The Wonder of Petra

This article is primary about my first time in Petra during March 2014; however, over my time in Jordan I visited the site many more times so some parts are an amalgamation of all those times.

As with my theme to take one "big" trip per month of my semester - theoretically leaving enough time for my studies - in order to get away from life in Amman and profit from my stay here in Jordan, I decided to come to Petra to another self-made long weekend. For those who may worry about my academic success, when I say long weekend that involves skipping one class and this week it was a test that I took in advance. Compared to previous semesters and years where my studies have been less than stellar, I have been putting quite a number of hours into studying; albeit I cannot guarantee my marks will wholly reflect those efforts.

In any case, after finishing class on Wednesday and stopping for a coffee break with some of my fellow classmates and friends, I headed down to the south bus station in Amman. Until now that has been the longest - and priciest, but fair according to the meter - taxi ride through the city as I went from the northern tip to the south edge. Once we made it to the bus station, my cab driver was nice enough to tell me what I needed to ask for (Wadi Musa, the town beside Petra), but was sorry as he wasn't sure in what direction to point me. So after I hopped out and long enough to note I was the only foreigner, I stopped to put my sunglasses on long enough for the driver of the bus to Petra (seems they've given up on Wadi Musa) to come over to me and led me to his bus. As it was already pretty full, I didn't have to wait long to get going which was nice. There are no set schedules, rather buses leave when they are full or if at the end of their scheduled runs when they give up on waiting for more passengers.

We were quite packed into the bus - read, mini bus with a dozen seats - with one Bedouin fellow sitting backwards on the driver's armrest area. I sat beside a friendly women from Petra who owns a clothing shop in town and drove me to my hostel - which I later realize was about a 300 metre walk from the bus station, if I had not been quite so disoriented. As I tend to travel alone and as locally as I can, or am comfortable with, she asked why I did not "take one of those big tours". I tried to explain to her that that just was not my style and that I would much rather prefer travelling this way, inspite of it's odditites. This came after we had our midway stop and I had gotten off the bus to go into the store and buy juice, as well as find the washroom and stretch my legs outside. Eventually, I realized why she had asked me when we first pulled in if I wanted juice when we had stopped - all the women on the bus had given her son money so that he could go buy juice for them all without them having to leave the bus. In any case, I had no issues at the pit stop - starring be the norm - and even had a nice chat with the Bedouin chap from the bus as I waited in line. I'm not sure if I ended up in the "men's" lineup, but the only other females in the store were military or police and went straight to the front to pay - I wasn't sure if it was a occupational or gender priviledge.

Once I arrived at my hostel - Petra Gate Hostel - I was warmly welcomed and subsequently asked if my mother had just dropped me off, which I found slightly entertaining. Compared to the earlier comment on my "inappropriate" mode of transporation and travel, I was complimented on my attire as being quite in line with Jordanian standards and that I must fit in nicely in Amman; however, in Petra it is all but impossible not to stand out as a tourist. Firstly, the area is small enough that everyone knows every family and that news spreads faster than the wind blows. Secondly, in a town solely focused on the tourism industry, everyone is on the lookout for potential business. That day, as with most, I had been wearing a maxi (floor length) skirt, a crew neck tee, a light shrug, a scarf, and boots...oh and my 'wedding ring'. After welcoming me in and inquiring about my travels (or life in Amman), I was shown the great views from their rooftop terrace. It was a great welcome as I was able to watch the sunset over Petra, which seems to come out of nowhere when you're travelling through the flat countryside. After grabbing a bite to eat, I hit the hay as I wanted to get an early start the next day.

