Ho Chi Minh City (Saigon)

I found a new favorite city.  Well, not my very most favorite, but Ho Chi Minh City has soul.  It has everything I was missing in Bali.  I mean everyone loves a good beach, but maybe I just like a good crowded city.

We got in last night, fresh off the plane... first stop, immigration.  I was somewhat sad about the 45 USD for a 30 day visa, but I mean, once you hit the streets, it really is worth it.  at 20000+ Dong per USD, you instantly become a Vietnamese millionaire.  I mean, yeah, that visa costs 1million dong, but I mean, there are still plenty of good deals to be had.  Fine food for under 5 USD for a meal, sometimes under 2 USD, not to mention fresh fruit and drinks you could only dream of at home.  Yesterday, I had a passion fruit juice, fresh for under about 1 USD.  Today I had a fresh coconut for a little more.  Then, I had another one.

Immigration was funny though, all the foreigners lined up - worried.  We are all worried about how we will get into Vietnam.  The immigration officials are rather strict.  They were friendly enough with me but they were giving us all a good once over.  We all needed our pre approved welcome letters and photos and 45 USD.  Question - where do you get 45 USD when you haven't been home in a while.  Question - why are dollars the preferred currency for a transaction to get into a Vietnam.  Answer - because the world and life is funny.  More on that tomorrow.

One reason I like Vietnam is because the Vietnamese like what I like.  They like good coffee, they like good fish, they like fresh fruit.  Those things alone are the basis of a wonderful culture.  So first thing this morning when I got lost, I walked to the nearest coffee house, ordered a cup, used the abundant wifi and plotted my direction.  I was headed to the war remnants museum a few blocks away.  I drank my coffee, had a second cup and was one my way.   I felt guilty for indulging, but I think the Vietnamese iced coffee might be better than the Thai iced coffee.  It is strong, with condensed milk added and is simply wonderful.  I don't know how Starbucks exists here, but they do.  I guess there is enough love of coffee to go around.

So on the agenda for today was a trip to Unification Palace, where we went on the official tour, which deserves and will get its own post, then we went to the War Remnants museum.  We also visited a couple of other French structures and then went to the market.

More pictures will follow.  Oh, Asari, right off the airplane at the airport in Ho Chi Minh City, this was waiting - this picture is just for you.

Tech Tuk Tuk

So earlier in the day I sold my Samsung Note.  Why?  Because there is a new one on the way and the price on this one will drop as soon as it is released, because the battery life was never what I wanted it to be, because it was sometimes just too big, because a new iphone is near too and that is interesting even if I know that Apple has slowly become that 1984 ad where it mocked its' future self, then plus I wanted a bigger tablet to read books on and to hook up a bluetooth keyboard to and do things like blog entries like this one completely mobile.  So for all those reasons I sold the Samsung Galaxy Note - but we will always have Paris together - those crisp beautiful 8 megapixel pictures of the Place de la Concorde, but it is all Galaxy Tab 7.7 at this point.  But this is the story of how I got my new Tab 7.7 and the mysteries of the Tuk Tuk.

It started with Singh or Digi Singh, as his email pseudonymed him and an ill advised late night trip to meet down in front of the Starbucks on Khao San Road.  He had already talked me down to an incredible bargain price on the device.  But out with the old and in with the new.  Anyway, he asked to meet at midnight, I agreed, selecting the place carefully.  I am suspicious, device hidden, no money on my person.  I mean this is everything you shouldn't do, midnight craigslist deal in Bangkok???  But the difference is the police station is next door and Khao San Road has its night face on.

