Paris - 'Aww yeah, it's alright...'

Paris (France)

25 JUL - 28 JUL

So what does Paris really have? OK, so it has that tower that Gustav put up, and it has an Arc that was dedicated to war heroes so that its granduer would befit the epic victories of battle...and it has the Notre Dame, the Champs Elysees, Sacre Coeur, the butte of Montmarte, the Seine, the Louvre, the catacombs, Royale's with cheese, beer in McDonalds, croissants, brioche et al. Yes, it has all of that, all of that is part of the Paris that most people know and all of it is awesome. They're the elements that either bring you here or the ones that keep you coming back, and that's more than a valid notion.

Going with the classics from the get go - Gustav´s tower - Paris

Arc de Triomphe

Notre Dame

Basilica de Sacre Coeur

Champs Elysees

Bridges of the Seine

Royale's with cheese & beer - Pulp Fiction was not 'a foolin''

But...what Paris also has is happy hour! Although the happy hour in Paris magically turns into a plethora of hours at various establishments that can kick off anywhere from 4pm and have you comfortably in absolute bliss until 10:30pm. It's virtually a working day of happy hours, everyday of the week! I mean, why drink at any other time of day? Is there really a need to do so unless you absolutely require to partake in that fabulous Parisienne tradition of having a red or two with lunch. If you time it just right, the combination of lunch and a couple of reds will easily get you over the line for 'Happy Hours'...and the ways these guys do it, it turns into 'Happy Days'!

What else is there? I have the feeling that when the members of Cirque de soleil are on break that somehow they all turn up on the streets Paris busking.  Each twist and turn on a Parisienne streets has a new and exciting busker, ready to take away your Euro, but hey, you're more than happy to pay them for their work. One day when JJ  and I were up the butte of Montmarte, (yes, it sounds as bad as it reads), checking out Sacre Coeur and the amazing view over Paris, we caught Iya Traore, a footballer/freestyler, who was simply amazing. His musical backing tracks left a lot to be desired, I mean if I was his manager I'd beat him around the head a few times to smarten him up, (Celine Dion? C'mon man!), but really, this guy is insanely talented. Not only does he have skills whilst on terra firma but the kid can climb up a lamp post and keep the ball at his feet or spinning on a pen sitting comfortably in his mouth, what a headspin!?

Iya Traore - freestyling at Sacre Coeur- but does he have hacky sack skills?

Well, he might have hacky skills - the record is 56 Iya - what's your graph like?

Check out Iya's skills via this YouTube clip [Skills to pay the bills]

Another thing to add. Now this is my second trip to Paris and thus far I have not encountered the French 'arrogance' that Parisieene's are apparently so well known for. Being the dumb English speaker that I am, I conversed with each and every Parisienne in the only language that I'm truly comfortable with. Not only was everyone courteous and helpful but they did it with a smile on their face, well, except for the guy at the coffee shop downstairs - and whilst the dude didn't smile there wasn't really a trace of arrogance that I could locate on my 'douche dar'. I also have JJ to back me on that call, and whilst JJ knows a couple of arrogant French outcasts at home, there were none to be found in this sojourn.

And finally, as for the place being covered with dog shit? No ...As for it smelling like urine? Well, maybe a little, but I've walked many places in Sydney and have been in many a car park where it smells like half the freakin population had urinated in a stairwell the night before. So that stereotype doesn't seem to hold much water in the fact that it's no different to any other major city in the western world.

Now for Paris and what we did...where to begin, where to begin??

Our first night was about getting out and seeing the Eiffel tower light up. As JJ had read somewhere, the tower lights up for 5 minutes every hour and as a 'Welcome to Paris' badge, it's the equivalent to walking across the Harbour bridge or taking photos of the Opera House. For some reason the main train line to Champs de Mars - Eiffel was closed down and JJ put it to me that we should walk our way there. Now, for people  who geographically know Paris will also know how much of a walk JJ suggested when I mention where we were located. Our little 18m2 appartment was on Rue de Tournelles, in the Marais district  (4th arrondissement). We had already walked from there down to the Seine, acrose the Ile de la Cite where Notre Dam is located and were now eyeing off the Latin Quarter when the suggestion came about. My response was something akin to what I gave JJ when she wanted to walk to Sagrada Familia in Barcelona when we were standing down by the port, 'You what now!?'. Never the less, we went for it, and something close to 1.5 - 2 hrs later we were sitting on the lawns of the Champ de Mars with other Aussies, Germans, Dutch and Spanish tourists, with Indian touts walking around trying to sell water, beer and whatever else they had thought of. Still, the tower is mighty impressive and when it sparks up on the hour, you can only sit back and marvel at the 324mtrs of structure that Gustav and his crew built for the world fair back in the 1889.

