Morocco on a shoestring, with olives and mint tea.

 

It was overwhelming. The minute you set foot into the Médina, the chaos, the foreign scene and language, the hustling motorbikes speedily whistling by inches from your ankle from all sides. Don’t make any sudden movements, or they will hit you. Keep to the right at all times. Make yourself small. And you will be spared. But we made it. My hostel, through weaving lanes of packed people and stalls (I was glad I asked my hostel to send a driver/guide last minute), we passed through the large protective doors into the riad. Once inside, it was complete tranquility. A riad is a traditional Moroccan house inside the Medina, usually with an internal open courtyard, sometimes even a pool. It’s an unique part of the Moroccan tradition, but to be honest nowadays most are owned by foreigners who had turned them into beautiful enchanting guest houses, and I was lucky my hostel was one of these. Once you are inside one of these, I can see why people take a liking to this aspect of Morocco, and how writers and artists can feel inspired here. It seems, beyond the tense suffocating scenes of the Medina, there can be a surprisingly quiet, isolated, peaceful calm inside the walls. I can literally do nothing all day here but sit and stare into space, listening to the trickle of water from the fountain beside. I finally felt the impulse to crack open my book and start reading (a week and a half into my trip). At night, you can find yourself a nice little rooftop terrace at a cafe or restaurant, where once again you can be left with your own thoughts, the distance sound of motorbikes down below, staring into the perfect crescent that is the moon in a surprisingly transparent dimming North African night sky.

 

Marrakech is a bustling city. Outside the Medina walls stand a modern hub of busy streets and shopping districts of the ‘new town’. I was lucky to be able to meet my friend here, Amjad, whom I had met earlier in the year in Barcelona and bonded over football and photography. It was nice having his goofy smile with me as we toured some of the new part of the city back into the old. Marrakech feels relatively safe, amidst all the action. Tourism is its lifeblood, and apart from pocket thieves it seems people know not to mess with it. The main annoyance is the natural tendency of locals to try to take advantage of the many tourists, who also seems surprisingly comfortable lowering their guards as they weld their oversized expensive cameras into narrow alleys in all hours of the day and night. Everywhere you wander people are hustling to get you go into their shops, or worse, simply to “help lead” you to the main square for a tip (even if you are clearly NOT trying to get there). But most would eventually let up if you simply insist you are not interested in their services, and motor on with a determined and confident pace even if you have absolutely no idea where you are indeed heading.

For the rest of my Morocco trip, I had previously organized to join a tour with G Adventures. I usually prefer to travel alone, but I was honestly too lazy and last-minute to plan any of the logistics for this country. Plus, I don’t remember what little French I might have learned in school, and for the most part I just didn’t feel safe. I’ve had good experiences with G Adventures in my previous Northern Thailand / Laos trip, and once again this one did not disappointed as I got to spend 8 days with 11 wonderfully fun, respectful, social, and insightful fellow travellers. Together with our attentive guide and shy driver, we packed into a semi-comfortable (really not quite comfortable) mini-van to hit the many winding (and remarkably bumpy) roads of the country. I even learned a road trip game or two to pass the many hours of travel.

We started out in the intensely car-busy city of Casablanca, Morocco’s financial hub, which had little to offer for the average tourist although most international flights would land there. Quickly, we went north to Tangier (pronounced Tanger, actually), a fascinating city with its past as a somewhat unregulated international zone (where anything goes and anyone with a troubled past could come) as well as the main exit point for many African migrants hoping for a better life in Europe across the narrow straits (many of whom made Tangier an intermediate home until they figured out the means to cross over). Today, Tangier has revived itself as a tourist hotbed, while managed to hold on to its older charm. Next, we visited the surreal blue town of Chefchaouen, where an entire town is painted blue (various conflicting explanations were given) and tourists flock to take pictures of every single alleyway and doorway. We spent a rainy day there where some of us rewarded ourselves with a traditional Moroccan hammam (traditional bath house / massage) in between mint teas. When our eyes got tired of seeing blue, we went to Fez, one of the prettiest imperial cities of Morocco and home to numerous displays of extravagant Moorish architectures and patterns. The mosaics and tile work are quite exceptional, although most would argue that Spain’s Seville and Granada still hold the crown jewel of Moorish construction. It was too bad that our one day in Fez was again met with heavy rain, but it was still an unique experience to wander through narrow alleys of its claustrophobic (I’m not kidding) medina, while catching up on our souvenir shopping and practicing our bargaining skills (I still suck).