Youngsters too young to drink in America have already bought their fake ID for back home, stashed them away to be claimed or not in the airport by TSA and are now on their third or fourth round.  You know, the last one you might remember clearly.  They are thinking something like, wow, wouldn't it be cool if there was something like this in America...  Then this big baldheaded Black guy comes along and blows even that memory and now all I remember is the sweat on his head.  Damn it is still so hot, oh my god... and so the night on Khao San goes.  But I am not on Khao San for that, or the inviting looks, or the questioning looks.  I have rushed past all that to catch up with Digi Singh and his sweaty baht notes, crumpled.  It's like I am selling the Note into some torrid uncouth digital slavery of some kind.  Nah, actually he came with his wife, who looked really nice, probably her I was emailing.  He was buying it for her, but I could tell from the look in his eyes he wanted it more for himself after seeing it.  I could see him weaving a story for her of why he needed it more, as I was explaining how to use it and what not to do and so on. More on that later...  So no funny business and our deal is done.  He and his wife are already there when I arrive with money in hand.

Next day we head out on tuk tuk.  Riding in a tuk tuk is an adventure in itself.  It begins before you get in.  Most of the drivers solicit your business, particularly when it is clear you have other business to attend to, elsewhere, where they can't go.  Then when you need one, they are nowhere to be found, not to mention that if they are they will try to extort every baht from you possible.  They will start out at some insane price, double what a cab would cost, and slowly bring it down.  I mean a dollar or so isn't a big deal, but there are principles.  Who wants to ride on the back of a hot hell trap for twice the amount you would pay to ride in a semi-normal airconditioned cab?  Then of course there is the expression of implicit 'knowing' etched into the face of some of the drivers, like they know some things I might not be ready to know. All that said, they are a cheap and easy, although, crazy, horrifying, fast way to travel.

I am on the way to Bangkok's Chinatown, Yaowarat, to shop for the tablet.  I will get on to describing Chinatown proper some other time.  It really deserves its' own post, just because, but that is for later.  We are interested in one particular part of Chinatown, the electronics market area.  There is about a two or three block area where there is nothing but buildings dedicated to cellular phones and communication technology.  There are rows and rows of stores selling cellphone parts and cellphone accessories and cellular phones and tablets.  So I figured I would make my way either there or this other mall a little further away called MBK to make a purchase.

A tuc tuc driver approaches me as I am walking to look for a cab.  Candice frowns.  "Tuc-tuk?"  He asks the question innocent enough, as I shrug to Candice I ask, "how much to Chinatown?"  He insists that we don't want to go to Chinatown, after I insist, he counters, nothing open in Chinatown.  I'm thinking, "What?"  Then, he asks why we want to go.  I tell him about the tablet I want to buy.  He slowly shakes his head, as if giving permission.  Then, "200 baht."  200 baht, I tell him is too much.  He asks how much I want to pay.  I tell him for that much I could get a cab there twice and then some.  Then he has an idea.  I see Candice shudder.  He tells us we go with him to two shops and then all we will have to pay him is 20 baht, maybe less.  I already know the deal and agree.

The first place we head to is a tailor.  I am kind of geeked to be going to one, because I have avoided them for a while.  The tailors on Khao San road all have a bad name, because their quality is said to be poor.  I don't know if it is true but it stands to reason, so I have been avoiding them, even though they are friendly and really try to connect with me, in particular.  I think that is just the Nepalese mafia doing there thing, but they seem to be nice, but I don't need a cheap cheap suit.  I need a nicely tailor made inexpensive suit, after the weather changes from being so damn hot.  So our driver takes us to a tailor, away from our normal touts.

So we walk into the tailor shop.  The deal is, if the tuk tuk drives a customer to these places, he gets free gas, they give him a gas card or something.  Most of the time they waylay people, but they have all asked me for permission and given a free or next to free ride if I agreed.  If I have nothing else to do I will, but so far I have been to a couple of tour companies, a couple of tailors and a jeweler.  I found out, if you ask the driver, he will take you to the type of shop you want to go to, if he knows one that he can get a gas card for driving you to.  I mean, I haven't bought anything at one, but I started talking to the tailor at this shop trying to build a relationship.  I figured at some point I might buy a suit and maybe I could try a shirt out and see if he could make a quality shirt.