It's that tower again

Twinkle..and go now!

26 JUL - Fist pump to triumph

Waking up anywhere close to 10am in Paris was an early mark for us. Seriously though, why feel the need to be compelled to do anything when you're on holidays, especially get out of bed, at any time? When we did finally muster the will to beat the magnetism of the matress we decided to check off another major destination from our Parisienne checklist. So, you may have heard of the place, it kind of pales in comparison to the Eiffel tower but yeah, 'it's alright also', the Arc de Triomphe! Just a smallish structure commissioned by Napolean back in 1806 to welcome home his troops in granduer.

Turning right - Arc de Triomphe 

Up close and personal

Climbing up its 234 stairs, you have a tendency of getting a little dizzy from  wicked right hand turn that gets elevated up from street level to the top of the arch. Not like we hadn't done our fair share of step climbing over the past few weeks either, there was the four floors in our Barcelona apartment, the floors in Marrakech, the floors in Fes, the floors in Chefchouen, the trek up the Atlas to get ourselves the only alcohol available in a dry medina. If ever there was a recurring theme for a holiday, well the steps would pretty much win the day...but with that said, what you claim on your own you enjoy a lot more and  tend to savour the sweetness of victory just a little more, well, so mountaineers and snowboarders would have you believe in any case. So it was that at the top of the Arc de Triomphe we took in a fantastic view of Paris and conquered another famous hometown landmark, one that stands in the midst of so many.

27 JUL - Taking it up the butte

The area of Montmarte use to be known as the last town of Paris, well that was until such time that it was subsumed in the immensity of the French capital. Standing atop of the butte of Montmatre is the Basillica of Sacre Coeur, built somewhere in the 1880's, it has commanding views over the city and is impressive in its stature and presence. Making a fabulously early start to the Parisieene day, somewhere about 12 from my guesses, we jumped a train to Abyesees station and walked up the main stairways of the butte unitl we were well and truly up it. Sometimes stairs can take you to weird and wonderful places hey.

Iya - just hanging around

The streets surrounding Sacre Couer, the area of Montmarte, is kind of a bohemian/artistic centre. Well, more so in the earlier part of last century than it is these days. Ofcourse, like most drawcards it's touristy but to me it still holds that quaint charm that equivalent places like it still hold, like Leura in the Blue Mountains or Montville on the outskirts of Sunshine Coast. We cruised around for a while, checked out Sacre Coeurr and then witnessed a freakish kind of artistry that only a Ghanain with a soccer ball and  too much time on his hands could deliver. Iyra Toare, football freestyle extroardinairre, not only put the hacky sack skills of McPhisto and Elisher to shame (What now!?), but made we want to renounce my religion and take up the religion of freestyling, (what am I again?). This guy was a freak, actually he was more than that, he was a freak in freak's clothing, he was freakish squared. The stuff that he was pulling off I'd only ever seen on YouTube and even then I thought the vids were doctored. Not so with Iyra the magician, hand stands, heels, lamp posts, it was all in his repertoire. I've never seen a busker be asked for autographs before but I think that about 20+ people asked him to sign bits of paper during the time that we watched him display his skills.

Bar shots - the intensity of those eyes, the purpose - all to land a strawer into a glass from 20cms

JJ - looking all sweet and innocent...lol...she'd just ventured down from the butte, c'mon now!

Making our way down from the butte and guessing our way, walking style, back to the Pompidou, we got within two blocks of our destination when we were stopped in our tracks by the call of happy hour and the NEED to down 5euro cocktails for the sake of happiness. Who are we to miss that type of opportunity? I mean where can you get decent $8 AUD cocktails at home for 5-6 hrs a day? ...and where can you feel compelled to take ridiculous black and white photos of you progressively getting hammered as your happiness increases exponetially? Nowhere I say! Nowhere but in the town that is always extremely gay!  That my dear friends is the way we remained, well, with the aid of some Euro fried chicken and samurai sauce, that's the way we remained for out remaining waking hours...oh, and perhaps with the assistance with a little more vodka at home...that's the way we remained (I think?). All that I know is Jeff Buckley put us to sleep on this night, Hallelujah.

