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.
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| 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.
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| riff raff, allowed begrudgingly to sit out back |
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| 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!
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| 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.
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| Table view |
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| 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.
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| 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).
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| 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 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.
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| 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!
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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.
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| That parcel had to fit into that bag |
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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...
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| 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.
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Goodbye Morocco
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| 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.
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| Duty Free. Wine and cheese. |
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| Goodbye France |
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| 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.
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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).
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