Sailing to Africa & Arriving in Morocco

After my day exploring Gibraltar, it was time to get ready for my move to Africa. Busing back to the airport to get my bag and back to the city; I ended up going to the old (now closed) ferry terminal. After getting directions from the customs agent, I hurried my way to the cruise terminal (down the road). I was sure I was in the right spot when I arrived at a group of Arab men who were standing around with all their stuff and waiting outside of the gate - they only let pedestrians through once the boat is on its way. So I, somewhat awkwardly, jointed the awaiting group. It turned out that there were only two of us that were not Moroccan - the other being a Gibraltarian who had made the crossing many times. I ended up following him around as he knew the ropes and I was rather out of my element. Apparently he no longer made the trip via Algeciras or Tarifa due to the souring relations between Gibraltar and Spain, which has caused issues at the border.

Once the boat was on route, we were allowed through and after going through "security" (I was waived through) we moved to the waiting lounge. After another hour of waiting there was finally signs of impending departure. Once we boarded the ferry, via the car deck, we scurried upstairs and went through the passport control officer. After filling out a small form with our basic information, we saw the officer who checked that we filled everything out, entered something on a computer, and, rather violently, stamped our passports. As I was standing behind the Gibraltarian (one of the Moroccans had inquired as to whether I was with him), one of the Moroccan women pulled me to the side - what I understood to be the proper procedure for women. However, it caused a little confusion as the passport officer thought I was budging and tried to tell me to go to the back of the line until the lady piped up in my favour. The sail was rather uneventful other than a German lady being shocked that I was going to Morocco without covering my hair. Once we arrived, we all scampered off and had our passport stamps verified. At that point we went to find the bus to Tangier as we had arrived in the new port, a good 45 minutes away from the city.

Once the bus arrived (coach style) there was a little confusion/delay until we were able to board and head out. It was a smooth ride, but not that interesting as it was pitch dark. For a reason unknown to me, the guy behind me had his GPS on and it kept trying to give him directions - rather annoying. Arriving at the apparent bus terminal (in the day the actual place is visible), I hopped off the bus with a game plan - having previously downloaded a guidebook on my tablet, I found an entry of a hotel that offered Wifi and was decently priced. So after telling the man who was trying to "help" me (according to him he was an official from the bus company), I just told him I had everything prepared and walked away despite his protests. In reality, I had a place in mind and an idea of how to get here. So I wandered to where I saw taxis lined up - later realizing that they were grand taxis and not city, petit taxis. I walked up to one of the drivers and asked to go to Holland Road - managing (I think/thought) to agree on 50 Dirhams (rather than the initial 100) with another driver, we set off. My driver turned out to be extremely helpful and interested in my travels. He brought me straight to the hotel and despite looking disappointed at the 55 Dirham I pulled out, left on a friendly note. I walked up to the, thankfully 24 hour, reception and asked for a room. He looked a little surprised, but hopped up - and after stopping to fix a washroom - showed me a room. It was nothing glorious, but at that point I just needed somewhere to lay my head. So I went back down to finish the booking for the night.

I ended up talking to the employee and a reporter who had popped his head out to see what was going on. They were both friendly and interested in my travels and studies; however, being rather frazzled and tired it was not my top notch performance. In the morning, I finally dragged myself out of bed to pay for a second night so that I could keep my room for the day before leaving that night to Marrakech on the night train. Breakfast was a little meagre as I only had the snacks that I had been carrying with me and was too lazy to move very quickly. First stop was the train station, preferring to walk my way around, I looked up the directions on Google Maps and with a vague to decent idea of where I was going headed off. As I left, the morning receptionist looked rather surprised at my presence as well, but then again so did the cleaning ladies. As I trotted down the main avenue, it wasn't too much of a shocker, especially after coming from Europe it was easier to see the influences. Although there was a definite predominance of men, especially in cafes, and most women were wearing hijabs, etc. It was a decent hike of not knowing where I was going, but having to follow the major road definitely helped - being overly keen I did take one wrong turn and had to turn myself around through rather muchy streets (I prefer to not back track when possible). Finally, I reached a rather large round-about with four large arteries and what looked as if it could be a train station - also the new developments were becoming fewer. It ended up being the station and I bought a ticket for a bunk bed on the train to Marrakech, a ten hour trip.