28 JUL - Cruising

We cruised on the Seine for most of the day. Jumping a 'hop on/hop off' Seine shuttle which took us around to the main ports of call such as Notre Dam, the Tuilleries, the Louvre and the Eiffel tower. JJ and I made our way from our morning port of call near Notre Dam to the stop of the Louvre crossing through the gardens and landing at the fabled L'Orangerie museum. JJ had been using her powers off voodoo for the past few days to  convince me to get us there, and finally we had made it in order to see the mind blowing works of French Impressionist Claude Monet and his world reknowned Water Lilly painting series....and yeah, 'it was ok!!?'...lol....In actual fact it was fantastic, and I was more than just a little surprised by their sheer size. They were literally oval rooms that held these paintings and each  painting curbed a quarter of the way around. To me it's times such as these that you wish you knew a little more about the mastery of such artistic concepts and a little less about who scored the winning goal in the last world cup, (Iniesta of Spain by the way, 115th minute, golden strike against the Dutch chokers).

How good is Senor Claude!

Water Lilly series by Claude Monet

Cruising on the Seine for the remaining part of the afternoon our journey took us down by the Eiffel tower and then looped back to our initial stop, Notre Dam. Slowly we made our way back into the Marais district and back onto the Rue Temple de Ville for happy hour whiskey sours at Yono's. This was to be the 'apertif' of sorts, the drinks that would inspire us to gastronomical glory at restaurant Robert and Louise. I prefer it to mention it by it's old name, Chez Robert and Louise, it just sounds cooler. Now this is a place that I was introduced to about 3 yrs ago via the journeys in culinary delights of Anthony Bourdain and his 'No Reservations' show. Having had dinner there a couple of times before I was bouncing around for most of the afternoon in anticipation and had promised Janelle a fantastic evening, 'no reservations', literally.

By the time we had made the house of Robert and Louise we were already buzzing. What you immediately notice about this place is that it's intimate, and then you notice the open fire at the back of the restaurant that had a grill on top of it and realise that this is where you food prep will take place - alright, let the good times roll! We kick off hard, being led out by a Serbian carnivore and assisted by a recovering vegetarian we select the blood sausage, snails and potted pork to start things off. To watch JJ not only contemplate eating these items but actually enjoying them, nah, devouring them, brought a tear to my eye. The blood sausage was exquisite, the potted pork superb and the snails surprisingly good, although I think the later was JJ's favourite.

That's our meal on the go - Chez Robert & Louise - Marais - Paris

Then we hit the main, beef rib for two that had been made right in front of us to the Janelle Jordan ordered style of 'medium rare'...'oh no she didn't'? This damn thing was beautiful, blackened and slightly crisp on the outside, pink to red with a little blood in the middle. This is the type of food that you dream of, it's the answer to the question  of 'Hey, if you were having a last meal, what would you have?' - my friends it would be this...the beef rib from Robbie and Louise's place!! With the glasses of Bordeaux accompanying the meat perfectly it was almost a shame that our stomachs were calling it quits on our behalf, but even the best things come to an end.

It tasted 10 times better than it looks here!

More than satisfied by what both of us ranked as one of the best meals we had had in our own respective histories we criss crossed the streets of the Marais, not intentionally, we were just a little plastered by this stage. Making it home and raiding the freezer for the duty free vodka we purchased in Tanger, we drank our way into the morningonce again. Paris, you just don't have a 'fail' button now do you!? I like that about you!

JJ and I getting our rockstar on

Rockstar hammered - vanquished to the back bars of Paris - never to pull a crowd again!

Tanger - The Heilu and Weida show!

Tanger (Morocco)

24 JUL - 25 JUL

It would be fair to say that I held no great expectations for Tanger/Tangier prior to arriving from Chefchaouen. I had heard that it was a bit of a dive, an old style port town with a seedy Moroccan sailor type of vibe. It would also be fair to say that when we hit the outskirts of Tangier and rounded one of it's greatest touristic drawcards, an almighty open sewer approximately 5kms from the centre of town, well then JJ also acquired the feeling that this place could quite rival Phonsovan, Laos, for the biggest dump of nothingness above the equator. I'll still never quite understand the man  that I saw sitting by the edge of the sewer staring at it like it was one of the greatest sights he'd ever witnessed, and with that said, if it actually was, then he must have a life of surprises just waiting for him around the corner, literally.

Pulling up at the bus stop which is right on the edge of the port of Tangier, the first thing that someone told me or rather  for me to do was  to put my mobile away, out of the sight of nibble fingers, 'if it's out and about then don't expect to see it in your posession for too much longer'. We looked around for a cab, which was not too difficult to find and then showed him the destination of Dar Jameel, which I suspect was not to be too far away. Also immediately the cab driver motions to another guy, he jumps in, explains that his name is Abdul, that he works right next door to Dar Jameel and that he'll show us the way. 'Ok Abdul, you're apparently the man' - it's funny, but on reflection I think we got a little played with the taxi driver act, no matter, the end result didn't end up being all that bad.

