Marrakesh and home...

 After my hot air balloon ride, I was taken back to the hotel.  My late night and very early morning had left me exhausted so I crashed for a while.  

Some of the group was planning to meet at a super fancy hotel for a drink. La Mamounia.  Mohammed had told us it was one of the most expensive hotels in Africa. We could never stay there but we could enjoy a drink in the gardens.   Meeting time 3:30.  I woke up at 3:10!  I quickly jumped in a taxi but I was a few minutes late.  This wasn't a hotel, it was a complex!  Good luck finding my people.  

Do you see that building way at the back...

I went to every place that seemed to have people consuming food or drink.  Security was definitely starting to notice me wandering around taking pictures.  I convinced the desk to provide me with the wifi password (they wouldn't give it to me, they put it in my phone).  Eventually, Rachel let me know that they were WAAAAY in the back, by a completely other building, waiting for drinks.  It had taken them almost an hour to be allowed to sit and get their order taken.  No riff raff in the front of house apparently.  

riff raff, allowed begrudgingly to sit out back

Not riff raff, allowed in the main garden dining area

I ordered some sort of tropical rum drink which cost more than my most expensive meal in Morocco to date.  It was fine but worth the money for the story. 

We all dispersed again after our drink.  I headed into the medina on my own, to the main square.  You may remember all of the warnings I had received before and during my trip that medinas are the most dangerous places to be robbed.  I clutched my purse like I was on the Titanic and it was my life vest!  But I still had to take pictures!  No point in saving my camera if I can't use it.  The pictures are few, rushed and not great.  But they might give you a bit of an idea of the mayhem.

I got completely turned around.  I could find my way out (always look for the mosque minaret) but I couldn't find the 'cheap' taxi place.  Basically, try not to hail a taxi anywhere near La Mamounia which is close to the mosque.  But I was never going to get out if I didn't get to the exit I could find.  The main square in the Marrakesh medina has so many alleyways heading off of it, each one leading to more stores and more alleyways, maybe an exit, maybe not.  It isn't Fez level of rabbit warren but it is big.  Anyway, I got out, found a taxi and negotiated the price back to the hotel. Actually, I just accepted 50 dirham since it was rush hour and I needed to get back in time for dinner.  

My taxi driver was old.  I gave him the name of my hotel, which is big and in the new city hotel zone.  He asked me if I knew where it was.  Um, no.  I tried 'near the Sky Bar'?  Doesn't ring a bell.  He proceeds to tell me, while we are in swirling traffic, that he is old (obvious) and doesn't remember things very well. Oh great, I have a taxi driver with Alzheimer's!  Should I find another taxi, I ask?  NO!  he needs the money.  He keeps stopping the middle of the crazy traffic trying to ask other taxi drivers where my hotel is. Oh, the honking and swearing and rude gestures as a million cars passed us.  I was not getting nervous at all.  

Eventually, he found the hotel and I gave him the 50 dirham plus another 10 for being old and clearly not long for working life.  He was so grateful, he kissed my arm.  Not weird.  I was too busy trying to not get road-rage killed so no pictures.  

Our last night/meal together.  Tom's birthday.  I took no photos. I don't remember where we went or what I ate.  We were close to the hotel, I remember that.  That is where we parted ways with Kevin and Catherine.  They had an early flight and had to leave at 4am.  We loved them, but no one was getting up for that good bye!  

Oh, I found a picture of dinner on my phone!  Lamb chops.  

After dinner most of us went back to the Sky Bar for a last drink together. 

Table view

City view

The next morning, many of our group were leaving for a 10am flight.  We met for breakfast at 7am (a very unsatisfactory breakfast, if I may say so), and all said goodbye to John and Elspeth, and Verity, Trevor and Tom.  

Goodbye friends!

Dennis had left quietly at some point so that left just Eric and Kim who were leaving later in the day and Rachel and I who were leaving the next day.  Rachel was staying her last night at the same hotel but I had booked in to a fancy Riad.  I had no idea where it was, it just looked 'Moroccan-y' on Booking.com when I was back in Canada organizing my trip.  