For the remainder of the day, I wandered back to the hotel after grabbing some groceries then headed out to wander through the Medina (the old city), which was filled with tiny streets (dead ends that I found frequently). There were many merchants trying to sell everything from produce, clothing & shoes, fish & meat, toys, and everything and anything else you could want - quality varying. After making about three laps of the Medina - it's pretty small in comparison to other cities - I decided to find my way down to the old port. As there were a good number of people - follow the people - I carried on walking along what looked like a seawall. Well that's because it was, but think Stanley Park without the squirrels, trees, and bikes. At this point between travelling and already walking almost 10 kilometres, I was a little tuckered and was hoping my walk would be over soon. It lasted another good five kilometres as I finally made it around the city walls (all very hilly) and wound my way back to the hostel - stopping for a chicken shawarma. The seawall was neat to walk along, I got to see the city from a different angle including the sheep, garbage (plastic), and old constructions, as well as watch the people along the way. Once back, I packed up my ruck once again and then curled up for a pre-snooze, snooze then trotting off to get my train.

Not wanting to get into another Grand Taxi - they are taxis that are typically old Mercedes that go between cities, charge more, and fill up to 6 passengers - I walked toward the main street. Coming to the realization that it seemed to be rush hour and most drivers weren't keen on picking someone up with a pack, the size of mine, I trotted off towards the station at a good pace (my quick tempo). Making it there still half an hour before the scheduled departure, I was in good time, not too sweaty, and a little more revived. Once the platform appeared on the screen, I went through and found my compartment with the assistance of one of the employees - knowing French is extremely handy here, although it means my very rusty Arabic is staying in the background (Dari comes to mind easier still).

As I waited in my little berth, I thought I might luck out and have it all to my lonesome, but another lady popped in having only bought her ticket then (I was basing occupancy on the fact that only my linen had been put out). We eventually got talking and I found out that she lives in Marrakech, but is from Tangier. Not wanting to pry too much, I am presuming she was visiting family and on her way home. As with good Moroccan generosity and hospitality, she welcomed me to Morocco and offered me part of her pizza - the offering when she already ripped into two, says "you can have some", and practically shoves it at me (kindly). So we talked for a bit more about Morocco, Canada, and accidently religion. It all turned out fine, it was more the "opps" factor of what I had opened up. The rest of the ride was quite leisurely, once we closed our door she took off her hiqab and settled in, and I set into typing my previous blog until I was too snoozy.

Parts of the city, culture, and infrastructure do resemble Afghanistan (as it is all that I have to compare within the Middle East) and that is a theme that has so far continued - mud & sand, hospitality & generosity, and social interactions. However, there are definite elements from European influences, as well as prosperity that is greater than Afghanistan at least. Oh and the tea! I almost forgot about the light tea (mint/black or green) with LOTS of sugar - no exaggeration.

Hopefully this entry is as decent as the others, writing it now I am noticing that things are already a little blurred with the next places. I am going to go explore more of Essaouira and will work on writing Marrakech's entry before I leave so that I am back on track.

-Alex

*Pictures include: me & my pack in the Tangier hotel (that's pretty much my look everything time I move); my hotel room in Tangier, the train compartment to Marrakech, and where I was writing most of this entry - eating breakfast in Essaouira.

3 Countries, 2 Continents, and 1 Unexpected Place

*Sorry for the delay, I was having technical difficulties uploading this one. I should have another two up soon (hopefully) as I am now a little behind.*

So I thought that three countries in one day was a good idea; overall it was. It might just have been too much at that point in time during my travels. In the end, it was a good day and everything worked out well, it just was not my most calm day. To start the day, I got ready to leave Spain with a good solid breakfast of churros, coffee, and orange juice - with all the huffing I do each day I should be able to eat some of the treats along the way and not puff up too much. The churros were not quite quite what I thought they would be (could have been the place or just my expectations) as they were rather greasy and without much taste. In good Spanish form, I think, I dipped them in my cafe con leche as I failed to order chocolate and from what I've seen the Spaniards dip everything in their morning coffee - example one guy dipped his bread with butter and jam!

Next up was crossing the border from Spain into Gibraltar. I was rather curious to see this crossing as I had read some countries need visas and that relations with Spain have dramatically soured in the last little while. So in good traveller fashion, I watched to see what the folks in front of me were doing (the locals, of course) and pulled out my passport for the lovely passport control officer, who looked as if she was enduring a polar climat - it was a nippy 10 degrees. Then walked by the next border police who took as good a look as one can as five people walk by with open passports (to the main page) at an upbeat pace. Considering it now, I could have probably stopped and gotten my passport stampted, but I was rather certain that could not be all they would do. Not only to 'rigorously' enforce their border and country, but I was also the one carrying a rather gigantic sack on my back (unfortunately none of you have been privy to my self made, turtle-inspired, walking tunes). I suppose in 7 square miles, it's not as if you're going to disappear off their radar.