However he got angry when I told him I wanted a business card so I could think about it and maybe visit again.  I wasn't expecting that, I mean to me, you have to build a relationship with a tailor.  That is kind of a close bond.  The Nepalese mafia was happy to give me a card and are friendly to boot.  But no, this tailor, he just wanted to measure me, take a deposit and like that be done.  So we left as he was pouting.  The tuk tuk driver saw some of this and asked as we got back in, "are you okay?"  I felt debased.

We next head to a travel agent.  A young woman is selling us a trip to the south of Thailand.  Apparently there is this island that has a full moon party going on this weekend.  Whatever goes on there at this party requires a full day recuperation added to your itinerary.  Her manager and her just know that is the trip that we need... we decline.  They assure us we have to go because there is a full moon this weekend, and not another one for a whole month.  "I am like, really? How could you predict that?"  I try to let her down gently because I mean, I would have thought about some trip, but not that one and then the other trip was vastly overpriced.  But I did find out there is a monastery where buddhist monks care for tigers.  I thought that was the coolest thing.  Maybe in the future we will go there.  I assume the tigers are not a threat or they are distanced from unsuspecting meat, I mean tourists.  I will have to research that one a bit.  As for the moonlight party, that will have to wait about 13 or so odd years, I will be 53, Jacob, my youngest will be 18...

So we are back in the tuk tuk racing through traffic, cutting off cars, other tuk tuks, motorcycles, pedestrians.  I think, maybe I should carry something to give the confused cut off pedestrians we pass by, you know, on future tuk tuk trips, flowers, donuts, fruit.  We arrive, the driver stops about two blocks from our destination and motions the direction that we want to go toward to hit Charoen Krung, one of the main roads in Chinatown.  I hand him 20 baht, or 66 cent, for an adventurous ride of about 3 miles.

Chinatown at dusk

Candice comments about walking the last few blocks and I point her attention to the traffic that surrounds us.  It is never a good idea to sit ten minutes in traffic for a two minute walk.  She agrees and we walk down the way to cellular heaven, or something more like a cellular flea market.  Time is running out, at 5 PM the cellular merchants start closing up and the restaurants and street food come out.  We aren't there for that today though, but as a side note they sell barbecue shrimp that it is inexpensive and delicious, at least that is what they say.

We are here looking for a tablet though and there is so much to see.  There is a motorcycle driving on the sidewalk towards us as we try to cross the street.  We move to avoid him.  We cross and are here.  There are no name, generic tablets directly in front of the building we are approaching that cost about a hundred bucks, but I want something with a name attached, a Samsung or Acer or Sony.  We go more towards the back of the first building, there are smiley faced antenna plugs and colorful cases and giggling school girls and neon colors all around.  They giggle or look at the tall Americans confused as we move past.  We pass by ipad screens sold as replacements and other parts labeled and stretched out.  We go upstairs and there is more of the same for four flights.  After that I figure we should try another building.  Smiling schoolgirls giggling, more neon, more cloned tablets, still not what I want.  Then we find it... and she wont budge on the price.

MBK Center and deals galore...

I finally agree on the price, but she only has it in white.  NO DEAL.  As we walk back towards Khao San Road, towards Dinso Road, where we actually live, Candice gives me a hard stare that indicates we will be taking a cab home.  She is cool though, and we make plans to head to MBK the next day, where we will continue our hunt for the tablet deal of the century.













So long for now...

     

Kids at MBK

Bangkok

Bangkok, my first thought was that this reminded me of my old favorite city in the world - before the hurricane came and ruined it even more, New Orleans.  That thought came as we were on the way in from the airport, and it has been that way ever since.  I love Bangkok, awesome, fast moving, mellow people, good food, great shopping, and people coming in just to be here, every single day... and I haven't even been to the other side of town yet.

