My first full day in Tarifa was fabulous. I woke up around 10:00, grabbed some toast and coffee then headed down to the beach with Mel #1 (the other Mel, also from Alberta, is traveling with her but is sick right now and staying in for the day). As I said before, the beach is very close and gorgeous. There was hardly anyone there so it was quite peaceful as well. The water was refreshing and not nearly as cold as back home. After swimming around for a bit, I decided to try to get a base tan in preparation for the next three weeks in the sun. I laid out for about 45 minutes, which I thought was okay, but by the end of the day a pink glow had developed all over my body. Oops! It's not that bad, and it'll probably fade out in a few days. After the beach, Mel #2 joined us for some window shopping. Later, about five of us went out for Mexican food. (YAY!!!) I was so excited for it, I got a delicious chimichanga with rice, beans, and a huge glob of guacamole. Mmmm, quite a treat! Though I love trying new foods, it's nice to have somethinge familiar here and there. There was a guy with us from San Diego (a San Di-A-go-ON) so he and I were on the same page with out massive cravings for good Mexican food.
I'm really enjoying Tarifa. It's a small, beachy laid-back town that lacks any of the shallow attitude that is so often found in Southern California coastal areas. I've decided to stay her for another night, then move on to Granada on Sunday morning. I'm happy to take take these few days to relax, hang out at the hostel and make a few leisurely ventures up the street to the main drag. Another highlight of today was going to a real supermarket, a full-on large grocery store! I even found peanut butter and bananas, yum!
June 7, 2007 -- Meknes to Tanger to Tarifa
Today I am on the bus to Tanger, a five hour ride. I will then take a ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar to Tarifa, Spain. I was a bit sad to say goodbye to Brian, who is heading south to Marrakesh. He was an awesome travel mate, had some great stories, and really allowed me to experience my time in Morocco without feeling unsafe or scared. I hope to be able to meet up with him in London at the end of my trip.As I'm preparing to leave Morocco the taste left in my mouth is bitter-sweet, and a little more sweet than bitter. On one hand, it is very easy to take one look at this country and pass it off as a dirty, third-world cesspool of poverty. But to be honest, the people here aren't that poor. Family values are very stron, as is loyalty and communication among friends. Life is simple here, but full of culture. It's so easy to be offended by aggressive salesmen in the markets, but they really are just trying to make a living. I feel like maybe the stress of Western life comes from too many "modern amenities," worrying about germs everywhere, and getting caught up in little things that don't matter that much in the big picture.
This morning as Brian and I were walking around to find some breakfast this large very Eurotrash-looking guy (camo man-capris, mirrored aviators, curly over-gelled hair) looked at us and said, "My friend, you are very lucky to have nice wife." There was an eyeroll from me and a chuckle from Brian. That's the downside of this culture, I suppose. It was kind of a funny comment though.
On the ferry I started chatting to this British guy across from me. He had just gone over to Tanger for the day and was in the middle of a motorcycle trip around Portugal and Spain. He told me about a friend of his who had been caught running hasish between Spain and Morocco and had to spend two months in a Moroccan jail. Scary stuff!
As soon as I was back on Spanish ground I felt so happy, like I was returning home. I enjoyed Morocco, but it's so nice to be back in Europe. I'm literally across the water from Africa, but worlds away. My hostel is a 2-minute walk from the beach, which has smooth white sand and bright azure water. The staff here are awesome as well, with some crazy characters spicing things up. I went out with some people from the hostel to a flamenco band, which was hard to see but the sangria was good at least!
June 6, 2007 -- Meknes
Brian and I ventured to Volubilis, another site of Roman ruins. This one is very large, set up on a hill overlooking a huge valley. It was so hot out there, but we had plenty of water. We were able to haggle with a taxi driver, and got a ride out there with three Brits for 18 dh per person. Very cheap, considering the ruins are 33km from Meknes! Under the blistering sun, the whole area shimmered a little bit. There were some impressive and very detailed large mosaics on the floor of what used to be a large palace. The mosaics, formed not from tiles but from tiny pieces of stone hand-chipped into square shapes, are over 1,700 years old and still intact. There were a couple of large gateways, some dried-up pools and fountains, and many finely-carved columns dotting the landscape. As at the ruins in Rabat, the storks had made nests everywhere. Though it was unbearably hot, I still enjoyed being away from the city.
