malade, très malade ...

So we had gone raw.  Meaning in this case only fresh fruits and vegetables, maybe cashews and almonds.  No food dehydrator, no blenders. Of course we had plenty of fresh squeezed orange juice.  We were living in the Palais and things were looking good.  Sure it was a bit dated, but we had our own kitchen and we were a bit off the beaten path, it was quiet and most days we were left to our own devices, I think maybe two tour groups came through the whole time we were there, to view the other areas of the Palais.  Sometimes as the sun would set, the world would calm and cool air would rush in through the open windows and doors.

Then the stomach came.  It came with a rush.  We both wanted to blame the melons.  It really had to be the melons.  The ones that look like huge cantaloupes on the outside but are more like honeydews on the inside.  I mean it had to be them, I ate one right before it hit, and I was really loving it.  I was hearing Dr. Latham on his tape, talking about cleansings and good melon cleansings.  I'm thinking, hell yeah.  Gonna clean all this old mess right out of me.  If the worse thing is the runs, then I can deal with them.

Then with a wretched twist, my stomach felt like it hit the floor, cramping incessantly.  It continued this as I continued getting dizzy, dizzier, then with the dizziness came chills and hot flashes.  Then, the cramping got worse, followed by mad dashes to the bathroom.  This went on for a few hours, as the cramps got worse.  Then after a while, I got dehydrated.  After a minute I passed out in the bathroom and woke up on the floor.  Because I started feeling dizzy before I passed out, I knew to make my way to the floor, but I passed out before I fully made my way down.  Moments after, Candice was there to make sure I was okay, because of the sound of my body hitting the floor, but okay I wasn't.  I had cracked something or pulled something in my back falling down, bumping into what ever pretty hard.  I couldn't move.  Slowly, slowly, slowly, Candice moved me to the bedroom, and helped me lay down.  Painfully, I waited for the next trip to the bathroom, where I couldn't make it, due to the pain and inability to walk.  Mind over matter though, right.

My mind is pushing me to thoughts of which hospital I will go to, and how I will get the neighbor to call.  I am figuring that if I can manipulate my way out of the bed and make the trip to the bathroom, I might not need to go.  I had strained some muscle clearly, and I figured it would be closed for business  at least four or five days, meaning I would be off of my feet.  But we go to the medina everyday for fresh fruit and veggies.  Plus, we are due to move to another rental in four or five days as well.  My stomach has not relented...  I wonder if the Adinal left over from Egypt will work, it hasn't expired.

My stomach didn't relent for at least four days, it really isn't 100% now.  It is in the 98% region.  This also ruined my raw food transition, because, in the end you want to clear everything out, but it needs to leave as a solid, sometimes... and in an orderly fashion.  In that regard, I was just a running fountain.  Well, you get the idea.

When my landlord came to help us move to his other flat, the garden apartment, which was beautiful, by the way.  I could tell that I was sicker in appearance than I felt, which was pretty horrible, by his expression.  I could barely move myself, let alone my suitcases.  Luckily, he was a big help, and he and a nephew, pretty much took care of the move.  The apartment was also on the first floor.  I managed after about a week at that apartment to get back to normal.  However, I think this bout of the stomach illness, in Fez was the worst I care to remember.  Luckily the Adinal from Egypt worked, because the stomach illness laughed at the Imodium from Marrakesh.

For all practical purposes the stomach illness cut two weeks from the trip and I can't blame anyone's cooking, because we were eating nothing cooked.  It was just the luck of the draw, and that melon.  Afterwards, we stuck to watermelons (just like the ones back home), peaches, nuts, and a pizza here and there for me and the kids.  Had to get solid.  The funny thing about that is that right when I was looking for some type of cooked food, anything, Ramadan hit.  So all the local restaurants, most of them were closed.  So my hopes of a regular movement were dashed.  But there was always Pisa, where we had a flight layover scheduled!  So there you have it, as we prepare for another bout of going raw again.  A picture or so to remember the medina by...