One of the recurrent themes in most Moroccan cities would be their medinas, but it was very interesting how they actually all feel quite different. Tangier’s medina has a very functional feel, as locals continue to use it to exchange their daily goods from food markets to used items to electronics to small corner stores. Chefchaouen’s medina is clearly dominated by the tourist market with rows of souvenir shops along its blue corridors, but if you wander off the beaten paths, you discover quiet undisturbed beautiful alleys where locals continue to live and thrive. Fez’s medina, although gigantic and narrow (only a few donkeys are allowed inside the medina at one time due to how narrow it’s lanes are), appears to be well organized in regions of leather production, silk lanes, metal works, women’s dresses, and so forth. And Marrakech’s medina, large and bustling with tourists, is filled with roars of motorbikes and uneven alleys and dead-ends. Getting lost in all of them is a fun, but somewhat courage-testing experience. 

Finally, the food. Moroccan cuisine appears very heavy on a meat culture, as lamb, beef, and chicken form the mainstay, with the occasional restaurant serving goat, fresh fish (especially in Tangier), and exotic varieties such as kidney, brain (!!), and ox’s penis (!!!!) (none of us ordered the brain or penis, as much as I had encouraged them to do so). The consistent cooking theme is the Taijine, which is essentially slow cooking of the dish on a clay pot covered with a teepee like clay top while the sauce is reduced to a thick pureed like consistency. Excellent combinations were surprisingly simple such as chicken with olives, chicken in citrus sauce with toasted almonds on top, and lamb or beef in prune sauce and caramelized onions (awesome combo). Another stable is the couscous, usually served with a heaping portion of root vegetables with your choice of either of the above common meat items. For starters, they like a variety of cooked vegetable dishes, called mezzes, including spinach with chick peas, eggplants with spices, or fava beans, as well as a variety of bean or lentil based soup. Perhaps the most difficult of their dishes would be the chicken or beef pastilla (not to be confused with any form of pasta...). It's a complex mixture of minced meat with nuts then baked under a flaky shell and topped with sprinkles of cinnamon and sugar, resulting in a confusing array of sweet and savoriness that you're not quite sure if you are eating a main course or a dessert, but delicious none the less. And then of course there’s the endless supply of a variety of olives (the red ones were the tastiest followed by the usual green ones, while the black ones are often slightly bitter). Moroccan bread, often freshly baked daily in large plate size shapes, are everywhere, and is virtually eaten with everything. And after the meal, a mint tea. A nice hot, quite sweet, soothing drink of green tea with copious amounts of fresh mint leaves. It’s truly refreshing for any time of day really (in fact, sipping mint tea while sitting in an outdoor cafe and simply rudely people watch (or stare) seems to be a favorite activity of many Moroccan men.  

But after about 20 days of living out of my backpack and hoping from one hotel room to the next, I’m quite ready to come home. I’m lucky to have seen some of the most prettiest places around on this trip, and got to cross off one big destination off my list that I’ve always wanted to see. The only slight regret is not having the time to venture further south into the shifting dunes of the Sahara (a bare minimum would have been a 3-day dessert camping trip from Marrakech). I have seen it once over a decade ago from the Tunisia side, but I believe the Moroccan dunes are far grander. But that will have to wait, for I have shifts to get back to. For now, dreams of a nice hot shower in the comfort of my own home awaits. I’ll eventually post many more photos of my trip. I’ve yet to sort through all my Barcelona photos, actually. But I will. I will. Signing off from Europe once again. Thanks again for reading!