Off we shoot from the port, up the hill into the medina, making turns in small streets and alleyways that the donkeys in Fez would have looked twice at. Both the cab driver and Abdul laugh when JJ gasps at one of the turns, have go to say though, there was a little bit of 'Moroccan crazy' in the way that they both laughed in tandem. Several right hand turns later we are literally back at the port, on the very same road where we were dropped off, approximately 20mtrs away. Upon questioning our guides it was explained to us that the way that we travelled is 'the only way' you can drive up into the medina, 'Aha, and so the full buggering now begins!'. We make it to the riad a few mins later and the cab driver asks us for 50 dirhams, ok, so not so bad. I go to pay Abdul for his assistance in carrying bags and what not, he says, 'Don't worry, you pay me later, for now go in the riad, change, see the view and I'll meet you later'...meaning ofcourse that he'll be waiting at the front door and will hijack our tails the moment we exit.

Tanger beach from Dar Jameel - Morocco

Tanger medina from Dar Jameel - Morocco

Tanger beach from Dar Jameel - Morocco

Thankfully the riad is fantastic and it does have a great view of the port, the main beach of Tangier and the medina which rises in tandem with the hill above it. The riad itself is also quite colourful and maybe for that point alone it would have been interesting to have stayed an additional day rather than having done an overnight hit and run mission. We also later discovered that it was possible to do a 35min run from Tangier to the Spanish port of Tarifa, and I have to admit that it would have been interesting to say that you had lunch and dinner on two different continents.

Welcome to Tanger - 'playas'...word...

Dar Jameel interior - Tanger - Morocco

Dar Jameel interior - Tanger - Maroc

After getting settled, JJ and I exited the riad and walked almost like zombies into the waiting arms of Abdul. He waited about 90 mins for us, and both JJ and I wondered internally how long he would have actually waited until he pulled the pin. Once in his clutches 'IT' begins. Abdul explains the itinerary that he's already mentally created for us, 'OK, so now we go to the beach and then I'll take you for a walk through the medina, and then to belly dancing on the hill where you'll have a great view over to Spain'. JJ and I roll our eyes, like 'What type of 'you're dreaming pills' did you take this morning?'. We explain that all we want is a good seafood dinner down on the beach and that was going to be all basically. Abdul says ok but then launches into a 'medina tour' again  - this cheeky monkey, (that one was for you Jet), is going to be a little persistent!

Walking down onto the beach and steering us into a nice restaurant with a decent view we were admittedly happy with the choice that Abdul had made. Then he goes on, 'Now WE'LL eat and then I'LL take you on a tour of the medina'. I respond by saying 'WE'LL?', well no Abdul, you're not having dinner with us bro. I explain to Abdul then we'd like to have some privacy and the two of us would like to have dinner alone. 'Oh, ok, should I meet you here in an hour or so?'...'No mate, we don't need you hey'...after a bit of back and forth Abdul gets the idea that he's not wanted and that his pay day will not be so grand. 'Ok he says, I will go now but you need to pay me for my services'. If I was feeling a little pissy or wanted to have a go at the guy I would have told him off, but eh, the restaurant was ok, I shot him 50 dirhams and that was the last we saw of Seedy Abdul of Tanger.

Tanger sunset

Several margaritas and an awesome seafood dinner later, staring down the beach, JJ comments on the stage that's set up on the main beach and the Arabic music that's being blasted - there looks to be quite a crowd. A little begrudgingly JJ convinces me to go for a walk and get into the thick of the action. Now admittedly from the get go I'm not into it, the tunes sound like scizophrenic Serbian turbo folk music and that type of vibe makes me go a little homicidal. The beach is full however and there's young Moroccans pulling off weird and crazy Arabic moves that only they now how to do. I can't explain their actions but lets say that the dance  style is uniquely Arabic and more than just a little amusing to me. JJ is getting her groove on and I'm standing there, looking at the stage, trying to get my head into the rythyms and the young Moroccans bemused by our appearance until the main honcho starts screaming out, 'heilu, heilu, heilu, heilu, heilu' - the crowd are throwing their hands up in aeroplane jelly fashion. A little later in this Arabic cacophony he rips out 'weidu, weidu, weidu, weidu'...who is this guy? Is he like the Moroccan Ricky Martin or something? In any case, JJ and I figure that it's something akin to self promotion or a bit of a band shout out and that the crew is called 'Heilu & Weida'....man, that band name covered quite a few miles over the next week in Paris. Still, by the time 'Heilu and Weida' were done and dusted the crowd had been beaten out of looking for anything but a Moroccan whiskey, aka mint tea, to recover from the excitement overdose.