The four of us went out for lunch to a women's retraining restaurant, the Amal Women's training centre.  The place was lousy with cats.  Rachel is not a fan of cats (going to Morocco and not liking cats is the equivalent of having a peanut allergy and going to Thailand IMO).  

My quiche and Rachel's veggie tagine

And that was basically the end of the group and tour. I headed off to my Riad, Eric and Kim left for Spain and Rachel was off to meet friends in Europe.  It's so weird to only know these people for two weeks and feel so bereft of their company.  There was lots of 'come see me in...".  Kim was pushing for a reunion tour somewhere.  I can't imagine that happening with many of the group but she is tenacious so she might get some on board.  I have a spare room in a beautiful place so maybe some of them will drop by.  

I asked the front desk about a taxi to my next hotel/riad.  The guy told me it is in the medina!  That was news to me, I thought it was in the countryside.  He also told me to get the driver to call the riad so they could meet me at the drop off point and guide me to the riad.  Honestly, if I had known any of this complication when I booked, I would not have chosen this place.  But, amazingly, it worked.  The cabbie called them, and someone was there to meet me with a cart.  The cabbie made sure it was the right guy with the right cart.  

Me and cart guy walked down a very narrow, very bustling, very long alleyway.  Then down a narrower but less busy and shorter alleyway to a door.  No name, not indication that is was a riad or a public place in any way.   Considering how warned I was about Morocco and medinas and robbing and general crime, I just kept trusting these random men to get me where I needed to be.   

Knock knock.  Door opens and it is my riad.  Not slave traded again!  

Oh, it was so beautiful and fancy!  

The 'lobby' sort of. The centre of the building, open to the sky

My (semi) private terrace on the top floor.  My room opened 
onto the terrace.  My mint tea and cookies are waiting for me

My room. 

That first night, I didn't leave my room.  I hadn't planned to not leave but I kept falling asleep.  I was so exhausted from the trip and the goodbyes, I just couldn't face venturing into the medina.  

The next day, I had a 4:30 flight so I had some time in the morning.  I was feeling refreshed after my long sleep so I took a picture of the front door of the riad and headed into that alley I have come down the day before.  As long as I did not leave that alley, do not turn, do not deviate, I would be ok.  

Just find this spot

I made it out of the little side alley and into the bigger alley and immediately found a carpet place.  As you all remember, I had kind of been circling around the idea of a carpet but I just couldn't find one I liked enough to buy (and carry!).  I found one I liked, bought itand carried it back to the riad.  Of course, I got lost.  That picture above was at a corner.  with a bike, that disappeared! 

This is my door!  Find this door with no sign
in a sea of doors with no signs.

I found my riad, realizing over the 10 minutes I was carrying my small carpet wrapped in paper and bundled with string, that that thing was heavy and the string was not a comfortable strap with which to carry it.  I handed it over to the front desk guy, add it to my other two bags I had left in storage, and headed out to find a suitable bag.  Consider the word 'suitable' to be loose.  

I found a tiny duffle for 50 dirham ($5).  I didn't think it was tiny when I bought it but I took it back to the riad and attempted to shove the carpet into it.  It was close.  I didn't think it would work but with some effort, I got it in.  No room to spare.  I struggled to fit in my flip flops.  I have tiny flip flops.  Nope.  I barely got it zippered.  The thing was so cheap, there were at least five weak points in the zipper but it was going to be carry on so I wasn't too worried.  

That parcel had to fit into that bag

I took this from home.  The bag survived but the
carpet has not been unpacked

Here are a few photos of my morning in Marrakesh. 

I had packed everything I brought and everything I bought in my backpack, attachable day pack, and my packable duffle.  Everything I would need for the two day, two night journey, I had in my tiny daypack.  So, of course, I then bought a tagine.  A small one, but... really, what was I thinking!  

It fit into the tiny day pack but it added weight.  So, now I have a heavy little back pack, a very heavy little duffle and my purse, plus two big bags to check.  

Rachel and I were leaving around the same time so we met for a last coffee in the airport. And now it was REALLY over.  

Waiting for check in...

Waiting to check in!

The very nice Air France guy let me check my two big pieces and check a third 'hand luggage' right through to Victoria!  I loved that Air France guy!  I was just left with the tiny backpack with heavy tagine.  