Entrance leading to the medina, nearly empty due to Ramadan

Baraka

I was wondering a few minutes ago why it felt like my blood was boiling even though it is quite cool in my room.  I just checked the weather, getting ready to go out and it is 108 degrees outside!  I thought it was only 104... so figured we would wait a few hours until the temperature drops.  We were out earlier, had to run a few errands, that might explain why we came back exhausted.  But we cooled off pretty quickly.  On the way out, we came across the guy in the photo, didn't even know they had turtles here.  He swaddled slowly along in front of us.   Guess he had the right idea, take it slow and easy...

A bit later, we were riding in a cab, that made me think about cabbies and the heat.  A hot day is a cabbies best friend.  All the cabs were full, and when we finally got one, our cabbie picked up and dropped off two passengers on the way to dropping us off.  I think he had mercy on the two women, everyone was hot and trying to get out of the sun, and the streets were still packed and hot.  Anyway, we ended up all on the other side of town and the cab rides each way only cost the equivalent of a couple dollars.

I read the guidebooks to find tips about travel and also read the news via the internet.  The story of the waitress at Chilis who got fired for threatening to spit on peoples food for poor tipping, ie giving her five dollars, got me thinking too.  In a place where giving one dirham, 12 cents, can bring someone so much joy, it is remarkable the negative attitude many people, particularly regular visitors, have about dropping a dirham or hell maybe two in someones hand.  Most of the time I noted really interestingly that people only ask for one.  True, they will ask for one for a long time from a bunch of people, but so what?  If they spend a few hours or maybe even take up beginning as a career, who cares?  It is twelve cent.  If someone could build a house or get rich by begging this way for say ten years, one dirham at a time, I would be glad to be the first or last giver.  There is not much stress either.  Then they are very thankful.  Those who would question my logic would be glad to pay interest on a loan to any number of banks who have devastated the world's economy and evicted thousands in the US alone.  The poor of the world and the beggars of the world tend to bother no one, well in comparison, no one.  Most are old people here, the people asking for donations in Egypt would be kids many times.

From wikipedia - Baraka means blessing in Hebrew, Arabic and Arabic-influenced languages.

• Baraka, also berakhah, in Judaism, a blessing usually recited during a ceremony 
• Baraka, also barakah, in Arabic Islam and Arabic-influenced languages such as Swahili, Urdu, Persian, Turkish, a blessing from God in the form of spiritual wisdom or divine presence. 
• Also a spiritual power believed to be possessed by certain persons, objects, tombs. 
• Baraka, a rarely used French slang term for luck, derived from the Arabic word Baraka, fully ḥabbat al-barakah, aka Nigella sativa, a spice with purported health benefits 
• Baraka Bashad, meaning "may the blessings be" or just "blessings be", originally a Sufi expression and also used in Eckankar 

Yesterday, a man in the medina asked where we were from, after an olive vendor had asked his help to translate something for me.  I said America.  He looked me over and smiled, he said you all are the original people.  He didn't say this for any reason except what he was feeling and understanding.


Most times people are interested particularly where people of color, so called African Americans or dark skinned people are from. It is easy to figure our where many Caucasians originate, via language and demeanor. Often we evoke stares and pleasant greetings.  When we first arrived in the area here we garnered plenty of attention arriving in front of a cafe packed with older men, trying to figure out what we were doing, waiting to meet our landlord.  


I have experienced no problems in Fez.  Ironically when in Essaouira, I sometimes felt there was the hint of racism but the understanding, welcomes and camaraderie displayed by others more than makes up for that.  I think more than racism it was curiosity and sometimes mindful neglect due to the fear of not understanding a foreigner. More than anything I was annoyed by touts, but the problem is that if you let them annoy you to the point you are rude, you will miss your baraka, miss dealing with the genuine people who want to speak to you.  This almost happened to me yesterday.  A schoolteacher approached us and greeted us.  I just knew he was going to start trying to sell a tour, but he was just trying to welcome us and find out what we thought about politics in America, mainly Barak Obama.  I think it is a safe consensus always to say, 'Obama, better than Bush' and leave it at that.  No one, outside of America would disagree.