The 'Heilu & Weida' crowd, going off...or something

The crowd expected big things from Heilu & Weida - boy, did they deliver!

BANG!!! Photo bomb your own shot why don't you!

As the gig-a-thon ends we walk up the beach and dip our toes for a while back into the Meditteranean, just to say that we've taken a swim on both sides. Walking back to our riad via a glaciery we dose up with couple of our favourite ice creams and make it back to the riad somewhere close to 1:30am. It's early enough for us to crash out, our flight to Paris is at 9:00am and a few hours of sleep wouldn't exactly go astray. We turn out the lightsand charge down. We say thank you to Tangier, you didn't give us much but you gave us Heilu and Weida, for that we will be eternally grateful!

JJ takes on both sides

Chefchaouen - 'I lost to destiny in a hand of poker'

Chefchaouen (Morocco)

22 JUL - 24 JUL

So JJ and I were sitting in a cafe one night in Chefchaouen, having an over sugared mint tea, which in itself isn't bad because mint teas are just NOT BAD, at any time! Carefully sipping on probably the 63rd mint tea we've had in the last 6-7 days, I hear a guy just over my right shoulder chatting to a lady in what I understood to be Italian. I turn around to see a middle aged man, face worn and beaten by the winds and sands of the  Sahara, darkened eyes, head scarf and Arabic style clothing, chatting fluently to this lady. Now this guy is intruiging, I turn a couple of  times to just look at him, he was just that type of character. JJ also found him interesting for some reason and pointed him out to me. Don't know what it was but he had 'something' about him.

Blue door series - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Blue door series - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Blue door series - Chefchaouen - Morocco

The next day JJ and I had made our way out of the medina and up the hill/mountain that provided to essential backbone and backdrop to the charming town of Chefchaouen. There wasn't any real reason to make our way up other than the fact that there was bound to be a great view and the fact that the very much out of place Atlas hotel would in all certainty be able to provide us with the alcoholic hit that two desparado's such as ourselves needed. We sat in the midday sun for sometime, the temperature gauge climbing all the while as we downed a few beers and whatever else may have made the hit list.

Walking back from the hotel to the medina via a type of 'no man's land', JJ and I somehow managed to stumble onto the topic of destiny and I mentioned that for some reason whilst I thought it to be a nice concept and that I'd like to somehow believe in it I couldn't quite get my head around to the point of accepting it. Anyway, we chatted and discussed theories before breaking through the walls of the medina and aiming for the cooling waters of the falls on the eastern breach of the town.

Dr. Destiny (Hammou) and JJ - I think he was gunning for JJ to be his 3rd wife or something

We passed through most of the blue town, reaching the far end relatively quickly. At one point we passed a shop that seemed a little different from the sheer fact that there wasn't a some hawker trying to pull you in so as to offload their wares. I turned to have a look inside and stopped JJ in her tracks , asking her to come in also. As our eyes adjusted to the darkened room we looked around the shop and then down to the floor in front of us. There sitting in front of us was the engaging Arabic guy that we had spotted the night before. He asks us to sit down immediately and offers both myself and JJ a slice of the watermelon that he was just cutting up. I politely refuse and JJ accepts after a couple of requests from the man. He comments to us pretty much immediately that we look familiar to him and that he must have seen us recently. We point out that we sat behind him during his conversation with the Italian woman the evening before, 'Ahhh yes, now I remember'. He starts talking, commenting generally on his beliefs and his thoughts on destiny. I'm kind of engaged by what he's saying, fully amused by the fact that this was a topic that I'd just been discussing and had kind of indirectly sort out this guy for no particular reason at all. Destiny 1 - Elisher 0 at this point.

Hammou,(our new teacher of all things soulful and destiny related), then asks us to view his shop and choose anything that we're compelled to buy, or rather, are drawn to. JJ, after a little looking actually does find an 'interesting cooking/kitchen' implement for her brother, which was pretty much the precis that her brother Jason had provided before leaving Sydney. A short negotiation commences and in the end the theory of the 'democratic price' works out, good for the buyer, good for the seller, everyone leaves happy and the art of destiny remains intact.

Chefchaouen - Morocco

Chefchaouen - Morocco

Walking back to the falls we spend the later part of the afternoon with our feet freezing in the cold mountain water and the rest of our body getting burnt by the violent African sun. As the day closes out we wander back in to town and chow down on plates of fries...that's it, just fries. It's strange ,but no matter how good Moroccan food is, and it really is, sometimes you just need to get back to basics for a night.

