Rasta and Elvis go to Morocco

We all decided to do a Sahara Desert trip. There are three types of trips 1, 2 and 3 days in length. We all opt for the 3 day. James and I had found a travel agency that did the exact same trip as our hostel for 100 dirhams less. So we set off to make reservations.


Usually when James and I walk around the markets of Marrakesh, we get a lot of attention from the local shop owners. We are easily recognized as foreigners which automatically makes us rich and dollar/pound/euro signs in their eyes. Right outside the road that our hostel is on is an antique dealer selling old jewelry and the type of the stuff the trader guy on the intro of Aladdin would try to pawn off. This guy even has old school Aladdin like lamps. Anyways, each time we walk by he always wants us to come into the store to have a look. His phrase is always “good price for you”. The fact of the matter is that every shop in Marrakesh says that phrase. We’ve been telling him next time for a while now and today is no exception and we continue our trek.

Finally we reach the busier areas and shouts of “Rasta!” and “Jackie Chan!” sound off like clock work. Usually James gets offers of drugs usually in the direct quote of “hashish, best in Morocco” everywhere he goes and today is no exception. A creepy looking guy runs out from the shadows of a dark alley and asks us how we are doing, where we are from, and finally the nonchalant pitch of “so you want some hashish?” We look straight ahead as we both say no and continue to walk.


Speaking of the question “where are you from”, it seems that in Morocco people don’t have the concept that I look asian and still be from the US. I’ve all but given up on telling people that I am from the States. They just don’t believe or think you are kidding. The usual response is “US? But ”. So from here on out I’ve been telling people I’m from China, in which their next response is “China wery good ” As my British friends would say “sorted”.


We reach the travel agency and finally book our trip for the following day. Our journey back is the same direction and the same shop owners give us the same pitch again as we walk by. This time however I hear someone shout “Elvis!” James and I both pause and give each other a look. “He wasn’t talking about me” I thought, then I look at this tall white man with dreadlocks next to me and realize that they couldn’t have been talking about James. Besides being called Elvis, I know that I have a super hot Sahara desert trip coming up and long hair isn't the most ideal thing to have in a super hot environment. At this point, I decide, not because of the numerous requests from facebook, that I need to get a haircut. 20 dirhams or 2.30 USD later I’d be damned if I got another Elvis shoutout.

The Cascades

The group of three Brits have now joined forces with Daniel another Brit. And I have found another Yankee, Joe from Iraq. Joe is on vacation from Iraq where he has been deployed. He has picked to take a vacation from the deserts of Iraq to visit the deserts of Morocco. Together we all decide to go check out the Cascade Waterfalls on a hostel arranged day trip. Early in the morning, much earlier than when I should be getting up on vacation, we all walk across an empty Medina to the travel company.





There are two groups of us and we pile into a minivan and work horse of the safari world, a Landrover Defender. There was a good mix of people on the trip. In particular Joe and I notice the two Brits that joined us that were both pretty cute. Sadly they were “together”, as Ellie reported heavy petting between them, I completely missed it, but Cheri concurred, hmmmmm.



The weather is really hot and there is no AC. We just have the windows to keep us cool. There are lots of interesting things that we see from the car including the local hay transport. Just to give you an ideal these overloaded semi are all over the highways and they are almost as tall as they are long. This particular one was swaying to one side as it was cruising down the road.






Once we get to the Cascades there are lots of activities to do. The first series of waterfalls unload into a large pool area where you can swim and jump off the rocks. There is a second waterfall that is huge and much wider than the first series. At the top there is about a 15m jump. You climb up a pretty steep set of rocks just to get to the waterfall to jump off. You can even swim beneath the waterfall and into it to a hang out area.



The swimming area is cool as these are glacial waters from the Atlas Mountains. However on a day like today where it is super hot, in the mid 40’s, C of course, the cold waters are a nice clash of temperatures. When I got out of the water I was dry in 5 or 10 minutes max and again ready to jump back in. The locals also use the water chill drinks that they sell.