Khao San Road has been our base area.  I will describe this as many peoples' base area.  If you are a backpacker type you will probably start out here.  The area is centered around so many Buddhist temples it isn't even funny.  Plus there are cheap accommodations, cheap food, cheap t-shirt, cheap fruit drinks and the list goes on.  The history of the area is that the Buddhists were in the area keeping it chill, with not that much money, but ultimate vibes.  Then the hippies came, and while they were in the business of morphing into yuppies, and whatnot, their children started coming and so on and so on.  Meanwhile, the area managed to maintain just enough of its charm, and plenty of hawkers and touters came along, selling anything from cheaply tailored suites to as certain movies would claim, snake's blood.  I haven't seen any snake's blood, but I do know where a snake park or museum is on the other side of town, and I have heard snake's blood is sold in Chinatown, but that is another blog post, because Chinatown in Bangkok really deserves its own blog post, plus I plan on walking over there tomorrow.  However, if you want a cheap, cheaply tailored suit, apparently, Khao San is the place, especially if you want the very special, soul brother discount.

Philosophical Question - Do White Americans get greeted as - OObama - with the look of a used car salesman and that magical pointing finger gesture thingy, or is that reserved for Black American visitors (the Black Americans that no one except touts believe exist).

Answer - Doesn't matter, just be thankful W. has left the building... wherein you might be getting spit at, given the finger or cursed, I mean literally cursed, not cursed at.  Anyways...

Khao San Road at night

Some of the walkable cool things to do close by the area we live in, known as Rattanakosin, are exploring temples, hopping on the boat to head down or up river, or of course grabbing a bite on Khao San Road, people watching on Khao San Road, visiting the Golden Mountain, which is free or just finding a park to chill out.  Rattanakosin is kind of the center of all the temples in town so if you just walk down the street in any direction a wat (or temple) will cross your path.  It is funny seeing the buddhist monks out and about, and if you go out in the morning they will be out seeking donations for their food for the day.

Last week we walked over to the Grand Palace and pondered going in.  Since we are on a pretty tight budget this month, I suggested we actually go in on the next trip.  I am sure it will be nicer on the inside than the outside, but at 400 baht a person that is some 2400 baht, or 80 dollars, that's a lot of Thai noodles, or at least that was my thought at the time.  So we took some pictures of the opulent outside and laughed as the intercom system reminded visitors not to believe anything touts said about the palace being closed, in a very sterile voice and to only listen to the completely disinterested guards' advice about where the entrance was.

Earlier in the week I had mentioned to Candice that there was this meditation center that offered free classes in one of the temples.  I thought it would be cool to at least peek inside.  So naturally, after thinking how cool it would be to do something for free, rather than pay 80 dollars, we run into a sign in front of Wat Mahathat, offering free mediation classes.  I figure because it is so early in the morning, we might not get our meditation on, but still, something tells me to go in.  I am a bit afraid to go all the way into the inner shrines to buddha and what not, but this lady sneaks up behind Candice and becomes our tour guide.  Immediately I start to wonder, but just the night before we had this conversation about letting someone sell their story, because sometimes touts aren't all bad, or something like that.  Or was it that all friendly people aren't touts, you get the gist.  Anyway, she has us take our shoes off and takes us in the back of temple and gets to work.


She starts off stating that she is a tourist too, "we same, same" and she is from Chang Mai, she has her game tight.  Then she blows it, because she knows every tourist sight and destination, not to mention her perfect English.  But it was a good thing she was there because she did two things for me.  The first, she took us into all the areas in the temple I wouldn't have gone, she apparently has some kind of buddhist mojo working good...  She bows to buddha and is trying to work her mojo on Candice, while sizing me up.  She mentions that she is a midwife which I think is so cool.  She also shows us the beautiful Black buddah, making note of it, as I did.  Then she did something else that was both good and bad.  She advises us how to take the boat around town and tells us where we can get discount tickets to do so, of course this is the tout.  But she arranges a tuck tuck to take us to her tourist agency and then back to our guest house for 50 baht.  I mean, I didn't want to hear the tout, but I had been avoiding tuck tucks, just because.  By her doing that, she helped me see them as a practical, although a scary as hell travel option.  I mean, everywhere isn't a cab travel location, for those, you have the tuck tuck.  Mostly I prefer the boat, an express boat trip on the river costs 15 baht per person, that is like 50 cent.  Who could beat that?  So a tout isn't always a bad thing, well at least not a bad bad, bad thing.  Of course, I didn't buy any tours, but I am just saying.  I mean, in the tuck tuck we were both laughing about her intimate knowledge of Bangkok, having only been here twice from Chang Mai, but on the other hand she told us of a really cool detination,   Anyway, after that day we started going more and more outside the Rattanakosin area and made it into Chinatown.