After we'd had our fill of surveying the area, we grabbed some much-needed sustinance in the form of a chicken, olive and tomato sandwich. Suddenly, someone clapped Brian on the shoulder and a loud American voice rang out. "Hey buddy!" it said. It was Steve and his wife Mimi, a couple Brian had met in Fes, and here they were! What a nice random encounter. Mimi is a little odd, far too obsessed with not eating carbs, and Steve is a little dorky. They were so friendly though and had some great stories. As Mimi put it, even though Steve is fine roughing it she "just can't do the backpacking thing," so they compromised and have been staying in mid-range hotels and pensiones. We had a nice visit chatting with them over some life-saving cafe au lait. When they started to leave, I thought maybe it would be a good idea if we all shared a taxi back (at this point in the afternoon, there weren't many available). They had already paid for their return trip and insisted we hitch a ride back with them. Though we tried to give them a contribution they wouldn't take it. Thanks to their generosity, Brian and I enjoyed a free ride back into town and more time to talk to Steve and Mimi.Later that evening, Brain and I grabbed some delicious (and cheap!) harira, which is the lentil and bean soup. We then sauntered through the main square, Place El-Hedim, where numerous street performers and "medicine" hawkers were drawing crowds.
Across the square we ducked into the covered market, where narrow alleys were stuffed to the gills with meticulously designed displays of candies, pastries, preserves, olives, produce, spices, incense, and of course, ceramics in bright Mediterranean glazes.
The back row housed all of the butchers' stalls. Half-carcasses of beef and freshly cut steaks led into stalls of live chickens and rabbits (can't get any fresher than that!), trays of tripe, liver, lungs, and finally, lengua and calves' heads. 
I'm so glad I used to be a butcher because I might have been grossed out otherwise!. The smell was faint, but unpleasant nonetheless. It was an unmistakable acrid meat smell, just on the wrong side of not-so-fresh. In itself, it wasn't a terrible smell, but mixed with the steaming excrement produced by the caged chickens and rabbits, the odor was somewhat sickening. It was a different experience to see this market though, and I got some excellent pictures. They were selling pure saffron for 10 dh per gram, which feels like a very good price, but I didn't feel the need to buy any. I guess I missed the boat on that one!
June 5, 2007 -- Rabat to Meknes
Today we traveled by bus to Meknes, another Imperial city nestled in the Middle Atlas mountain range. The ride was highlighted by fields of sunflowers, rolling hills of dry grasses and cereals, the occasional vineyard, and groves of olives and oranges. The climate here is a bit like a hotter, drier California (somewhat like Fresno or Modesto), yielding many of the same crops. Upon arrival in Meknes I instantly got a feel for the city. The medina and the French-built ville nouvelle sit on two hills and spread down into the small valley to meet each other. The medina is hot, dusty, dirty, and has several sections of high walls running through it, the remnants of the ancient layout. We walked through the soukh, which is one of the largest I've seen yet, Each row housed multiple stalls of the same product. In addition to the beautiful silks, shoes, gold and silver creations, produce and ceramics, there were plenty of carpet shops and street food vendors. One stall had stacks of fresh mint and herbs in bunches stacked waist-high. The aroma was heavenly! I tried a pastry with some sort of cinnamon filling that was a grand total of 2 dh (about 30 cents!) and of course, another glass of the fabulous fresh orange juice. The juice has become a daily staple and is unbelievably refreshing. I feel like such a large portion of this trip is walking around, looking at this or that, visiting some sort of monument, then progressing to the next culinary adventure. The food here, like the people, is not terribly varied. Some of it (like the bean soup and the tajines) is delicious, but I do feel like I've been eating a lot of "quick" food. Chawarmas (meat in a pita, then grilled on a sandwich press) and kebabs are easily found and cheap, therefore consumed often. I think as soon as I return to Spain I'll dive into a huge fresh salad. I have had a few tomatoes here and haven't experienced any stomach problems yet. To stay on the safe side though, I'm sticking with bottled water even for brushing my teeth.
