In Morocco, everyone know's Ian. He is every man's brother. He is Ali Baba. The status that comes with a beard here has fuelled many a man's whisker growth. There's no chance it will be trimmed now. Not when he is Ali Baba.
The unexpected status change hasn't helped our inevitable plight as Moroccan Tourists. Everything must be haggled for, we stand out like a sore thumb amongst the locals. Many try to swindle us by following us through the streets 'acting as our guide'. If they are not turned away from the get go, then there can be scenes of despair as they realise our hearts have hardened from many months of travel and we rarely give out coins anymore.
But the Moroccan's are a kind hearted people in general, and we like learning of the culture, even if it is very different from our own.
Casablanca was a slightly disappointing if not eye opening experience. The huge city has some nice areas, but there is much poverty and some of the Moroccan charm was lost amongst the rapid westernisation.
A moment of fun, sitting along the edge of the Hassan II Mosque, watching youths leap into the Atlantic from the walls.
Rabat however, was very well set up for tourism. The expat community there had prepared the city and it was much cleaner and safer than many other areas we had been to. The Medina was charming, we loved walking through the market streets. The seaside fort and beaches were fantastic. From our conversations with an american who lived in Rabat two years ago and had returned, the changes in the city were marked. Much more tourism, fewer women wearing headscarfs and men wearing shorts (apparently unheard of 2 years ago!).
A slight change took place in our Airbnb booking, our host asked if we could stay at a different location, but still pay for the same booking we had made online. We went along for the ride, things turned out all fine. Though as we left, he asked if we could please give a favourable review of the location we did not stay at. We thought that was asking a bit too much.
While in Rabat, we enjoyed a few hours in the Contemporary Art Gallery. A special exhibition taking place about the re-birth of Africa in the modern World. A variety of challenging views from Artists about what they are fighting for.
We caught the train and then a bus to Chefchaouen through Tanger, the long distance public transport yet again impressing us with its ease and timeliness. Arriving in Chefchaouen, the bus station was at the bottom of the town and our accommodation was at the top.
It had been a while since our legs had done any hill climbing. And it was HOT. But once you walk through the gates in the wall of the Medina, the tight winding streets and high walls provide shade and you realise why it is designed like this.
The most striking thing about Chefchaouen is that the streets and buildings are painted blue. All shades of blue. Not only does it give a lovely cool feeling, but it makes every street a pretty epic photo. The instagrammers thought so too. We loved the setting of the city, nestled in amongst the mountains, with a spring popping out of the ground, sustaining the population. Full of tourists, but definitely worth a visit.
Our accommodation was perfect, or so we thought. Bright, colourful, airy, on our first night we left our things to get some dinner and returned for much needed sleep. It began well, but a sting to Ian's neck and a long night of swatting at creepy crawlies resulted in not much sleep and Ali Baba covered in bed bug bites. Jamie was practically untouched. Apparently the bugs like Ali Baba as much as the Moroccans do.
After the first night, much squashing occurred when we flipped the bed base over and killed the many bed bugs hiding in the gaps underneath. Thinking all was well, the second night we returned to bed.
The nightmare occured again, Ali Baba waking in the night, scratching, squishing, trying not to wake a blissfully unaware Jamie.
The following day, we informed our Hosts and received an old plastic bottle with the common death poison symbol on it and a picture of a scorpion.
We flipped the bed over again, and sprayed the entire base, parts of the mattress and rugs on the ground. We cleaned ourselves carefully, then left the room for a few hours to air.
We returned to sleep on the third night, confident we had destroyed them all.
It was not to be. That night, Ali Baba was awoken, scratching, angry and tired. But a discovery was made, from 1am to 3am, Ali Baba poked a small stick into very small holes in the wall beside the bed and squished hundreds of bed bugs.
He did not return to sleep. Staying on guard, ensuring that Jamie would only experience the couple of bites she received on the very first night. Ali Baba, however, counted over 50 bites all over his body, from head to toe.
Being far too polite, we only mentioned it lightly to our hosts. The next day, with one final night to stay, we sprayed the entire room, ceiling, wall and floor with deadly scorpion spray. We watched them die in their little hiding holes. Though, many also scurried back inside the walls.
We re-arranged the bed to sit in the middle of the room. While we left the room to fumagate, we took a short hike up the nearby hills to admire the view. Despite Ali Baba itching terribly, it was a sublime view. We sat under a tree as a cool breeze refreshed us. Eating oranges and biscuits while a shepherd moved his herd slowly up the hill. Goats came and visited us, sheep were more wary. The shepherd called out if we spoke French or English. Then remarked what a beautiful place and a lovely view. We absolutely agreed.
Due to the lack of sleep, the climb and the heat, we slept like logs on our final night and not a bed bug was in sight. An experience we'd rather not have again, but an experience none the less. Our Airbnb host told us to bring our family and friends to stay with him, but I think we will save you all the pain. He even worked hard to regain our favour, by preparing a meal for us on our final night.
A 5 hour bus ride to Fez, our final destination in Morocco and we were excited to see the UNESCO Heritage listed Medina. It did not dissapoint. We relished in our last few days in this beautiful country, enjoying the gardens, windy streets and tanneries. We still find it exhausting walking around, even after four weeks here. There is too much to see. Shiny teapots, bright yellow slippers, tubs full of olives, a cart of watermelons, ooh watch out! a donkey carrying cement. A man holding ten live chickens by their feet. Kittens. Spices piled in pyramids, brightly coloured tiles, clothing, ceramics. The sound of the prayers, and of course people yelling,
"Al Baba! Ali Baba! Would you like to see my shop? No, what about some hash."
And every smell of the spice cupboard, bakery, butchery and tannery. All the senses are ignited and we have loved all of it (except the bed bugs).