Onward Travels...

So we were chilling in Fez, for six weeks, which is a long time for Fez.  Two weeks is probably a prefect amount of time.  My favorite of the medinas of Morocco was probably Essaouira, and two weeks is probably good for that medina too.  We spent a month in Essaouira, but both Fez and Essaouira are excellent places to save money if you live like a Moroccan and not like a European while visiting.  With two and a half odd months in country, our visa was expiring!  Well, technically you don't need a visa to visit, if your stay is under three months as an American citizen.  But the point is the same, we would have to either make a short jot out of the country and come back, akin to a visa run, or leave altogether.

 

Natasha, we make it to Moscow... now what? I dunno Boris!

So we started weighing our options.  We knew in the end that we wanted to visit Asia, and come back around, so that was one option.  Option two was to go on to Egypt.  Option three was to visit India.  Option four was to head to Tunisia which is a short flight away.  The problem with Asia is that in order to stay beyond a month or a few months in a country you have to have a plan and a visa.  In China, you must have a prearranged visa, and you better not overstay.  So we figured if we were going to China, Candice would teach English.

As a backup we would consider one of the other countries in the area where you could visit for a few months, including Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Malaysia, etcetera.  In the end, we might visit all the said countries, but the point is we decided on Asia, choice one.  The tickets were a killer, heading to Shanghai first and then onward to Thailand.  Actually, the trip went from Fez to Pisa and Pisa to Budapest via Ryanair, cheap flights and cheap flights.  Budapest to Moscow and Moscow to Shanghai via Aeroflot, Not as bad as it could have been.  Then from Shanghai to Bangkok via Sri Lankan Air, damn good flight, damn good service.


Let's just say that we had jetlag.  The time difference was 9 hours from Fez to Shanghai, and we lost one of those hours on the way to Thailand, then we had to spend the night at the airport in Moscow.  In Moscow, the kids were pleasantly surprised to find that a Baskin Robbins was open at about 3 o'clock in the morning.   So for all you know-it-alls who would never let your kids eat ice cream at 3 AM in the airport in Moscow, what time is that in Boston?  Quick!  I didn't think so.  So we let them each get a scoop, with their own money, since they wanted it right then, instead of waiting till at least 6 or 7 in the morning.  Your money, your rules.  Also, we managed to score a couple cuban cigars, just to taste.  After spending some time in Ybor City, Tampa, I must say there really, really is a difference in taste too.

Everyone eventually drifted off to sleep in Moscow except me and Asari.  Jacob tried to fight hard as well, I think he even made it too.  He was the main lobby for ice cream.  But Asari was awake to be awake and keep me on my toes.  We started naming capitals cities by alphabet and had made our way to about x when a Russian who spoke English fairly well asked if he could sit down.  There was an open seat next to Asari.  We acted like we didn't hear.  Before I could shift to sit in that seat he sat down.  We are both thinking, where will this be going and how do we get off.  He is excited to see Jacob and I am unexcited about this, wondering if I need to send him about his way or get security.  He is also carrying a beer.  I get him to start talking.  He is a soccer player from a military team, apparently.   He has a vacation going to Hurgada.  Apparently he misses his kids, I try to relay that it is good that he misses his kids, but my kids are mine, and to back off.  Slowly he comes to understand.  In the meantime, since he is holding this huge Russian forty ounce, and in an attempt at good will and diplomacy, and since the airport is practically empty, I tell Asari to keep an eye on things as I walk with this guy to get him out of our hair.