Chechaouen - Morocco

23 JUL

Chefchaouen in some areas, and from some angles looks like more of a movie set than a town. It's just one of those place where the looks are specific and picture perfect. You could easily imagine a spaghetti western being shot on it's streets, shady Moroccan characters strolling into the main plaza on their horses, holding up at a a cafe or bar for a few hours and then perhaps setting on a tourist for a dual at high noon. In reality however the gun totting Moroccan cowboys are the restaurant staff that try to pull you into their establishment at every opportunity. Your part in this dual, as a tourist, lies in the ammunition you have your disposal and the ability you have to shoot down these requests with amusing retorts or anecdotes. If you fail, well you could very well be eating a helping of kefta or lamb tagine that really wasn't on your agenda.

Shades of blue - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Shades of blue - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Successfully dodging the touts, JJ and I take a stroll through the kasbah and then walk through most of the town, appreciating what it has to offer. As today is Friday, the Saturday equivalent in the Islamic faith, the streets are more quiet then usual, people are even more relaxed than the 'busier' days of the week. We walk the streets of blue, appreciating the diversity, the scenery and the sense of calm that this town has to offer.

Finishing out the day we head back up the mountain to the Atlas in order to catch the sunset and to get that alcohol fix that dependants like us so dearly need - it ain't all bad here in Morocco, but damn, they make the infedels work for their drinks!

 Sunset in Chefchaouen - Morocco

24 JUL

This was our last day in Chefchaouen, kind of a shame because it was such a great place, but that's the game of travel. We were out  and at the bus station by 3pm, ready to jump another ride for 2hr stint north to the port town of Tangier. It was at the bus station that 'destiny' played a little bit of a trick on me and went up in its ongoing 'proof of concept' match with me 2-0. So I'm sitting there with JJ, having myself a coffee, waiting for the bus from Fes to show up. I turn around and there stands Abdul, the shady little bugger that took me on a guided tour of Fes for a full day two years ago, please see the 2008 link of (Abdul the shady bastard). I walk a few steps and stand right in front of him, he immediately recognises me but can't quite place where it was - it takes a few seconds but then he connects. He gives me half a hug and then we chat for a little while, something akin to 'how the f*** did this happen?'.  I was only telling JJ a few days ago in Fes about Abdul and how he had guided me around and how I thought he may have been dodgy. Now, in a totally different foreign Moroccan town on pretty much my last day in Morocco the 16 yr old kid of two years ago is now an 18 yr old man wearing strange happy pants. He tells me that he's travelling with his German girlfriend, heading north or something like that...strange thing is that I don't see a girlfriend anywhere or any luggage for that manner...but hey, isn't that the Moroccan way, kind of dodgy, kind of shady but always good fun. He takes down my e-mail address and adds that he might be visiting Australia and New Zealand sometime in the future, 'we'll see Abdul, ...we'll see'. It was kind of a bizarre occurrence , a coincidence perhaps....or maybe destiny just out bluffing me once again.

Chefchaouen - Where the Blue Man group came to die

Chefchaouen (Morocco)

21 JUL

A place that sounds as though it should be a location in a Star Wars movie has got to be a relatively cool place, right? A few years back I heard of a place in the northern part of Morocco, located in a part of the Rif mountains where the streets and buildings were painted blue, where the locals were the most chilled out in Morocco and where the reason behind their calm nature had a lot to do with the free availability of quality hash. Understanding those qualities and doing my best to convince JJ that a blue town was well worth travelling to we through the hamlet of Chefchaouen onto our Moroccan agenda.

Splitting from my parents in Fes this morning and allowing them to battle it out to Casablanca on their own, JJ and I hopped onto a CTM special and aimed ourselves 3 hrs north of Fes. The ride up being generally quite pleasant with the landscape changing by the same degree that it had on the train journey in. The last hour of the journey becoming quite hilly and even mountainous in part.

The first sight that you catch of Chefchaouen driving in is from about 3kms out of town. You come in over a rise high above the town and then wham, you see the town pretty much spread out in front of you. From the way that the buildings are constructed you can tell that it's a Moroccan town, all there are specific Andulusian influences that give it a special touch, making it a little different from it's southern cousins. Interesting also, the town is pushed back into a mountain cove, so you have the medina (old town) kind of built down the sides of two mountain peaks, almost as if the town had deliberately backed itself into a corner. I guess the hypothesis being that if anyone was going to the attack the town, well then they'd be foolhardy or desperately insane to come at them from the mountain ridges, so any 'real' threat would obviously be spotted way in advance.

