Teepee For My Bunghole

So Fez pretty much was just a big Medina. Its should be better once they finish renovating all the monuments and let you in. The new King is stoked for tourism and so Morocco is gearing for a 500% or more jump in people. I didn’t give Fez much chance but after one day and it started raining, I got out of there quick.

The train is a cheap, efficient and comfortable way to get around Morocco. Fez to Marrakesh is 7 and a half hour ride for 170Dh. Except for the last two hours, the scenery pretty much looked like the rolling farmlands of the Western Cape. Just replace the wine farms with orange groves (I almost said orange tree farms there), the steeples with minarets and the shacks with low cost brick housing. Oh, and a lot of donkeys. Like a kak lot.

On the window of the train it says: Issue de Secours. On the back window of a Golden Arrow bus in Cape Town it says: “In case of emergency kick out glass” or something like that. I so want to kick out that window! Even the slightest accident is going to have me charging that window. By the time I sit down in a Cape Town bus I have figured out the most efficient way to pick myself up and charge the window no matter which side the bus lands on. No one is going to beat me to that back window.

Now I think “Issue de Secours” means “Emergency Exit.” So if on the news there is a Moroccan train crash (highly unlikely; they drive real safe) and you think I’m on it and they show an aerial view, look for the cabin where the window is 100 meters from the train – that’s where I got out.

So here I am in Fez. I loved Chefchouan (it is a gem) and will go back there some time but I needed to get to the desert (from Marrakesh) before the heart of summer.

I got another little broom closet for a room but at least its cleaner than the one before. I’ll probably lie awake again thinking of “This room is so small…” jokes.

“This room is so small, if I fart it only stinks in the next room.”

“This room is so small that to turn around I have to go outside.”

“This room  is so small I open the door to change my mind.”

Fez is known for its huge medina/market that you are guaranteed to get lost in. I’m getting tired of medinas but the women are near nirvana thinking about it. Will let you know a bit more when I’ve seen something besides this grotty internet cafe.

Chefchouan is a beautifully picturesque town. Great vibe, lekker mense. The longer you’re here the better it gets as the locals start recognising you and they know you already know where restaurants and hotels are and that you don’t need to buy hash.

Everyone smokes, you can even light up in a restaurant. I spent the morning hiking up a hill to the ruins of an ancient mosque with a panorama of this town. Then hiked along the path leading through the plantations of weed. Yep, weed is a tourist attraction here, Kodak moments.

I’m enjoying staying here, it’s laid back, beautiful and the people just amazing. Nice social squares and good hiking into the mountains. I’m probably going to hang about for a couple of days and then head down to Fez. It’s the easiest way to get out of Chefchouan.

Trust me to end up in the hash heart of Morocco purely by chance. It started out when someone pointed out to that the Rough Guide’s list of 37 Things Not To Miss In Morocco has Chefchouan at number 1. So a train, a grand taxi, Meknes, two small fart towns, two bus rides later, I’m here. Even at night the final approach was pretty spectacular rounding a bend in the Rif Mountains and seeing the town lights spread across the side of a mountain and into the valley.

But I started to notice when the bra getting into the grand taxi was smoking a joint, when I got off the bus and was offered, when anyone I mentioned it to told me and, last but not least, when the guidebook talked about fields of weed, that besides being the most beautiful small town in Morocco, it’s also known for its dagga.

Terrible, I tell you, simply terrible.

After the surf I went around to a hammam. This is a place where you’re in a tiled steam room on the floor throwing hot and cold water over yourself and soaping yourself and maybe using a scrub or getting it done for you (or maybe even getting a Moroccan massage). You feel kak clean and relaxed afterwards, I didn’t even feel sad that I was overcharged by the massage bra. It is jas – especially after cold fucking water showers in the hostel (with no shower head I might add).

Oh, and its men and women separate and you wear a boxer or some type of shorts. At 10 dirham (R6 or $1) to enter, bringing your own scrub and soap and doing it yourself, I’m considering going to one every day instead of these bastard showers from hell.

