Above: Local Peruvian farmers work as porters during high season.
On arriving to the campsites, trekkers find weatherproof tents already assembled and a warming hut (if necessary) complete with a full dinner table set with a feast. Buckets of water are set out for dirty hikers to wash up before the meal and a tent with a portable toilet proves camping does not have to be too rough! All of this organization is accomplished by the coordinator and the cooks of the party, who are often the last to leave a site and the first to arrive to prepare gourmet meals and a cozy resting spot to cure campers’ hunger pangs and sore feet.
Above: Horses leave the campsite at Collpapampa.
After filling up on three- or four-course meals, hikers continue through areas filled with small lakes and moraines and arrive at gifts of nature such as the hot springs near Collpapampa, where a long soak rejuvenates the body. The trail then winds down to a high jungle region called Caja de Selva where butterflies and tropical birds flutter above.
Above: A trail guide shows off a rare butterfly and a poisonous caterpillar crawls along the path.
Anticipation starts to build for Machu Picchu as the group turns the bend and views its last sight before the final ascent to the famous Incan ruins. A hydro-electric operation spews water through a tunnel and out into the river below, providing energy for an entire region of Southern Peru.
The final morning breaks and adventurers are already awake, have eaten, and bus to the top of Machu Picchu. When exiting the bus, it is popular to scamper across the entire ancient village, weaving in and out around those who are not “in-the-know.” The secret is that only 400 tickets are given each day to climb Wayna Picchu, the steep mountain with carved stairs and terraces which overlooks the ruins of Machu Picchu below.
Above: Incan ruins of Machu Picchu in the clouds of early morning
Part of the mystery of Machu Picchu is the reason for the Inca departure. Many scholars report that since the Incas were superstitious, they believed the place became evil when a disease killed many of the villagers. Carbon dating of mummies later proved that many people died of the same disease within a year’s time. Another idea, proven by a large black mark on a stone wall, is that one of the holiest rooms was struck by lightning, urging the people to believe the gods were angry and wanted them out of this place. Because Machu Picchu is completely hidden from below, the Spanish never found it to loot the gold and treasures, as they did many other Incan civilizations. This rules out the fact that the Spanish could have driven the Incas out of Machu Picchu.
When the Incas left this masterpiece of a village, which they had built around 500 AD, the area became overgrown with jungle. In 1911, an American Professor named Hiram Bingham got word that there was a lost civilization at the top of “Old Mountain.” Upon arrival, a farming family led him on a tour of the ruins and Bingham then arranged for an excavation of the area, involving National Geographic and Yale University. It is often stated that Bingham rediscovered Machu Picchu, even though the locals always knew it existed.
Above: Wayna Picchu Mountain in the background.
After trekkers are educated about the history of this mystical place and given a tour of sundials, holy rooms and terraces, they hike up three-inch stone stairs and through tiny caves to the top of Wayna Picchu where they view Macchu Picchu as the Incas did: a true masterpiece and a grand finale to the Salkantay hike.
Above: View of Machu Picchu, Incan ruins, from the top of Wayna Picchu Mountain.
Stay tuned for the next South American adventure: Patagonia, Chile - packed with islands, glaciers, mountains and icebergs.
If you never had the opportunity to pack up and bus out to summer camp as a kid, you still have time to experience this giddy event at Manu National Park near Cuzco, Peru.
Set aside and protected by Peru´s government, this slice of the Amazon Basin provides visitors with a spectacle of parrots, monkeys, anteaters, alligators, jaguars and giant otters, just to name a few.
In a six-day adventure tourists are paddled up a meandering river (which is filled to the brim with piranhas) and lead into camps at sunset where gourmet meals are served in a thatch roof mess hall and cabins are dressed with mosquito nets and candles.
Above- Sleeping quarters in Manu National Park
Above- Butterflies lick the salty tears of turtles. (Photo by Max Milligan.) This scene is common as tourists watch wildlife from their boats.
