PACE

 

 

I woke up this morning, had a stretch and ah, a morning yawn and..

Walked out of my riad – you stay one more night? No, I check out today – 12 o’clock. D’accord. Merci, Au revoir.

I walk out and up the narrow road towards the main street leading to Jemaa Al Fna. Round the corner past a few ladies, covered in the Islamic gear. Head down to meet Calif and Abdul for breakfast.

The street is narrow and stone. Shops on either side are small, maybe 6 or 8 feet across and packed with goods. I pass a butcher and a fruit stand. People on small mopeds go by and people shrink up next to the walls to let them pass.

I’m going to meet Abdul and Calif, two guys I met the other day who are studying English at a language school here. They live here in Marrakech and have dreams of getting out to America. These guys love America and especially the rap music. ‘I need to get to America, you know homie?’ ‘P. Diddy, he was here, you know? I tell you the truth homie! He spends 1 million dollars for one night, he had a HUGE party in one of our palaces. He brought all the laides, He is a true pimp, belive me homie, you can google it , i tell you.’ Awsome.

I met these guys walking down the street where I live and at first thought they were the typical touts that just try to get you into the shops, but it turns out that these guys are halarious and just real cool people. They want so much to give us a good image of Morocco.

Yesterday we took a ride with them up to the mountians and hiked up this mountain through a series of waterfalls. Calif’s family was from there, so he knew the area. We were about an hour and a half outside of Marrakech. After the hike we ate Tagine and grilled chicken kababs, sat around and drank tea and chilled.

Getting back to town we went to an Herbalist where we picked up this black soap to go to the Hammam, the public bath.

The Hammam was really awsome. For about 1 dollar, you get in there and walk into a 3 room area. Increasing in strength, almost like a steam bath. There are all these Moroccan guys in there (in bathing suits) washing up with buckes and these gloves that are for scrubbing the skin.

So we get in there and there is a whole process to this place. We have 4 large buckets. First we fill them up and slosh the tile floor, the whole place is tile and really hot inside. Then we sat down and chill and sloshed some water over us to wash off. Then we rubbed this black soap all over us and once again relaxed for a minute. The stuff takes a while to set in.

After its set in we rinse off again then exit for a rest, because its too hot in there. Then after a few minutes go back inside. Abdul tells Oscar, the Mexican guy from Cali, to lay down on the floor. He then puts on this black glove thing and starts scrubbing him down. I have to leave because again its too hot.

When I go back in I lay down and Abdul lays into me with this black exfoliating scrub thing. He basically scrubbed my whole body front and back then rinsed me off with a few buckets of hot water. When in Rome…

After that we went to rinse with buckets of hot water, then mixing in some cold water, then finished off with buckets of cold water. Sitting in this hot steam room and rinsing with these buckets of cold water, it was so good.

I would have never had this experience of walking into this public bath place on my own. No way. It was such a cool experience though. This is daily life (or actually 2x a week life) for the people here. I got to experience what they do, the real people. I still get these moments of awe where I realize where I am and what I’m doing, and how far outside of the life I was living these experiences are.

I meet Abdul and Calif for breakfast, OJ and omlette and some bread. We’re going to meet at noon and head to Casablanca to stay with Calif’s brother and ‘cook some chickens, they are cheap homie! only 20 dirhams, we’ll cook so many chickens, ya , I tell you!’

‘You have to wake up and stop kidding yourself. Travelling around 15 countries or something. You have to settle down, be near to your mother and father, find a nice wife. I tell you.’
-Abdul

‘Konto Atajawalo Hawla Al Alam’ (‘I was travelling around the world’ – in Arabic)

The night before that we went out to an underground place that serves beers after hours. We smoked the cheecha, which is fruit tobacco or something like that. We chilled there all night and listened to the Moroccan music. Calif and company got us in and for free.

On my way to pack up my bag and meet everyone in the square. Get some train tickets and head to Casablanca.

Salaam Walechem.

Walking through the main square of Marrakech, Jemaa El Fna, I am blasted with color, sound, and a beehive of activity. There are snake charmers coaxing up cobras with flutes and drums yelling and singing, attracting a crowd. People gather round to see whats going on.

