Welcome to Jordan! - with lots of photos

First things first, despite being in Jordan, almost no one is "from" Jordan. Even those who are from Jordan, they are most likely not from Amman. It may seem like an odd scenario or concept, but when considered as one of the most stable and prosperous (relatively) Arab countries in the Middle East, it is easier to understand why so many Palestinians, Egyptians, and Syrians. In addition to those seeking safety, stability, and refuge there are also those who are (mostly) from the Gulf and quite obviously wealthy. Just as Jordan is a relatively well-off country, it is also a relatively progressive society and culture. What might be prohibited in a more conservative country - read, Saudi - is more accessible here. Despite being a relatively modern and urban city, tribal ties are still very strong and at the heart of individuals' identification and connections. Additionally, the population of Jordan has swollen in the past century with large influxes - continuing until now - from surrounding Arab nations that are or were in turmoil. The most prevalent case are Jordanian-born citizens who are Palestinian in heritage, but who most likely have never set foot in Palestine.

Coincidentally, the first person that I met arriving in Jordan was a bus driver who had fled from Palestine after 1967. His English was extremely good and he was very well spoken as well as genuinely welcoming. He helped me get my bus ticket and on the bus from the airport to downtown. It was definitely a genuine experience that included a segment on politics, Israel, the Occupation, and his misfortune. Unfortunately, I can no longer remember the details, but although he drove a bus he had been highly educated and employed before making the unwanted move to Jordan.

Even after being in Amman for some time now, almost everytime that I meet someone - a taxi driver, a shopkeeper - they are Palestinian or Syrian. I have yet to figure out what is the most appropriate response. This is especially true as almost all the Palestinians have never seen Palestine with their own eyes and unless there is a dramatic change in regional politics they will never have the chance to step foot in what they consider their homes. So not only does one refer to Israel as Palestine - unless you truly know with whom your speaking. One also ought not to too proudly or loudly state their past or future travels to Palestine as you are more privileged than they might ever be. However, if you are part Palestinian - preferably your father - then you are more than welcome to talk about what city or village your family is from, and maybe how long ago they left Palestine. Even if you speak no Arabic, have never stepped foot in the country, or meet your family - if it is in your blood, you are Palestinian. Despite all these seemingly oversensitivity, for what we - as outsiders - may consider, it is a tough subject as it hits home to family roots, tribal connections, and believed injustices.

For those of you who weren't following my every fleeting thought, Amman was not my first choice. Despite my interest and pension for the unstable and off-the-beaten track places and choices, the political landscape of the Middle East lessened the scope to which I would be willing to travel, and temporarily live. Initially, I had wanted to attend the University of Alexandria in Egypt, but as tensions had been cyclically mounting and elections were scheduled for this time frame I decided it was not worth the risk. Despite my typical less than stellar grades - well at least during the first few years of university - the aim of this semester was to focus on my learning of the Arabic language along with some cultural immersion and education; therefore, going somewhere that unstable and regulated was not the place for this time.

As has been the theme so far this year, I have taken a more relaxed approach to planning as some bewildered folks noted when I left in January. I think I've come to realise that despite having nothing booked or confirmed, I did have a mental 'road map' that guided my journals so far and I think will continue to do so for this year. In any case, rather than attempting to find an apartment via the internet, I settled for staying in a hostel downtown for an indefinite amount of time upon my arrival until I settled in and found a place. This turned out to be a quite wise move on my part, despite taking over a week to find suitable accommodation. During that period, I stayed at the Amman Tower Hostel which is located in the 'downtown' part of the city. Conveniently located between two busy and usually jammed roads and beside a mosque - daily call to prayers from the minarets at least five times a day can be loud and persistent at first. I stayed there for over almost two weeks, commuting to the University every day, which is in the north part of the city. Even though taxis are affordable compared to Western standard (a few dollars usually), I opted to take the bus - cheaper and more interesting.

The city is divided into very distinct neighbourhoods with their own vibes and specialities. Al-balad, Amman's downtown core, is nothing particularly stellar when compared to other cities both modern and ancient. The small area holds a small selection of ruins, many hotels and hostels, and a good number of shops and restaurants. During my stay at the hostel downtown, I had some great times with other travellers who were also staying in the hostel and travelling both long and short term. This included going to one of the few local bars, O'berg (pronounced like Auberge), which serves women alcohol and provides a very local vibe. Located down a small alleyway with snack shops and stores along the way. Once you clamber up the stairs, you enter a smokey, dimly-lit, small room with a bar and kitchen; tables tucked tightly together; and charcoal station for the arjeela. The decor is apt with photographs of Arab singers and artists who can also be heard crooning from the speakers. Although not the best grub, they offer "local" beer - Amsel that is produced in Jordan for export; argeela. water pipe or shisha; and a authentic environment with the swooning voices of Arab singers.