The schedule alone for this adult adventure resembles a summer camp routine, complete with a wake-up call at daybreak, organized nature treks and daily snack bags, stuffed with cookies, fruit, candy and drinks. Biologist tour guides are pumped to share their wisdom of everything from species of monkeys (capuchin, red howler, woolley, etc…) to native local customs (such as preparing and eating these same monkeys for dinner!)
Above- Birds lick the clay walls of Manu National Park in order to balance their acidic diet. Campers catch this scene early in the morning from a boat.
In the jungle, buzzing, howling, rattling and whirring noises substitute campfire songs of youth, but who wants to sit around a blaze toasting marshmallows when it is 80 degrees with 80% humidity, anyway? White water rafting replaces kiddie camp canoe trips that took place on a lake of scum and jungle zip lines glide riders into a Tarzan fantasy that charades or capture-the-flag never could have fulfilled.
And when the week is over and travelers from around the globe say their goodbyes, campers do not jump into the family minivan to be towed back home, but instead board a 14-seater plane for one final glimpse of the rainforest´s canopy, cloud forest and Andes below.
Now who said growing up stinks?
No matter the age, it seems the first day back to school is always an exciting, jitter-filled experience. Walking to Simon Bolivar’s Spanish School in Quito, Ecuador gave me flash backs to the fall weather in the Midwest, when I would be sporting new jeans and a sweater from the mail-order JCPenney catalog and thinking about all of the catching up there was to do with my friends. It used to be a big deal to my classroom early, choose a desk and organize all of the new pencils and books that were waiting in my backpack. This time the only thing I was wondering was if I would even be able to understand my teacher.
My one-on-one Spanish lessons lasted only a week, as they were intended as a crash course for the rest of the South American wandering I was about to start. The basics were taught and Friday was a fun day, complete with a trip to the market and a lesson on how to make Ecuadorian ceviche.
Above: Ecuadorian shrimp ceviche is served with banana chips and popcorn.
During the week of classes, we would walk 15 minutes back to our host family’s apartment for almuerzo, which was the biggest meal of the day and consisted of soup, rice, meat and vegetables. Martha, our guest mom, loved hugs, kisses and calling me “mi amor!”
Above: Host mother Martha serves home-cooked Ecuadorian cuisine.
The school was such of great benefit because we ended up meeting other travelers, mostly from Germany and the USA. With some of the new-found friends, we took a two hour, two dollar local bus, which was decorated with adornments hanging from the ceiling, to Otavalo, which is known for its weekend market.
Above: A local girl in Otavalo, Ecuador with her market purchase. It was squealing in the sack before she proudly took it out for the photo!
The livestock section of the weekend market was a showcase of everything from pigs to guinea pigs (which are used to make the national dish called cuy), all being sold for food to local Ecuadorians. The chaos of the market was in part created by crying babies, wrapped in long cloths and strapped to the backs of mothers and grandmothers.
Above: Children strapped to their mothers’ backs in typical fashion. There are so many babies!
Other noise contributors were squawking chickens, being held by their feet; an auctioneer, who sold household miracles such as super-sharp knives and infomercial style blenders; and food sellers, repeating “helado” or their product name for passersby to hear.
Above: Three chickens are held by their feet as this Ecuadorian lady negotiates a deal.
All of this commotion started at 5:30 am on the outskirts of town and lasted until 10 am, when everyone wandered into the handicraft market in the city center to stock up on things like hand-knit socks and winter hats. Since the elevation in Otavalo is over 10,000 feet, staying warm is a chore and many shawls and cozy alpaca blankets were for sale.
Above: Woven hair wraps are a popular item in the Otavalo market.
The entire weekend trip, including food, transportation and lodging cost around $20/ person. Ecuador has used the US dollar since 2000 when the sucre was replaced with the dollar due to an economic crisis. When the money exchange worker handed me dollars for euros, I had to smile. The green bills looked so familiar and I actually knew the denominations on the coins without having to inspect them one inch from my eyes.
