My first day in Morocco, eating a big fish plate in Casablanca.
Heading south along the coast I passed through El Jadida. It was here that I first began to notice that the men were. . . well, a little strange! I really wish I had taken a photo of P0rn Man!
An old underground cistern in El Jadida
Fishing boats in El Jadida
Colorful fish in the fish market of Essouiria
Moroccan Viagra in the market at Essouiria. Yeah, right, like they need that!
I am starting into the Southern Territories now, and beginning to feel as if I am reaching the ends of the earth.
A fishermans shack by the coast. The roof is held on with fishing nets.
Fish is served fried up whole, heads, eyes, and all.
The lady of the house serving up tea. I stayed with this family for two days after turning down P0rn mans offer.
A neighborhood to be in Layounne. The earth is all brown and dusty here.
Dahkla, the end of the road. To the East about 400 KM is Mauritania.
More brown, and old land mine signs, on the way to the Mauritanian border.
A fisherman serves up tea in his tiny tent by the beach. I am on my way back to Dahkla here, having hitchhiked a ride across the border.
Sunset at an oasis in the Sahara desert of Mauritania
An oasis I backpacked to in Mauritania
It has been a while since I wrote last. I traveled back through Morocco, spent 5 days in Madrid, and then came home and have been super busy ever since. The first week back I was recovering from "lots of African germs" as my grandfather put it, the following week was busy with job search, and then I just arrived home today from this weeks gallivant around Alaska, now that things are starting to thaw up. So I am quickly uploading these photos as a preview to the final Africa report, and letting everyone know that I have not been kidnapped by one of those horrible, ignorant, horny Moroccan men. (See porn Man and the men who chase)
Speaking of which, my last days in morocco had a small experience that was a fitting finale for my time there. As I was exploring the narrow, winding alleys of the Fez Medina, a man sidled up to me. Looking around, he judged when the crowds were out of ear shot enough to whisper to me "want Berber massage? wanna have fun? want sex?" I yelled at him "Get the FUCK away from me!" "OK" he says in a cheerfull tone, and leaves. So accommodating these men are!
I am alive and well and returned to Morocco from my travels to the end of the world in the heart of the Mauritanian Sahara desert. In one word, it was AMAZING! I ran alone in the cool mornings through the desert and slept under shooting stars on sand dunes and in perfect oasis surrounded by trickling water and glow worms. I lived for a short time with a peaceful desert family and trekked up and down plateaus looking at ancient petroglyphs. I cooked, relaxed, thought, talked with other travelers, and siesta'd during the hot afternoons. Finally, I hitchhiked from the police post back across the border to Morocco the day before my visa in Mauritania expired, and also my 35th birthday. I will write more when I return home and can upload my photos.
Some notes from Chinguetti, mid March:
I sit here watching the mice come out of the kitchen and the spaces in the stone wall to eat from the dog's bowl of rotten scraps and amazingly I am not bothered by it. The kitchen is full of mice, bold ones that come out all hours of the day. One jumped out of a pot I grabbed and landed on my arm in broad daylight. What Cher needs for his auberge is a cat, not a damn dog! My first days here another traveler, Kevin, and I removed everything from the kitchen and cleaned years worth of mouse shit-important because we are doing most of our own cooking. Cooking without refrigeration, which means going to the market before each meal, a task fortunately done mostly by Cher. Cher, who watched questioningly while we scrubbed his kitchen and whom I told he needed a wife. He did not agree, and said that women talk to much! A few days after scrubbing down the kitchen, Kevin waged war on a mouse that was invading his room night and day. During my siesta one afternoon I suddenly heard Quebec French curses from the hut next door. Something like "Stab ah neck". Shortly after, Kevin came and showed me his kill, which he held dangling by it's tail; he had jumped on the mouse.
