Paris - 'Hey, I can see the tower that Gustav built'

Paris (France)
29 JUL - 02 AUG

The day before JJ and I had been walking through an amusment park in the gardens out the front of the Louvre, I've got the Tulleries in my head but who can be certain. I remembered that a couple of years ago this place had one of those capsule bungy contraptions that shot you into the stratoshphere at about the same speed that your breakfast would try and escape via your esophagus. After checking it out JJ and I vowed to join the space race the very next day, albeit after a more sedate stroll through the Louvre.

Museum hunting, strolling or wondering may not be the thing that some people want to achieve from a holiday. For some reason I tend to be a little more active when I'm away although one day I'd like to swap those tendencies for many a mind blotting cocktail, a nice beach and a sunset vista. That time is not now however. With that said, museum's aren't really what you could call strenuous activity, not unless that musuem is the Louvre and you're fighting your way through the crowd to spot the Mona Lisa, or you're walking the miles of corridors to try and view the 30,000+ pieces on display, or you're navigating the stairs between floors ( those darstedly stairs again!). This place is immense and if you're in there just for a day then you need a battle plan. This is not the way we went about things.

Angel of Samothrace - Louvre

The only plan of attack that JJ and I carried into battle was to hit the classics or the 'must sees' as early as possible. This meant the Mona Lisa was first on our agenda. Now, just like the other stupid stereotypes of Paris there are a few that are run by those who have seen the Mona Lisa or at least have pretended to. Being a little cynical or sceptical in my old age I've got the feeling that the criticisms are put out there just to keep the crowds away, I'm sure you've heard them, the painting is unimpressive, it's too small, it's only average - WRONG - on all counts...but really, if you want to believe what you hear then don't go, I could deal with not having to dodge the other happy snappy tourists that are just like me. The painting is amazing and her eyes engaging enough to make you really believe that they're following you around!

That painting by Micky D

My own Louvre triptych

Venus de Milo - looking relaxed

Showing a little perspective

Ofcourse there are a number of other critical pieces, the Venus de Milo, any of the classics, the Angel of Samothrace, etc. Too much to see in just one day and enough to have you saturated by so many wonderful works that all you can do to recover is accept the happy hour offering that Paris so graciously serves up between 4pm & 10pm. Did someone say whiskey sours?

The Louvre - from the Louvre

It was with some bravado and a touch of alcohol inspiration that we boarded the bungy rocket ball bound for 50+ mtrs off the ground, getting you to 6g in under three seconds (apparently). The launch took us skyward in an instant but before we knew it we were inverted and bouncing around the Paris skyline like six year olds on pogo sticks, not really knowing what the hell was happening but laughing all the way. Never the less we did manage to catch a great view of Paris with JJ picking out the Eiffel tower with the call, 'Hey, look at the tower that Gustav built!' - for some reason it was absolutely hilarious for the occassion.

With the powers of Gustav in our mind we headed for the tower and tackled the first two floors ironman style, getting us to about 150mtrs under our own steam. The rest of the way was elevator powered, all the way up to the 324mtr mark where good 'ole Gustav had himself a quaint little office to welcome guests such as Thomas Eddison. Not a bad way to spend a day, commanding views of Paris and the ultimate trump card in a game of one upsmanship. 'So, where do you work Gustav?'...'Oh, you know that little tower by the Seine, yes that's my design, I practically built it - my office is at the top of the tower'...'Aha - well I'm a butcher...so, what's your favourite cut of meat?'.

Will power - climb those stairs of Gustav!

The Seine from the top of the tower

The Seine from the top of the tower

At the top!

Champ de Mars from the top of the tower

Ahh..and again

The sunset series - I think JJ nailed this shot! (I hate you ;)

The sunset series

 The sunset series - over La Defense

 The sunset series - over La Defense

30 JUL - 15 yrs on and the Royale with cheese is still on the menu

Taking another set of stairs below the streets of Paris this time we went all subterranean to check out the catacombs. The location of the site is in the ....area, in the 14th arrondissement, and was established over 220 years ago after the 'original' cemetry of Paris in the Marais area was dug up and all remains exhumed for sanitary reasons.

This place is insane! After I overcame a good 30 second dose of claustraphobia we wondered around under these streets for what felt like hours. It's a little surreal to imagine that when you're walking on modern day Parisieene streets that some 20mtrs below your feet are the remains of old time Parisieenes that were around nearly 300yrs ago, some of whom you could be directly descended from. Still, the skulls and bones are neatly stacked, in almost an artistic fashion, which makes you think that somewhere in this city there's a man whose speciality or artistic quality is this...perhaps he could challenge Gustav on a game of one upsmanship insanity.

Hey bro! In the catacombs

Morbid artistry?

Having our fill of bones in very much the same manner that Jenna Jameson does in a long day on set we spotted a quaint roadside establishment for the now 4pm ritual. Pina colada's delivered, and again, and once more, we rallied to make sense of the situation but by the time our senses caught up we had already left the building and were in a macca's enquiring about the existenc of a Royal with cheese and whether beer could actually be purchased over the counter - 'YES' on both counts.

The Royale's with cheese and beer - it happened!

How did they let me into Maccas ?

Turning for home and having to battle our way via foggy minds, logistical malfunction and train stair carnage, (sorry JJ, just had to add to you came a gutsa - BIG TIME), we managed to turn up at Yono's just after nine for a final happy hour shout of whiskey sours! Like the true drinking professionals that we are, can spot a Parisienne happy hour from a mile away.

31 JUL - 01 AUG - All things come to an end, even the good ones

Our last couple of days in Paris were slower and more relaxed than the previous ones. We checked out Notre Dam on one of those and spent the other in the Pompidou viewing exhibits on display in the Museum of Contemporary Art - please also see (The Museum of What the F**$ is that!?). Some of that stuff is just plain warped!

The gargoyles of Notre Dame

The gargoyles of Notre Dame

...and this unfortunately is where this particular segment of 'A Year Full of Saturdays' ends. Travelling around with JJ for the last month was a riot, we had a great time everywhere we went and strangely the time went both quickly and slowly all at once. So to JJ I say a 'Big Thankyou' Moroccan style and  I hope to see you on the last leg home in Brazil. For now I'm off the Helsinki, the start of a little Baltic escapade........>>>here we go>>>

PHOTO BOMBED AGAIN!!!!!!!! OH YEAH !!!

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.