We made our way into the ville nouvelle and I decided to get some more cash. After some ATM difficulties a few days ago, I'd had the inkling that my bank card may have been frozen by my bank. When three different ATMs rejected my, my suspicion was confirmed. I told my bank what countries I'd be traveling in, and they said it wouldn't be a problem! Later that evening, I made a stop in an internet cafe, emailed my mom, and she was luckily able to call my bank and get things sorted out right away. I'm so thankful she was available!
June 4, 2007 -- Rabat
Today we had a full day in Rabat. Brian and I grabbed a taxi to the outskirts of town, where the Chellah lies. It's the site of the ancient Roman village Sala Colonia (which is probably where Sale got its name. It's another city that lies on the north side of the estary, across from Rabat). It was lush, full of greenery, and a bit warm. The ruins are overgrown with vines, orange trees, figs, grapes, grasses, flowering trees, even some bamboo and tropical flowers. Also taking over the ruins are cats and hundreds of storks. The storks built nests in the tops of tall tree stumps, living trees and the top of the only remainder of the old mosque--the minaret. From the top of the site, I could clearly see across the valley to the eastern edge of Sale. It was very peaceful and such a welcome escape from the city.
When we'd seen enough of the ruins, we headed to the mausoleum of Mohammed V, Morocco's last ruler (their current ruler, Mohammed VI, is pictured in billboards everywhere and in portrait form on the walls of most shops). Inside the mausoleum, a man was singing/reading from the Koran, the monotone sounds of which echoed up to every detailed crevass of the gilded ceiling.
June 3, 2007 -- Casablanca to Rabat
Brian and I took a train north to Rabat today. The trains here are a bit warm, but comfortable enough and conveniently cheap. It cost 32dh (around $4!!) for an hour-long train ride. May thanks to the French for their train systems! Upon first glimpse, Rabat was clean and quiet, a welcome change from Casablanca. We have a double room in a comfortable hotel for 120 dh/night ($8 per person!). The shower is...different...it's two floors up and down the hall, but at least it's got consistent hot water! This morning in Casa, the warm-water pay shower was occupied. Not wanting to wait, I took a...ahem..."refreshing" cold shower. Not pleasant, but it got the job done.
We walked from our hotel through Rabat's medina, which is low key--no aggressive salesmen, wider alleys, and a widely varied selection of products and food for sale. Once through the medina, the burnt sandstone walls of the Kasbah's perimeter loomed up in front of us. The weather was quite warm, so we stopped off for a break inside one of the ramparts (turned art gallery) and enjoyed a cool seat with a view of the city below. A short while later, we made our way through the tiny maze of domiciles within the Kasbah, their walls painted blue to about head-height, then white up to the roof. Through the throngs of people the buildings felt very calm and clean. The street then opened up onto a dirt-paved overlook with a stone wall on two sides, the corner facing the sea.
I could instantly feel the humid salt air drifting up from a couple hundred feet below where Sunday beach-goers crowded the small shore. There was even some good surf, a few surfers, and several boogie-boarders. The view was breath-taking and though I've seen beautiful coastlines all my life, I really felt like I was at the edge of the world. All around the southern corner of the Kasbah were overgrown cemetaries, one of them quite large (maybe 5-7 acres?). How nice to be buried overlooking this far western edge of the continent.
I'm really getting a much better view of Moroccan culture here in Rabat. Women in a full jellab (a long robe that resembles something of a housecoat, meant to hide the woman's shape) and headscarf can be seen going for a stroll, linking arms with girls in jeans and blouses. I feel there is a definitive change happening in the way that women here act and present themselves, and we're witnessing the tail-end of the old ways leading off to the beginning of the modern ways.
June 2, 2007 -- Casablanca
I changed accommodations to the pensione where Brian is staying, Hotel la Victoire in the medina. The medina is the name for the old town portion of nearly every city in Morocco. It's a cramped, walled-in affair with narrow maze-like streets and mostly residential buildings, guest houses, and small shops. A good portion of every medina is comprised of a flea market selling food, apparel, herbs, spices, artisan wares, street food, and souvenirs of every type. In the early part of the last century, the French occupied Morocco and made huge urban improvements. Along with highways and train systems, they built large, wide boulevards leading out of the medinas and into the villes nouvelles (new towns), filled with large, modern buildings, parks, and fountains.