Closest to the downtown area is Rainbow Street which is a modern, cool-chic, expat-oriented street with lots of food options (generally pricier), artistic shops, and small niche stores. A little further away is abdali which offers a very large flea-market on Thursday and Fridays with a huge selection of used clothing and shoes, household items, and fresh produce. Starting at Rainbow Street and moving west are eight traffic circles used as reference points - get into a cab and try and use street names forget it, circles are critical for navigation. The main city malls are in Swefiyeh to the west, closer to the more affluent, residential and the modern, westernised areas. To the east, lies the less developed and more impoverished areas of Amman. I have only made a few ventures into this area and usually only because I didn't manage to get myself off the bus before we went wizzing to the "other side". Although noticing a lower level of wealth, I did not sense a greater sense of risk or insecurity - even after wandering along unknown roads at night until a taxi driver decided I needed a ride. North of most of the city is where the University of Jordan's campus is located along with lots of student housing.

Despite having described as seemingly distinct areas, the districts in Amman are sometimes overlapping and still cause confusion, especially as some names encompass a number of smaller districts. What I had not anticipated or particular enjoy is the sheer size of Amman. Compared to other cities that I have explored and visited, Amman has rapidly and expansively grown from the seven hills it originally occupied and now sits upon over 22 hills. Instead of being considered a city, it ought to be considered more of a metropolis similar to the GTA or the Lower Mainland in Canada with various cities having been incorporated into one large area.

On the subject of hills, they are everywhere. This is especially apparent when wandering the city and even more so after getting lost - usually after climbing up the wrong hill. It is not a city that is developed for pedestrians, most sidewalks, if existent, are crumbling, blocked by trees, or covered in refuse. Thankfully, most vehicles either dodge foot traffic or incessantly honk to warn you of their approach. The main means of transportation you ask, after personal vehicles, why taxis, bien sure. Compared to western countries, taxi fares are reasonable and made for average locals. Costing 2-3 JD for a decent trip through the city, 5 JD being the most I ever spent (northern to southern edges of the city), and starting at 0.25 JD - after ensuring that the meter is set before taking off! Biking is not really an option between traffic and terrain; mopeds seem to be limited to delivery drivers; donkeys are limited and I have not seen any horses; and walking is not a "thing". Buses are available and while I was commuting between the hostel and the university, I would take the bus. Normally, viewed as vehicles for the working class and rather unpleasant, I had mostly positive experiences riding the bus. In the beginning, I primarily took the cities buses as they didn't wait to be full and were more reliable - despite a lack of schedule and dedicated stops. I also benefited as my routes (I could choose from several) were not the most popular as some other buses were packed like sardines - once a bus drove off with a lady's ponytail dangle out of the door, there were that many people stuffed on the bus. However, on the way back to the hostel, catching cities buses seemed much more futile so I started taking the mini-buses. They are white, 12-18 seater buses that run along dedicated routes. Before leaving their starting point, they wait until they are full most of the times and if it's not a popular time will leave after a while, but it will cost more - fare depends on number of riders, when full 0.35 JD or 0.55 CAD. Learning the areas and circles is a definite asset as on a number of occasions I either missed my stop - flying off towards some other undesired neighbourhood - or was unable to clearly ask for where I wanted to go.

As with all my other city exploration, I walked a great deal throughout Amman often getting lost and having to descend and climb multiple hills, occasionally dragging my compatriots with me. Despite not being a "walkable" city, I have not had any negative experiences other than the normal staring - 1. it's cultural, 2. I'm foreign, 3. I'm female, and 4. I'm walking. Then again on one fine day, slogging to the bus "station" from a day at the market, a driver pulled over in front of me and said the equivalent of "come in" (tafadali) as I walked by his car. Apparently my provocative hiking pants, long sleeve shirt, scarf, runners, and multiple bags were good indicators that I was a prostitute; however, I feel as if the fact I was walking was probably the largest factor. Being responded to as a prostitute has been a common occurrence that has either dissipated as I have been in the same areas for a while or I have become accustomed to the interest.

Whether it be from hospitality, national pride, or friendliness, at every turn and encounter one is "welcomed" to Jordan even if you have been here for an extended period of time. As being welcomed to a place (e.g. Welcome to Canada!) and welcomed for something (i.e. thank you - you are welcome) are the same in Arabic, I have gotten somewhat over-welcomed by everybody. On the other hand, my iconic, Canadian usage of "sorry" as definitely been weened down to almost complete disusage.