What I am trying to get at is that Africa is a bit more difficult of a place to travel than other places I have been. I laugh now when I think of how I traveled all through Asia and other parts of the world checking the sheets for cleanliness!! WOW, what a wussy I was!! In the whole of Mauritania I have not seen a sheet, much less a clean one, only grubby mats that are tossed onto the ground of a dusty tent or rustic hut. If you are unlucky enough to not have a sleeping bag, you will be tossed an even grubbier, dustier blanket. Fortunately, a kindly soul I met in Nouakchott, Ibrahim, has lent me a bag. And even more fortunately I have ceased to be bothered by these things (this written as I pick a fly out of the milk I am drinking, milk that has sat overnight on the counter). All this actually contributes to the experience of being here in the heart of the desert, in a place that feels like the end of the earth, in a place full of open space, in a place where nature still reigns supreme and the people must be gritty and self-sufficient, in a place that reminds you just how little you actually need to live in this world.
Mauritania! I love the energy of this place, the colors, the action. I am heading to Chenguetti tomarrow and then hopefully off into the Sahara on a camel, so no internet for a few weeks. I will be looking for petroglyphs, of which there are several known areas around. I have not yet found an internet with good anti-virus so have not uploaded any photos. I hope I can find a place to upload them before I do another long post so I can share everything through photos as well as words. Check back in three weeks or so.
Heading into the heart of the South Saharan territory really does feel as if you are going to the end of the earth. The landscape is dry, bleak, but beautiful. On one side is the deep turquoise of the ocean. On the other is a vast, empty landscape of brown. Scrub brush dots some areas and then gives way to rock and sand. Here and there are buttes and towering sand dunes. The sun is relentless and the wind a constant sculpting force. Occasionally, next to the ocean, a fisherman's hut stands in defiance against the harshness of the land. They are made of anything that the inhabitants can get their hands on; scrap wood, mud bricks, plastic, fabric, and are held together with fishing nets stretched over it all.
Every 100 kilometers or so is a military checkpoint. This is still disputed territory, but currently occupied by Morocco after a UN brokered cease fire in 1991. UN presence is still heavy here. At each stop I show my passport and answer the question " What is your job". "Estudiante" I answer, although I probably am getting a bit old to say that! After Tan Tan, it is 9 or so hours to the next stop, Layounne. Here I am again invited to stay with a family that I meet on the bus. The hospitality is amazing. Mom wants me to go to the Hammam and get my hands decorated with henna with her but I have already purchased my bus ticket for the next day. "on my way back through, Inshallah" I tell her. We feast on a traditional Moroccan Cous Cous dish which I have watched being prepared. The women give me gifts-a ring and the traditional Moroccan gown to sleep in.
The next day is another 9 hours to Dahkla, located on a peninsula surrounded by ocean. I have taken the government run bus this time, which is more comfortable but also a bit more boring. It takes me to the door of my hotel, where reservations have already been made for me. I have the room just next to the reception so that an eye can be kept on me; this hotel, like most in this town, is full of men. The bathrooms are shared and my long gown for sleeping comes in handy. I really must get a pee bottle! The hotel management helps me arrange transport for the border the next day.
To the border is more sand, more rock, more desolation. It is almost 400 kilometers and the journey to Noudabou in Mauritania ultimately takes nine hours. I share the taxi with a Mauritanian woman and a Moroccoan man. As we get closer to the border, I begin to see lone military standing straight and tall on the higher vantage points in the desert, surrounded by nothingness. At Moroccan customs there is one checkpoint after another. "Passporta" "What ees your joba?" At one checkpoint the officials hand me an orange. It takes several hours to go through this five or six times. Finally we pass through a gate in the razor wire. Here the road stops. For the next two kilometers there is a maze of dirt tracks through the desert. The tracks are littered on either side with rusted out car shells, trash, and land mines. A group of 'guides' wait in their cars for hire to help you find your way to the Mauritanian checkpoint. Our driver has done this route many times and races past the guides before slowing down to crawl our way to the Mauritanian checkpoint. Here, we only have to stop one time and then we are headed to Noudabou and another part of the journey is complete.