There is a crazed looking man in the center yelling and dancing around with a knife in his hand and a pile of snakes in the ground in front of him. A few cobras have their hoods up and behind them are about 4 or 5 other men banging drums or playing something that look like flutes.

There are stands of fresh orange juice vendors lined up one way, for 3 dirhams ( about 35 cents) you get a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice. Next to them are fruit and nut stands, with piles of fresh fruits and nuts. Walnuts and some other nuts I’ve never seen, apricots, dates, and figs are all piled up. You get a huge mixed bag for about 4 dollars.

So this is a huge square bustling with activity and opening up into a huge market selling rugs, shoes, clothing, spices, and all sorts of other things. As you walk by people try to talk to you ‘Bonjour mon amie’ Hello my friend. Please come inside, what do you like? There are alot of people that just try talk to you to get you to buy stuff, or to lead you to their store or their friends store. I got taken into a tannery where they had pits dug into the ground filled with skins and different mixes to soften or color the skins. One second your walking down the street and the next second your walking over a mangy dog on a the communal lot of tannery families.

I wake up alone at 5 30 am. Im in Southern Spain. Its August already. I’ve been travelling for about nine months. Living out of a backpack. I havent shaved in about a week, but I dont have any cares, so this bothers me not.

I grab a taxi to the bus station and get my ticket. Two hours later I’m in Algeciras, the southern tip of Spain and entry point into North Africa. I walk to my friend Freddy’s house, who I stayed with the last time I was in Algeciras, but he isnt home. I duct tape a note to his door that says I’m going to Tanger and I’ll be back in a few days.

I walk to the port and make the typical travellers mistate. I buy my ferry ticket from a travel agency – one of the many lining the street to the port. ALWAYS buy tickets direct. The actual port sells tickets for alot less than these guys, just like bus stations always sell cheaper than small agencies. Rookie mistake, but oh well. I’m still on my way to Morocco.

I chill in the back corner of the cafe with my feet up on a chair, watching the people. Alot of Morccans speaking French. French is the second language, Arabic being the other. I dont have a place to stay in Tanger, but I have the names of a few hostels if the overnight train to Marrakech is all booked up. If the train is full and I can’t find a place to say, I can grab a ferry back to Spain and stay in Algeciras. My escape route is fully formed.
We pull into Tanger and as I’m going exit (sortie -brushing up on my French) the port, 2 people approach me and ask me if I speak English. Indeed I do. 2 people from Cali, they want to know if I have a place to stay or know whats going on. I tell then that I dont have a place, but I know whats going on.
They follow out of the port and on a whirlwind tour of Tanger.

A driver took us around to all the major spots- the rock of Hercules, the med side of the ocean, the atlantic side, and the point at which the 2 oceans meet. After than he dropped us near the Kasbah, the old part of town and some guy I thought he was a scammer showed us all around. He called himself the ‘Mickey Mouse’ of Tanger. He turned out to be a good guy.

Alot of people seemed to know him. Walking buy people would yell out -Hassan! then tell us ‘you’re in good hands.’ So I find myself sipping mint tea and getting show hand woven carpets and different goods. We walked all through the old section of town, through the local markets, and to some vistas. This took a couple hours and we were being shown around to places I never would have found on my own, at least not in 1 day.

The overnight train was not sold out and left Tanger at 9:30 pm.

I wake up in the morning at about 8 am. Been wearing the same clothes for about 3 days. The view out the window is like watching a movie. There is a huge hill/mountain in the background and different layers of hills coming closer. The contrast makes the hills in the back appear to hardly move, and the closer hills to zoom by. It looks really strange, the colors of the ground almost sand colored, but not sand.

After looking around a bit and winding through these narrow streets, we grab a place for 50 dirham a night – about 6 dollars. Inside is a square with the centered hollowed out. The center goes put 3 floors to the roof and the rooms overlook the opening. I grab a shower and wash the grime off. I realize that after you wash off the filth, thats all you’ve done. I’m ready to see Marrakech.