I hear Candice slowly waking, and we head out to buy me a beer.  Half way down the walkway, we see one of many vending machines, selling cold beer.  Why I would want a beer at three o'clock in the morning is beyond me, but here I am with one in my hands, trying to mentally convert it into a cappuccino.  In addition, I now have a contact in Moscow, although, I don't know when I will ever use that contact.  When we return, I find Candice and the girls awake and bundled together.  Apparently, some big Russian had stole Leah's sleeping bench.  I was about to get mad, then I thought, it is public space.  I mean, what would you do on the bus?  And he didn't steal it to sleep on, he and his family used it to sit down.  Still, it wouldn't have went down if I was there, but you can't keep every crazy Russian in check at the same time, as one person.  Once I figured that situation out, my newfound Russian friend's flight to Hurgada began boarding.  I encouraged him not to miss it.  He boarded on the way to Egyptian bliss.

A few hours later and we boarded our much better flight to Shanghai.  Although the food was indeed awful  the people were much cleaner and no drinking was allowed on the flight.  The flight from Budapest to Moscow was a few hours, the one to Shanghai from Moscow was nine hours.  So you can imagine what it would have been like to be on a plane with a bunch of drunk smelly people all that time.  However, since this was a larger plane on a longer flight, I assume they considered that when making it a non drinking flight.  The only problem was the food.  I had requested vegetarian food, but it had been denied along with our advanced seating request.  But I blame that on the ticket aggregator, you really do get what you pay for.  Let's just say that the salmon they brought out in the salmon salad looked like someone had chewed it and spit it in the middle of the poor wilted lettuce.  We should have brought more snacks, nine hours is an incredibly long time to share an orange and a few nuts.

Finally, Ice Cream

So after a few hours of aeroflot, we landed in the land of heavenly street food.  Well that is true of both Shanghai and Bangkok.  In Bangkok on the street wonderful Thai food for the equivalent of a dollar.  In Shanghai, even less.  The food fresh, heated on a wok right before your eyes.  No meat, no problems.  Even with the meat, probably no problems.  Blended mango juice, starfruit juice, dragon fruit juice, coconut water, all one dollar or less.  But back to Shanghai.  We stayed our two days in Shanghai out near the airport, so we didn't really do Shanghai big, we will do that in the future.  The area we stayed in was still pretty populous, and we had all these Asians looking at us like we just came in from the moon.  I guess for them we did.  However, everyone was friendly, cool, and easy going.  No one at our hotel accepted any kind of tips for anything, big shock after Morocco.  No one was impatient and there was a general good vibe for such a huge international city.  In addition, I experienced absolutely no racial problems while I was in Shanghai.  I have read some people saying that China can be funny, and while I was only there for a few days, I experienced none of that.  Most service people seemed to understand some English, but once again if they do not, they are apologetic and even might blush.  I understand four Chinese words, but it is important to know how to say at least, thank you, right?

Asari stayed awake the whole time

Thinking of Ice Cream!

  

So we are now in Thailand for the month, we are moving on to Malaysia for the next month and from there maybe Bali or Goa.  Who can tell?  I guess we might base that one on where we want to be to ring in the 2012 event.  Whether you believe it or not, it should be a good reason for a nice party, no?  Next time, we find out if I really am the tallest man in Bangkok!

Pad Thai

Ramadan!

Ramadan!  Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, where Muslims fast for the entire month.  Devout Muslims refrain from eating, drinking and sex from sunup to sundown.  Ramadan.  First thing I noticed on Ramadan was that there were a couple of dogs down the street from my new flat, the garden apartment, getting, shall we say, intimate.  I took that as a bad omen.  I mean, love is love and so on, and you can't tell two animals to say, get a room, but I mean, this is Ramadan, and these are the dog days of summer.