Essoiria is a town of souvenir shops. Everywhere you walk "Mademoiselle" "bonjour" "just look" etc. etc. If you make the mistake of stopping you are sucked in. I stopped in one shop. I couldn't help it. The proprietor was beautiful, in long black robes and a huge black turban with the ends loose and flowing down on either side of him. He spoke decent English so I finally got to ask the question I have been wanting to ask someone since day one. "Moroccan men, what are they thinking when they chase me down the street?" He is embarrassed and plays dumb. "What? What is this you say they do? They chase you? What then, do they want to talk to you?" "Yes, they run down the street after me and want to talk. What are they thinking?" I persist. "Oh, they must love you" he tells me. I should really feel bad now for embarrassing him, but I can't stop. "But do they run after Moroccan women" "No" he concedes, and I let him be after that, as he is a healthy shade of pink.
After a day in Essouria I can't wait to get out. The plush bus does not leave until four and arrives at my next destination in the middle of the night, so I jump on the local bus at noon. I am headed for the Southern Frontier, from where I hope to be able to hitch a ride into Mauritania. This 11 hour bus journey will take me about 1/3 of the way. It is stiflingly hot and the seats don't recline but I am happy to be leaving the main tourist track. I am surrounded by men in turbans and robes and women in stylish jackets and hijabs or long flowing folds of fabric draped over them head to toe. Out the window the landscape is getting dryer and more rural. A pretty young woman in a black hijab smiles at me and gives me some food. Later she blows me a kiss. All is good until Algider. Here, the bus empties and waits for an hour to refill before continuing to Tan Tan.
Enter Porn Man.
The man who has sat next to me is watching cartoon clips on his phone. A minute later,I happen to glance over and he has his hand curled around the phone, trying to block the view as he watches it intently. Unfortunately, I still see it. A woman is sprawled out naked behind a foot long schlong, which is the main focal point in the video. Freaking disgusting - I am sitting next to Porn Man. I decide then and there that if he touches me I will launch him from his seat.
We eventually make a stop for dinner at a row of roadside cafes. Porn man waves me over. He has ordered food for us and pats the chair next to him. I ignore the chair and take the one kitty corner, moving it even further away from him. As we eat I show him my wedding ring and inform him that my husband will be joining me in Morocco soon.
After dinner it comes. I knew it would. Moroccan men are very forward, and fast.
I should not go to Tan Tan. Tan Tan is no good, but Gourmime, where he lives, is very nice. He has a very nice house in Gourmime and I should stay with him. And finally, the icing on the cake; he is not married. Said with a really disgusting, porn style, suggestive look. I decline and go to find the toilet. Back on the bus, I have seen a sign informing me that Gourmime is 30 km away. I am sitting turned towards the window and with my coat shoved down between Porn Man and myself. Out of the corner of my eye I can see him staring at me. "Gourmime 5 km" Porn man begins to elbow me gently. "Gourmime 2 km" Porn Man elbows me harder. He is getting desperate. I glare quickly at him and look away before I can see make out what he is mouthing to me in his disgusting way. I already know. Gourmime finally; and a dejected Porn Man alights from the bus.
...
At midnight the bus arrives in Tan Tan. Men are loitering all around. One jumps in front of me to try and talk. I avoid him and see the two women who where sitting behind me looking for a taxi. I join them and they invited me to stay at their home. This time I accept the invitation. Hakimas mother welcomes me to the family home with a kiss on each cheek and I end up staying two days with Hakima and her family before continuing south.
I arrived in Morocco yesterday, after two nights of travel, with one night spent trying to sleep in the Seattle airport and the next in a hotel in Madrid. I had planned on trying to fly directly to Burkina but the tickets where astronomically priced-for a foreigner at least-about 600 dollars for one way. This was the "special price, for you" that the Royal Air Mark guy promised me. So I am traveling south by land and will go into Mauritania, possibly Mali and Burkino if there is time.
After my failed bid for airline tickets I headed into Casablanca and immediately wished I had taken the train further on. Casablanca is too big of a city to start out with! This morning I was up at 6:00 AM and had to wake the hotel proprietor to give me the keys for the shower room. Then I was off to the train station where I happily waited an hour and a half for the next train to El Jadida, a much smaller and more manageable town by the ocean with an old walled section and twisty, narrow alleys.