May you have blessings and baraka as you finish your day or night, more pictures to come.  I will do them George Lucas style and just imbed them in the current post, without much fanfare, so check back soon.  As a side note, I have started using instagram and it is so cool.  Make sure to check out some of the pictures via:

• http://instagrid.me/oarchie/

That is kind of a photo album of the trip thus far.  I don't put everything on there but there are enough so that it makes it fun and interesting to look at.

Fez

Inside our space at the palais

Wonderful Image of the Palais El Mokri dressed up for an event

So we have been in Fez for a little over a week and have lived in an area known as Mont Fleuri and now are living in the medina.  Living in the medina is fun and a bit better for us because you are in the heart of everything a bit more and a better place to experience the hustle and bustle of everyday life.  The exact place we are renting is a bit off the beaten path, even though it is in the medina.  It is a palace known as Palais el Mokri.  They say it is in the quiet part of the medina, off the Bab Ziat, which is a side entrance to the medina.  I have found that it is very peaceful, pin drop quiet, and you are still a five minute walk to the hustle and bustle.

Living in Palais el Mokri isn't like living in the Louvre, it has some age and has been neglected a bit, but because the construction was so solid and marvelous to begin with it is still an awesome place to live, or visit.  You do get the Henry James feeling at times, of a mansion slowly decaying with time, but the care and cleanliness is there in other more tangible ways, ie the bathrooms and kitchen - thus avoiding the Henry Miller feeling of waking up scratching.  The bedrooms and living spaces are also set up impeccably.  The suites also show care.  There really is a big difference when someone takes a bit of care.  Hopefully a bit more renovation will take place, but if it does, that might price me out in the future.  The other palais that El Mokri built right down the way was bought and renovated by a British gentleman and is now renting for probably a great deal more than what I am renting for, but some things are funny like that in life.  All I can say is blessings to the Pasha and his grandson for making my visit possible.

Pasha El Mokri

We are sharing the place with the grandson of the Pasha who built it, his brother and a Danish or German couple.  It is like a hotel, we all have separate areas that are enclosed and linked via the courtyard.  Although, we are usually the only ones around, besides the Pasha's grandson and his family.  It is wonderful living here, at least thus far, looking out at the mountains and enjoying the Andalusian designs which abound at the palace.

El Mokri Palais from above

To get to Fes we took the bus from Essaouira to Marrakech and then the bus again from Marrakech to Fes.  I wish we had taken the train, if there is a next time, we will.  We stopped in Marrakech to see the monkeys, but alas, they were not there.  I think we got to Djemaa El Fna too late in the evening.  Never the less, there were plenty of people singing and story telling and buying and selling.  The place really does come alive at night.  I wanted to stay longer, but I had the feeling I would be pulled into someone's drum circle and after seeing some other tourists pulled in, I decided not.

When a picture speaks a thousand words...

Asari chilling with a snake?

This is the second time we have been in Marrakech, the first time we stopped and saw the snake handlers, the monkeys had been there earlier but by the time we shopped and came back, they were gone.  This was when I was at my bargaining peak.  I figured I was doing good because I made this one shopkeeper mad.  He said to Candice, at first, your husband, he bargains like a Berber, he is Berber, which made us snicker.  Then he said, he is not American, he is Chinese.  Which I took as even more of a compliment, especially the way he sneered when he said it.  Then, he begged me to make an offer at a democratic price.  Now, this is a common plea, but at the time I couldn't help but burst out laughing.  Now every time someone asks where I am from, if it is a merchant, I can say China and elicit a snicker, no offense to the Chinese.  Hell, to get a rep like that in the heart of the hustle they must be pretty shrewd buyers.

He hands me the snake, tells me to hold its mouth, I ask what kind is it and he says, a cobra...