I’m still in Rabat. As part of my second interview I was supposd to give a test lesson over the internet to a student today. I initially agreed to today because I forgot what day it was and Wednesday would have been better for me. Now it turns out that France has a holiday today so I have to wait till tomorrow.

Yesterday I caught a surf just next to a pier they’re still building. There’s massive developments in the beach area and from the billboards it looks like its going to be befuck. Anyway the surf was maybe 2.5 foot onshore (in non-surfer language that means it was small and crappy) and mostly the locals caught the waves. It was a right off the pier with a tiny take off section (in non-surfer language thats just gibberish) so by the time 12 people were in the water it was crowded.

Surf is too small now but hopefully the wind drops with the growing swell. The spot looks like it can be great though when conditions are right. Some of these locals can for fucking sure rip up the waves.

So I’m in Rabat now. An hour north of Casablanca and more modern though quieter. Picture it as the progeny of Pretoria shagging Casablanca. Wide streets, relaxed atmosphere, everything closed by 10pm.

I’ve seen some Roman ruins, the King’s palace (though I don’t know who the current king is), an archeological museum and stuff places I didn’t what it was when I was looking at it – but it was cool.

The internet cafe machines have usb ports here, so I think I might show you some pics soon.

By the way these Morrocans are kinda nutty. You think at first that its the language barrier and then afterwards you realise that they’re a bunch of characters. Ya sometimes this place is like an Asterix and Obelix comic. Like when you see a bunch of kids kicking a kid on the floor and some tourist wants to intervene and the Moroccans say that the kids are just playing. These Moroccans are crazy. 

I’m staying now in the Youth Hostel just outside the medina. Very cool vibe, met some interesting people from various places on various missions. Its always nice to sit in hostels and to talk to other people about where they’ve been and where they’re going and where they’re from. The hostel is on a square in a great area.

The food’s been mostly mal. Not much food is visually appealing but I suppose that’ll change once I start to know what I’m looking at.

Gheema seems to be the spice of choice here and you’ll get it in most dishes (even tea!). You’ll even get a small bowlful to use like we would use salt or pepper. The chips are good too and server with  small dollup of lekker mustard.

Last night a meal for two of tajine, some other dish, chips, bread and a litre water came to 43 dirham (about R25/$4.5)

Tajine is a type of dish prepared in shallow clay bowls and can have vegetables, meat eggs, etc. Good stuff!

Hardest part of this journey so far is still the toilets (but not in the hostel) and this messed up keyboards. Also will have to figure out a way to post photos because the internet cafes don’t make it easy.

In an hour, me and this Turkish girl from the hostel  are going for Friday Jumuah to the King Hassan Mosque (largest mosque outside Saudi Arabia, world tallest minaret).

Okay, I’m in Casablanca fighting with these funny keyboards with letters all over the place.

Landed last night and got to Hotel Terminus with not too much hassle. 28 degrees, now that’s what I’m talking about! Seeing the city from the train it looks like a mix of poor and rich and much like other third world cities I’ve seen.

Woke up 5am this morning with a nosebleed and needing to take a dump. When I realised where I am, the dump started looking like a mission and a half. While I stopped the nosebleed I thought about it. First off, this hotel had those glorified holes in the ground toilets and I’m not finicky about most things but I do like to shit in comfort. Its just the way I am. Secondly, how the hell do you actually use those things?

Om kom vannie bom, it took me 2 minutes to kak and half an hour trying to figure out how to clean my ass. And this is with some diarrheaic American knocking on the door every 5 minutes. I would have shouted that there’s a toilet around the corner but some people take such advice as invitations to hold conversations. As much as I hate to hold conversations when I’m sitting comfortably taking a crap, imagine how I would have hated that crunched over as I was.

Spending this morning looking for another cheap hotel but with better toilets.

Impressions of Casablanca:

• Nice
• Not clean, not dirty
• Can’t figure out traffic or roadsigns
• Reminds me of downtown Rio
• Easy to get around
• Will spend some days here to check it out
• The medina (market) looks ancient and fucking cool 

My cell number +21210758626, figuring out how to load credit at present.