Also through Simon Bolivar Spanish School, we had the opportunity to attend an intense Ecuadorian football (soccer) game. The match was played against Chile and was a South Africa World Cup 2010 qualifying game, which meant the stadium was PACKED! Arriving three hours beforehand, as advised by a local friend, our group ordered Ecuadorian lagers and toughed it out in our “ponchos plasticos” to stay dry while storms took their turns dumping on us.
Above: Gray skies do not dissuade Quito football fans.
I was impressed by the tenacity of the locals selling their goods. Whole families were frantically trying to pedal their goods in perfect unison with the weather. For example, in times of rain showers, people who sold umbrellas and ponchos started shouting louder, whereas later in the night, those selling tea and hot drinks marketed brilliantly in the cold weather.
Above: A local sells trinkets outside the game.
Once when a saleswoman and her little daughter heard someone yell for a poncho in the stands above me, they stopped and the mother threw her other goods consisting of candy and umbrellas, into her child’s arms in order to dig frantically for a poncho. She begged people to pass the poncho quickly to the buyer in the stands above and showed a brief sign of relief when her $1 coin was safely passed into her palm. She then grabbed everything back from her child, and I shouted, “Buena Suerta!” which means good luck. She quickly turned, smiled and said, “Gracias Chica,” as she hurried off to make her next big $1 sale.
Because all of these local experiences were possible through connections at Simon Bolivar School, I would like to say thank you to the staff there and would highly recommend this school to any people wishing to study Spanish in Ecuador. See www.simon-bolivar.com for more information.
Hola from España, where I have been practicing up on my Spanish. And what a place to practice!
Punk culture adds spunk to this country and somehow mixes with its hippie-type vibe, a unique mix of rocker clothes and dreadlocks. Tapas, sangria, and Spanish architecture soften the rough edges of this hard-core style and made this section of the trip a bit sweeter.
A 30 minute boat ride never produced such magical results as the trip across the Straight of Gibraltar, floating us from Morocco’s crazy city of Tangiers to the shores of Southern Spain.
Millions of dark, littered plastic bags that once blew in the wind like fall leaves, catching on weeds and shrubs on the hillsides were now transformed into neatly planted flowers set in the soil of manicured lawns. Raspy yells from touts and angry automobile horns gave way to gentle breezes and joyful screams from kids in the park. Spain offered clean, drinkable water, swept streets and normal business hours, unlike the Ramadan hours we had been accustomed to in Morocco. Stores hung signs in their windows to advertise sales and specialty goods, which seemed strange after being in a place where advertising meant holding out a basket of home-made goods from a squatting position alongside the road.
Above: Cadiz impressed us with its cleanliness and massive buildings after being in Morocco for a few weeks.
Besides the obvious differences I noted as I exited the ferry, Spain can best be explained with the use of a few important Spanish nouns. Tapas, sangria and paella summarize the country’s food category in the same way the Catalunyan and Adalucian lisps add flair to the places category. Barcelona and Montserrat top my chart for favorite Spanish tourist destinations just as Valencia’s architecture and Granada’s culture win the most unexpected award. A few notes and photos below exhibit my most memorable experiences and observations from España.
FOOD
Spain is not Spain without the tapas culture, a unique idea that was implemented by an old king. When he started to fear that the people of Spain were drinking too much wine and beer, he set a rule that pubs were to serve a tiny bit of food to eat along with the drinks. This little snack was placed on the top of the glass, to keep flies and bugs out of the drink, hence the name tapa. This snack has come a long way from days of old and now has a whole menu of its own complete with Spanish tortillas and omlettes, hamburguesitas (You guessed it, tiny hamburgers) and cheeses and meats. My favorite part about this snacking phenomena is that for a little over $1 a drink and a tapa are placed at your table. With each drink you order, you can try a different Spanish treat.
As far as the drink choices go, one of my favorites was sangria, a mix of table wine, fruit, brandy and fruit juices.
