Our First Hour in Africa

I am writing this in a very beautiful, refurbished guesthouse at the top of the Casbah (old walled city) in Tangier, Morocco.  The last two days here have been quite amazing, and given some of the events, I'm surprised to find myself sitting on a red velvet sofa in front of a chimney (fireplace) with a green and white tile fountain bubbling away in the entrance hallway to my right.  Taylor is three floors up, relaxing in our gorgeously appointed room.  I can hear our host Aziz talking to the guy who is here to bring us tea, and I think he answers the phone, answers the door and cleans.  He also built the fire.

We arrived yesterday morning on the ferry from Tarifa, Spain.

Here's our ferry.  Notice the ominous sky.  When we got off the ferry in Tangier, it was raining!

I thought the inside of the ferry kind of looked like a casino.  This lady was knitting for most of the trip.

 We understood that Aziz would meet us at the dock with a sign with our name on it.  When we got off the ferry, we had to walk further than I expected to get to the ferry terminal.  This surprised me, as I thought we'd get off the boat, and there would be Aziz.  We wandered through streams of people, both locals and tour groups, and didn't see anyone with a sign for us.  We did see other guides greeting their people.  Finally a man from the tourist department asked if he could help.  I told him we were to meet Aziz.  The man replied, "Oh, Aziz," and walked outside the terminal.  We followed.

Eventually another man came up to me and said, "Are you looking for Aziz?  Are you Taylor Dennen?"  I said, "Yes," and told Taylor this was our man, and we began to follow.   Taylor hadn't heard my brief conversation and wasn't sure what we were doing.  I asked the man if he was Aziz and he said "No, I'm the driver."  "Where is Aziz?"  He replied "We'll see Aziz," and he led us to his mini van and we got in. By now, both Taylor and I were wondering if we had made a huge mistake by jumping in a vehicle with a stranger in a strange country, but we were stuck, with our luggage in the back.

This man started driving through town, giving us his tour speech and we just listened and observed.

He took us to a mosque, and told us about it and asked if we wanted to take pictures.  We didn't know what else to do so we got out and I snapped pictures, wondering if the car, with our worldly possessions would disappear.

I was as interested in the people as I was in the mosque.

 We eventually got back in the car and continued driving. About 45 minutes into his tour, our driver stopped the car on the side of the road and we just sat. This naturally made us a little nervous, but it was a nice neighborhood, so we held tight  Eventually, another man, wearing a bright blue sweater, opened the sliding door and stuck his hand in to shake ours, saying, "Welcome to Morocco.  I'm Aziz."  He then jumped into the front seat and asked if Mohammad had done a good job.  So now we knew:  Mohammad was our driver, and Aziz was finally with us.

I will write more about this amazing day later, but know, the day ended with Taylor and me sitting on the rooftop patio of La Maison Blanche at the top of the Casba, sipping Moroccan mint tea.

All is well with the world, for this day and moment.

Granada

Hotel Anacapri in Granada.

Here we are in Granada, at the Hotel Anacapri.  This room is by far my favorite of all our hotels.  I even think it will be quiet so I can sleep.

Granada is an amazing city.  It has a wonderful combination of old and new.  I am especially charmed by the old Moor, and Gypsy - or Roma- communities that march right up the hillsides.  Unfortunately for me, my camera battery died so I didn't take as many photos as I could have.

Taylor and I wandered through the main part of town, exploring the squares, cathedral and alleys. It turns out that Queen Isabelle and King Ferdinand built a huge cathedral here to celebrate their good fortune in running the Moors out of town back in 1492.  The cathedral was worth exploration. Then we followed the Dorro River up the hills into the heart the winding streets of the original Moor and Gypsy areas.  We got lost, but always found ourselves again.  It was a wonderful day.

Shopping outside the cathedral.

More shopping near the cathedral.

You can pick up fresh spices after going to church.

The Dorro River.  It is the source of the water up at the Alhambra.

Looking up toward the Gypsy homes.

 I took this photo and the following two at a bathhouse.  Apparently you can take a bath, smoke a hookah and have a snack with tea - all at the same place.

Alhambra

It is hard to describe the Alhambra.  It is the last stronghold of the Moors in Spain.  They lost it in 1492, when the Catholics took over.  It is an amazing fort, with palaces, gardens, baths, fountains, mosques, churches all within one huge walled city.  I tried to get good photos, but  I realized I can't do it. There are books dedicated to capturing the magic of the place.  Why would my pictures, or any of those taken by the other 8000 visitors each day, be anything special?  With a camera a person can manage to irritate those around him and actually miss the sights, sounds and smells of Alhambra.  I took plenty, but tried to put the camera away much of the time.  My pictures are only meant to spark my memory of this amazing place.

Here we are, taking a rest break at 5 in the afternoon: cafe con leche for me and Coke Zero for Taylor.  We're in the courtyard of a hotel right in the Alhambra.  I insisted we take a break before finishing our tour.  The second wind made a huge difference.

