Life's a Stitch

We spent more than we needed to for an airport transfer through Viator. It was comforting, in an unfamiliar foreign country, having the security of someone waiting with your name on a sign while you go through the long lineup for Morrocan immigration. I believe that nearly all world passports are machine readable, but for some reason the information was being hand entered by the agents. 

We picked up our one medium suitcase (the Camino does have that impact, learning to travel on the light side), which was nicely shrink wrapped by the airline for its layover in Casablanca.

It was the end of a long day, so first impressions were tainted with tiredness. Marrakech's medina is an overwhelming crowded maze by day, and at night throw in the dark to add to the confusion potential. Packs of people, neon lights, no cars, but loud mopeds scooting on the same track as pedestrians, lots of cats in front, behind and above. It was pretty much what I was expecting, C was thinking the old town would be less run down. 

We are staying in a riad, a traditional guest house right in the middle of the medina. The manager met us at the point where cars were no longer permitted and walked us in.  

He later walked us to a restaurant for our first tagine, one with chicken and apricots, the other lamb and prune. There we met a couple from the Netherlands, although he was originally from Iran, who gave us a course in Marrakesh 101: how to bargain, don't get directions from the young men on the street who misguide you then charge you to escort you to the correct place (use the Maps.Me offline app instead) where to eat…

We found our way back to the riad dodging mopeds and bikes, and fell into bed just before midnight.

It looks way more upscale than it is, but it's nice for a lower priced riad in the medina.

October 22

Waiting for our flight to Casablanca where our feet will first touch a new continent, the airport sign seemed unreal. 

By the end of the day we're scheduled to be at Riad Al Jana in Marrakech. I'm told by a fellow passenger that it translates to a house like heaven. 

We read that the authentic Moroccan experience includes a stay in a riad, a traditional home with a garden courtyard in the middle rather than windows to the outside. It was explained that a house without the garden has exposed windows with elaborate grillwork so nobody can see inside, in order to protect the privacy of the women. Would prefer the garden variety, the bars looked a wee bit prisonesque to me.

Our riad is located in Marrakech's medina, the maze like old city, which contains historic sites and the souks (marketplaces). We have booked a personal guide for an all day tour tomorrow.

In the meantime, however, we're laying over in the Casablanca airport. The flight was good, more legroom than most, but in need of housekeeping. Royal Air Morac has apparently not received the memo that flights no longer include food, so we were pleasantly surprised when on a two hour flight, lunch was served: four chunks of nicely spiced Moroccan chicken, couscous, pasta and olive salad, bread and cream cheese and plain sweetened yogurt for dessert.

We had heard that the Casablanca airport had shopping, restaurants, and an opportunity to change money, however, that's in the international terminal. It's a good thing we had lunch; for our 5.75 hour layover we've been sequestered in the domestic section, a large echoey room with eight gates, a predictable number of unhappy children and antsy smokers pacing the floor. 

Royal Air Maroc plane in Casablanca:

This is an appropriate time to bring up the Camino concept of the bathroom score, having made a trip to the washroom. We had fun with other pilgrims coming up with a scoring system, assigning a point for each item:

– A toilet seat. Thus is a spotty occurrence in parts of Europe, and now I can say the same holds true in Africa. Really, though, the presence of a toilet or lack thereof, is even a possibility. The foot pads on either side of a hole in the floor still exist, although I've yet to have to utilize one.

– Toilet paper. Pilgrims always have a supply in their pockets.

– Water other than cold. Rarely happens.

– Soap

– A means to dry one's hands: paper towels or a functioning hand dryer.

– Extra points given for cleanliness.

Only one bathroom came close to having everything and that was in France. I think it was at a cafe.

One other Camino observation by a pilgrim I met. Why, on long stretches of the path without services, do you find so much toilet paper strewn about, when you hardly ever find any in a bathroom?

Tomorrow: Marrakech

 

Another example of the stretch of the Roman Empire and its impact on infrastructure. After 2000 years, amphitheatres, roads, bridges, aqueducts and other buildings still stand. 

Tarragona was the ancient Roman city of Tarraco. Today's city was built right on top of the original settlement. Like the picture of the bank in yesterday's post, there are places where you can't separate the old and new. Apartments located right in the ruins, newer structures using Roman foundations. 

We're staying in the old town in a 4th floor Air B$B walk up apartment. About 220 square feet, it's laid out brilliantly to include a separate bedroom, kitchenette and living area. The bathroom is 2.25 ft wide by 8 ft including the shower. We're within walking distance of:

The Circus, which held the gladiator races and 30,000 spectators:

 The amphitheater:
 And the forum:

 

We headed back up the coast to depart from Barcelona's airport where we will start our next adventure in Marrakech, Morocco. The evening sunset was beautiful:

Reus is the birthplace of Barcelona's famous architect, Antoni Gaudi, who is best known for the design of La Sagrada Familia church, Parc Guell and a number of large homes and palaces in the area.

I was in Barcelona once without C and toured La Sagrada Familia. Unfortunately on a return trip together the lines were too long for C to have the tour. This trip he wasn't interested in battling the crowds, but I was determined to have him learn more about Gaud's work as I was sure he'd enjoy it. Many of C's photographs of texture in nature, and his former work in stained glass, reminded me of Gaudi's projects inspired by nature.

We read about Gaudi Museum in Reus, a charming city of Art Deco and Nouveau architecture, located near Tarragona.

The exhibit was a more in depth view of Gaudi's work and life. I was right, C enjoyed it, his comment summed it up "I thought Gaudi was some crackpot designer and now I know, he was a genius."

When Gaudi was a child his report card rated him low in intelligence and he grew up to be a brilliant architect. Unfortunately, while exiting the Sagrada Familia one day after work when he was in his 70's in the 1920's, he was hit and killed by a street car. In reality he wouldn't have lived to see his finished cathedral as it is so huge it is not yet complete.