Arrivng in Chefchaouen in the early evening, we had enough time to unwind a little and then take a walk through the medina, which is where our riad was also located.What you immediately notice at ground level is the fact that this town IS blue, and a variety of shades of blue. Apparently the reasoning for this is historical. Many centuries ago Chefchaouen was a Jewish settlement and the inhabitants chose to paint their town blue, a colour synonymous with the Jewish faith. When the town 'changed hands' or so to speak, the inhabitants decided to keep up the tradition and maintained the blue colour, thus the survival of a blue town high in the Rif mountains.

Chefchaouen - blue man street - Morocco

Chefchaouen - Morocco - you could be  forgiven for thinking that you were hanging out somewhere in the European Alps, the setting was that engaging.

Sunset - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Feeling blue - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Sunset - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Dar Gabriel - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Sunset - Chefchaouen - Morocco

Chefchaouen - Morocco

Once again, this place seemed to be far different from the larger cities of Marrakech and Fes further south. First of all the location was absolutely stunning. If it wasn't for the ever present Moroccan flags, the incessant request by shopkeepers to check out their wares and the insane number of tagines on display, well you could be forgiven for thinking that you were hanging out somewhere in the European Alps, the setting was that engaging.

Having had a late lunch in the main square we were advised of a waterfall/cascade/river that was located at the eastern end of the town. JJ and I made our way through blues territory and found ourselves a more than quaint mountain cascade which appeared to be 'the' afternoon meeting spot for the locals also. We sat there for quite some time, watching the sun set over the ridge above us and daring to dangle our feet into the freezing cold water that also flowed from the same area. We had only been in Chefchaouen for a couple of hours but we were already satisfactorily 'chilled out', quite obviously this place had just a 'little something' going  for it, that much was obvious.

Fes - ConFeZsions of a drunken camelsteiger

Fes (Morocco)

19 JUL - 20 JUL

We made a valiant attempt to start the day by having breakfast on the roof terrace of the riad Zamane. Valiant in the sense that by the time the clock had struck 8am the sun was already blazing and we were pushing the mid 30's mark, probably not the most favoured way to chill out with a fresh glass of orange juice and a coissant.

The prospective heat of the morning and midday sun kept my parents within the confines of their 17 degree air conditioned room, under covers, under blankets and hidden from the Moroccan disco inferno that attacked their space from just behind the stone riad walls. JJ and I, defined by the 'hardness' of our own internal mechanisms, please also see (stubborn as two mules on a hunt for fairy floss..?), decided that we were going to go out and attack Fes for what it had to offer.

Streets of Fes - Morocco - where dialing for a taxi will get you a donkey, home delivered

We commenced our self designed journey at the blue gates,(Bab Boujloud), the famous entrance to the medina. It's usually at this point that you encounter 'tour guide' spruikers, telling you how they specifically have the skills to guide you through the myriad of roads, alleyways and side streets, and in all honesty, for a medina that is 19kms squared in size, containing approximately 400,000 people and has somewhere in the vicinity of 9800 recognised streets, you probably do need a guide in order to make the most of your time. As I said, 'most people' would accept this offer for assistance gracefully. The guide that we encountered at the gate was doing his best to put the word on us, attacking us with his big Moroccan welcome, quoting a few stats and asking us to slow down so that we could at least hear what he had to say. My man, apologies, but the both of us were on a mission and we had no time to waste, we cleared his verbal clutches only to be thrown a parting passive aggressive line that went something like, 'a man in a hurry is always dead'...well yes, that may be the case, but if we were now dead then who the hell were you going to guide around the medina? What's more, do lines like that really get tourists to stop in their tracks and recant on their decisions? I'll need to contact the Moroccan bureau of statistics for those numbers, watch this space.

 Fes - Morocco

 Fes - Morocco

Walking down one of the two main roads of Fes I had it in my mind that we'd aim for one of the tanneries that are located in the heart of the medina. Not the most difficult place to find, but not the easiest either as it involves a little local knowledge with some twists and turns, something that I didn't have , although I do have a relatively decent internal guidance system with decent orientations skills, so taking on the ultimate test was something that I was happy with.

Now Fes is one of those old style towns that has particularly small streets, fit for only pedestrian traffic and donkeys (their version of a taxi), high stone walls, twists, bends, shops of intrigue and confusion, markets, mosques and all things else Moroccan. It's an old town that's mysterious and interuiging in it's own right, different to the very 'in your face' nature of Marrakech, these guys are more subtle, less pushy but probably as insistent, and yet is still has a quietness and calmness about it. There appears to be a lot hidden behind the high street walls of Fes that you don't get to see, an element that always has you kind of guessing at the possibilities.