PLACES
Andalucia, pronounced Andaluthia by locals, is the southern area in Spain with many beaches. Here the Spanish accent has a lisp, or a “th” sound where a c would normally be pronounced. Gracias is “grathia” and Barcelona is “Barthelona.” When I first heard this I thought the person just had a speech impediment…then I realized the joke was on me!
Above: We crossed over from Morocco and visited Cadiz (not shown), Granada, Valencia, Barcelona and Montserrat (not shown.)
In Andalucia, we visited Granada and then hopped on a bus to Valencia. Our experiences there are highlighted in the next section. Then we hopped an overnight bus to Catalunya.
Visiting friends Xavi and Simone near Monserrat was a highlight of Catalunya, an area which is popular due to the fact that it hosts the city of Barcelona. Although Barcelona is beautiful we were more impressed with the village of Montserrat, which pops up in the middle of a valley, as it is truly breathtaking. Our visit of the town on the hill consisted of a well-led tour (by Simone) of the cathedral, where monks were singing in the daily mass, and a two-hour climb to the peak, which produced a view of the entire valley below.
Above: View of Montserrat´s monestery.
Above: A glance from the top of Montserrat.
Xavi educated us on Catalan’s history and the desire that many of its citizens share to once again become free from Spain. He also showed Jason how to drink from teh vase of wine, which they practiced throughout the whole dinner.
Above: Jason impresses Simone with his newly learned skills.
I have to admit that my Spanish from my Mexican vacations did not get me far here, as Catalunya has a complicated language, which is a spin off of Spanish. Xavi and Simone were excellent hosts, patiently translating Catalunyan Spanish into German so that I could translate German to English for Jason. Needless to say, we talked a lot.
Since we were in the area, we checked out Barcelona, complete with its Gaudi houses, Gaudi church called Sagrada de Familia, and beautiful harbor.
Above: Barcelona´s harbor at night, in the middle of a lightning storm.
We decided that although we have seen A LOT of churches and cathedrals all over the world, the Sagrada Familia topped the charts with its funky style and beautiful colors. The inside roof even was crafted to look like a forest.
Above: The Sagrada Familia, built by Gaudi, shows off his funky, unique style.
Above: Colorful photo of the church´s inside by J. Salmoral.
SURPRISES
Because Granada is in the south, the tapas there are much more common and cheaper than in northern Spain. A nice surprise was the fact that for a little over 1 Euro, I could enjoy a beer or glass of sangria and be served a common Spanish dish, such as a small portion of paella or a ham and cheese sandwich. We enjoyed going out every night in Granada, “tapa hopping” as we named it. And because the portions are small, one does not stuff themselves before the next course. Maybe we should try to curb our obesity problems in the States with these tiny courses- do you think it would work?
Above: Ganada is full of tapas joints.
After an overnight train ride from Granada to Valencia, we exited the station at 6:30 am and were surrounded by the most beautiful Spanish architecture! Stone buildings towered around us, divided by parks and fountains.
Above: Spanish architecture of Valencia.
This city not only boasted ancient buildings, but also a wide, long beach with powdery sand, which was still hot in October. The water was refreshing and the rain did not follow us from Granada, so we enjoyed night time walks and day time beach visits.
LEAVING SPAIN
From Barcelona, we hopped on a cheap all-night bus to Madrid where we caught an 11 hour flight to Ecuador, where there was a seven hour time difference. Ahh, the joys of being a budget traveler. Next up: Ecuador- The 1st stop in South America.
OVERVIEW OF MOROCCO
Ramadan was in full swing when we visited Morocco, men and women refraining from food, drink and cigarettes during daylight hours and feasting once the sun went down. As explained by a carpet salesmen, this holiday is meaningful to Muslims because the weathly become humble, and have time to reflect on all they have in life as they meditate and grow in their relationship with Allah. Devoting quiet time to religion and practicing self-control replaces the need for food and quick fixes.
