Vol 66 Day 18/19 Fes/Casablanca

We slept in as long as we could the after the previous night’s silliness. Hassan translated while Rabha gave me some recipes for the dishes I had enjoyed while staying there. Including her divine coconut cookies and her version of the almond cookies I had bought at the bakery in Casablanca. I packed my stuff while munching bread for breakfast. I was catching an evening train back to Casablanca as my flight to Oman was the following morning. Hassan and I were heading into Fes for some shopping. Mark decided to stay home with Rabha to learn how to make her delicious bread. I said my sad goodbyes to everyone, and gave Hassan the rug I had bought for him. We headed out for a final walk through the village.

The neighbors kids. After I took this photo, their Mom beckoned me into her home. Hassan told me she was inviting me to see her cave home and that I should go because she has a really nice one.

Her sitting room.

Her kitchen.

I was going to post some video I had taken of walking through the village over the past few days but I am lazy now.

Donkey parking lot.

Market in Sefrou.

Hassan and I made our way to Fez where he took me back to the train staion to see if they had a “Left Luggage” service. They did not so he took me to the bus staion where they did. We ditched my bags then headed to the old Medina so I could do some shopping before catching the train. It was already getting to be late afternoon so I tried to be efficient.

I bought a morocco cookbook and a kiss (the scrubby mitt thing the women were using in the hammam).

We stumbled upon the perfect store that sold both pottery and rugs. I had been looking at these items throughout the trip so I had a pretty good idea about price and quality. This store had both good quality and good prices. And I found the perfect rug. I had been despairing that I would find a rug I liked enough to part with my money for.

Surprise, Mom! I bought myself 2 rugs on this trip. It’s an old tribal carpet and I love it.

Before leaving the house I had Hassan ask Rabha and Itto if there was some kitchen item that they would like but possibly not buy for themselves. They were too polite and would not name anything. Finally I asked if they would like one of the traditional pottery Harira tureens with matching bowls and they admitted that yes, that would be nice.

Since this store had such nice pottery I bought the harira set there as well. Tureen and 6 bowls. I wish I could have brought home a set for myself but it was just way to fragile and bulky and I was already loaded down with rugs!

Hassan sent me this photo taken by his next couchsurfer of his family using the set. I was so grateful for the warm, welcome and wonderful time Hassan and his family gave me I was happy to give them this gift.

We burned more CD’s of the photos and videos I had taken in the last couple of days then headed back to the bus station to pick up my bags. Then we headed to the train station and said our goodbyes.

Hassan was such a great host. I cannot praise this young man enough. He took such good care of me the whole time I was there, he showed me a Morocco I would never have seen on my own and we had so much fun doing it. We have kept in contact now that I’m home. You can look at his new blog by clicking on the link on the right of this page. One thousand thank you’s Hassan.

I sat on a bench on the platform at the train station and waited for the train. I was the only woman waiting. There was a long row of Moroccan men on the benches and as dusk neared they all pulled out plastic containers of food and sat with them on their laps. Waiting. They were waiting for the siren that signals the end of the day’s Ramadam fast. I pulled out the pastry I had bought earlier that was to be my Iftar (the Ramadam breakfast eaten at dusk) and waited along with them.

There was a handsome man sitting next to me and when the siren went off he told me he had forgotten to bring a fork. I ate my pastry and realized it was not going to fill me. I asked the man if he could please watch my bags and I wandered over to the nearby café. I ordered the Iftar special. Dates, hot milk, hard boiled egg, harira and a honey soaked squiggly pastry/cookie. As I left I asked for an extra plastic spoon which I took back to the forkless man.

We chatted a bit, his name was Fouad and he’s a teacher. Very nice man. When the train arrived he helped me with all of my bags. I had left Oman with one carry-on bag and now had three. We sat in the same compartment but did not chat much during the trip. I slept much of the way as it was too dark to see outside.

Once we arrived in Casablanca Fouad helped me with my bags once again. When we reached the street he asked where I was heading. I told him I was flying frst thing in the morning so was just going to head to the airport and sleep there. He was distressed to hear this. He told me it was not safe to sleep at the airport, that I should get a hotel or he offered for me to stay at his place. I politely told him I did not stay at strange men’s houses. He laughed and agreed that was wise as well. He told me his friends were coming to pick him up and he would ask if they would take me to the airport to save me the high taxi fee. There is a train that goes to the airport but it departs from a different station across town. His friends arrived and were nice and they invited me to tea. You know me and invitations…..