Speaking of first class hustlers, the snake handlers.  They have their game tight.  The snake handlers were cool with us, probably because how we rolled up on them.  They took turns with us handling the snakes and such, I think the show goes on a little later when they actually pull out the guy with the trumpet like instrument and all that, but while I have seen them around town playing, I have never seen them playing with the snake charmers.  Anyways, they are chilling with us, having fun.  At the end, they take the snakes, which I heard a lot of times they don't, then the guy is like, I feel like many blessings are coming.  Blessings for the business, blessings for a long life, good health, prosperous family, and all.  Then, comes the - I see Euros, Fifty Euros, Sixty Euros, Eighty Euros.  EUROS.  One euro is like a dollar thirty cent.  I'm getting memories of Reverend Ike, or Leroy Jenkins.  While he is working on me and all these blessings an old cat come up on Candice, and puts a small snake around Jacob's shoulders and is like, madam, 500 dirham, holding his hand out which is slightly twitching.  I see this from the corner of my eye, because I am still dealing with the muslim Leroy Jenkins.  500 dirham, that is like sixty dollars.  I am like wow.

Don't get me wrong, I did give them something, but not 50 Euro and not 500 dirhams.  I think they could sense the leftover euro note I had in my pocket, it was a 10.  In the end, you really do have to respect the game, and in the end I am living my blessings, as I hope you are yours.  What I considered most though is the fact that, that moment, with the snakes will last in the little ones heads forever, years from now, and I was surprised at how comfortable they were with the snakes.  Later Jacob talked me into doing the Camels, but that is a whole other story.  Now he is working on me for horses, and carriage rides.  I appease him by pointing out the donkeys as they pass by loaded with cargo.

So Essaouira was both smaller and less expensive than Fez and Marrakech.  Things here are about 5% more and living expenses are more for rentals too.  Of course deals can be had, but probably not during peak periods like the sacred music festival which just passed, and the European tourist season which is approaching.  We managed a good deal at the palace, which has probably seen better days, but which is clean and in much better shape than plenty of other places, especially since it was built in the early 1900s.  It is interesting living here because last week, during the sacred music festival, it had been opened as a museum for visitors.  Next month, someone is getting married here, and during the ceremony we have been asked to use the rear entrance and exit, which is more than fine.  The owner is El Mokri's grandson, who took pride in showing us around, earlier today his wife prepared couscous for us which was delicious.  It is customary for Moroccan's to eat couscous on holy day, Friday.  The couscous is loaded with vegetables and sometimes meat.

Pasha El Mokri who built the palais and whose pictures abound in it.

Yesterday when we arrived we were trying to get back to vegetarian living, and succeeded.  So we headed out fruit shopping.  No sooner had we hit the path to the main area of the medina than we were meet by a young hustler slash tour guide, I assumed unofficial.  He started up and since I didn't really know where I was going and was up for an adventure, indulged him.  I assumed we would end up either at the tannery or a carpet shop having tea.  We ended up at the tannery.  It is really worth seeing.  He also managed to get us to the market, which I found earlier today on my own.  His way had us winding and weaving and climbing like crazy.  Mustapha or Stephan, was cool though, he looked more like an Australian than a Moroccan though.  But he took us to both the Tannery and the Pharmacy, although not the huge natural pharmacy that I want to take the kids to.  I heard that one is like something out of a Harry Potter book, when I get to that one I will make a post.

Medina in Essaouira

The tannery from above

Anyway, the tannery does stink, they make a mix of the unthinkable to get a tan on that leather.  They offer visitors a sprig of mint for the nose.  Let's just say that after smelling the tannery on a hot day, you might be vegetarian too.  Then of course earlier today on our fruit run, passing the butchers this cat looks me in the eye as I am passing and chops the head off a chicken he is preparing for someone, I asked Candice if she saw that.  She was like, yeah, and I thought, another one for the vegetarian in you.  But that's another story.  Anyway, the point is life is good, and easy, plenty of vegetables and fruit to be had, and meat if you want it.  Not to mention the best deals on some of the nicest leather, they was measuring me up for a beautiful suede jacket, we cut off negotiations at about 160 dollars,  I mean I wanted it for 50 or 60, but who knows what a good deal is sometimes, he wouldn't budge from 1400 dirham.  I thought 1300 would have been over generous, but we will see.  I mean we plan on being here for a month, and if I really get vegetarian again I might actually end up vegan, I mean then I would be wearing something that goes against my principles, but it would look damn good, tailor made.  I was looking at some leather trench coats getting delusions of Morpheus in my head.  Then the afternoon Moroccan summer heat snapped me back to reality.  If we end up back at the tannery if nothing else I will take pictures of some of their wears.