The last set of waterfalls is the actual Cascades and they dwarf even the second waterfall. There is no swimming here. Like the Niagara Falls there’s a boat ride to the bottom part of the waterfalls. Small wooden bridges are used to navigate across the small streams of water from the main pool and footpaths go all the way up to the top canyon surrounding the bottom. The funny part is that there was always a traffic jam of too many people on either sides of the small one way bridge to where the line of people would come to a haut as no one wanted to give way to the other. It was an amazing site to see.

You smell like the Moroccan tanneries!

The next day James and I set off on a quest to find the tanneries. We read about it in the guide and it was described as a foul smelling place, but interesting none the less. So we leave in the morning and the girls go shopping. As we get near the tannery area and away from the main square people on the streets start to try to guide us. All the locals seem to know that if any foreigners are in that area they are looking for the tanneries. We know that this is ploy to try to get money out of us so we continue walking and ignore them.

The entire time we are walking the locals try to get our attention to go into their shops. James is a tall white guy with long dreads so he is hard to miss. So our journey to the tanneries, is filled with shouts of Rasta! Rasta Man! Bob Marley! And for me, I get Bruce Lee! Jakie Chan! Arigatou! Konnichiwa! I don't mind being called Bruce Lee all the time, Bruce Lee is badass. And even Jackie Chan is okay in my book. On the rare occasion it got real annoying when I would hear chin chong! in which I respond with derka derka (I don't think they got it). While I was busy attempting to cause an international incident, we both smell an odor of rotting flesh.



We finally reach the tanneries and are guided inside by one of the workers. He gives us a handful of mint leaves to use to help adjust to the decaying flesh smell of the leather curing process. The text in the guidebooks did nothing to prepare us for the foul odor that hit as like a brick wall. It took me a second to stomach the smell, I had to take several whiffs of the mint leaves to even continue walking in. I can’t even begin to describe the smell to do it justice, so I’ll just leave it at that.



The leathers come to the tanneries with fresh flesh and hairs still attached. So the first step is to remove the flesh and hairs. This is done either by soaking the skins in urine, soaking them in limestone water mixtures or leaving them out over the period of several months. This particular tannery used all three methods depending on the type of skin.

The next step is to put the soak the skins in pigeon poop. Men usually step on these skins to help apply the dung to the skins. This process lasts between several hours to days. The worker tells us that the pigeon poop solution can be substituted with animal brains, but pigeon poop is better. During this process the skins are also soaked in poops of lard, limestone-water mixture. The pools are made out of limestone and have been around since the start of the tanneries. This process is passed down from generation to generation.



Speaking of pigeons, one of the things I’ve noticed about Marrakech is irregular lack of pigeons. I soon found out that pigeons are considered a delicacy, so they are all caught and eaten. Pigeon actually costs more than rabbit here. Anyways back the leather soaked in the lard solutions. After curing for a week or so the skins are moved to the roof where they are dried. Once dried they are made soft using various minerals and again pigeon poop. After drying they are finally ready for the leather smith to be made into various goods.



Our tour goes right through the rancid smelling pits. The guide tells us to watch our step as some of the pits are covered and it is easy to accidentally fall into the pits of foul waters. I ask the guide and he confirms that he has fallen in numerous times. We continue to two tanneries one is Arabic and the other is Berber. I couldn’t really understand what made one tannery different from the other. They both smelled and made me noxious. The final part of the tour ended at a leather smith shop where a sales guy tried to sell us leather bags to seats. We didn’t bite and politely exited. As we were departing the main guy that was giving us the tour demanded 200 dirhams from each of us for the tour. We bargained and bargained and settled for 50 each, which was still a huge rip off on our part.

Exloring Marrakesh

The trek to the hostel was difficult. Not because it was uphill or anything like, but more because there are no street names. The medina is the area of Marrakesh that is walled off and has narrow streets. There are so many unmarked streets that twist and turn all over the medina that navigation by map is near impossible. There were reviews on hostelworld that said I would eventually end up paying a kid 10 dirhams to show me where the hostel is located. Instead I ended up just asking shop owners that pointed me all the way there.