We went to a café and drank Moroccan tea. Fouad’s friends were teachers too. 3 of them shared an apartment. They insisted on feeding me so I had a cheese sandwich. After we finished our tea they beseeched me not to sleep at the airport. They said they would take me if that is what I wanted but they would prefer I sleep at their apartment and Fouad promised to take me to the train station first thing in the morning so I could get to the airport in time for my plane.

Call me crazy, but I trusted them. Off we went. It was so funny. When we arrived at the apartment they had me sit in a chair and wait while they scurried around, frantically cleaning their bachelor pad. One of them gave up his room and he shared a room with Fouad. They wished me goodnight, I set my alarm, kept my clothes on and fell asleep. Safe and sound.

As promised, Fouad woke me early, and escorted me to the train station, carrying my bags one final time.


I snapped this photo of him as we said goodbye.

Remember all of the unkind strangers I met on my arrival in Casablanca? These guys undid all of that.

I let a porter carry my bags for me as I got off the train, and tipped him well. I caught my plane to Dohar in Qatar. Waited there for 4 hours then caught my final plane to Muscat where Mahfoodth met me at the airport. I had not had a shower in days and he told me “you’re my friend but you smell bad”. It was true, I did smell bad and I enjoyed my shower that night ever so much.

Pretty awesome vacation, huh?

Vol 65 Day 17 To Grandmother's House We Go

I awoke to this beautiful sight. Rabha was playing with this neighbor girl.

Hassan, Rabha, Mark and I headed to Sefrou in a taxi.

We passed a donkey and I could not resist another photo. The donkey's are just so photogenic.

A butcher shop in Sefrou. On the left is a lamb and hanging from the lamb are it's testicles. Seems boy lambs are yummier than girl lambs so they leave them on.

This was the cutest donkey I saw in Morocco. He's loaded down with cilantro (coriander leaves).

Dude selling herbs and chilies on the sidewalk. After wandering around Sefrou for a bit, looking for something to take to Hassan's Grandmother, we were joined by Zouhair, Hassan's brother.

Hassan's Mom, Itto, had suggested he take us to her Mother's house. So we jumped on a mini bus and we were off to......

..... the middle of nowhere. We got off the bus and walked down a narrow road until we reached an apple orchard. Hassan started talking to one of the apple pickers then handed him a bag of clothes, received a bag of apples and we started back to the main road.

We asked him who that was and he said it was his father. He had not been home the whole time I'd been staying at his house because he was working all day in the orchard. Hassan was bringing him clean clothes and the apples were to take to Grandma. I snapped a quick picture but his father is not in this photo; he'd already wandered back to work when I took it.

When we reached the main road we walked to a tiny village of maybe 6 houses. There we met Hassan and Rabha's cousin and her kids. Everyone in the village heard that we were there within minutes and they all gathered around Hassan's cousins doorway. Maybe 6 women and 12 kids. They were very curious and very shy. Mark was playing with them, trying to get them to chat but they were too shy so we chatted in the house for a while with the cousin and her kids. The doorway had become quite crowded with the ladies and children peeking in. Mark jumped up and spooked them and they ran away screaming and laughing.

In no time they were back at the doorway, giggling. Mark really is a lot of fun. One of the young ladies, Noelle, got bold and came inside. She and Mark started chatting, with Hassan acting as translator and me drawing what they were chatting about. Within minutes Noelle had proposed to Mark. She suggested he come and live in Morocco with her as Ireland would be too cold for her. She was so sweet and pretty. In this photo Rabha is showing Mark how to make those buttons. That's Noelle's arm in red on the left (she declined having her photo taken) and those are my snazzy walking shoes on the right.

Family photo of Zouhair on the right, Rabha in the middle and their cousin with her 3 children. There were no men in the village, they were all off working somewhere.

When it was time to go some of the kids got brave and let me take their photo. Most went running and giggling away. Zouhair stayed behind in the village.

These structures were all over, at the side of the road. They are filled with onions as they are harvested, covered with straw and plastic and the onions keep through the winter.

We walked further down the road.

It was all so picturesque. We kept walking until a taxi picked us up then dropped us a while later.....


..... here. In the middle of nowhere. Hassan pointed into the distance. "Grandmother's house is this way". I was happy to be wearing my new comfy shoes.

We walked across a field.....