Empty on the way into the medina

Later that night, we wake to banging and barking in the entrance way to our apartment, there are three or four apartments in the building.  It is the dogs and cats who have busted into the closed door and began fighting, waking the whole building up.  One of the neighbors is yelling at them to get the hell out, in Arabic.  They flee, but they are back the next day.  One of them is even gracious enough to leave a little present.

Jacob's birthday fell at the very beginning of Ramadan, lucky for him, the holiday hadn't really began, I guess it started at daybreak the following day.  We went out for pizza, eating at one of the best restaurants I have visited in Fez.  The place was called Vesuvio and they had killer pizza and general Italian food, we had the eggplant as well.  Everyone, especially Jacob, loved it.  Although, next year he said he wanted McDonalds.  By that time, I think he would have figured on something a little more upscale, I mean you do plenty of learning during your fifth year.

So back to Ramadan.  The first day, we head to our normal place to be, Barcelona Cafe.  I mean, the place has it all, the decor straight from the matrix, wonderful staff, tasty 100% fruit drinks, fans and a very clean bathroom.  The regular staff is all gone, there is an older woman, who kind of is always around.  Anyway, she lets us in and makes our drinks.  She was awesome, and we drink away and pick up our vegetables and fruit in the medina.

Inside the medina

On the way back home, a man speaks, then comments, good start for Ramadan, and kind of sneered.  I mean, I never professed to being Muslim to anyone, if asked to a mosque, temple, church, I will attend, and study said teachings.  That I do.  I would consider converting to any of the above too, but if someone asks if I am Muslim I say I am studying.  Because I am.  But I study plenty of things...  But, that said, I think it was easier for most people to assume I was Muslim, because they don't see many brothers here, especially with big families who stay for a month at a time.  Most people come here for a weekend in a tour that might include two or three other cities.  So I had many people confused.  However, most people ended up loving us, once they understood we were just there to relax and try to understand them and their city.  Anyway, dude should have known from his own religion that there are exemptions to ramadan for those travelling and those ill, both of those I was.  But he was a hater anyway, mad at me cause he couldn't eat no vegetarian halal ribs, or whatever, till the sun went down.

A quiet morning at the medina

So now time passes and Ramadan is under way for a few days.  Everything that would be open early is closed, maybe for the month, maybe not, who is to say?  Some things open up after one or o'clock in the afternoon, some things stay closed.  So we got to go around the medina with hardly anyone present, for a few days.  After a while things picked up.  Then as things got busier, particularly in the afternoon, people got angrier.  Cabbies raging, road rage, and intermittent craziness.  I generally would ignore the rules about travelling during ramadan in the past, but now I will definitely consider them more.  Things can get hectic, especially when you are trying to prepare to leave the country, as I was.

The funniest thing that happened to me was when I was actually in the airport getting ready to leave Morocco.  I am in their immigration and passport control line.  They look at my passport and ask, if I am American.  I answer, Yes.  I damn well claim that one every time, because you don't realize the value of it, until you leave.  So I am like yeah.  So he looks at me suspiciously then asks, was your father American?  I almost am ready to bust up laughing, and answer - as far as I know, then I answer quickly, yes.  He looks at the lady officer next to me and they stamp my exit.  Ramadan goodbye.  Next stop Pisa.

As a bit of an addendum, I found this very interesting article concerning Ramadan in Egypt.

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.

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.

Cabanyal, Valencia

The neighborhood where we rented a flat here in Valencia is a quaint port community known as Cabanyal. The people are friendly and for the most part, try as much as they can to help when they notice you struggling with the Spanish language to get what you need around town. One of the few remaining neighborhoods with original architecture and not many buildings over four stories, there is a struggle here to keep gentrification from demolishing older flats, replacing them with newer condos and pricing the locals out of the community.