Tapas, Cervezas, and Flamenco!

 Barcelona is really busy right now. Having a great time amongst the crowd. Its really hot during the day, but the nights are really nice. I found out there is a casino here, but couldn´t get a straight answer on what the Hold em tables looked like. I think he said it was a 10-20 limit and a 20-40 limit , where the buy-in for the 10-20 is like 250 euros or something. I havent got down there to play, even though I really wanted to.

Been busy every day checking out the sites of the city and some of the nightlife. Last night I saw a Flamenco show- guitarist, pianist, a guy on some kind of box drum thing, and a really crazy Flamenco singer guy with massive stage presence, as well as a Flamenco dancer. It was in a pretty small spot and I was right up front. really cool.

Tonight I saw a Master of Spanish guitar play a concert in a small cathedral. He played about 7 songs and was by far the best guitarist of any style I have ever seen in my life. he played so effortlessly and with so much passion in his music. And technically, the things the guy was doing were on an entire other level. After he played about 7 songs or so he took a break and a full orchestra came on to play some Mozart. After they played a few peices the guitarist came back out to solo for the orchestra. Amazing. It was a fairly small church, I was in the second row and the sound was amazing.

Tapas are what they have here in Barcelona for food. Its an assortment of all kinds of things that you get along with a beer, kind of snack food things, but on a much better Spanish scale. Fried peppers, prociuto & cheeses, calamari, etc. They have been a staple.

I´m staying right next to a famous place called Las Ramblas, which is a long walkway that leads from the city center to the sea. There are a few shops & things along the way, eateries, but mainly just a bunch of people hanging out and some really cool street performers like this guy – lamarioneta.com

There was a Rasta out there last night singing Bob Marley songs for change who was planning on walking from Cape town to Cairo in November. So there is all sorts of craziness going down here.

After this I´m heading south to try to catch a ferry into North Africa.

 

 

I just got back from a 3 day adventure where I was part of a 3 man crew that sailed a 30ft Yacht from Poole, England to Cherbough, France across one of the most heavily trafficed pieces of international water in the world, The English Channel. Both there and back were night voyages so we had to take two hour turns on watch, piloting the ship while the others got some rest.

On watch you have to be vigillant for other ships to avoid collisions. Falling asleep is not an option, since you basically have other peoples lives in your hands. Its pretty cold actually so it’d be pretty hard to fall asleep. You could easily get run down by another larger ship if they didn’t see you, or courses were miscalculated, etc. The ship is outfitted well for night voyages and I was able to get familiar with the navigation equiptment fairly quickly. There was alot of equiptment – GPS, radar, NCIS radar, radio, compass, as well as depth, speed, and wind gauges. But these things as well as how to tie a few simple knots were all fairly easy to get a hang of. I also had to wear complete wet weather gear, more for the cold actually since the seas we mild.

It was amazing being out on the open water at night. For two nights I watched the sun go down and the moon come up, as well as the sunrises over the ocean. One of the best parts was coming onto deck at night and being the sole night watchman. Its only you and an expanse of sea under the stars and moon, which shine incredibly bright out on the open sea.

One of the most halarious and discusting incidents of my life occured aboard ship during the voyage from England to France. The captain was on watch when he was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to evacuate his bowels. He made way for the ships latrine and as he was evacuating disaster struck and, in what after further inquiry, seems to have happened in equal propulsion, he vomited whilst evacuating his bowels.

Now, as horrible as this is, its not the worst of it. In a valliant effort to not spew all over the bathroom any more than had already been accomplished, he then got on his knees (kneeling in his own puke) and figured that he’d empty the rest of his stomach into the toilet. Unfortunatly, as he did so disaster once again reared its ugly head and dealt another blow. As hes puking, in what after further inquiry, seems to have happened in equal propulsion, he exited his stomach, yet again, out both ends. Again.

So, the puke that was spewed forth at first was all over the wall and floor, but the shit was at least in the toilet. The second time ruined everything, however, and the fecal matter was added to the puke on the wall and floor. wow. just wow.