To travel during this holiday was beneficial for learning about customs of Moroccans, since most are Muslim. We were able to sample special juices and foods that are only served at this time of year and we heard plenty of horn blowing and wailing during the late night hours as locals walked around the city banging drums. It was explained that this custom is to wake up the people, getting them ready for their 4 am prayer time. I was also told that during this season, men were to be more conservative, only glancing quickly at women and never staring. Hearing this made me feel a bit safer, although I saw the rule broken more than a few times!
Above: Sunset in Morocco marks the time of day during Ramadan when the fast is broken and people can eat dinner.
Traveling during this time was also a bit challenging for us non-Muslims due to the fact that many places were not serving food during the day because of the fast, and some stores were closed. But after long, hot days, we saw what we had been looking for: the towns burst with life, as if the solar energy of the daytime had recharged the people to full power for the evening. In reality, it was the one meal they had just eaten which perked them from their docile state.
After seeing a few ruckuses and conflicts among grown men, we incurred that men get a bit testy during this season due to the lack of food during the day. This theory was confirmed by a Burber boy, the native people of northern Morocco, as he led us to a hotel, avoiding a fight in the path. He mentioned that men do easily snap during this time of year. I guess it is the same in all countries- men are grouchy without their food!
Above: Food was abundant after sunset.
Although the main languages were French and Arabic, forcing us to work extra hard at getting our point across, we were rewarded by making an escape from the Euro, paying with the Durham, which was 8 Dh/ $1 US. This was a much better deal for traveling Americans than Europe had been!
MARRAKESH AND THE NIGHT FESTIVITIES
Walking through the shopping stalls of leather goods, hand knit sweaters and unique trinkets was a bit of a temptation, but with just one already stuffed backpack, I painstakingly decided not to buy an treasures. Marrakesh is known for its tanneries and beautiful leather products, so the shoes and sandals are well- made and abundant. In the maze of stalls, fresh orange juice stands and patisseries abound, obviously inspired by the French.
Above: Goodies abound in the day market. The shoe area was my dream come true.
In my opinion, the highlight of Marakesh was evening time in the town square, where cooking stalls popped up, drum circles formed and competitive games began. Smoke from the open air kitchens wafting over it all, the organized bustle reminded me of the first day of a county fair, complete with sweets and sounds of screaming and laughter.
Above: The activity of the night market.
After being recruited to stall #129 by a young boy, we were served a flat fluffy bread, like a thick piece of white pita. We ordered a mixed salad plate, a chicken tajine (a clay pot filled with a mix of herbs and meat) vegetable soup, and olives.
Above: Moroccan tajine: chicken, veggies or lamb cooked in a clay pot.
The spices in each dish made Western food seem bland and the fun atmosphere of the cooks and servers hustling, singing and shouting to each other set a jolly mood. After we were declared to be filled to our brims, we headed toward a fishing game where the object was to hook the neck of a one-liter soda bottle with a ring attached to the end of a pole. It ended up being much harder than it looked, so we jumped and raised our arms in celebration when Jason finally won after playing for 30 minutes. Although he just walked away with the bottle of soda and no cash prize, the game had been our nightly entertainment; it had been cheap and was accented with bands playing nearby.
Above: Jason fishes for bottles.
At this point we wandered up to a restaurant overlooking the active square in order to have a good photo shoot and we stumbled upon a booth selling camel rides in the desert. We booked on a whim for the next morning and planned to meet the group at 7am.
DESSERT IN THE DESERT & A CAMEL TREK
Our drive toward the camels ended up lasting a surprising nine hours, winding us along mountain ridges and into Zagora. Because restaurants were all closed for Ramadan, we ate lots of junk food desserts for breakfast and lunch- prepackaged brownies, cola, Snickers, and cookies refueled us as we neared the desert.
Above: The winding desert road to Zagora.