Goodbye Morocco

Hello Paris

I had booked a hotel in the Charles De Gaulle Paris airport.  But because I didn't know what I was doing (again), I booked a hotel in Terminal 3.  International flights come into and out of Terminal 2 (2E to be exact).  I had to go through border control to get to Terminal 3.  And two trains!  That's how big CDG is.  2E has its own train.  And walk to terminal 3.  And then another train to get to the right area of 3 to find the hotel.  That took 90 minutes.  

I should mention my knee which was such a big deal the last time I was in Paris.  It is still wrecked but I took a lot of anti-inflammatory pills and just pushed through.  It was certainly better than when I first set out, but it isn't great.  So, the hiking around airports was knee-unfriendly.  

The next morning I got up super early because I knew I had to go through border control and security again since I had left 2E.  I had no idea how long it would take. I had a my free breakfast from Ibis Style hotel.  Crepes, coffee and charcuterie!  The French know how to feed people. No picture, they also know how to intimidate tourists. 

I got through the various securities etc. fairly quickly so I had time to hit Duty Free.  French Wine!  French Cheese!  

Guess what, two wine bottles, four packs of cheese and a few little boxes of sweet stuff is heavy too.  Can I not just buy a necklace and be done with it.  No, now I had yet another bag to deal with!  And, irony not lost on me, a heavy one with little strings as handles.  

Duty Free. Wine and cheese.

Goodbye France

Champagne and camembert for lunch. 

It was a long flight to Vancouver.  And somehow, because I don't know what I am doing (again), I managed to book a six hour layover before my flight to Victoria.  Arg. 

Plus, I had thought my bags were going to have to go through customs in Vancouver so my plan was to tuck my wine bottles into my backpack.  I was pretty sure there was room with some reshuffling.  But alas.  My bags were really checked through to Victoria.  Now I have to get two wine bottles through security!  

I headed over to Westjet to see if I could check my little backpack with the wine bottles.  First, Vancouver Airport!  You suck for signage.  As big as CDG was, there were signs everywhere.  Even I could find where I was going and I am not directionally sharp.

I finally found WestJet, lamenting my heavy string bag the whole walk.  Sure we can check that for you.  tickety tickety.  Hmm, no you have already checked your 'carry on'.  This FOURTH bag will cost you much more than the wine is worth!.  But, they said, it is still sealed in the duty free bag with receipt so you can probably take it through.  Ok.  

Off to security.  I put the many bags through, including the wine.  I got put to secondary screening.  They opened the bags, They opened the duty free sealed bag, they opened the boxes with the wine.  They weighed the bottles.  I wondered it they were going to open them, cause that champagne was not going to be recorkable.  But they didn't, they let me though.  I reshuffled the contents of the bags again so I was back to just two very heavy bags.  I found my gate and didn't move for five hours!  

Paul picked me up a the airport.  Valerie upstairs fed me and gave me some fresh bread and milk.  And then I went to bed.  Ah, nothing is so sweet as your own bed with your very grateful cat purring on your head.  

Opening mail the next day.  Someone was happy 
I was home.  

And that is it.  I did a bit of unpacking yesterday.  And now it is Friday and I am contemplating going into work.  My jet lag is fine. I fell asleep at 9pm last night and up at 5am.  

I hope you have enjoyed following this crazy last minute adventure as much as I have taking it and documenting it here.  

Shkran (thank you in Arabic).  

My birthday

I woke up on my birthday and didn't give it much thought.  We were leaving Essaouira that morning so early breakfast at 8am so we would be ready to leave by 8:45.  I headed up to the rooftop.  Everyone was already there.  Unusual, there are usually some stragglers.  Then they all starting singing Happy Birthday and brought out some birthday muffins, complete with candles!  And a present!  This group is so awesome!  They had been asking me what I bought in the medina the night before.  I guess they were trying to figure out if there was ANYTHING I hadn't bought yet!  A carved wooden box with mother of pearl inlay on the top.  Gorgeous (no picture, sorry).  I had looked at the wooden boxes but didn't buy one.  Now I have somewhere to put all of the jewelry I bought!  

And then we were off.  I really like Essaouira.  But we were going to the legendary Marrakesh!  So exciting.  