After getting up, having breakfast, and shaking the cob-webs out, I headed down to Petra's entrance. It is a couple kilometres downhill and was good as I was able to pick up some supplies for the day and a turkish coffee. A major benefit of being a student in Jordan is that the entrance fee to Petra is more of a gesture than anything else as we pay 1 JD, the resident fee, compared to the rather steep 50JD/1 day, 55JD/2 days, 60JD/3 days. That being said, it is definitely worth it and as it is a major selling point for Jordan, it is understandable why they incite such high costs. Also to note that if you are only coming to Jordan to visit Petra, rather than staying in the country, it is even more expensive. Not to criticize or judge those coming on large tours or simply for the day, but more that there is so much to be seen that is missed by those who get "hussled" through the sites. At the same time, the lack of tour groups along the "back" trails, means much nicer, and quieter, experiences for the rest of us. Although there was one rather hardy group of German tourists who definitely went off the beaten track. Apparently it is a particular type of tour group who study and are more interested in learning who travel from German, which is a definite change from the groups who solely walk to the first main site and turn back.

Over the two days I spent travelling through Petra some of the best times were spent where there were few to no other people around. To access most of these sites require some, or many, stairs, as well as some good cardiovascular effort. Not only do you get to feel like a kid in a really amazing playground, but you get to see things that are not in the brochure, but are equally (if not more) amazing, as well as seeing the typical sites from alternate (and less obstructed) views. Another bonus of making it to these "end of the world" spots - well, end of an hour's huffing - is that you are invited to have tea with a local bedouin. There is no fixed price to these seatings and most times they do not even ask outright for money, but each time I or a group of us would sit down we would typically leave a few JDs. Despite having a general familiarity with the culture, I realized after the first day that I should proably not start by asking "how much" as soon as someone invited me to sit - thinking about it now, it seems like a very Western (or North American) attitude. The one time we were invited for tea and were lacking in change, we shared our bread and snacks with the familly, which seemed to go down pretty well also - the girl seemed quite famished and keep wanting more bread to her mother's dislike.

There are two styles that are most common to see the Bedouin men adhere to - one for the older generation and one for the younger. The older men tend to wear the red and white keffiyeh, particular to Jordan, drapped over their head and shoulders with long robes that are usuallly beige or brown. Underneath they have loose trousers and some sort of undershirt. The younger generation has a quite striking, but very different look. Whether influenced by the West, tourism, or local influences, no one seems to be sure. Nevertheless, they adore scarves of less typical colours (black, brown, red, white) wore tightly around their heads. They usually wear jeans and long sleeve shirts with either sneakers or sandals. Most of them have curly, black hair that is long or short, but tucked away underneath their headscarves, as well as highly coiffed beards along their jawlines. One of the most striking features is the kohl (or kohla) that they wear on their eyes. Depending on who you ask, if is either made from a glue-like plant, olive oil, or chemically (China made, store bought products). According to stories it is to protect the eyes from the sun, but as someone mentioned to me none of the older generation wears any kohl. So the origins and purposes behind it still remain a mystery. Some, more than others, seem to be funneling in their inner Johny Depp, Pirates of the Carraebean, looks. Overall, we were all impressed by their looks and style (the guy travellers included!

I was hesitant to ask the local Bedouins if I could photograph them as traditionally photographs were not desired. However, over time and with the increase of tourism, there must be thousands if not million of their portraits, to a point where most of those who work with many tourists accept as a fact of life (and increased profit). 

Both days that I was there, there were many Arabs to which I think the Bedouin were less than pleased. Not only do they have a harder time selling, but the most widely prevailant attitudes towards the Bedouin is much less than favourable and is quite apparently when you see their interactions. On the afternoon of the first day, I was having a snack of my homemade trail mix - raw pumpkin seeds, raw almonds, spiced popped corn (not popcorn), chocolate covered raisins, coconut shreds, and dried cranberries - one of the young Bedouin girls came and sat next to me. She half heartedly tried to sell me a set of postcards and once she realized I could speak some Arabic, she firstly giggled and then proceeded to comment on how many Arabs were present with a slight tone of disgust and disappointment. Finallly realizing I was being kind of rude - "chway chway" - step by step, I will get there - I offered what was left of my trailmix; I had kept eating in front of her and her brother. It wasn't much left, but she happily took the bag and tucked it away in her bag. I'm not sure how much they make by selling postcards and trinkets, but they (the Bdul Bedouins, a local tribe) seem awfully poor; her boots and clothing were falling to pieces and I'm pretty sure she had not attended the village school as they are more profitable when they are selling goods to tourists. That being said, there are some locals (at least naturalized locals) and other Bedouin who seem to be better off - there are a number of 2014 truckes around town (keeping the year stickers on is a source of pride).