After naps, chats, desserts and more naps, our driver finally deposited our van load of twelve tourists in the desert where our camels waited. As suggested by the caravan leaders, we wrapped our heads in scarves to protect us from sand storms and had sunglasses handy to guard our eyes. Each of us crawled up onto the back of a camel as it rested on the ground and then with a clicking sound, the caravan leaders urged the beasts to stand. Initially shocked by the height and bumpiness of the ride, we soon relaxed and soaked in the scenery of dunes and local children who would run up to us, tossing us origami-like creatures they had folded from desert reeds. At sunset, we took a break from our ride and the leaders spread out a blanket with their Ramadan dinner. As they ate, the camels lounged and relaxed and we tourists took some snaps.
Above: Jason and I in front of his resting camel at dawn.
When our caravan arrived at the camp under a dark, star-studded sky, we were served tea and chatted about how amazingly sore our backsides were from the ride. Dinner was then brought out by the caravan leaders. First, the thick flat bread that we had been served in Marakesh was once again delivered, telling us this was a staple of the Moroccan diet. D’sara, a thick butter bean and garlic soup was brought to the table next, followed by a large clay pot tajine filled with spiced chicken, potatoes, and carrots. Lastly, a bowl of fruit was presented for dessert, filled with bright yellow melon and tiny desert oranges. Everyone was pooped from the drive and trek so we crashed atop cushions, four to a tent. These shelters were made of carpets and tarps and ended up keeping the rain out when it surprised us at 1 am with its arrival.
Above: The candle-lit dining tent in the desert.
FEZ
“Has this really become a normality for me? No place to stay, no transportation, no English or German speakers and it’s raining. Why am I not even phased by this?”- A quote from my journal.
It was 3:30 am and we were unloading from a train that we initially thought would last until 8am. Our REM had just been revving up while we were spread across leather benches in a 2nd class train car. The conductor then announced that Fez was the next stop and we should prepare to depart. Sleepily, we lugged our backpacks down the narrow hallway, straps and buckles clanking every window as we trudged along.
Outside, it was sprinkling, something unexpected by us Moroccan travelers and we had no map. All taxis were taken by passengers who had hurried out of the station, prepared and awaiting the early morning Fez stop. Using Jason’s trusty compass to guide us northeast, where we were told the old part of the city was located, we decided to just start walking. After five minutes of silent steps in the rain, a taxi with a young driver and his friend pulled up, blasting club music in Arabic and asking where we needed to go. I showed them an address of a pension I had luckily copied into my journal and the wild goose chase began, stopping at payphones to call the hotel and asking other taxi drivers who were out at this ungodly hour for directions.
When our taxi driver found the hotel, we all banged on the metal, locked door and stood outside getting damper and damper by the second. Finally the owner of the place woke up, let us in and agreed to our negotiated price. But our taxi driver insisted an extra fee for walking us to our hotel and helping us find it. We are used to getting charged the “tourist tax” everywhere we go and it was late so we agreed to his 50 durham ($7 US) charge for the ride and extra help and said goodnight. But upon arriving to our beds, the morning chanting begun across the loud speaker, just in time to keep us awake for one more hour!
Above: Although Fez was hectic, we tasted the best cous cous with raisins, veggies and rice there.
It was truly foreshadowing that this was how we were greeted in Fez, because the chaos of this city is what we will probably remember about it. Dodging stray cats, ducking out of the way of bikes, and trying to avoid eye contact with men were all top on my priority list as I walked down the labyrinth of the old city streets. I must have looked a bit nervous because one young Moroccan man asked me if I needed a body guard. When I answered with a quick, “I already have one, thanks,” he assured me that an African body guard was always better! After seeing locals blow their noses in the streets (not into a tissue as they stand in the streets, but blowing it into the air of the street) and hearing people cough and hock up loogies, I decided not to shake hands with anyone and to head back to the room for a much-needed nap!
Above: An old door on a narrow Fez street.