The Rhythm of the day, with lots of eating.

For much of central Andalucia in the day, it’s too hot to do much of anything. Seville is one of the hottest places in Europe, and many of the nearby regions such as Cordoba and Ronda it can be almost equally steamy, even in October. In fact, in the summer it can get into the 40s. As with most places with such stuffy temperatures ranges, the day is often chopped up into pieces, divided by ample opportunities to grab a quick bite and sometimes even a drink (and a quick nap of course). Most of Andalusians, or Spaniards for that matter, starts the day with a typical breakfast consists of fresh squeeze orange juice, coffee in a small glass (apparently this was a Moorish influence), and some sort of tostadas sandwich which is often a toasted ciabatta bun spread with olive oil and tomato paste with or without added fillings like ham or jamon serrano. Traditionally however, if you fancy a sweet tooth, you can have a churro con chocolate, the tasty long tubular deep fried dough that you dunk into thick gooey sweet hot chocolate. I was surprised at such a sweet treat so early in the morning (in Madrid, I see this as more of a night time “bubble-tea like” social activity). I’ve heard of people having a pet so that they would wake up smiling to a puppy to their faces. For Andalusians, I guess they prefer to wake up to chocolate. 

By mid morning, there is often a “second breakfast”, intended to sustain life until lunch time. These can be various pastries or mini sandwiches called bocadillos or the popular spanish tortillas. Lunch is often pushed late into the 2-4pm range, and it seems for some Andalusians they still choose to go back home for the meal, an often inconvenient and inefficient affair with the snail pace traffic of the city. As I walk around, I see many locals popping in for a quick drink with tapas (by drink I do mean the alcoholic version). I’m surprised that there seems to be that much drinking in the middle of the day when clearly they all have to go back to work after. “The servings are smaller..”, I was told by a local. But I guess it’s just part of the culture. 

Post siesta, many Andalusians return back to work until probably around 8-9pm. Dinner is, of course, quite late, and often consists of more bar hopping and tapas as a social engagement. The key cuisine, as in most of Spain but particularly here in the south, is tapas (most menus would indicate the item with a choice of 3 different price points: tapas around 2-4 euros, half raciones around 6-10 euros, and a full portion or racione for a fuller price). The unique feature that used to be widespread in the region but now specifically for Granada is the so called “free tapa” that is served if you walk in and simply order an alcoholic drink. The catch is you don’t get to choose what tapas, but I was told the quality goes up after each successive drink. To be honest, by the 3rd or 4th drink you probably don’t care what they serve anymore as everything starts to taste quite wonderful. Be ready to be standing a lot, as most places are packed and it’s pretty standard to be eating and drinking and chatting at the counter or high table and then go on to the next one.

But the key to tapa tasting is to be quite shameless, and walk in, order one drink and one tapa, and go on to the next venue. That’s because most places probably only specializes in one thing. To maximize your chance of hitting the right order, you walk in, look around, realize that EVERYBODY is eating the SAME thing, then just point to that item, making sure to ask for a tapa size portion. If food is important to you, I suggest you consider joining a food tour in the city, something I did for the first time this trip, and did it twice. The better one, in Seville, which costed more than my 4 nights at the hostel, was quite worthwhile as I get to experience some places that I honestly would never venture into myself (I choose the Devour nighttime Tapas and History Tour for 91 euros). It was a little steep, but the experience was quite worthwhile.

Of course, there are some particulars that are quite famous here. Among the usual spanish flare you’ll find regional specialties like rabo de toro (slow cooked bull’s tail braised in thick rich sauce over fries), solomillo de cerdo (pork loin sometimes served in a whiskey sauce). As with other places in Spain, they really liked their preserved salter cod, called Bacalao, and it's super tasty when dressed with olive oil over bread. Fried fish seems to be a thing as well, sold in many of the freiduria (fried house),  as is other types of fried tiny crustaceans like little shrimps that you eat whole. One thing I was surprised to see was how much they love pork blood jello. While us Chinese put them in congee, they fried them with onions or make black-looking sausages. Cheese wise, manchego seems to be the most popular choice. Think of it as a softer less strong version of parmesan, but eaten directly with drizzles of olive oil. And of course, the refreshing cold soup gazpacho is quite popular especially in the summer. They even sell that bottled in the supermarket, but the best one I’ve had came as a tapa size portion in a little glass at an unpretentious little local street side cafe. There are other varieties depending on regional influences. In Cordoba, they add chunk bits of cooked egg and cured ham and called it salmorejo, and I’ve also seen ones made with asparagus or avocado, but didn’t get to try them as I was already quite full. 