..... through an apple orchard.....

Up a hill and then we were there. And there was Grandma, who looked about 100 years old (no offense Hassan, but your grandmother does look really old). She was friendly and sweet. She fed me an apple (yay, food!). We sat on the floor in the house and I listened as the family chatted in Berber. I was so comfortable I fell asleep. A bit embarrassing but there it is. I pretty much slept through the whole visit. When I awoke I needed to pee. Rabha took me outside to show me where to go. Once outside she made a broad, sweeping motion to indicate that the entire outdoors was the toilet. Hmmmm. Where to go. It was all exposed. So I went to the corner of the house, near a sheep pen, and peed there. Kinda like camping or hiking but with more exposure and neighbors who are maybe close enough to see. I was glad I didn't need to poop.

This is a rug that Hassan's grandmother was working on in one of the rooms in the house. As we were leaving I asked if I could take a photo of the sheep I had seen when I was peeing but Hassan said that a dog was now laying there, guarding the sheep so that wasn't a good idea.

I was taken back into the house, a door was opened and there was this sheep in a room. Just chillin'. All by his lonesome. In the house.

Grandma did not want her photo taken but here is her view.

And here is the graveyard beside the house.

And then we walked back down the hill, through the apple orchard, across the field to the road where we waited and waited and waited for a ride. While we waited we played silly games. Simon Says. Eye Spy. Mark and I tried to teach Hassan and Rabha how to juggle.

Eventually a taxi stopped for us and took us back to Sefrou. We bought a bunch of different types of breads and headed back to Bhalil, arriving just in time for Iftar.

Because no one had been home that day to cook, Iftar was a Breadfest. Plus the harira soup. Yummy.

After Iftar/breakfast (at 7pm) we headed back into Sefrou to visit the shower house. Guys on one side girls on the other. Not as social as the hammam had been because I had my own shower stall but some women tried to chat with me as I was drying off. It was pretty funny as my Arabic is so bad.

We headed to an internet cafe where I burned CD's of the photos I'd been taking. I burned copies for all of us- Hassan, Mohammed, Mark and myself. 12 CD's for $7.65 US. Sweet deal.

We headed back to Bhalil where we had dinner (at midnight) at Mohammed's family's house. Cous cous tajine with carrots, cabbage and pumpkin.

On the walk back to Hassan's house, Mohammed gave Mark a gift. A souvenir t-shirt from the Michael Jackson "Dangerous" tour.

On the front it just has Michael's eyes.

On the back is the tour information.

I gotta tell you, this t-shirt led to all kinds of silliness. As I mentioned before, Mark is a really funny guy and he launched into a whole Michael Jackson routine, dancing his ass off. I took a little video of him.

We were cracking up pretty good when Mark tried wearing the t-shirt on his head. Too funny. We called him Burka Jackson and we all laughed our asses off. I took more video of him.

Then I recalled these 2 photos from earlier in the day:


I had been playing with my camera, scrolling back and forth between the 2 photos and commented how it looked like amateur animation.

By this time is was really quite late, like 2am or so. We were all giddy with laughter and we didn't want the night to end as it was to be my last night in Bhalil before returning to Casablanca the next evening. I started taking photos of the guys wearing the Burka Jackson t-shirt on their heads. I had an idea for a video. I even took a turn with the t-shirt.

By the time we were done it was dawn and my face hurt so much from laughing. It was the funniest night ever and I am happy to share it with you with this video:



The guy with the horn is the man who goes through the village just before dawn, waking people who want to eat something before the day's fast begins.

Such a great day. Unbelievably great day.

Vol 64 Day 16 Fes

I slept well again. So well I didn't even hear the morning call to prayer or the fast-commencing siren. I'm sorry, but I'm a bad faster. I had a banana and 2 cookies before we headed out to the Gendarmes office. We were planning to spend the day in the Old Medina at Fes and Hassan wanted to register Mark and I as guests so that if we were stopped by police he would not be accused of providing guide services without a license. Unlicensed guides are a problem in Fes.

On our way to the Gendarme office we passed Rabha (hiding behind her hand in the back) and some of their neighbors. The ladies are making buttons.

Mark, getting goofy with the kids.

Mohammed joined us and we took a taxi to Sefrou, then a very hot mini-bus to Fes. I needed to exchange some Omani Rials into Moroccan Dirhams as I was pretty much out of money. Having to buy a new camera in Casablanca had cleaned me out so I was happy I had brought emergency money. We stopped at a bank. They wouldn't exchange my rials. We stopped at another. Nope again. Another and another and another. The 6th bank finally did it for me. What a time consuming goose chase.