Once I got to the pensione, Brian was waiting for me in the square, where I had my first glass of the best thing about Morocco--fresh-squeezed orange juice. It was 4 dirhams (or dh, 10=1 Euro=1.35 dollars) for a huge glass and so amazing. Juice stalls and smoothie shops are around every corner, so a high dose of vitamin C is always easy to find. The pensione is simple and has a nice courtyard (which I later realized was not so nice, as it echoes and multiplies every movement and noise in the building, especially screaming children) tiled in blue, white, and yellow tiles. The toilet, however, is what I like to call a "manual flush." This translates to pouring a bucket of water into the bowl and letting gravity take care of the plumbing. There's no toilet paper (BYOTP!) so I've officialy turned into my mother, with an extra roll tucked into my bag (proving to be quite useful though). I'm just pretending it's like camping. I have yet to experience the showers, which cost 10dh for warm water. Cold ones are free, how generous!
After getting settled in the pensione Brian and I did a walking tour of Casablanca. The first stop was the large, white Cathedrale du Sacre Coeur, which is now used only as a photographic exhibit venue and apparently, a pigeon defecation metropolis. Maybe we could call it a...fecesopolis? Excrementopolis? Yes, that works. An avian excrementopolis.
Ok, back to the photo exhibit. It had rich, beautiful pictures from all over Morocco, which got me excited about seeing things outside of dirty Casablanca. We climbed to stairs all the way up to the roof and into one of the towers, which yielded a fantastic view of the city and its port. 
The roof was actually accessible to walk on, so we did. 
After more of the walking tour (nothing too exciting, just landmarks and monuments) we grabbed some early dinner. I had some real food, a chicken tajine (curry-like spicy chicken in a brothy sauce with olives). I think I really needed the protein after not having eaten meat for the last four or five days. Hey, I was hooked on Maoz falafel and it's vegetarian!I'm not sure if I'll have time to see the King Hassan II mosque (third-largest in the world, finished in 1993, glass floor overlooking the ocean). It does seem neat, but I won't be heart-broken if I miss it.
June 1, 2007 -- Casablanca
Contrary to my predictions, today went a little better. I slept in and though I didn't have much motivation to get up, my body needed the down-time. Also, I'm honestly a bit scared (unfortunately a bit paranoid) to go outside. I hate it, I'm frustrated and I don't know how to start feeling better. I got around to showering (soap from the hotel, but no shampoo, and luckily I saved my toothbrush and toothpaste from the flight to London) and headed down to the front desk to try to get me luggage situation sorted out. The receptionist was so helpful; she called the airport for me and handled the whole situation! We discerned that my bag had not yet arrived, but that she should check back around 6pm.
I ventured out, bought some bread and water, and tried the internet cafe again. This time, it actually worked! I emailed Brian McDonald, a Couchsurfer from Long Island (currently living in London) that I've been planning to meet up with in Casablanca. I let him know what was going on. I think I sounded terribly despondant in my email to him because I really just feel like heading back to Spain as soon as my bag arrives. Back at the hotel I watched TV for a bit, read some more, and waited. I just didn't have the energy to be stressed out AND to try to be in "fun tourist" mode. A little while later, the receptionist phoned my room to let me know my baggage had arrived in Casablanca! I took a taxi to the train station--he was an awesome driver, going up on the curb, weaving in and out of traffic, honking at pedestrians--so I gave him a nice tip and told him, "Vous...drive(while making driving motion with my hands)...tres bien!" He was quite pleased with that. On the train to the airport I was instantly in a better mood and actually got excited about being here (in Africa!). I was taken aback when I saw people walking with their luggage to one of the train stations on a dirt path through a dried-up field of grass or corn or something. It really made me think when I realized that was just a normal city walkway. Once in the airport, I was sent to three different places before being told the correct location of the baggage services. The same woman from yesterday helped me, and she instantly recognized me. I told her "merci" about ten times as I was just so happy to have my things back. I feel better now, though I think I still might leave Casa tomorrow. Right now, I can't even think about how I'm going to make it for another 6 weeks of traveling. I know it will get better, but right now I'm ready to go home.