In the evening things get really lively. It seems everyone leaves their homes to wander (women and men), shop (mostly women), drink tea in teahouses (men only), and loiter in the streets (men only again-huge groups of them). A lot of the younger men here are dressed over the top-fancy leather jackets, tight decorated jeans, and highly polished, pointed leather shoes or boots. It's a bit funny to see groups of them hanging out; it reminds me a bit of the movie Greece. As I pass often they will say things to me in French. Well, not knowing much more than a word of French I have no idea what they saying, unless it is bonjour (often it starts with that), but I can imagine where it goes from there. I have to ignore them or they will get encouraged and follow me! I have other problems, too, not knowing any of the language, mainly buying things. Most of today I have just been holding out a hand full of coins or a few small bills and let them take what they want! It seems to be working pretty well; for lunch today-which was a huge meal of a sort of stew cooked in a clay pot called Tajine, fresh baked bread, and lentils cooked in curry and cumin-I held out about 4 dollars of local currency and received about one and a half back in change!
I am headed to Morocco in less than a week! From here, I will probably travel further south into West Africa-maybe Mauritania, Mali, and Burkino Faso. Burkino Faso, you ask? My spell checker does not even recognize it!It is a pretty impromptu trip. Two weeks ago I decided to see if I could get an airlines mileage ticket after watching a movie that took place in Morocco, and I could-so I did! Fortunately I already have almost every vaccination known to man-only had to get stuck twice this time. The biggest decision now is which camera to bring. The small lightweight camera that I used on all my other trips, or the nice new one with the big lens I barely know how to use? Oh, how to decide?!
Thank God eight years of G. W. Bush is finally over! YEAH! YEAH! It is my hope that Obama will point us in a much needed, new direction, especially in foreign policy. He certainly has his work cut out for him! I am glad America finally stood up and said "we need change!" And I am more hopeful about our future than I have been in a long time.
Here are a few more video clips from Lava Rapid in the Grand Canyon. In the first one, Gene hits the very edge of the big circulating hole. We all thought he was done for, but he pulled out of it OK. Patricia in the front of the boat gets really smacked down by the waves.
2008 has been a good year, with lots of new experiences and good times. We finished our trip around the world, moved back to Alaska, and floated the Grand Canyon with my whole family. As the new year comes up right around the corner, I am having a difficult time figuring out what to do in 2009. I suppose it will all unfold as the time moves by!
Here is 2008 in Review. I wish everyone a New Year full of wonderful and surprising experiences!
January, 2008 I spent traveling through Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia by myself, without a guide book. It was a great way to travel and I ended up in some pretty off-the-wall places as well as some well known ones reccommended by other travelers. This photo was taken during sunset at Angkor Wat, which was one of the amazing places I was able to see.
February, 2008 I met up with my grandfather and uncle at my mothers home in New Zealand on the South Island. My grandfather and I spent some time touring the North Island first, where I learned to drive on the right side of the road and managed to completely terrify my grandfather: "Yarrow, you're too far over. You are going to go in the ditch." "Yarrow, you almost hit that car" "Yarrow, you are on the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD!"Or was that the right side of the road? March 2008 I met up with Tim in Argentina and we traveled to Igazu Falls, and then through Paraguay and Uruguay. I turned 34 queitly as we where taking an all day bus journey across Paraguay.
April 2008 was spent in Peru, seeing Macchu Picchu (of course) and then heading down south to see my favorite thing . . . petroglyphs, at Toro Muerto. On the way we visited Amanti Island, where life was still going on much as it has for 1000's of years.
May 2008, was spent trekking around Huaraz, Peru, before moving up into Ecuador where we stayed under a smoking volcano ("no big deal" the kids told me) and took steaming hot mud treatments inside a giant box. June, 2008 we were back in the United States for the first time in over a year. We flew in to Pheonix, bought a car, and drove to Alaska. I can remember being shocked by how convenient everything was in the US, and also by how many God-awful big box stores there were. Do we ever have some ugly architecture!
July, 2008 we arrived back in Alaska mid-June-just in time to enjoy the coldest, dreariest summer on record. That's OK-I still loved it!
August, 2008 was still cold!