Mural about the greed that defines the development in the neighborhood

Very nice coffee shop with friendly owners and delicious donuts

Cafe solo with a complimentary galleta carmelada

Calle Jose Benlliure 

The corner bakery

View from the corner of Casa Montana, a historic bodega

The beautiful beach which is a five minute walk from Cabanyal

Paella

Valencia is the birthplace of paella, a rice based dish that can be the foundation to any number of added ingredients. Seafood paella usually has a variation of shrimp (with the head on), calamari, octopus, local fish such as merluza, mussels and/or clams. Paella Valencia is a combination of chicken, rabbit and snails. Besides being cooked slowly in a huge pan over an open fire, the other signature of paella is saffron. Authentic paella, that is. It's how the richly golden yellow color of the rice is attained. 

Delicious seafood paella in a traditional pan

The restaurant where all kinds of paella can be found, located on Calle Reina.

My take on seafood paella

Valencia

Valencia seems to me to move at a slow pace.  Very chill, stylish, with the old and new existing in the perfect place right by the sea.  The church bells are ringing right down the street at an old 17th century church, to remind me of this very fact.  We tell the kids that the hunchback goes up and rings them everyday and like crazy on the weekends, and now they believe it.  Everyone swears they have seen this hunchback climbing and ringing the bells.  Why here and not Notre Dame? I don't know.  Maybe because the churches are so much more a part of the neighborhoods here.

My favorite parts of the city thus far, after a couple of weeks, are the beach and the malls.  The prices are very reasonable at the malls for most things, except of course that 100 plus euro pair of (gasp) Levi's jeans.  Reasonable priced jeans otherwise can be had for 15-20 euros.  Nice pants and shirts, likewise.  Food prices are also very reasonable.  The beach is chill because it is three blocks or so from our place and although there is a large area catering to Spanish and world tourists, that area tapers off very quickly and can be avoided altogether.  The beach then stretches for what seems miles, although I haven't walked it for miles yet.  On the other side are the ports and what looks like a forest preserve.

Maybe the city moves at a more chill pace because it lines up right across from Ibiza, that chill capital city of the world.  We ran out of money to make our way over there this time, but from what I hear, things aren't popping off right now anyway, later in the summer.  So it might be better to bum around the local Valencia beach and save the money anyway.  Meanwhile we will soak in the sun and check out some of the local architecture, museums and such - waiting for our next destination, Morocco.

Maybe the city seems to move at a slow pace only around the area I live, which is more like a historical district of old three story buildings. I dunno, there seems to be a nice mix of older and younger people here too - that might be it.  It could be because of the wonderful selection of food and wine.  This is, after all the birthplace of paella.  With seafood abounding it seems shallow to point out calamari, but I have never had fresher, more tender calamari.  The fish we have probably eaten the most of however is merluza.  Of course there are plenty of other choices and all are to be had for a very reasonable price.

The funniest moment of the week happened when after a trip to the beach, I asked the kids if they had noticed the woman sun bathing nude on the beach, which I guess is more common in Europe.  I figured I would do a quick explanation to them.  Asari answers, no.  Leah asks, should I have?  CJ and Jacob both answer in unison, um huh.  That was funny.

Anyway, the center of the city does seem to move at a faster pace.  Everyone seems to like it here, but we will be moving on soon, because our visas will expire and we are going to move on well before that happens, hoping to see more next time.  Meanwhile we will be having fun with our broken Spanglish and observing our yelling Spaniard neighbors.  We saw a crazy clown earlier today as we were walking back from the mall.  First, I noticed his dog, which just didn't look right.  Then I noticed him.  He was out in the street, in full clown regala.  With a horn, honking at stopped traffic.  Candice was like, I got to get a picture of this.  I explained, baby, you ain't in a car right now.  See if we were in a car, we could just speed off and that would be that.  We are walking right now.  You might have to be dealing with crazy clown man for about ten minutes following you around crazying out en Espanol.  Maybe we should save the pictures for another time?  Thus no clown pictures, unless you count the one below.  Till next time.