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.

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.

Barcelona

Beach in Barcelona

I booked a rental in Valencia and as it turns out, the night train trip direct to Valencia was full.  As I previously mentioned, I had to figure out how to work with the state run rail website, Renfe.com.  Anyway... it was too late for that because the night train was full.  I don't know if you have ever ridden on a train in the daytime with four kids, two under 7, it ain't fun.  So we had to look for alternative means of travel.

There was this really cheap flight in from Paris to Barcelona, a day before we were supposed to depart.  I figured that would make my French landlord happy.  He seemed cool with it either which way, but I could tell deep inside he had plans of stretching out (no pun intended) in his loft again, maybe with a nice lady, bottle of wine.

Au Revoir, France

So we took a cab to the airport which I arranged the night earlier through a service called Taxi G7, they arranged a taxi to the airport via a handy iphone app.  It was expensive, but taking the bus to the center of town and the special bus to the airport, for all six of us, would have cost more, and been more time consuming and aggravating.  So I managed to save a few Euros and ride in the comfort of a nicely appointed cab to the airport.

We arrived looking for the budget carrier, Easyjet.  They weren't hard to find at all.  The terminals are set up pretty cool.  No sweat.  No hassles about baggage.  I know I will have to lighten my load for the next trip though.  We zipped through the airport the plane came in and we zipped on to Barcelona with no problems.

When we got there, our landlady was not present.  This was a cause for concern, as my French prepaid sim would not make calls in Spain.  Plus, we were wondering if we really got the address right.  No sweat, the address was wrong, but the right address was only two blocks away.  Well, a little sweating, who wants to be waiting outside with four sweating little ones wondering if they are in the right place.

Barcelona garden, or what we call a courtyard in the states

So I run in the little tabac to buy a sim card.  A tabac is a little tobacco store slash whatever else they might sell.  This guy sold sim cards.  He was cool enough not only to call and have it activated but to work with me through my Spanish which had atrophied from twenty years of no use to si, no, yo quiero, and muchos gracias.  Okay maybe a few more words, but clearly not enough to activate a sim card. On my way out of the store the landlady was walking up, right as I was leaving her a message. She apologized for getting off from work late, traffic, yada, yada.

On the way to the city center

Fine cup of Spanish Coffee

The city itself was more metropolitan than I expected.  Big, modern, fast moving.  Well, one good thing, we were near the ocean.  You know how we love the beach.  As it turns out, our place was two blocks from the beach, so I got to stick my toes in the Mediterranean, at least for a few minutes.  There was also a huge mall nearby where they had both inexpensive clothes and modern electronics.  There was also a supermarket and tons of restaurants.We were beat so we put off seeing what I wanted to see the most, Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família, Antoni Gaudi's great unfinished work, it will have to wait until we return. We walked around our neighborhood, went to the mall, acclimatizing to Spain and prepared for our onward rail journey to Valencia.