I'm not one who typically experiences culture shock per se. I might have issues at times dealing with a new environment but usually I have a understanding of what they might be like and that food, shelter, and transport are all, for the most part, attainable in some sort of fashion. That being said, Gibraltar was a shock to the system; it is a unique and eclectic place. It is a mixture of Spanglish - heavy on the Spanish, but English is perfectly acceptable; British cuisine and heritage - military, police, phone booths, "look left" at crosswalks, the pound; bartering - when I hesitated to buy something she dropped the price by 3 pounds; German buses - "wagon halt" in the buses; and Arab fashion - much better than the British outfits. Meld all those aspects together, as well as a hardy dose of Gibraltarian nationalism, and you've got quite an interesting and perplexing culture. After flying through the border, I went across the way to the airport as I had earlier researched and found that for a few pounds, and an x-ray, you could leave your bag with them. Once liberated from my pack - which weighs in at 15 kilos for those of you who were wondering, as was I - I skipped off to the bus to take me downtown. Another quirk of Gibraltar is that the road between the border and the airport, and town crosses the runway! There were no planes taking off while I was crossing it, but not surprisingly, planes have the right of way.

The main attraction, and by no means disappointing, were the apes! I had bought a one-way cable car ticket to get me up the Rock, but ended up getting a pass to the nature reserve attractions too! Unfortunately, taking into consideration time, I focused primarily on the apes, the view, and briefly the caves - skipping the historical, military tunnels and Moorish castle. The apes were plenty entertaining and very enjoyable to see. As with all creatures, the young ones are the most curious and open to check you out. A little guy, who seemed to be a loner, came to check me out and grabbed my arm and then carried on by playing with part of a balloon. I hadn't quite realized it, but apes and humans do share similar characteristics, and a desire to spend more time with them has developed. Despite the signage, some people do not heed the advice to not have food outside as the apes are very apt at getting thefood, as well as quick and bitey. Therefore, I watched a rather pleased ape have a snack of oreos and a kid be rather scared of the apes. Despite lugging food with me, I had a cheese and sausage sandwich as I didn't want to tempt fate and wasn't allowed to eat non-store bought food. Having bought a one-way ticket and wanting to get in some physical actitvity, I hustled my way down the hill.

At this point, I hadn't bought anything that wasn't consumable but there were a few things that I wanted and/or needed. In La Linea, I had found a camera shop and managed to point my way through buying another 16 GB SD card for my camera. In order to get my camera pictures onto my tablet and blog (and Facebook), my plan is to get them onto a computer from my SD card and put them onto my micro SD card (or email them to myself) but I didn't bring an SD to USB adapter so I found an electronics shop and found one. When I asked how much it was, she told me that it was 9 pounds, not wanting to pay that much I was getting ready to leave when she brought the price down - I was not anticipating that bartering culture had entered Gibraltar. I had also been looking for a pair of silver, stud earrings as I forgot two out of three pairs of earrings I had meant to bring. One of the shops had some earrings that looked to be along the lines of what I wanted so I went in to check out  their selection. I found that the selection that I had been looking at were 50% off! After getting more pounds (as I hadn't anticipated buying things), I bought a pair of round, silver earrings with cut out pattern as I decided, despite being more costly, there was no reason to get the exact same ones that I have. After my "shopping spree" it was time for a good British staple - fish & chips with peas. I also decided a beer would be an appropriate addition, and subsequently found out I highly dislike Foster's.

Well, I had started this entry while I was on the train to Marrakech, but decided sleep was more pressing and have now finished it sitting in a dark (power went out) hostel's common area (a riad type building) surrounded by a bunch of very loud and lively Bosnia-Herzegovinians (I think that's a word). I must now plan the next city and get ready to carry on, I will try and get Tangier and Marrakech's entries done while on the move to the next depending on my transport choice and options.