A bonus to travelling solo is that locals are more likely to approach you and actually have a conversation, even when they half heartedly try and sell you something. I had a good chat with one Bedouin who owned a camel and donkey, as well as a house in the Bedouin village (seperate from the town) and a cave in Petra. Accordingly to him, despite the so-called luxuries in his house, he said that he much prefered staying in his cave. By cave, I mean a relatively well set-up place with mattresses (his words) and a good enough wifi connection to skype. However, a downside to being a solo female travelling is that I am much more hesitant (with good reason?) to accept invitations for tea...in caves. That being said, two girls from France and I went for tea in a cave on my second day just at sunset with a Bedouin and his mother. Having left the site late after our tea, security seems to be rather loose with one person watching the - open - gate and all the tourist police having long left. Despite travelling alone, by staying in hostels - as I think I mentioned before - is a perfect place to meet fellow travellers. Throughout my two days, we would occasional bump into each other along our trails and sometimes join each other for a meal, as well as give each other tips on where and what to visit. It is a nice balace of meeting people, socializing, and being tied to no schedule or will but your own.

In terms of legality and permission to live in Petra, I have heard conflicting reports. It would seem that officially they (Bedouin folk) are not allowed; hence the development of and expulsion to the Bedouin Village from caves in Petra. However, talking with many of them it would seem that this is highly ignored and that they at least have some sort of residence within Petra. On my hikes through the hills, I passed by a number of caves that were either obviously houses or looked to be easily converted - as well as a number of caves that operate as stables at night (stinky). Apparently, a USAID report in the latter part of the twentieth century advised that Bedouins ought to be relocated despite being privy to historical rights - seems rather obvious where this mindset came from.

To profit from night visits, Petra by Night is offered three times a week for tourists to come see the main site (The Treasury/al Khazneh) after sunset along with some tea and music.There were candels - in paperbags - lit all through the walk and many lit at the site - the main monument that everyone sees upon their entrance. It was definitely worthwile (12JD), but having stayed until past sunset the second night - despite advisement that tourists ought to leave before sunset (but are only restricted from entering after six) - that was even better than the guided night tour. We practically had Petra to ourselves as we walked back in the remaining daylight. Once we reached the Siq - the tunnel-like, entrance way between high rock facades - it was almost pitch black so we pulled out our handy headlamps and meanandered back in peace; it would have been possible to go without lights but less so as new visitors. After finishing our pleasant walk, we decided that a taxi would be warranted for the hike back up to town. A bonus of speaking at least some Arabic and a willingness to follow the culture, it is quite easy to ensure you are not  - completely - ripped off. Whereas taxi drivers will ask for up to 10JD for a ride into town, I have been asked for 3 or 5 as starting points with 2JD seemingly to be as low as they will go; however, getting to Petra is usually one (there are no metres here).

In terms of money, tour guides definitely profit financially from bringing tourists to buy souvenirs from shopkeepers. During one of our breaks, I watched as the shopkeeping we were beside paid the tour guide - I think in relation to how much his group bought. This is by no way forcibly done, all the shops want to sell and offer about the same things and prices. We were joined by a number of guides who had let their group "free" for the little time they had left. They were more than willing to share their stories, photographs, and interest in our lives. Where you do see the pressure to buy is from the younger Bedouin who stick jewerely on unsuspecting older women who eventually get so surrounded and adorned that they end up buying something...the kids and other sellers really know who to target. Which also means, I get left alone for the most part.

What you see in photos - I try to avoid looking at too many before any visit - is nothing in compared to what is actually on the ground. Everwhere you go there are caves, monuments, ruins, and designs. Oh and donkeys, goats, and rocks. Although the main groups only walk along the easily accessible "main avenue", which is definitely worth a viewing or two, as far as I went I never ran out of signs of (ancient) civilization or gorgeous geographical features. Overall, this was defintely worth a weekend - especially at 90 JD total without being a completely spendthrift. When leaving Petra, I am saddened to have to make my way back to a large, polluted city...oh and class.  I am already looking for a time and/or excuse to come back; discover more trails and nooks; maybe take a Bedouin up on their invitation to dinner (by being less suspicious and wary, Western traits they tell me); and practice my cragging as my fear of heights seems to have greatly diminished!