In order to catch up for my blogs in Jordan, I have written an outline for the next six+ entries, which does not include new things from this point onwards. Therefore, I will be once again working on catching up on these entries with the most effort I can afford. Despite having travelled and lived in different places, the first month in Amman was definitely more overwhelming than most of my other experiences and since then I have felt as if I am perpetually trying to catch up or do everything. It has taken until March when I found a more balanced approach to my life in Amman, but compared to life on the road or back home is still much more demanding.

And now I should study.

Alex

Bus from the airport to the city.

Ikea (still in construction at this point)

View from my hostel room.

Great breakfasts included at Jordan Tower Hostel

My bunk at Jordan Tower Hostel

Chilling in the lobby with Pen and Melissa

Dinner at Hashem's - hummus, fattah, falafel, stuffed falafel, pita bread, sweet mint tea. Served on plastic chairs between two shops outside. 

Dinner at al-quds with Pen and Melissa - classy, turkish coffee time!

Our waiter at al-quds

Night out at O'berg

Arjeela & Amsel

Visiting the Roman Amphitheatre after dinner!

Enjoying the coziness of a taxi - five in the backseat (you can see my jeans and white top!).

View of Amman from one of my many walks on one of the many hills. 

Market in the East part of the city - view from a city bus (was working on getting back to the centre of town)

View of a city bus on my way to the University

Mazes of Marrakech

Chugging into Marrakech, I awoke to the sun shining and still rather cozy despite only having a sheet on me (at this point that was one of the few nights I was warm). After getting my bunkmate's phone number - she offered assistance if I ever needed any while in Marrakech - I toddled off to find a taxi. Compared to Spain, I have found myself using taxis much more often and living a more costly day to day life, despite the seemingly cheap costs. In order to find a taxi that wouldn't gauge me, I exited via the side door and found an old man dropping people off - versus taxis waiting out front. After making sure that he was using the compteur, we were off and that's when I noticed the Marathon runners - I was a little suspicious of the foreigners in spandex until I realized it was an organized event! After a ten minute drive, we made it to the traffic circle that I had asked for, which had resulted in some confusion. The trend I'm noticing about studying city maps as a pre-arrival strategy is that elevation and distance are not properly or accurately identified, which makes translating the map information on-the-ground a little trickier.

Eventually we found the traffic circle, which turned out to be much tinier and dingier than I had anticipated. I hopped out, not quite sure if I actually was at the right place, and accidentally gave him a rather enormous tip - ATM and change bureaus typically only give out 200 dirams when the most useful are 5 & 10 coins, and 20 & 50 bills - and most people don't have change or they begrudgingly get it. So after winding my way to the street where the hostel was, I managed to do two laps of the main alley way till I stopped and ask a corner store (the Moroccan equivalent) where the hostel might be. He was very helpful and knew exactly where it was. I had to turn down a side road and then follow as it veered left then right until I reached a dead end and only found it due to its house number. There was a definite lack of signage (as in, none). As I got settled into the hostel, they invited me to have breakfast with the other guests. There was a group from Wales and a couple students on exchange in Holland. After breakfast, my room was sorted out, I had changed, and was invited to spend the day exploring the city with the couple of students.

I followed along with their itinerary as I hadn't set one out, we started by visiting two old palaces that were between ruins and a little past their prime. The King also has two palaces in Marrakech, as well as a residence, but they are closed to the public. Apparently in each big city through the country he holds two or three places -  seems a little excessive to me - but I guess that's what you get when you are a monarch. It seems that having practice reading maps and then losing myself within cities helped me find the places that we visited and oddly enough it felt relatively easy. After touring the palaces, as well as a modern art gallery in one of them and taking each other's photos, we wandered off to the spice market. Despite all the beckoning, the market was very colourful and aromatic with everything from tea to sandalwood (whole), as well as the standard jasmin, ginger, cumin, etc. After getting a 'nose-full', we headed for the main square in the old Medina for lunch. The place that we went to - and subsequently went to often - had good food at good prices with friendly staff, quick service, and no hassles. A typical lunch there included avocado and orange juice, an omelet, tajine or couscous (lamb or chicken), yogurt, and sweet mint tea (total 47-52 dirham plus tip = 8 CAD). Which is one of the reasons it has been harder to keep making my own food rather than eating out all the time, it hasn't helped that the kitchens in the hostels in Morocco tend to be smaller and somewhat segregated.