We stopped for lunch and met a family of six from Scotland. We were all shocked at the size of the pizza they ordered. 

Then they told us a second one was ordered as well! They offered to share, but we had already had a three course lunch. When the time came for them to refuse having it boxed up to take back to their all inclusive resort I took them up on their offer to share by asking for a slice to be boxed. Turns out the server boxed all the leftovers, enough for two meals. Luckily our AirB&B apartment has a kitchen.

On to Tarragona, with extensive examples of Roman ruins throughout the town, integrated with the modern city. Here are a bank built right into the ruins of the Roman circus and modern buildings utilizing Roman foundations, some originally built in 150 BC.

Tomorrow: Tarragona

Going through Camino walking withdrawal I convinced C to walk an hour on the town's "cholesterol trail" to the beach and agreed to take the train home. Turns out we walked farther and did the return path as well, for a total of three hours. Needed to burn off the delicious burgers at lunch. 

We had a bit of rain, but it made for nice photos.

 

One of my favourite subjects, clouds, which changed by the hour:

This was about the same place an hour later:

On the way back it looked threatening, but we remained dry;

Tomorrow we work our way down the coast to Reus and Tarragona.

There was a noticeable security presence at the airport in Bordeaux reminding me of post 911 military presence in the US. 

Back to Catalonia, but this time extending our reach to Tarragona and further. We've decided to visit Morocco, a place a bit beyond our usual comfort zone. 

In the meantime, our timing was right for the Fira Santa Teresa, a large festival featuring a Castell competition. These are the traditional human towers of the Catalan region. The winning team reached ten high. 

The bottom layer are made up of the burliest strongest castelleros, while the top couple are small children. Look on the right side of the tower in this video and notice the tiny munchkin in a helmet climbing up the side. It was hard for me to watch, but can you imagine the parents or grandparents? A contingent of ambulances is at the ready:

It's pretty impressive but like bullfighting, one of those Spanish sports that I find a bit difficult to comprehend.

There were parades and traditional folk dances to break the tension.

 And of course, excellent festival food:

After a relaxing morning we took Bruce to noon Sunday dinner at a local restaurant. This is the busiest time in France for eating out. No wonder, you need the rest of the day to wear off the food coma. It was coincidentally Canadian Thanksgiving with the over indulgence of a holiday meal. 

It started with an horsdeuvre buffet. 

The main course followed and both C & I chose duck. Hey, when in Rome (or France)…The next course was a tray of TEN cheeses, followed by dessert, Creme Brûlée. This seemed a bit ironic since Chuck and Jean used to work in the Heart Smart Program at the health department, and I was being accompanied by two men who have had three heart attacks between them. All three of us are on cholesterol drugs and hopefully we're well guarded from this dietary transgression.

We rolled out of the restaurant and back to La Rit where we had an apres feast discussion about good books and movies, good for digestion. After a short while we got back to reality helping Bruce and sorting and packing our luggage.

On the healthy side of eating, I vowed one more trip to Jean and Bruce's fig tree prior to our departure in the morning. What a treat, perfectly ripened sweet figs fresh from the tree, something we don't get at home.

 

 

This morning we walked Saint-Fort-sur-Gironde, to visit the market and find a geocache at the the Eglise St. Fortunat. It was reminiscent of Camino paths and felt good. Lots of flowers, fields and vineyards along the way.

On the way back we met two friendly Golden Retrievers from England visiting their French country home, the first one doing well on three legs.

The afternoon was spent catching up: blogging and laundry, and helping Bruce with must-do's for the seasonal shut down of the house.

It turns out that yesterday we were right on a Camino route that starts in Paris and goes through Bordeaux. Hmmm, I feel the seeds of another Camino dream starting to sprout. 

This morning I had the opportunity to introduce Bruce to geocaching. Two very brief previous opportunities to cache in France were fruitless due to weather and time. This experience was all about success. Bruce finds his first cache at La Tour de Beaumont high above the river Gironde.

 There was an art installation entitled "Museum" at the top that had picture frames with cut outs through the mini museum's wall in order to enjoy "artwork" of the French countryside.

  

The second successful cache was at the Port Maubert, where kids were learning to sail:

I'm hoping to have a successful geocaching experience if we get to Morocco this trip. It's a reasonably priced short distance from Spain. 

We picked up C, still in Camino recovery mode and headed to the town of Saintes with its Roman amphitheater, location of geocache #3. It has the similar gory details to the Colusseum in Rome such as a gravel floor to absorb blood. 

After finding the cache we went on to the cache at the Arch of Germanicus, built a loooong time ago in the years 18 & 19. In the 1840's it was moved 15 meters and restored. 

C took a break in the park after a successful find.

We visited the Cathédrale Saint-Pierre de Saintes, which had a history of being destroyed in various conflicts and rebuilt in phases to it's simple but elegant current state. We didn't find the geocache, though.

No more caches scheduled so we stopped in at Sainte's public library, a renovated convent and continue to admire the interesting mixtures of old and new architecture.

Whew, that was a busy day!

 

In the afternoon we were escorted by more friends of Bruce for a tour of the town of Cognac. Sister Salvatore, my high school French teacher would be proud at how much I understood given my French grades. Must be all the knowledge gleaned from living over half my life in Canada and reading cereal boxes.

We stopped at the Hennessey company for a tour and tasting.

Some of their casks still hold cognac from the 1800's.

I'm sorry to say, as interesting as the production process is, cognac is not my thing. C benefitted from my share of the tasting. 

 On the road we passed by some escargot in the roundabout, larger than this morning's hitchhiker in the grapes, from yesterday's post.