Time to go find another minibus full of locals and wait for the "scheluded" departure - aka when it's full, we go.

Enjoying my welcome coffee on the roof of my hostel overlooking Petra

The town of Wadi Musa with the outline of Petra in the background. 

Wadi Musa at night - Petra in complete darkness (looks like a coast line)

Dangling my toes off of one of the mountains I scampered up.

Looking down on some of the main sites from above

One of the local bedouin men applying henna

My snazzy mini-bus between Amman and Wadi Musa (all for 3.5 JD, 5 CAD) for three hours.

View from the front seat of said mini-bus - lots of flat, barren landscape

View of rocks, mountain, and donkey at sunset in Petra

Looking out from one of the caves on a sparsely full trail.

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!

Round 'n round in Cordoba

Let's just say that this set up is a much more awkward position than my last entry. I am currently sitting on an Alsa bus on my way to Granada, also in the south of Spain between Cordoba and the Mediterranean coast. I've spent the last couple days visiting the sights and having a random man literally woof at me, even the locals looked perplexed and I still am not sure at the reasoning. For some reason I thought that the whole fitness thing was a North American fad, but there seems  to be a good deal of Spaniards who run outside. It is slightly entertaining as they are dressed for winter running and it is above zero, but to them it feels like winter. Also having kept track of my expenses, a first for me, I've been spending an average of 40 Euro per day without limiting myself excessively!

The hostel that I stayed at this time was quite nice, but much quieter, which depending on your perspective can be a nice break. I did manage to get more sleep that way, but since I'm travelling alone it is nice to meet people through the hostel, especially in the common area and kitchen. It doesn't help that I managed to sleep through the first morning's breakfast and didn't realize that I had access to the kitchen throughout the remainder of the day. Some have asked how travelling by myself is going and so far not bad - I am travelling with an ad hoc plan, making reservations each city at a time (for the next one while I'm in the previous one) and being by myself allows me to do that with relative ease. I am looking forward however to getting back to a more vibrant hostel so that my meals and down time will be a little more interesting. During my time in Cordoba, I ate three meals in restaurants on my own and overall they were succesful, albeit pricier than I would have prefered. The first night I wandered to city for a good, long time before settling on a tiny bar, I think. I ordered a glass of wine (cost 2.5 Euro when it's possible to buy a bottle for under 2 Euro) and an slice of frittatta. The owner was rather friendly and keep offering me what he was serving the other patrons, eventually I settled on a pastry filled with seafood, tomatoes, and something else (olives?). The next day I settled on a café - coffee & ham filled pastry - and later a little restaurant - seafood paella, or risotto. A downside to  getting up and eating at strange intervals is that I am most definitely not on the Spanish schedule - small breakfast, lunch after 2, and dinner between 7-9. I was eating my paella lunch while the school kids were having their post-school day coffee - their version of afternoon teatime.

I would say that 50% of my time exploring the city involves me wandering the city streets (calle) usually in the right directino, but not always in the right sequence or following a set route. Before an exercusion, I will have an idea of where I am going and look at a map beforehand. Once I am out and about,  I will keep my map in my pocket and weave my way until I either reach my destination, find another one, or find a point of reference to make a u-turn. This town was no exception, I walked in many a circle, but also saw many hidden cornerstone I would have otherwised missed and garnered a better sense of the area.