-Alex

A Quest & the Low Season in Granada

Well at least I can say that Granada was an experience. After catching the city bus to the city centre and actually getting off at the correct stop, I managed to wander in the wrong direction, which lead to quite the adventurous route. As my research and use of maps in the previous cities hadn't steered me wrong, I thought I would be fine here too, apparently I was mistaken. So I scampered up the hill (also everything on this route was uphill and steep), weaving my way up, up and around until I reached a quasi dead end. Thankfully some bus stops have maps and even indicate which stop you are presently located at. I ended up using two different ones to give me a sense of where I was - very far west of my objective, I was. Finally, the last part of my quest was to follow a hiking path that opened up to a really good panoramic view of the city, as well as an apparent dead end, again. In reality, it was a group of hillside, gypsy homes that are caves and yards on very steep ground, just above the more typically built homes (still steep and hippy-esque).

I realized as I walked back and forth along the same route (u-turns) that bringing a neon, yellow jacket might not have been the most subtle idea for being lost. Despite all the stories that are told about gypsies/Roma (they could be true as well) I didn't have any issues despite feeling as if I were trespassing and most of the dogs held discontent attitudes towards me. I even ended up going back to one of the homes to ask one of the women how to get myself off the hill. As she had already seen me go by once when I wandered back she beconed me to come in (through the fence) and then pointed me in the right direction of the stairs down. In reality, I was practically on top of the hostel, but it still took me a good while to weave my way through the alley roads and ask for directions a few more times. In the end, I wandered for two hours across an unknown amount of kilometres with an unknown amount of kilograms stuck to my back through both a pristine, posh community and a neighbourhood of gypsy, cave homes (more like dwellings). Despite having a background that makes backpacking easier, or more usual, that trek was the closest I've dragged myself to a breaking point (that I can remember at least). Also it took me a few days to realize that I am "backpacking" because to me, I am just travelling. No heat, no problem; shared room & facilities, I have a bed with blankets and a kitchen; carry all my stuff, pack what I want; no laundry machine, soap and a sink; no dryer, use spare laces as drying apparatus; no cell plan, use Wifi for everything. All in all, it's good.

Typically to go see the Alhambra, tickets must be booked and bought in advance. I had tried to book one, but their website (well, ticketmaster) was being finicky so I chanced it and went relatively early the next morning. Thankfully, between the weather (rainy, cold), the weekday (Wednesday), and the season (low/winter), I was in luck. I was even able to get the time slot that I wanted! My plan was to join the walking tour of the city in the morning and make my way back up to Alhambra in the afternoon; however, I never managed to find the group so I went and checked out the cathedral. It is a very impressive structure, but also very cold. Every time I would run into a ray of sunlight I would pause and attempt to say in the heat - at least Granada didn't have the howling wind of Madrid. Before I went inside Alhambra, I stopped part way up and had a midday picnic. I got a few weird looks but enjoyed the sights and watched an older, gypsy lady try and sell sprigs. I even managed to both not give (say I didn't know) and give directions to people in Spanish...why those who can actually read the signs and directions need assistance was beyond me  (tourist area with lots of maps and signage). Once inside, I visited the palace, alcazar, and gardens - the latter being the least impressive, probably because by that point I was rather soggy and tired. The Alcazar provided fantastic views of the city and it's surrounding areas. The palace was an impressive Moorish styled construct and they provided information on the manner in which restaurations had been completed and the way that those currently under progress were being done.

After another day of walking and taking in the sights, I decided to take it easy and ended up reading on the couch with the dogs. The hostel was a very stereotypical backpacker lodge, not quite the chill vibe I was looking for, but overall it was good. My first night, I ended up going to see a flamenco show with one of the Aussies. It was a good time, there was one singer, one guitar player, and one dancer. The setting was pretty neat as it was a tiny white cave (typical of the area) that was only about 7 or 8 feet high.

My diet has gone somewhat downhill, I think. Between the ease of pasta and pastries, and accidently buying fruit bread for my meat and cheese sandwiches, it's been a good stack of refined food (carb/wheat). To try and compensate, I've been carrying around mandarins, and either buying baked goods or adding spinach to my food. I'm hoping  that once I get to Morocco that my diet might consist of more beans, meat, and produce.

We are now driving between Malaga and Algeciras, which is quite a scenic drive as it is along the Mediterranean coast with a number of white towns and the North African coast line in the background. I will be staying in La Linea de la Conception tonight and then walking briefly across the border to Gibraltar where I'll be spending the day before I cross the Straight into Morocco - here's to smooth sailing, in a variety of ways.

-Alex