And finally, to drink. Perhaps the most refreshing of the choices is the tinto de verano (red wine mixed with splash of citrus and soda), and it seems that, once again, sangria is mainly an invention for the tourists. Vermouth is still popular as an aperitif, but seems the younger people now just drink beer. But by far the star of the show is their famous Sherry, a fortified wine with various herbs that takes years to produce and can taste a little medicine-like (as opposed to Vermouth, which is produced every year). There is a wide variety of sherries, ranging from dry white versions to uber sweet post meal digestifs. A common variety is the Manzanilla, but I find that a little dry. So, usually, I just stick to my tinto.

Moorish Spain and Tiles Tiles Everywhere

So I came back to Spain for the second time this year. I hadn’t intended to come back so soon, actually. It was merely by association. I had asked for three weeks off in October to travel (Thanks, Scott!), but in my uninspired procrastinating ways I hadn’t made any plans until a few weeks ago. My pattern of taking trips during shoulder seasons in either April or October usually limits me to areas of good weather during this time. So, I had decided on Morocco, a place that I have always wanted to see but years ago I was too cheap to fly to. And since I made up my mind to go to North Africa, it was always on my mind to lump in this special southern region of Spain. I had heard so much about places like Seville and Granada. And so I thought, why not spend a few more weeks to burn through my Spanish textbook again over more tapas. Or perhaps, forget about the Spanish textbook.

So far I’ve been to Madrid, Barcelona, and part of the north in Bilbao and the beautiful San Sebastian. But the southern region of Spain, called Andalucia, is quite unique in its own historical beauty (I had no clue this region was called that, as I walked stupidly past this guidebook in Chapters numerous time asking the clerk for a book on “Southern Spain…”). Andalucia is in reference the the old Moorish name of the region, and the Moors refer to the dominating Islamic Berber group who came from North African and conquered wide stretches of Europe and most of Spain. In fact, many of the southern parts had over 500 years of Moorish rule dating back to the 700s BC, and in the last glorious stronghold, Granada, had almost 800 years of rule. The region was steeped in history over several significant ruling dynasties. The first were the Romans (many claimed that Julius Caesar had started Seville, as a statue of his stands prominently at a public plaza). After them came the Visigoths from the north who apparently did nothing. The Moorish were the main lasting influence to this region, introducing strong architectural wonders, city planning, culture, and culinary pleasures. After the Moors came the Christians in their “reconquista”, who chose to cleanse the region of Islamic influence and seemingly lazily added Christian elements to stunningly built Islamic mosques to make them cathedrals instead. This last part was responsible of some of the most unique and beautiful landmarks of the region. This area was also key in dark times such as the Spanish Inquisition, served as at the starting point of Christopher Columbus “discovery” journey, and blossomed in an era of golden trade after the discovery of America when merchant ships returned with their exotic produces. It is also regarded as the epicenter of the Spanish tradition of Bull-fighting, with some of the most famous arenas around. And further south, in line with the Spanish devotion to the indulgences of life, home to the famous “Sherry triangle” from where the popular drink was born. 