I’m in my bunk and he calls down ‘hey! look down there’ and shines a light over into the corner of the bathroom area. I look down and see this rancid sight, and furthermore smell the most horrific disgusting stench, which would continue to permeate the cabin for quite some time. It was halarious. So we are dying laughing, just losing it. Just being there where the evidence was still shown and having him recount the details whist yelling and laughing about it was priceless.

It may have to do with the fact that we ate in this sequence – nearly a whole roasted chicken, a whole box of cherries, a bag of pistachios, creamy tomato soup, a bag of mixed fruit and nuts, some questionably dated wheat bread. Not to mention that at about 3 in the morning the night previous, this man had mad himself a personal feast of 6 lamp chops, 3 eggs, a large salad, another whole box of cherries, and a pint of grape juice. I’m fairly convinced that this portion was still resident in his bowels at the time of evacuation/vomiting. Hence the melange of smells and toxic fumes that resulted.

Anyway, this in no way took apart from the joy of the voyage. We all laughed uproariously and continued on. French food is really nice. We didnt stay in France that long, however, and proceeded back to England making it 2 crossings of the English Channel by yacht in well under 72 hours.

george, drop me your email, the one i have doesnt work!

Abbey Road. The guy that took this picture for me said afterwards ‘you just walked where John Lennon walked, maaaan.’

gyros are the greatest food substance known to man. and the greatest off all gyros are found on Santorini island. the owner is a dude named Lucky and he is the shit. he was throwing back tequila shots and hooking us up with free beers, and more tequila shots, as well as a free t-shirt ‘for your beautiful sister’.

santorini is a volcanic island, the actual place is built onto the crater edge of the volcano that sticks up out of the ocean. brilliant views overlooking the volcano. it has black and red sand beaches, the colors come from the volcanic rock.

next was Ios, party island. unfortunatly it was packed with alot of canadians and americans, which is usually not a problem unless they are on the spring break vibe and it appears to be their first time drinking. chants of ‘America! FUCK YA!’ were enough to make me flee the island..

to Naxos. which was amazing. beautiful beaches and town. caught a piano recital from some amazing Russian guy who played on top of the Venetian museum at night overlooking the ships in the port. the building was created by the Venetian Crusaders about 800 years ago and was partially constructed with marble take from the Acropolis. at intermission some greek guy brought out Greek wine, red and white, and a tray full of different greek liquers. I immediatly befriended him to which he replied by letting me know that it would make him happy if i sampled everything on the table…. ‘dont mind if i do..’

also got to ride some horses through the farms and gallop them on the beach..

giddy-up.

Ever seen a blind man cross the road,
Trying to make the other side.
Ever seen a young girl growing old,
Trying to make herself a bride.
And what becomes of you my love,
When they have finally stripped you of,
The handbags and the gladrags,
That your Grandad had to sweat so you could buy.

Once I was a young man,
And all I thought I had to do was smile.
So listen all you young girls,
Who have bought everything that’s in style.
‘Cos once you think you’re in you’re out,
For you don’t mean a thing without,
The handbags and the gladrags,
That your Grandad had to sweat so you could buy.

Sing a song of six-pence for your sake,
And take a bottle full of rye.
Four and twenty blackbirds in a cake,
And bake ‘em all in a pie.
They told me you missed school today,
So I suggest you just throw away,
The handbags and the gladrags,
That your Grandad had to sweat so you could buy.

And what becomes of you my love,
When they have finally stripped you of,
The handbags and the gladrags,
That your Grandad had to sweat so you could buy.
 

Currently in Merry ole England. I’m staying in a quaint English village. Lots of history & character here. The people in the corner store know everyone and there is an ancient church from about 1000 AD here in the village. Ancient Norman paintings on the walls of the church.Really nice country around here, and in the morning sometimes I take a run through the farms – check out the horses and what not.

Theres a 17 year old kid here Max, who is some kind of super prodigy at guitar, just shredding nasty riffs all day long, so I’m trying to learn what I can. Hes one of those people that confound us mere mortals, who have only been playing a short time but sound like Jimmy Hendrix.

Check out the Porche Cayman S. This car is sick.