London, Madrid, and Morocco

So I am currently sitting in my budget hotel in the old medina in Casablanca, feeling a little bit disappointed that the weather is cool and mostly cloudy today. My travel companion, Mike Christensen, left this morning to return to the United States. I could not get a flight until tomorrow, the 24th. All week while we were wandering around Morocco I had just figured that on this last day when I would be by myself I would go to the beach all afternoon and then go to a movie. Well it is too cold for the beach and all of the movies are dubbed into French. Honestly, who still thinks dubbing is a good idea? Use subtitles!

Anyway, it has been a fun trip. We started in London, spent 2 days there, and then flew to Madrid for 48 hours before coming to Casablanca. We actually took a train from the airport directly to the city of Marrakesh, where we spent two days wandering the markets and looking at the old desert castles . The big square in Marrakesh is an amazing place, with the best orange juice I have ever had side by side with little open air restaurants serving goats heads (literally they singe off all the hair and serve it up with the skull as the bowl). There are snake charmers, dancers, and storytellers. They are a demanding group. We got charged for 2 minutes watching one guy play his little flute; another put his pet monkey on my back uninvited (totally scared the crap out of me) and then told me it was 10 dirhams. I told him to get the monkey off my back and that I would not be paying anything.

We took an overnite train to Tangier, seedy port of international renown, but decided we were more interested in seeing Gibraltar, so we took a ferry back over to Spain and then took 2 buses to get to Gibraltar. Gibraltar has the coolest flag in the world; a red and white one with a Super Mario Brothers castle on it. It is also a cool rock, towering over the ocean. We could see much of the coast of Spain and on a clearer day might have seen the African coast.

The next day saw us back to Tangier and up to Chefchouen, a little mountain town famous for its whitewashed buildings painted a unique blue color and for its marijuana farms. Unfortunately this charming little town was somewhat tainted by the annoying guide who followed us from the bus station offering to show us around and "protect" us from badgering locals. After 30 minutes of increasingly blunt declarations to go away he declared that he would only go away if we paid him. We told him we would do no such thing as we had told him from the beginning we would not pay him. He finally cussed us out and left.

That night we pressed on to Fez where we had similar experiences. Apparently calling somebody a Jew in Morocco is the worst possible epithet you can think of; we were called Jewish SOBs about 5 times that day as we refused to allow any of the "faux guides" to get their commission by taking us to any shops.

The next day; having successfully angered the guides we were more or less left alone to explore the massive medieval markets of Fez. We also got tours of an old school leather tannery and a pottery shop.

Finally we returned to Casablanca yesterday to see the Hassan II Mosque; the 3rd largest in the world and the biggest that any non Muslims will ever see anything of besides pictures (the other 2 are in Mecca and Medina which are closed off to non Muslims). This giant mosque which holds 25000 worshippers, in Mike's words, makes the Conference Center in Salt Lake City look cheap. It was marvelous.

Any way, I dont have pictures yet for this trip but will post them later. Other highlights included:

-Seeing "La Bella y la Bestia"; the Spanish adaptation of Broadways adaptation of Disney's Beauty and the Beast in Madrid.

-Cleanness. Coming from Cairo London was so SHINY

-Mike getting attacked by monkeys in Gibraltar. These beasts, the only monkeys in Europe, are very smart. While Mike was getting his camera out of his back they jumped across the road, climbed up on him, and snatched his bar of chocolate out of his bag. Another tourist we talked to had tried to feed them; she offered them a bite of her own chocolate bar. After observing her right hand with the bit of chocolate, the monkey darted in, grabbed the remainder of the bar from her left hand, leaving her with the little offered bit. Smart animals.

-Going to a Hammam. A real one. The tradition of public baths has become a tourist favorite in parts of the Middle East. However instead of going to an expensive tourist one we went to one the locals frequent. We walked in, paid, and were led to a dark room with puddles of soapy water still on the ground. Our scrubber proceeded to instruct us to fill our buckets and lay down. As we were getting scrubbed down with the steel wool mittens they use I look over at Mike who was absolutely horrified. He later said all he could think about was how many layers of other people's skin had probably been peeled off with the same steel mitten; and that he felt like he was laying down in what he called "a petrie dish of bacteria."

-Snail soup. Enough said.

-Bastillas. This dish is my new favorite. Essentially a chicken pot pie served with almonds and a heavy dose of cinnamon and sugar.

Anyway, I am very excited to travel back to the US of A tomorrow and see my family.