The first day I met a group of three (James Cheri and Ellie) from UK, they arrived at the hostel shortly after I did. We all ended up grabbing lunch together. We ate at a small restaurant near the Medina Backpackers hostel. I ordered a Tagine, which is meat and vegetables cooked in a clay plate with a top so the food is steamed. I tried the rabbit with onions and raisins. This was a surprisingly good combination. The entire mean was around 5USD with drinks. The exchange rate here is about 1 USD to 8 dirham. Four dirham buys you a 2L bottle of water. Another food I tried are prickly pears. These are flowering bulbs that grow on cactus and are sweet. The redder the sweeter the bulb. Basically the cut the skin off and eat the seeds inside. It is suppose to help with stomach problems.





The next day was spent lounging around and getting adjusted to the area and the heat. There is only one room with air conditioning in it and the rest of the rooms just have fans. Luckily the desert weather here is cool at night, but took me considerably more time to fall asleep. In the morning I walk to the market to start my day with 3 dirham (less than 50 cents) fresh squeezed orange juice and explore more of the Medina. My excursion is cut short with the mid-day sun and retreat back to the hostel.



Most of exploration was done at night. The medina is much livelier as the sun sets and people come out. There are Arabic story tellers with groups of people gathered around. There are also games setup for people to play. The central area of the medina has small restaurants that all serve different foods. They merely tents that are setup and have a number on them so you can remember which one to return to and which ones to avoid. The same applies to the copious amounts of orange juice stands.



Cheri is half Brit and half Thai and when we travel together I guess we look like a couple. Tonight a local restaurant owner came up to me after our meal and pointed to Cheri asking “how much for this one?” I am quite proud to report that I was able to haggle all the way up to 100 camels and our entire dinner bill. Sadly James was later able to get 10,000 camels just for Ellie’s eyes.

Good Morn.. -omg what is that smell- Marrakesh

I arrive early in the morning at Marrakesh, the heart and soul of Morocco. Marrakesh is desert landscape and more of a flat city than tall. The ground is reddish brown and sand colored. Patches of green appear scattered in the flat sandy grounds. The buildings are no more than three or four stories at the most.



I follow the two French girls to the bus. For the cost of 10 dirham I was able to get from the airport to the main entrance to the medina. The entire ride over, I see people riding bike like scooters. These vehicles look like bikes but have a small engine under the main drive train cog. They make an even more annoying noise than modpeds and Djemaa el-Fna scoot along slowly on the edges of the road. Through the front gates we arrive in the main square area called. The square has lots of tents setup selling foods and an area dedicated to fresh squeezed orange juice, at 3 dirham each, roughly seventy-five cents US. I start walking around the market and taking in the various smells and sights.



The difference between pristine, clean, and nature park that is Switzerland and this dry arid desert country of Morocco is night and day. There have been many "what the hell am I doing" moments on this trip. Some of these include sleeping in the cold on top of Ben Nevis, running with the bulls at San Fermin, an 18 meter waterfall jump at Interlaken, and finally this: walking into the main medina market area of Marrakesh, Morocco.



Just whiffs of both good and bad smells mixed in with huge open market. I look around me and the people are dressed so vastly different. I see monkeys, cobras, turtles, chameleons and camels all over the market. Music is being played from instruments that I’ve never seen before. The hustle and bustle was all just a lot to take in all at once.

Geneva Times Three

I return to Geneva to catch my flight which is at 6am. Saideh, a fellow East High Blue Ace, has agreed to host me. She has been working Geneva for a while now. She gives me a tour of some of her favorite parts including a really nice roast chicken restaurant. It was pretty fun talking about highschool and Wichita subjects.



In the morning both of our alarms miss fire and I end up waking up naturally around 6:15. My flight leaves at 7:30 so we scramble to the tram station and take it to the train station. There we catch a cab to the airport. Somehow we managed to catch my flight.

Laosanne & Lucern

The two L cities were all that I could squeeze into my Switzerland tour before my plane leaves for Morocco. My next stop is Lausanne. Our hostel is near the train station and a good half hour walk to the lake. The lake area is picturesque like many parts of Switzerland. The water blends into the distant mountain. The effect makes the mountains look like they’re actually floating in the air.







Lucern is famous for its wooden bridge. I stayed in Lucern a lot longer since the rain hindered most of my exploration the first two days. None the less I was able to check out the markets and around the water and marina area. The weather in Lucern is definitely cooler. When the sun is out a short sleeve tshirt is fine, but when it disappears behind the clouds a light jacket is necessary.