Just as the train back to Casablanca pulled up, I heard some American girls to my right. My ears perked up and I practically yelled, "Are you guys American?!?" to which they responded, "..Yeah.." and I said, "Can I please just TALK to you for a minute?" I've been really starved for English communication for the past 24 hours. All this crap has been happening and I had no one to really talk to about it. I told them I'd lost my luggage and it turns out theirs was delayed as well, and that it's still in Paris (maybe). So awful! Our chat was short-lived, but it really lifted my spirits to be able to speak freely instead of every conversation being a struggle with my limited French. Speaking of spirits being lifted, it's now late Friday night and I've just returned to my hotel. I was sitting in my room earlier when I heard a knock at the door. After asking, "Who is it?" I heard an American voice reply, "It's Brian!" He got my email in time and had come to meet me! So very nice, it was like seeing an old friend. We chatted for a while, swapped accounts of our trips so far, then grabbed some dinner. He's been sick as well, though in a much more "unpleasant" way than my head cold, most likely caused by the Moroccan tap water. Brian is very sociable and for the first time in this country I felt relaxed and safe. I've decided to travel with him for the next week or so through Rabat and Meknes, then he'll split off to south to Marrakesh and I'll head to Chefchaouen, then back to Spain. I am in such a better mood now, even though I'm still sick. Now that I'm not stressed, I can start thinking about the rest of my trip without wanting to go home. I'm glad I decided to stay in Morocco; I really want to see the country, and I feel like if I run back to Spain tomorrow I'll just be letting the bad experiences get to me. I'd much rather leave the country after having seen more than one dirty city and being able to form an educated opinion. After dinner, I sent a text to my sister (not expecting anything back soon) and she called me right back! The whole 14-minute phone call probably cost me around $20 but it was so worth it to talk to her and catch up a little bit.
May 31, 2007 -- Barcelona to Casablanca
Today has been a combination of me becoming tired of not speaking English and everything going wrong. Though the day started out well enough (a shower with water pressure!) it didn't stay that way. I had to go all over one of the largest Metro stations trying to find the connector train to the airport. In the process I had to huck my bag up and down dozens of flights of stairs. By the time I finally found the train to go to the airport I was sweating profusely and felt quite disgusting. Because of the unexpected hour it took me to navigate the subway I got to my flight just in time (at 9:55 for a 10:05 flight!). When I arrived in Casablanca I went to the baggage claim as usual and waited. And waited. The people from my flight thinned down to about five of us waiting, but no bags. The others asked the staff what was going on, and apparently all our bags were still in BCN. When it was finally my turn to talk to the staff woman and get a lost baggage report, she said she had no idea when it would arrive and she will call me. Thing is, my phone doesn't seem to work in Morocco. I left the airport by train, then a taxi to one of the hotels from the guidebook. Taxis are terribly cheap here (no more than $3 to anywhere in the city!). The hotel was full, but the bellhop walked me down to another one. It's quite a bit more than I'd like to pay (about $55 per night) but it's a very nice hotel and the staff is extremely nice and helpful. Being very sick right now, I just need to chill out for a couple days in my own room. In addition, I'm exhausted, stressed out, and hungry. I actually sat down in my empty hotel room earlier and felt rather hopeless. Then the waterworks started when I read this little note my mom gave me before I left. I'm in a cafe right now trying to eat a crepe, but I feel terrible and the crepe is very dry with no flavor. It took me three tries to even find the right street for an ATM and internet cafe. I'd like to say tomorrow will be better, but I know it won't. I can't relax until I have my stuff back and I know it's not lost. Tomorrow will be just as bad, but I'll be wearing the same wrinkled clothes and no make-up.