Our hotel was in the new part of town, a ways away from the medina. It was fairly soulless to be honest.  But it was ok. My room was quiet although those facing the street had to put up with quite a bit of Saturday night drag racing.  

Once we dumped our bags, we went to the medina.  Mohammed released us to find our own lunches.  We did not do that well left to our own devices.  First of all, we stuck together so we were working with a table of 10.  And then we followed some  sidewalk salesman to his restaurant.  Long story short, it took  forever and it was sub-mediocre.  I had a camel burger which you would think would be interesting.  It was just a burger.  

this was the ceiling though
so that was fun

Then we got back to Mohammed, and went on a tour of .... something.  Some sort of burial area for some sort of important person and his wives etc.  Honestly, I was so tired and I could barely hear our guide and I just didn't really care.  But there are pictures.  

The passageway in.  This reminds me that the 
burial chambers were sealed and kept secret for centuries
for reasons that I don't remember. Something to do 
with changing dynasties.

Burials.  

The more layers stacked on the grave, the more 
important the interred.  

Trevor and Verity

Our guide.  Can you guess why I took a picture of 'him'

After our tour, we were abandoned in the middle of the massive square in the medina.  It was completely overwhelming!  There were so many people, and snake charmers and henna ladies, and carts and music and noise.  Ack!  Most of us beetled right back to the hotel.  But first we had to navigate to the street and get a taxi.  

You may remember back on day one, I mentioned that Tom had had his phone stolen right out of his hand in Casablanca.  He had insurance but he didn't have time to report it stolen because we were leaving.  He and Trevor (his dad) decided to report it in Marrakesh.  And just say it happened there to make life easier for everyone.  They just needed the police report, no one expected anyone to investigate or anything.  

They had headed to the police when we all left the medina.  We met for dinner a couple of hours later.  They weren't there.  Verity (Tom's mom) said they were still dealing with the police.  

We ordered.  I had mussels appy and a pizza.  The mussels were so plentiful, I didn't eat much of the pizza.  We saved it for the boys.  Actually, Tom has been eating my leftovers for two weeks so it was just a normal habit to give him my dinner.  

Mussel appy

What was left of my pizza (we added what was left
of Rachel's pizza too)

Dinner was over and we were contemplating dessert when Tom and Trevor finally arrived.  Tom told the story of going to the police station and why it took four hours.  I wish I could do the story justice but it was just so long and complicated and hilarious. And there were little narrative detours that made it even more hilarious.  

Basically, they went to the police station and essentially told the truth but moved the story to the medina in Marrakesh.  The police drove them to the square and told them to point out  exactly where it happened.  As it turns out, the spot they picked was right on the line between two police precincts.  The cops yelled at them that they needed to be EXACT - where were they standing!  Were they sure it wasn't a meter over there?  They said, sure, why not.  Well, why not is because that meter put them into the other precinct.  

So, they were put in the back of a paddy wagon and driven to the other police station.  Where they were asked, where EXACTLY did the phone get taken.  Then they were driven back to the same spot in the square and got yelled at some more and eventually, cops from both precincts were there yelling at Tom and each other.  Tom said at one point, they all just walked away and he and Trevor were just left standing there.  Another time, the cops turned away from him, grabbed a guy on a motorbike, hauled him off the moving motorbike and slapped him around a bit.  Then went back to talking to Tom about how he is wrong about where his phone was stolen.

I'm not sure how that was resolved but they ended up back at the first station where Trevor was left in the hall and Tom was put in a room full of the juvenile criminals.  He was literally shoulder to shoulder with kids in handcuffs.  The cops were ignoring him by this time.  The kids were all looking at him, saying stuff in Arabic and laughing.  In the middle of all of this, a cat wandered through and the cops and criminals all took a break from ignoring him or paying too much attention to him, respectively, to pet the cat.  

The cops were still on about where it had happened and were yelling at him and calling him a liar. I don't know how he didn't break!  They tried to abandon the whole endeavor and just leave but I guess once the cops had started on the paperwork, there was not going back.   He finally got his police report (after they redid all of it since they listed him as American on the first bunch). And then as a parting comment, the cops said they would check the cameras to see what happened.  Tom is pretty sure that A. there were no cameras, and B. if there are, no one is checking squat.