September, 2008 was a month for gathering wood for winter, watching the moose rut, picking berries, and watching the fall colors.
October 2008 came in with angel dust in the mountains and went out with a wind storm featuring winds of 100 miles per hour. Lots of trees, roofs, power lines, and anything else laying around was taken out.
November 2008 the entire family went down to Arizona to do a 25 day raft trip of the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon. The weather was spectacular-warm and clear-and we spent most nights sleeping out under the stars watching meteors streaking the sky.
December, 2008 is back in Alaska for the holidays. We have lots of snow this year and-go figure-it's cold! Minus 15 degrees today but with all the wood we chopped throughout the summer it's nice and warm in the house.
December 21st, the shortest day of the year, gets less than 6 hours of daylight in Anchorage. But what beautiful daylight it is! We spent the afternoon chasing the sun up bird ridge, had a few drinks at the Brown Bear with friends, and then watched this fabulous sunset along the inlet before having dinner with the family. And starting tomorrow, we get a few more minutes of light each day!
On the 8th of Nov, after many years on a wait list and several months of frantic preparation, Tim and I flew to Arizona for a 25 day raft trip of the Grand Canyon with our family and five people we had never met before. After meeting and unloading on the 10th, the actual river trip would begin on the 11th at Lee's ferry and end 25 days and 225 miles downstream at the Diamond Creek pull out.
That first day of setup went by in a blur of activity and confusion; unloading and pumping up boats, loading coolers, a kitchen, a Porto toilet, and all our personal gear. And then there were all the questions to be answered; who wants what boat? Where the hell is everything? How do you use and set up all this gear? And in the back of our minds, who is this handful of strangers that we will be on the river with for the next 25 days?
From left to right; Amber, Barney, Carl, Patricia, Ryan, Clint (in orange), Sandra and Yarrow (sitting), Gene (in the cowboy hat), Tim, Kimmer, Theta, Dick, and David.
We planned for an early start on the 11th, but disaster struck before sunrise! My uncle, Barney, ran into a cable in the dark and injured his back. He is not sure if he will make it or not, but we have to get down the river that day per park regulations. He spends the day laying down, well medicated, and my stepfather, David, treats him with acupuncture. Finally by midday we leave with Gene rowing Barney's boat to the closest campsite we can stay at, about six miles down river.
Fortunately, the next day Barney is starting to feel better and is ready to row the first big rapid of the river, House Rock. We reach House Rock about midway through the day and, having never been on a river like this before, I take one look at the raging current and big holes and decide that I am absolutely going to die. I grab my big sunglasses and slap them on my face to hide my tears of terror and jump into the boat with David, who has rowed the GC three times. Carl and David go through House Rock first, and then, still very much alive, we pull into the eddy to watch the others go through. Clint, with Tim in the boat, goes through pretty smooth. Then Ryan, who is rowing a big river for the first time ever, goes through and nearly gets buried in one of the holes, but manages to pull out of it OK. Barney follows last and somehow gets spun around backwards, but also pulls through. Seeing that it can actually be done, I am feeling much better now about the whole rapid thing.
Ryan in the House Rock hole.
Grabbing for the oars
Barney headed down backwards.
That evening when we pull into camp, we begin the routine that continues throughout the trip; setting up camp, dinner, and then sitting around the fire pan where Amber keeps us laughing most of the night and a competition begins between the pyromaniacs of the group to see who can pile on the most wood. In the beginning of the trip my mother, Carl, and I are the contenders, but by the end of the trip, Ryan, who according to his girlfriend, Amber, had never burned much more then one of those yuppie fire logs before, comes out as the clear winner of the title "King Pyromaniac".
Theta sitting in front of a fire that is just getting started for the night, with the wood pile behind him.
A few days into the trip we stop for our first layover day at Nankoweep where we can see the granaries left behind by the Anasazi about 900 years ago, and also hike up to the rim to see a boulder covered with petroglyphs. On this boulder is one of the most interesting Kokopellis that I have seen. We eventually have 5 or 6 layover days on the trip, all centered around hiking up beautiful side canyons or onto the rim of the canyon. All throughout the trip there was a meteor shower which made sleeping under the stars especially amazing as we watched blazes of light streak across the sky.