CHEF CHAOUEN
After all of the commotion, we desperately needed to head for the hills, so we packed up and took a two-day journey with a train, then a bus, then another bus to Chef Chaouen, a mountain village. As passengers aboard a funky, decorated bus, we passed cacti abundant with fruit, onion stands run by locals, and many beautiful mountain vistas.
I figured it was a good sign that we had seen no tourists aboard the buses or outside for two days, and that we were about to uncover an authentic Moroccan area, sans souvenirs, where no one would try to charge for walking us to a hotel or demand money because we took a photo of their band, as people had in other areas.
I was right- this place was peaceful and low key! In the following days, Jason, typically with an iron-clan stomach, nursed a bit of a flu bug and we decided the food that was considered “Moroccan” was called so because it meant “More-On-Can.” Yikes! But in a hotel with a plant-filled, open-air atrium, cozy decor of blue and white painted walls and tiles, and a peaceful atmosphere, he was on the mend.
Chef Chaouen’s native people, the Burbers, are known for living in the mountain region, where they work harvesting marijuana and running tiny plantations. One night we were in the town square and played cards with some local boys. We asked them our questions about Ramadan and also asked if marijuana usage was looked down upon by some in Morocco. They assured us it was a normality in the local community, pointing to a table of old men playing dominoes in the corner. All of them, some looking like they were over the age of 80, had pipes or joints and looked to be enjoying life. The local boys also explained that women, too, are allowed to smoke hash, but with all of their responsibilities with the family life, they do not have as much time to sit and smoke with friends.
Above: Playing cards with local guys in the town square of Chef Chaouen.
The next day we went for a hike in the mountains and as we entered the countryside, a villager greeted us with a smile. When we asked him how to reach the top of the mountain, he pointed to the trail but then said we should come to his courtyard for mint tea first. As we followed him, he pointed out cactus fruit and cut one open for us to try.
He tidied the trail for other passersby and we could see he was gentle and well-liked in his village. Finally, we walked down a tiny dirt trail into his yard. Here we saw a goat tied up to a tree, figs spread out drying in the sun and a cat sunning himself in the dirt. Our host introduced himself as Fadar and pointed to an old lady who was flipping the figs in the sun, explaining that it was his mother who also lived in the home, which was an obviously hand-built, stone building with thin, tin strips as a roof.
Above: Fadar´s mother dries figs outside her stone hut in the mountains.
Once the tea was served, Fadar made us laugh by pointing to words in his English/Arabic dictionary and explaining that the goat we had just seen was his coming year’s Easter dinner. As we sat there we asked him what he did and he responded by telling us exactly what the boys the night before had told us. He proudly showed us a huge potato sack of “kief.” He then put a thin cloth over an empty bowl and set some of the dried plants on top, covering the whole contraption with a burlap bag. After beating the bag with a stick, he uncovered everything revealing a powder that had filtered through the thin cloth into the bowl. This was what he sold as hash! He balled it up, heated it and then packed it in a bag to sell. We were amazed and asked again if this was legal in all of Morocco. He smiled, laughed and bobbed his head up and down.
Above: A demonstration from a local hash farmer and his dried plants in the foreground.
After thanking him for the tea and the demo, he guided us to a trail that the goats use to climb the mountain and we continued hiking to discover a spectacular view of Chef Chaouen below.
Above: View from the mountains trail behind Chef Chaouen.
Once Italian Friends, Always Italian Friends.
Above: An Italian vineyard.
Once upon a time, nine full years ago, I studied in a small town in Germany called Schwabisch Gmund. For two weeks I learned German and befriended international students while living in the dormitory. No one knows why the group formed such a unique, friendly bond during this specific year, as teachers and students who had studied here before claimed there had never been such a tight-knit group of students. When the time came to part, everyone was distraught and tearfully promised to stay in touch, hoping to see each other one day down the road. During this world trip, I was able to reunite with four of these international friends, (one in Hungary and three in Italy) who are still the same sweet people I knew nine years ago. This time we made promises not to wait nine years for the next visit. Thanks to the people listed below for their hospitality!