Tom says he would have rather just pay for a new phone than have to do that again, but I know he is going to make hay with this story for years to come.  It is just too good.  

Anyway, they ate the left over pizza and had a drink and told their tale.  I hope Tom wasn't looking for sympathy. We had it I'm sure but we were way too busy laughing to show any.  I laughed so hard I cried.

It was my birthday that day and it was Tom's birthday the next day so we got a cake!  

I had an early morning the next day but I was convinced to go to the Sky Bar up the street from our hotel for a drink as my birthday ended and Tom's began.

The Sky Bar taken from street level earlier in the dasy

Sky Bar rooftop.

I only lasted for one beer and then Mohammed walked me back to our hotel.  Like I said, I had an early morning the next day.  Which I am still counting as my birthday because it wasn't midnight in Victoria yet. 

I had booked a hot air balloon ride for sunrise!  Chris had given me some Christmas money and this was how I decided to spend it.  She would have loved the idea.  

But before the balloon, I had to get there.  I had a 6:15 am pickup at the hotel.  Mohammed was in the lobby to make sure I was safely off with the driver.  All good.  We went to the next hotel. Actually, an exit to the medina.  The hotel was in in the medina. No people. We drove around trying to make sure it was the right gate.   After a while, a couple appeared.  They spoke English.  They got in.  The driver said we were missing four people but we left anyway.  

Then we stopped in what I can only describe as an all in one homeless shelter/garbage dump.  And the driver tells me that I am going with a different guy.  I assumed that I was being human trafficked but, good Canadian that I am, I just did as I was told and got into the other car with the new man.  

It's blurry but this was where I was traded for 
some beads and spices.  Or moved to a car with more room, whichever.

As it turns out, I was not kidnapped and sold for organs.  I was dropped off at the Balloon place.  There were tents set up and I just went and stood in one of them.  

I had no idea what was going on.  No one was speaking in English.  All of the tourists were French.  I found the American couple from the first car but the staff sent them one way  and me another.  I heard two women speaking English so I was about to pounce on them but they got moved to a new tent.  

I asked someone if there were any English speakers.  After pointing out a French family as English who were very much not speaking English, she told me the balloons were not organized by language.  So I just went back to my tent.   A man, the pilot I later learned, gave a very rousing and gesture filled safety speech, in French.  It went on for quite some time.  And then he just waved his hand for everyone to follow him.  Umm, English safety instructions?  Anyone?  

A young couple could tell I had no idea what was going on.  They were from Cork Ireland and gave me a 8 second recap of the pilot's speech.  They were very sweet.  They let me hang out with them and we shared a pod in the balloon basket.  

Paul and Jess of Cork, Ireland

But first we watched them fill the balloons with hot gas. 

You know in movies where there is a little basket hanging under a balloon with a little wicker door that opens and a small number of people use that little door and then float away.  WRONG!  

The basket is more like a rectangle with four 'pods' that hold three people each on each side of the pilot who is in the middle.  Eight pods in total.

This was after we landed but it shows the basket

Getting into the basket was a challenge.  Remember, no little wicker door.  Just those foot holes you can see in the picture above.  Uh uh.  I needed the little ladder and even then it was an awkward situation. Paul and Jess were both giants, upwards of 6 feet each, so they hauled me in.  

And then we took off and all was forgiven.  It was beautiful.  And amazing.  And awe inspiring.  The sun was just coming up.  The company I was with had five balloons but there were dozens more rising into the sky at the same time.  

Here are 72 million photos.  And nary a cat picture.

This is my favourite picture I think

We passed over a tiny village. With goats! 

Then we landed in a rocky field.  This is when i understood all of the wild gesturing that was part of the safety speech. Hang on and crouch cause it is going to be a bumpy landing!  

As soon as we were safely back on terra firma, they started to deflate the balloon.  Jess got out first, she pulled, Paul pushed and they got me up and over the edge of the basket.  And two staff members gently lowered me to the ground.  

And that was the end of my birthday in all time zones!  

It's 11:30 and I'm in my Paris hotel with an early flight so I'm off to sleep.  I'll finish up Marrakesh tomorrow (hopefully!).  Bonne nuit.