Back to the veggies and fruit.  The favorite thus far has been the fresh figs from yesterday, they were divine.  We ate the figs, ripe peaches, dates, red cherries, and small yellow plums I haven't seen since I was in Alabama a few years back.  I think I paid about six dollars for the lot, and we got at least a kilo or demi kilo, which is a pound or two and a half pounds of each.  All were delicious.  I have to figure out how I am going to carry a watermelon back in a day or so...

I will take more pictures of the medina and palais in the weeks to come.  I also will give my impressions on Morocco as a place to visit or live.  More to come.

Essaouira

Essaouira on the Beach

Where to start.  Well when I last left off, we were talking about Spanish beaches in Valencia.  I think that is a good starting point.  The liberal environment and very relaxed standard for dress and undress.  Well to keep things balanced, we are now at the beach in Essaouira, Morocco.  Pretty chill place also, well kind of, but totally not the skin camp we saw at the beach in Spain.  It is so so funny the contrast.  Instead people are covered quite well, but they seem to still be having a bunch of fun.  Right now there are more Moroccans on the beach although there is a good smattering of tourist trade.  I think we will witness the change as schools let out in Europe and people start to trickle in on vacation.  The photo above is on an overcast day, so not many people at the beach.  However, most days have seen the beach packed.  We haven't been lately, instead more at the medina and just getting situated.  Funny we went to the beach today though because this is the closest we came to rain, with the day so overcast.  The medina wasn't very crowded either.  Funny, today we tried the English lady's take on Mexican... hmm...

Medina, Front View

The local prices are pretty good, there is a bit more haggling than friends told me, in reference to prices, but no big deal.  It is like any other tourist destination, I just wish we could have come here twenty or thirty years ago, it might have been funner.  People are friendly and very helpful.  French goes a long way communicating, Arabic probably goes a little better.

I was pretty good haggling in our time in Egypt and had fun, lots of fun.  I love haggling.  I even enjoyed haggling in Marrakech, but when we got here, I don't know what happened.  Some of Candice must have rubbed off on me or something.  Whatever the case, I am on a mission now, to get good prices and enjoy doing it, like I used to.  Maybe the atmosphere is too laid back in all other respects.  More on that later though.  I mean, you cant complain when you buy a shirt for 15 bucks that the tailor made himself, especially when he will make more to your order, but I don't know, maybe I am cheap, I always feel like I am getting got.  I mean wouldn't it be better if that shirt was 10 dollars? I mean that is like 85 MAD (Moroccan Dirham).  Then sometimes it is best not to make a scene, like earlier today, dealing with the camel man.  More on that in the future.

Medina, Entering from the back side

Anyway, we are getting some major exercise, since our apartments, both of them, have been outside of the medina. The first one was very near the fabled castle made of sand.  However, we ended up moving and are about  a mile from the medina or the beach.  So you figure, 10-15 minute walk to the beach isn't bad.  We are overpaying for our accommodations, but when you are paying roughly $400 to live in a relatively chilled beach town for a month, who can complain that much.  I should get better at bargaining though, but the landlady was so tough, she was staring me down with a serious I don't give a damn look, en Francais, of course, if that is possible for a look.  So I am like well, talking with our assistant who was helping us communicate, ie speak more fluently in French and Arabic, while assuring his side deal, and she wont budge.  Well she budged a little bit.  But not that much.  Anyway, money isn't everything in life, and she seems to be pretty cool in the end, and she is a hajjah (very respectable) - so probably has some nice money stacked to the side too.

Since we ended up in this area known as Borj deux, we have been entering the medina from the side.  An interesting side note is that by doing so, we avoid the tourist center as much, for better and for worse.  The medina is not paved in this area and they are working on the infrastructure, so until they get it together it is sandy and sometimes a bit muddy.  But since there isn't much rain, it is mostly sandy.  One benefit is that you avoid tourist touts until you get to the front of the medina where tourists are more plentiful.  The prices are more fixed, and the merchants are more serious, if you catch my drift.  But either which way, it is cool.

More photos and stories to come.