May 30, 2007 -- Barcelona
Checked into hostel number three today. This one is on a nice plaza, near a large grocery store. I cooked some pasta with plain sauce (gross but cheap!) and I'm definitely getting a cold. After walking around for a bit I went to the Picasso Museum. Nothing spectaclar, but worth seeing anyway. I find it funny that some of his very early drawings were on display. It would be like my first portfolio from my first semester of figure drawing being on display. A little odd. I hung around the hostel for a bit and chatted with some girls there, but was feeling low-energy do I headed off to bed.
May 29, 2007 -- Barcelona
Today started out with another lovely nap on the beach, though the drink-merchants' calls are annoying as hell. There are so many of them wandering around the beach, you can't relax for five seconds without hearing, "AGUAAA-CERVESAAAA-COLA-FRIAAAA! FAAANTAA-AGUAAA-CERVESAAAA-BEER!" And just when you think they've passed and you can start snoozing again, the Asian ladies come around with cries of "Massa-hey, five Euro! Massage? Massage?" or "Tattoo, henna, henna, tattoo?" I mean, come ON ladies, do you really think I need more tattoos? It's bothersome for sure, but they are just trying to make some bucks here and there.
After the beach, we walked by the Sagrada Familia, a neo-gothic cathedral built by Gaudi (of whom I know nothing except that he was an architectural genius and his work is all over BCN.) I think tomorrow I may go inside. I'd also like to see the Picasso Museum. I think I'm getting sick (scratchy throat) so I took a couple Airborne tablets and I'm crossing my fingers that it doesn't last long. I had a great time walking around with Meg and Cari again today, but tomorrow we change hostels so I may be on my own. I'm writing this entry by moonlight in the garden, which I suppose means I ought to get to sleep soon.
May 28, 2007 -- Barcelona
I had to move to a different hostel today as BCN is a very popular summer spot. I'm quite happy with the change though; Abba Youth Hostel was right by the water and the showers sucked. Garden House (though far from the city center) is a huge old house in a quiet residential neighborhood. It has a gorgeous walled-in front yard with table and hammocks leading out of the comfy living room. Right after I arrived here I met two girls, Cari (Vancouver) and Meg (Australia) who are both teachers in Brighton, England. They're just here for five days on a little holiday. We walked all over the city today, laid on the beach for a while, and walked some more until we found a good restaurant. We had some tapas, beer and sangria, which really hit the spot. Though I'm enjoying Barcelona, I don't feel quite safe or comfortable as I've always got the feeling I might get robbed. It's hard to find a good medium between vigilant and relaxed.
May 27, 2007 -- Barcelona
Took the train from Madrid to Barcelona. Barcelona is warm and very windy. Upon entering my first hostel, it was nearly empty and I began to feel homesick. I really can't believe I'll be doing this for two months. The thoug is rather daunting. I was starving, so I found a Maoz about 10 minutes' walk from the hostel and chowed down on falafel. I'll definitely miss that place back in the States; it's so good!
On the way back from falafel heaven, this guy across the street waved at me. Silly me, I looked, thinking it was someone I knew. He yelled over, asking if I spoke Spanish. I said, "Un poco," then he said something else and started walking over to meet me. I kept walking on my route, but he caught up with me. He started trying to make chit-chat, saying everything from "Are you Finland? England? Australia?" to "Why you no answer me? Are you sad you don't have body to be on Next Top Model?" I ignored him and after about thirty seconds he mumbled "Fucking tourists!" and ducked into an alley. I must have looked back three or four times before turning toward my hostel's entrance to make sure he wasn't following me. Quite creepy; I really wasn't prepared for agressive men yet. I'm so glad I'll be traveling with others in Morocco!
Later at the hostel, I met some nice Aussies and chatted with them for a bit, then another American (Matty) sat down and joined in. He's one of those people who enjoys talking about himself, though he did have interesting things to say about Barcelona. He's a soccer player for a team just outside of BCN, "officially" living in London and unofficially living in Spain. Since having his wallet stolen a couple months ago, he's been living at the hostel and working a couple shifts a week. He had some kind of scary stories about people getting their pickpocketed, robbed, etc., and said that BCN is supposedly the worst city in Europe for street theft. It got me a little freaked out, but I'd rather know what's happened to other people as it helps me be more cautious.
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