Little Nankoweep Kokopelli
Nankoweep Granaries
After House Rock, the rapids continued to come along along fast and furious, and every day we went through several. In one of the smaller rapids, Carl decides to play a trick on his passengers, Sandra and Theta, and jumps out of the boat with them talking away on the seat in front of him. It took them a while to notice that they were alone in the boat, and when they finally do, after doing several double takes, Theta jumps on the oars as the boat was heading for the canyon walls. He gets the boat through the waves and Carl eventually swam back to the boat and got back in.
We were lucky throughout the trip to have no flips, but three other people also ended up swimming, although not purposely like Carl. In Serpentine rapid, Ryan's boat tilted up on it's side and he was ejected from the boat. He was able to get back in quickly. My mom and David were not quite as lucky in Sapphire. My mother was sitting on top of the wood pile that they had gathered into the back of the boat for that evening's fire when David, not paying attention, took the boat through a big hole sideways and it tilted completely on its side. They were both tipped from the boat, and the entire wood pile fell on top of my mother, many pieces of which landed on her head! The boat came back down, right side up, but landed with my mom and David underneath it. Eventually they were able to get out from underneath, but while my mom was able to grab onto the boat, David was immediately sucked down into a hole. Barney watched all this from down below on the river and as the boat drifted down the river towards him he had Gene row to intersect it. At the right moment he jumped into the boat and pulled my mom back in, while David, who had eventually been spit out of the hole, swam towards the boat and, exhausted, was pulled in as well. After this near disaster, we were all a little more careful!
All too soon, the river started to mellow out again as we came closer and closer to our pull out at Diamond Creek and the end of the trip. On our second to last night came the moment we had waited for the whole trip; Bacon Bomb! Having saved our bacon grease in a metal can for the entire trip, we put the can in the fire to heat. Once it was boiling, we used another can attached to the end of a long stick to pour in some water and watch the grease explosion!
Our last night on the river, we all stayed up a little later and wished the trip could last a little longer. It was amazing to have spent so much time away from civilization, rowing and hiking and sleeping under the stars at night. It makes you realize how little we really need in life to survive and be satisfied!
Inner Granite Gorge-the oldest exposed rock in North America
On one of our hikes a few of us used a rope to get down into the narrows of Deer Creek
At Havasu, with it's blue, blue water.
David (left run) and Carl (right run) through Horn Rapid.
Yesterday, as I was handed a blank ballot, I felt so happy, so blessed, to live in a country where I have the freedom to vote. In our year and a half spent overseas, my husband and I spent time in many countries where people can't vote. Or if they can vote, the results of these 'elections' are already determined by corruption and intimidation before they even cast their ballot. The people in these countries told us that they did not have opportunity. They did not have freedom of speech. They lived in fear of their government. They had no hope for change. So as I stood in the voting booth with that empty ballot in my hand, it was amazing to me that I was there, holding onto hope. Holding onto the power to bring about change.
Over the peak spreading clouds, At it's source the river's cold. If you would see, Climb the mountain top.
Hakuyo
About Me
akroadweed
I am an Alaskan who loves to travel-the new experiences, the sights, sounds, smells, and especially the people. It is amazing how people all over the world are willing to open up, sharing with you a small piece of their lives and showing you a window into their world.
I also love my home in Alaska-the open wilderness, the mountains, the beauty, and, yes, even the long, cold winters!
This blog is a place for me to record and share my experiences, photos, and sometimes my pointless musings.
O, how incomprehensible everything was, and actually sad, although it was also beautiful. One knew nothing. One lived and ran about the earth and rode through forests, and certain things looked so challenging and promising and nostalgic: a star in the evening, a blue harebell, a reed-green pond, the eye of a person or a cow. And sometimes it seemed that something never seen yet long desired was about to happen, that a veil would drop from it all; but then it passed, nothing happened, the riddle remained unsolved, the secret spell unbroken, and in the end one grew old and looked cunning . . . or wise . . . and still one knew nothing perhaps, was still waiting and listening.