The Medina in Marrakech is very impressive, only once you get very deep into the small alley ways do you finally reach the end of the souks (markets). Most of the stalls in the Medina sell a combination of food: produce, dates & nuts, meat (cooked & raw), citrus juices, sweets & pastries; and bread; souvenirs: scarves, leather slippers, kafkans, metal lantern & light fixtures, and ceramic dishes (tajine pots); and clothing: shirts, pants, caps & beanies, pyjamas (lots), etc. There are also shops for electronics, phones, home goods, linen, and pretty much everything you can think of - there are also corner shops that usually have a a selection of water, pop, juice, yogurt, butter, jam, nutella, chocolate bars, bread (fresh), and an assortment of other (usually) edible. The only thing I dislike about the souks is that they all try and get your attention - "hello", "excuse me", "where are you from", "lady gaga?", "student? OK I'll make you a good price", etc - which gets tiring after a while and makes me less inclined to go into that particular shop. I've even gotten into the habit of responding while I carrying on walking - whoever is trying to get you do buy or do something will give up once you leave his area, as well as avoiding unnecessary eye-contact.

Another fun and unique feature about Marrakech, and most of Morroco, is learning to dodge all sorts of traffic. Not only does crossing the street or round-a-bouts require some talent and constant vigilance, but the tiny alley ways are full of pedestrians, merchandise, donkeys, horses, carts, bycicles, and mopeds. If there is something that is well used in Morocco that is horns - as warnings, requests, let's goes, thank-yous, and welcomes. Despite the seemingly chaotic scenario, I never felt worried about getting run over, despite the honks and occasional sounds of displeasure - as a given vehicle or animal is coming in your direction - they gave you warning and are very adept at dogding people, things, and other moving objects. Due to a lack of need, space, and resources, personal cars were rare sights. Vehicularly, the streets are filled with petit & grand taxis, scooters & mopeds, buses, donkeys & horses, tourism vehicles, police & military vehicles, and bicycles.

The nice thing about staying in hostels is not only are they cheap, but you get to meet a lot of people - as with most houses, the hostels here have nice seating areas on the roofs, which make great social areas, until it gets a little chilly and then people usually pull out the blankets. Unfortunately, quite a few days in Marrakech ended up being rather chilly and rainy - things Moroccan homes are not built for. A couple of the days, most of us huddled in the indoor seating areas, under blankets, reading.

As my last full day in the city was one of those dreary days, I didn't end up going to get my bus ticket to Essaouira the day before, which is advised. So on the day of, after having breakfast, I got a cab (not my top bartering example) and paid a much-inflated price to the station. Once I got there, I found out the next bus was sold out so it would be five hours later. After hesitating and asking if there was somewhere to leave my pack, I bought the ticket and paid for my bag (found out later, you have to pay even if you just want the bag put under the bus). Again, another benefit to having a smaller pack and why I want to swap my day pack for a collapsible one is that I could have brought my pack on board and not have to worry about it getting snatched from below. As I had almost five hours to spare and pack-less, I decided to walk back into town. I stopped in the cyber park - free Wifi - and spent some time on the net. At that point I had noticed the police and military members who lined the streets and had remembered that the King was going to be in and around Marrakech that day. So when I reached the main city mosque and saw a crowd starting to form, I decided to stop and watch the festivities. In the end, seeing the King lasted about 10 seconds, despite being at the front of the barricade (with a Moroccan flag and a headshot of a much younger King). Watching the festivities and crowds had been much more interesting, exciting, and educational. It had been interesting to see that there always seems to be a "female-area" develop - waiting in Gibraltar for the ferry all the females were on the same bench (except me) and at this event a gaggle of women formed around me and another lady who got much closer to me after her friends left. Once he had arrived, I scooted off to quickly grab some lunch (at my go-to restaurant) before dashing back to the bus station. However, as buses tend to arrive and depart (30 min+) late, as well as other means of transport, so there was a good wait before heading to Essaouira.

I finished this entry while sitting on the six hour bus ride to Casablanca so far it's been an uneventful ride and my biggest hope is that my bag is still there once we pull in (really who would want to lug it away anyways...). And I did make myself pack my lunch today, which consisted of hard boiled eggs, bread, mandarins, bananas, a dessert-thingy (chocolate & peanut puff...), some almonds, figs, and dates. Other than the maggot that I found after betting into my date, it was quite good. Unfortunately this driver and/or route are not condusive to typing so I will work on the Sahara entry while in Casablanca and the Essaouira and Casablanca entries on my way to Jordan.

-Alex

One of the main arteries from the main road to the Medina & souks - this is the road I wandered down a couple times before finding my hostel. When I took this picture everthing was closed, but imagine that shops on both sides are open with products on the either side, there are pedestrians walking both ways with bycicles, donkeys, and mopeds winding through. It makes for quite the cluster!

Waiting on the bus to leave for Essaouira - took Supratours which is affiliated with the national train (ONCF) which runs buses where their trains don't go. 

The intended photo of the cyber-park that I had tried to upload while I was there!

(I finally figured out how to put explanations with each photo when using the blogger app.) 

Next post - the desert -  to come shortly!

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.