The main appeal and attracting in Cordoba is the Mezquita - a catherdral, turned mosque, turned cathedral. The original cathedral is all but lost with the most impressive, and unique, architecture is the combination of Moorish and Christian styles. There are over 800 arches as well as the typical cathedral, ornate designs. Despite being impressive, it is slightly disappointing when you consider that every piece off the structure has been either excavated and/or refurbished, or is a replica. A neat, but eery, aspect which I think has previously evaded me is that on the floor there are stone placards of important personnel with their date of death and their exact age (down to the amount of days old that they were). I also visited the Alcazar of the Christian Monarch. The interior display was nothing spectacular, but the gardens were very well maintained and preserved. It reminded me of the gardens your read about in old literature that were within castle grounds. Throughout the city centre there are relics and artifacts from the city's long history and the myriad of ruling bodies, even the city walls are integrated into the modern city design (e.g. the highway around the city follows the path of the walls).

Arriving and leaving Cordoba were both a little hectic, so far the only times I have felt as if I am on the Amazing Race. After arriving on the train, I knew I had to go find the #3 bus (apparently the 3 in all cities is the bus that goes to the bus/train station and downtown). So as I was going through the various bus stalls, I looked up and saw the three facing the opposite direction on the other or side of the street so after a slight jump and hustle, I managed to catch it as it was about to leave! This morning went fairly smoothly, I got up and packed up my things (finally settling into place), showered, and had breakfast. On my way out the door, I said goodbye to the Dutch girl I met and forgot my water. Then as I was walking towards the bus stop, the bus went by me (think it was a couple minutes early). Thankfully the next bus was only 12 minutes behind and I had left with plenty of spare time. As we were reaching the bus and train station, I needed up hoping off the bus a stop early which meant I was a little disoriented and did a few about-turns before I pointed myself in the right direction. Getting the bus ticket was a breeze,I used the automated machine, but for some reason my credit card seems uncooperative, even after talking with the bank helpline last night. I managed to scoot across the road to the train station to find a replacement water bottle and after tossing my bag on the bus find/use the washroom before we took off.

We are pulling into Granada soon and I have quite the hike ahead of me as I chose a hostel on the top of a hill (offers a delightful view of the ctiy).

-Alex

PS: if I were to go on an actual round-the-world (RTW) trip, not only would I lose the books (for school), but also at least half my outfits and the small backpack (which other than the plane ride I have not used and currently have it strapped to my ruck). Which means, some things might be getting the heave-ho after my semester.

A quick tour of Madrid

Now I find myself awaiting the departure of the Renfe AVE train from the Atocha station in Madrid. It seems that European transports enjoy playing classical music for their occupants, although this one feels a little more like jarring elevator music. I decided to splurge on this train ride as it only takes two hours versus the six hours in bus; which if I had ample time would be ok. The big downside is that the train costs 64 Euros, whereas the bus would have cost 15. It is a large difference, but between keeping my spending down (Madrid, including this train ride, cost 175 Euros) and "living-life-to-the-fullest", I took the train. Sidenote, I was looking for water this morning and ended up finding a vending machine that sold water and was slightly disappointed as I thought it would only be a small one, but it sold 1.5L bottles (I decided not to travel with a water bottle - partly space, partly the need for bottled water come Morocco)!

I am on my way to Cordoba in the south of Spain, the Andalusian region. Having skipped Barcelona due to time constraints and visited most of Madrid's main attractions, I am looking to spend a good portion of my time in Spain visiting the architecture and history of the Moorish times (Islamic). Overall,  my time in Madrid has been well spent with some needed down times; however we are still a little short on hours of sleep.

My first day in Madrid, I worked my way around the airport which involved taking the shuttle bus between terminals as I failed to find the Metro access at the first one. Once I found the station, it was a relatively simple process of getting my ticket from an automated machine with clear instructions - pick "ticket" then select the Metro line you want to take and the last station that you want to get off at (in Spanish). Upon completion it spits out a little ticket that you next pop into the entrance booth. Even having to switch lines on my way to the hostel wasn't a big issue as everything is clearly lablelled. However, there were those who were much more lost looking than I, but I am inclined to say that the research I did on the way to Spain helped. As well , luck must have been on my side as when I popped out of the Metro I managed to wander down the right street until I found the proper street number and entrance (a typical apartment door)! As soon as I got to the hostel and was shown around, I decided the best way to start my trip in Spain was to have a siesta! Three hours later and rather groggily, I ended up going for a quick walk to a local park with a panoramic view of the city and then grabbing some groceries.