Rain

January 9, 2008
I've been here in Cairo for 7 months and a week. Today it rained for the first time. It had sprinkled before, and were I in any other city I would have thought it would rain. But today it's raining. For real.

Arabian Holiday I: Yemeni Christmas

For the most part I didn’t think about Christmas on Christmas. After all, I was in Yemen, six time zones away from my brother Chad in Japan and ten time zones away from my parents in Salt Lake City. My celebration of the holiday consisted of finding the only 24 hour Internet café in all of Yemen to participate in our 6 way teleconference Christmas call. It was a miracle that a 6 way teleconference call that included participants in Fukouka, Nashville, Washington DC, Salt Lake City, and then myself in 4000 year old Sanaa was even conceivable. It was a miracle that I found a 24 hour internet café in Yemen. It was a miracle that it worked. It was a great way to wake up on Christmas morning, better than any present.

The call ended around 7 AM, and at 8 our driver picked us up. We had scheduled a 2 day trip to a remote mountain village known as Shaharah, which had not been conquered by any military power ever until the 1960s when they could use air power. Perched atop a 3000 meter peak (9000-10000 feet), the village was only accessible via very steep dirt roads. As it was sympathetic to the rebel cause in the on again off again Yemeni civil war, tourists were only allowed to visit with a military escort. On this day, we were the only tourists. Our caravan consisted of the Land Rover with myself, my companions Aatif, Raha, and Khulood, and our driver Ali. Behind us was a cannon mounted jeep with five rifle armed soldiers. The soldiers and our guide didn’t seem to think it was strange: they did this everyday. The only thing unusual about the trip today was that the tourists spoke Arabic and 3 of them were Muslim. When I told them my name was Abu Saifayn (a nickname meaning “Pappy Two Swords”), they assumed I was Muslim too. I did not try to dispel them of the notion.

Off we went, 3 hours on pavement, then 2 hours off roading until we got to base camp, at the foot of the mountain. At the top we could vaguely make out the buildings that made up Shaharah village. Here we had to switch vehicles and leave behind our cannon and our guide Ali. A new guide, Yahyah, and one of the soldiers, got into the pickup truck that would take us up the steep switchback trail that led to the village. We rode in the back.

Amidst the stunning views and hairpin turns and cliffs that took our breath away, I was struck by how much this reminded me of Utah. Except in Utah there aren’t villages at the top of the 10000 foot mountains, just the little house thinger that marks the top of the ski lift. There aren’t centuries-old stone bridges built across gigantic chasms that make you think of the scene in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf fights the balrog. There was such a stone bridge in this village, built to connect two villages that, though just a few hundred meters from each other, were completely isolated from each other until the bridge was built.

Also, the entire mountain was terraced. Terraced and landscaped to allow crops to grow on the entire mountain. Or rather, to make one crop grow: qat trees.

Qat is a drug that is indigenous to Yemen and Ethiopia. As far as I know it is also only legal in those two countries, though it may also be legal in the UK and Amsterdam. It is illegal in Saudi Arabia and the United States as it is mildly addictive. It is consumed by simply popping the qat tree leaves into ones mouth and chewing. Much like chewing tobacco except you don’t spit until the end. All Yemenis chew qat. All of them. Everywhere you go the Yemeni men carry two pouches of qat: one in a plastic bag beneath their jacket, and one in their mouth, stuffed away like nuts in the mouth of a squirrel. The average Yemeni is very easy to caricature: a galabiyya (white robe), a traditional dagger in his belt, a pair of sandals, a western style suit jacket or sports coat, and a huge protruding cheek full of qat.

It’s a national pastime, this qat-chewing. Yemenis purportedly spend 20% of their family income on it. Millions of man hours are wasted daily because of time spent putting the leaves in their mouths (they don’t take time off work to chew, they just put so many leaves in their mouths while they work). 55% of the nation’s water supply (in a desert country that rains only a couple of months a year) are used in watering the qat trees. Entire mountains, including the one we were climbing, are devoted to growing the plant. We asked the guide if they grew anything else on the mountain, since every part of the mountain seemed to be terraced to grow something. “Nope. We used to grow food. Now we just grow qat.”

At least, in addition to being a caffeine like stimulant, it is also an appetite suppressant.

Anyway, back to the qat-terraced cliffs. We finally reached the town just before sunset, and checked into our little hotel. We were served dinner, given a brief moonlit tour of the area, and went to sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” I said to Aatif.

“Merry Christmas.”