A few random memories of Alhambra:

A view of Granada from Alhambra.  We walked all over these hills the previous day.

Tarifa

We are now in Tarifa, Spain's southern most town.  I am writing this from the rooftop patio of Hostal Africa where we will spend the night.  The hotel is in the heart of the old walled part of town. It is quite breezy and chilly, but I'm in a covered area so I'm very comfortable, luxuriating in the fact that I'm here. I can hear the ocean and  I anticipate a spectacular sunset.

Hostal Africa.

I'm sitting here right now.

The view from my rooftop aerie.

At a glance, this town is similar to Oregon and Washington beach towns off season - cold, windy and dreary.  The difference being there is a marvelous town wall with a castle, and we can look across the water at Africa.  The most important is that we can see both the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Oceans at the same time.

Kayakers on the Mediterranean. Africa is in the distance.

A castle near the beach that is situated so it has a view of both the Mediterranean and the Atlantic Oceans.

The Atlantic Ocean.

Tomorrow we will be in Tangier, Morocco.  We leave on the 9 a.m. ferry.  Aziz will meet us at the dock for his "Gran Tour" of the city.

Final Thoughts of Madrid

Our final two nights in Madrid took a remarkable turn.  Saturday, which I expected would be the wildest and craziest of nights outside our room, quieted down shortly after midnight.  I was totally amazed to wake up around 8 in the morning.  I was surprised because I had actually fallen asleep.  Taylor, who is always an early riser, reported that the streets were almost deserted.  It seems that everyone was in church.  I guess you have to close down the party early on Saturday night to be able to drag yourself into church on Sunday morning.

As we headed out to go to a local flea market, we also discovered that Calle de la Monterra was closed down and Puerta del Sol was set up for a marathon.  Perhaps that is another reason the street in front of Hotel Atheneo was quiet in the night.  We watched as thousands of marathoners started off to lots of enthusiastic cheering and loud music.

Sunday night was also quiet and I slept.  I wonder now if I was imagining all the ruckus of our first nights in Madrid.

Final memories of Madrid:

The fruit stand where we bought our daily oranges.

Hotel Europa where we had breakfast in the morning.

Cafe con leche and croissant at the bar.

Chocolate and churros at the Chocolateria San Gene after a tour of the Royal Palace.

This man is cranking out churros in this hot steamy room behind the glass door.  Fresh churros dipped in chocolate are wonderful.

Sunday morning flea market.

The flea market reminded me of Portland Saturday Market, with the addition of old crap from every one's basements.

I was surprised to find a spinning wheel at the flea market, along with old sewing machines.

A final memorable dinner near Plaza de Mayor.  We finally tried vermut............a drink I can get used to (I had two). As a final treat, our waiter brought us liquor of madrona in little chocolate lined wafer cups.

Every bar in every restaurant is quaint.

The Madrid bear feasting on madrona berries.

The grand finale of Madrid - madrona liquor in chocolate lined cups.

Sleepless in Madrid

The governor's office

A protest

Puerto del Sol is a large  square in the symbolic center of Spain.  It is surrounded by lovely buildings 3 or 4 stories tall.  One of the buildings is the former post office, now the governor's office, complete with guards stationed out front.  It has several fountains and statues, including a bear eating madronna berries.  Puerto del Sol is where you go to catch the Metro, listen to Mariachi bands (I thought they were Mexican), view street performers of all ilk, people watch or participate in political protests. Many streets, including ours, radiate from Puerto del Sol.  It is the place to be, and to be seen. It always busy.

Hotel Ateneo before Calle Monterro wakes up.

Hotel Ateneo is on Calle Montero.  It is about two blocks from Puerto del Sol, and is a perfect location for walking everywhere.  The hotel is on a corner, and our room's quaint little balcony faces the alley.  The alley is pretty quiet, although cars pass through on their way to a parking garage on the other side of Montero.  Monterro is lined with restaurants, bars, dress and shoe shops, ham shops, souvenir shops, farmicia, etc, etc.

Our room is behind one of the balconies on the left.

 Around 6 a.m. the street becomes somewhat quiet as street cleaners start on their rounds to straighten up the area.  Garbage trucks roam up and down, delivery trucks make their rounds.  Some folks walk to work, some folks return home from a night out.  There are even ladymen still trying to strum up business.  As the day wears on businesses reopen and the street wakes up.  The street is always humming. By mid afternoon, Monterro looks like this:

As night approaches the crowd grows and the sound becomes louder and more discordant. Just as I start relaxing, loud male voices will erupt in song, or female voices will shriek, startling me back to consciousness.  It's like an unpredictable beast out there.  The crescendos seem loudest between midnight and 6 a.m.  I feel safe inside, but the noise is not at all comforting.  Nor is it conducive to sleep.



Forever yours,
Sleepless in Madrid.