Tannery - Fes - Morocco

Tannery - Fes - Morocco

 Tannery - Fes - Morocco

After walking for something close to an hour and two refreshment stops, JJ and I managed to find the tannery. Nearly on our own, we were kind of guided in by a local over the last 100 mtrs, very much in the same way that a local harbour pilot takes control of a tanker or cruise liner in their home waters. So, what's so amazing about the tannery? Well, it's probably not so much the manner in which they dye the coloured hides, although it looks to be particularly labour intensive and damn hard work if this is your chosen style of employment but more so its the vibrancy of the colours of each of the clay dyeing vats and the look of the medina that immediately surrounds it. Aesthetically it's an amazing sight but the accompanying smell is none too appealing, something to do with the copious amounts of pigeon droppings that they use to treat the animal skins prior to dyeing. I'm not quite up to speed on that element of the process but there's always Wikipedia for personal interest.

Having being committed to Fes success, having taking on this headspin of a place and nearly scoring a clear victory, JJ and I headed back to the riad for a few drinks before jumping into a cab with the parents for an afternoon panorama tour of the town from outside of the medina walls.

Panoramic view of Fes

It's tough in the ceramics business....seriously, it is!!!

Ummmm.....yeah

20 JUL - Walk this way

Sunrise - Fes - Morocco

The miraculous Manuel (aka Abdul the great), the man of riad Zamane that can organise anything for you before you've even thought of it, hooked us up with a half day walking door of the old town on this day. My parents having remained indoors for the majority of the previous day and have gauged the morning temperature of Fes on this day as being quite comfortable, joined us for a 4hr expedition into the  heart of the medina.

Medersa - Fes - Morocco

Oldest university in the world - Fes - Morocco

I think for my parents, Fes more of a relaxed and acceptable type of atmosphere. No speeding motorbikes clipping your heels, no horse drawn carriages about to run you over, no shady Moroccan men waiting to reach deep into your pockets on consent, or even without your consent. Our guide was actually quite good, advising us of the main historical features of the town, the main mosque, the university that is claimed to be the oldest in the world, the various shops of artisans selling uniquely Fes style wares. In fact the first shop that we stopped in within the medina was a carpet co-op that had hundred of luscious hand made carpets of varying quality and style. I could see on entry that the eyes of my mum lit up, and as they say in the classics, 'let's get ready to rumble'.

It was to become a 'carpet-a-thon', Berber made carpets, Jewish made carpets, carpets from the Toureg, carpets that the owners cousin made, carpets that some poor retardo kid from the backstreets of Tanger kind of made. It was a whirlwind of knots, colours and wool. Beads of perspiration running down our faces with the anxiety and pressure of needing the make the critical decision of what would work and  what wouldn't with our house. As the Moroccan whiskey, (see mint tea), settled our nerves and cleared our mind, we made our final decision. Time for negotiation, and then, the ATOMIC BOMB! As dad and I sat back, kind of deliberating, kind of waiting to play the well known Moroccan sport of 'democratic price arrangement', mum was shaking hands with the owner and entering into a binding verbal agreement.Well, that just trumped us all!! Needless to say, the carperts that we've locked in are truly stunning and whilst they may be running on the high side of the prospective range, I'm more than satisfied with the result.

Running on that endorphin high that only females can really appreciate, we moved through the medina with gusto and appreciation. Visiting the tannery once again and spending a little more time with 'our man' Hassan, a person that JJ and I had managed to successfully dodge the day before. A artisan related stops and we were back to the riad Zamane for afternoon session with our good friend Mr Heineken and co.

 Tannery - Fes - Morocco

Later that evening I set up dinner at a riad that was quite close to our own. Two years earlier I had had dinner at the same place and had spent a couple hours of one afternoon happily chatting with the owner Khalid over a mint tea with nothing more than good conversation on the agenda. I took JJ with me to make the reservation early in the afternoon and was happy to be met by Khalid at the door, and then was more than a little surprised when he actually remembered when I had came last time, where we had sat and the fact that I had
written a few words in his guest work (which he was more than happy to show me - kind of strangely amusing to see the words you've written a few years previously in a place that's completely foreign and so far from home).

We ended up having a mammoth dinner at the house of Khalid and as I did two years ago, thanked him graciously for his hospitality and good nature. Winding up our stay in Fes on this evening, this was to be the departure point for my parents who the next day were set to make their way to Belgrade via the short hops of Casablanca and Madrid, and has for JJ and myself, the next day we were heading into the Rif mountains and the small blue town of Chefchaouen.