Staying in the hostel with access to a kitchen is a definite bonus, not only is it cheaper, but usually healthier and more communal, especially compared to some folks' MacDonald's choice. So far my typical breakfast has been two fried eggs, two pieces of toast, a few mandarins, a yogurt, and a packaged cappuccino. Lunch I have either come back to the hostel or brought with me; either way a few small sandwiches of bread, jamon, and cheese along with some more mandarins and a coffee. Dinners have been a little more varied - tapas & mojitos one night and pasta another. My pasta was simple, or so I thought, apparently using three ingredients - pasta, cream, and spinach plus spices - counts as a fancy meal and I must say that it turned out rather spectacular (albeit too much and not great when it has cooled down). Tapas, along with jamon, is a very Spanish meal. A few of us had heard about this place where when you bought a drink (typically beer, but we got motjitos) you received a plate of food (known as tapas). As there were three of us, we received three plates of food! The food included risotto/paella, cheese & jamon with bread, potato & egg salad on bread, chicken wings (dry in a good sense), and frittata. By no means is it supposed to be anything fancy, but it is indeed delicious and filling. Although a quasi meal, it is not somewhere you stay for long - it is standing kind of venue with typically glaring lights and loud conversations, also the floor is littered with used napkins (perfectly acceptable and expected). We finished the night at an Irish pub that played Spanish and American pop hits, and offered Guinness and Murphy's; what I would call atypical but a good time! Overall, despite choosing economic and healthy (ish?) it had been quite tasty and interesting.

Sadly, the weather hasn't been very cooperative. I had expected Madrid to not been toasty or necessarily sunny, but it has been rather chilly and wet - à la Vancouver or London - but with lots of wind. Despite being between 0 and 10 degrees, the Finnish girl and I agreed that we found it cold, even after coming from colder climates. Nevertheless, I spent a good chunk of my time in Madrid walking the city - only one very soggy occasion, but thankfully, due to a technical wardrobe, dried off relatively quickly. On that note, I have so far been pleased with what I brought with me only being saddened by the fact that this morning after packing I realized that I indeed did not pack "light". By no means did I pack "heavy", but there's a good 10+L that I wish I didn't have in my pack. At this point I'm going to leave it as is until I get completely fed up with it or figure out what I could 'lose' as I can still huff around with relative ease (not grace) and I don't have a pack on my front (only a side satchel).

As I mentioned, I have walking everywhere, except the airport and train station, as the city centre (and all the main attractions) is extremely walkable being only about 2.5 km maximum one way. After walking and standing all day, it gets a little tiring but is worth it - especially considering the amount of time I spent sitting in transport, and eating. On my first full day in the city, I managed to wake up at 1000, after spending an hour in the early morning tossing and turning, which gave me a later start to the day than I was hoping for and meant that I would have to take the afternoon walking tour. I ended up going with one of the Americans at the hostel. The way that these tours works is that there is no initial fee (therefore "free"), but at the end of the tour they ask for tips as the tours are the guides' actual jobs. Overall it was interesting as it provided a bit of the history of the city as well as the sights. One my second full day, I perused two of the main museums - the Sofia and el Prado. Sofia is the contemporary gallery, including the works of Picasso and Salvador. Although postmodern art is not my thing, it was well worth the time and perplexion. While waiting for the free admission to start (14 Eur otherwise), I meandered through the el Retiro Park which was rather lovely, very manicured, and quiet, presumably because the weather. The el Prado was definitely more my style with the grand, wall-sized paintings and Roman/Greek/etc statues - lots of mixes as most of the heads were recommisioned after their initial creation. Either way it was a day full of art, history, u-turns, and standing.

Well I should be arriving in Cordoba shortly, especially since we've been racing along at up to 296 km/h! My next blog entry should be when I'm on my way to Granada.

-Alex

PS: pictures will be in short supply until I get a system for moving my camera pictures onto my tablet, currently using limited tablet and phone pics.