The big brother of the region would inevitably be Seville, or Sevilla, depending on how you like to say it. Once one of the largest city in Europe due to being the only gateway of American goods, its golden age ended when the trading posts were moved further South to Cadiz. It was for a while a Moorish capital after Cordoba, and still home to spectacular pieces such as the Cathedral (the largest one of its type) and the exquisitely beautiful interior of the Alcazar (don’t miss this, and get tickets in advance online to beat the line-up). Nearby and about 45 minutes away on the high speed AVE train stood Cordoba, the long standing old Moorish capital and home to the unique red-and-white brick interior of the Mezquita, prominently featured on the cover of my Rough Guide Andalucia guidebook. It’s close enough for a daytrip from either Seville or Granada, and it would be more charming had it not been for the flocks of tourists, many of them yielding their selfie sticks shamelessly and standing right in front of the shots you are trying to take, oblivious to their mean ways. 

But the undisputed masterpiece of the region, without a doubt, is Granada, beautifully situated next the the Sierra Nevada mountain range, and home to the stunningly beautiful Alhambra, a former moorish palace/fortress kept standing owing to years of self preservation by the last remaining moorish kingdom by paying off the surrounding Christian ruler (or something of the sort), but eventually falling in 1492. Be warned, however, that you MUST get online tickets, preferably MONTHS in advance, or risk not being able to go to the most precious parts (currently, the only two other ways are to either get a Granada card, also scarce, or join a tour, as lining up in the morning is no longer an option.) I, of course, did not plan that well, and freaked when I discovered the case (it was sold out all the way into January). Luckily, after a series of repeated clicking, I managed to nail down a 7pm ticket, but required me to revise my travel plans (happy to). The hassle was worth the effort. Inside, all the thoughtful and intricate details of the pinnacle of moorish architecture was on full display. Please ensure you bring a spare battery, for with every turn of the head there are careful details requiring your documentation. The most outstanding display is inside the Nasrid Palace, as almost every inch of stone inside and out is carved in exquisite details. And just when you stare in awe thinking you have already witnessed the main event, you are led to another room of jaw-dropping displays which happily out-does the previous room. You can easily spend hours here, and most of us had to be literally kicked out at closing. Outside the fort, central old town Granada can be a little too touristy and hippy-ish (think narrow corridors of the Stanley Market in Hong Kong). But if you venture a little further, or like me, rented a scooter to beat some of the humbling climbs of the steep narrow streets, you can be rewarded. Perhaps the best way to do the city, in my opinion.

Down south about an hour and a half away, starting in Malaga, is the famous Costa Del Sol, a dense overdeveloped Sunshine belt drawing hundreds of European vacationers every year (although, from what I’ve read as I actually didn’t get to see it, it really isn’t all that beautiful but instead just hyped up marketing). Instead, I rented a car and took my time driving an alternative route, through a little hot spring town called Alhama de Granada, then cutting right through the Sierra de Tejeda in what seems like a vertical split of the mountain ranges at Zafarraya Pass. Along the Mediterranean coast, most of it were simply uninspired sleepy retirement-like towns developed to attract European tourists. But once you roll into Malaga, you are once again reminded of the deep history of this region, and the dynamic youthfulness that seems to blend perfectly with it. On a side note, driving in the city of Spain is a nerve-wrecking experience, even for someone who loves to drive. Perhaps the most terrifying part, was trying to squeeze my rental car up SUPER steep narrow ramps in a parking lot in the old town. I stalled twice, and had a slight moment of panic as I thought the car simply did not have enough power to climb up. I now look at all European drivers with much admiration. Even the ones who almost run me over many times.

And then there are the numerous pueblos blancos, or White Towns (or called White Villages by some), scattered along the rolling hills of the junction between the Sevilla, Malaga, and Cadiz provincial lines. Perhaps the one with the most beautiful setting would be the smaller and less disturbed Grazalema, blessedly perched at the foot of a majestic rock face. But the crown jewel of the area would be the super popular Ronda, home to a stunning array of white washed buildings pushed right up against the edges of a deathly gorge, connected by a several-hundred-year-old stone bridge over a waterfall. The best way to explore this region is by car, for the sceneries are peacefully outstanding. And if you are lucky like me, you get to go around in a cute little Fiat 500, its small size fitting perfectly in the little mountain roads and its handsome demeanor appropriately blending into the wonderful backdrop.