Venice-
Above: Venice waterways by night and day.
After a day of walking around the city, Jason and I met up with my friend Matteo, who had come quickly from work, still dressed up nicely. We whistled at him cat-call style and he spotted us sitting on the train station stairs awaiting his arrival. Matteo is from Padua and introduced us to the “Spritz,” a drink that is sipped before an Italian meal as an “Apperitivo.” Matteo and Jason preferred the Campari Spritz, whereas I sipped a Peach Bellini, which is peach juice and champagne.
Above: Matteo, Jason and I after dinner in Venice.
After our drinks, Matteo lead us through the Venetian maze of streets and canals to a waterside table where we tried salad of the sea, breads with olive oil, and pastas. For dessert we tasted the truly Italian limoncello, which Jason vowed to prepare at Christmas for the family. Be prepared- this stuff will knock your socks off and should be tasted AFTER eating! The night came to an end too soon and we hope to host Matteo and his girlfriend in the US next time they make it across the big pond.
Trento-
Chiara, who has been living in the mountain town of Trento with her parents, cheerfully announced that they had plenty of room and would love to host us for a weekend. Just as with Matteo, she first treated us to an apperitivo where she and I sipped “Radlers,” beer mixed with Sprite, and Jason ordered a Aperol Spritz in the trendy city center surrounded by fountains, a cathedral and old brick buildings that glowed in the orange light.
Above: Chiara treats us to another Italian lunch.
That night, we came home to her mom and dad who made a true Italian dinner, where plates of pasta carbonara were eaten first, then a bread and veggie bake, then the salad and lastly the gelato with fruit. The whole time Chiara’s dad Bruno and mom Paola, who received our award of best looking international parents, poured Italian wines from the Trento region and also from Sicily. Throughout the rest of our stay, this Italian food theme was repeated and admired by us, and I even tried my hand at a tiramisu with Chiara as my guide and translator. See the “Places” tab for a picture of our tiramisu and some authentic Italian recipes!
Above: Our hosts in Trento, the Giampieretti family.
Both nights in the Giampieretti household, the Miss Italia competition provided entertainment and set our geography straight as we saw which girls were from which areas of Italy. And, I guess it was not all just for the education, right Jason and Bruno? Thanks to Chiara for the introduction to Italian family life, the method of eating a whole pizza (which is apparently the ONLY way to eat it), and a bit of local knowledge, from the sandstone pyramids nearby to the grape farming industry!
Above: Jason and his very salty anchovy and olive pizza. He finished it all!
Above: Chiara took us to see the rock formations near Trento.
Milan-
Benedetta’s last minute hospitality was much appreciated as we found out that no hostels in Milan would rent us a dorm room for the night. Bene grew up in Padua but now lives in Milan’s city center and simply rolled out an extra bed for a sleepover in her apartment.
Above: Milan’s Cathedral and square.
During the next day while Benedetta worked, we walked around Milan, window shopping and drooling over all of the amazing fashion pieces, including handbags, shoes and suits and checking out the cathedral, park and market.
After work, Benedetta took us out to meet friends and for an apperitivo like none other: a huge bowl-like cocktail glass filled with our choice of a mojito or long island ice tea. We sat outside on cushioned furniture and visited the indoor buffet of local cuisine for free, just because we were customers of the bar. It is supposedly customary in the Milan area and in big cities to provide customers with an abundance of food as they drank, but we could not get over the masses of ravioli, pizza, focaccia, artichoke salads, risotto, and pasta dishes that were served to the bar’s patrons, encouraging them to drink more! After the cocktails, we started making funny videos, soon to be posted on the site, of Benedetta’s friends and their cute Italian accents as they told jokes.
Above: Bene and friends in Milan.
We gave our final hugs to Bene at the subway station and headed for the airport, where we spent the night for four hours before boarding the plane to Morocco! Moroccan adventures up next…stay tuned!
Above: One last hug with Benedetta before getting on the bus!
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