As we came out of one of the banks there was a big commotion. A crowd was gathering and screaming and I thought at first there was some kind of trouble or riot. But no, it was the King of Morocco! How cool is that? I've lived in Oman for almost a year and I've still never seen the Sultan but my first week in Morocco and I saw King Mohammed VI. And I got my camera out of my bag in record time.



As we were walking I read the back of Hassan's shirt for the first time. Too funny! I'm from Vancouver Island. My parents and my brother and his family still live on Vancouver Island. He'd worn that shirt the first 2 days as well and I had never noticed. Honestly, how did I miss that?

The Old Medina in Fes is amazing. We walked and walked and walked for hours, checking out the sights and the shops.

The most complete medieval city in the Arab world, Fes is incredible. It has a feeling of being both modern and ancient. Of the cities 800,000 inhabitants, roughly 1/4 of them live in the old Medina-city: Fes el Bali.


Too funny. I love this photo as much as I loved coming across these mannequins.

One of the souks in the medina.

Ok, I'm a bad person. Seriously. We passed a man who had no arms and no legs. He was "walking" on the tiny leg stubs he had. He was about three feet tall. And all I could think of was "It's just a flesh wound". Truly a horrible person. I'm smiling even now, as I remember him.

I couldn't think of a polite way to ask him for a photo.


One of the gates.

A Muslim graveyard.

Next time, I'd like to have lunch at this cafe and watch the world go by.

The architecture in the Medina is incredible.

Really incredible.

There are so many fountains.

I took a photo of this building but a police officer came over and made me delete the photo while he watched. Hassan sent me this photo. Turns out it was the royal palace and you are not allowed to photograph it.

This is a guest house of the kings palace. The 4 of us gathered at the door and looked around. There were workers scurrying around. I think they were getting it ready for a visit.

Ok, not everyone was scurrying......

The streets in the Medina are all too narrow for cars. The only way to move goods in and out is by donkey. And they seem to have the right of way.

I'd be minding my own business when a donkey would come by, loaded down with boxes and bags, stopping for no one.


Another near miss with a donkey. Those things can move!

I like this photo.

We headed to the tanneries Chouwara, the biggest tanneries in Fes.

They are visually striking.

Little has changed here since the 16th century, when Fes took over from Cordoba as the pre-eminent city of leather production. The ownership is intricately feudal: the foremen run a hereditary guild and the workers pass down their specific jobs from generation to generation.

The leather is washed in the white vats first.

Then dyed in the colored vats.


Yes, they really do get in there with the leather.

One thing these photos can't portray is the smell. We were high above it all, on a terrace, but we could very clearly smell the nastiness of it. Very clearly.

It was fascinating to watch as they manipulated and sloshed.

And nope, I didn't buy anything leather.

We visited a weaving workshop where I was able to purchase a gorgeous bedspread/sofa throw for myself and small kilim rug for Hassan as a surprise. Hassan and Mohammed are so sweet, they carried my bags for me the rest of the day, not knowing one of them was for Hassan.

Mohammed and another beautiful door. His sister and her husband had invited us for Iftar at their home.

As dusk approached we hurried back through the Medina to the street, where everyone else was hurrying, to try to flag a cab. Everyone had the same idea- get home before dusk so we can eat! It took a while but we managed it, though we had to take 2 cabs as there were 4 of us and the petits taxis only take 3 passengers.

We made it to Mohammed's sister's place just as the sirens were announcing the end to the days fast and were introduced to his very friendly family. From the left- Mohammed, his brother-in-law Driss, Hassan, me and Manar, Mohammed's sister, . Their sweet little daughter, Malak, which means angel, was camera shy.

We dined on Harira (the Moroccan Ramadam soup), hard boiled eggs, lots of different sweets, bread, dates and hot sweet milk. Yum!

We took a taxi back to Sefrou where I did something long overdue. I bought a pair of runners at the night market. No more twisted ankles! Yay!!!!!!

We taxied back to Hassan's house in Bhalil where Rabha had made a tomato salad, bread, French fries and hot milk for dinner.

After dinner Mark insisted on serving the tea, which was a great source of amusement for us all.

We were tired, tired, tired after walking in Fes all day.