Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/192.html

http://mym0ry.smugmug.com/Motorcycle...L/map192-L.jpg

It was a very relaxing time in La Cadière-d'Azur. We went out for walks in the pretty countryside (when it wasn't raining), Trevor and Neda took turns making dinner each night, and over wine our talk would turn to all the places we'd "maybe" point our front wheels towards. Trevor travels much like we do: no schedule, no plan. A few months ago he guessed he'd be in Asia by now, just like we thought we'd be in Argentina right now... but things happen, stuff changes and you just end up going with the flow.

I sometimes get the sense that people think we're being evasive when we're non-committal about our plans for the future. "What do you mean you don't know where you're going? How can you not know?!" Here in this tiny town that nobody's ever heard of, in the middle of the French Riviera, it was refreshing to drink, eat and just chat about the future using nothing but shrugs, "maybes" and "perhaps".

Some travelers find comfort in schedule, but for us, the freedom to float and wander is a dreamy intoxication.

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Bags all packed, ready to hit the road again

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Bye Trevor! Thanks for putting us up, and for taking this pic! :)

We took advantage of the clearing weather to bid adieu (or however the French do it here) to Trevor. We're pretty confident that we'll run into each other again.

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Calanques are steeped-wall inlets typically found in the Mediterranean

The best examples of calanques are the Massif des Calanques just south-east of Marseille. Since the weather was so nice, we took the twisty coastal road back west with zeal, parked the bikes and hiked for 45 minutes to peer over the cliff tops of the Calanque Sugiton into the Balearic Sea.

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Strong winds whip through our wind-proof gear and threatens to blow us over the edge!

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We spent quite a bit of time marveling at the beauty of the jagged coastline

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This range of calanques runs about 20kms along the coast, and sometimes extends to about 4kms inland

It's a very popular area for hikers - we passed by so many on our hike to the coast. We felt very out-of-place with our motorcycle gear on while people power-walked passed us clad in spandex and carrying those funny hi-tech hiking poles. There are many well-marked trails so it's hard to get lost. We remarked to each other how unlike these trails were compared to the very primitive ones in Central and South America.

The only thing that could have made these easier to follow would be little blinky coloured lights on either side of the path and an information booth every 100m...

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Simply stunning!


Here's a short video of us riding the coastal roads past the Massif des Calanques

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Approaching Marseille once again

The weather was still on our side, so we stayed off the Autoroute and headed inland. Neda heard that there was an amphitheatre in nearby Arles, so she wanted to check it out (which means, she wanted to see if it was better-looking than her hometown amphitheatre in Pula). We couldn't find affordable accommodations in Arles, so we're staying in Nimes which is only 30 kms away.

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We seemed to have picked up another rider somewhere in Nimes. We're a motorcycle gang now!

I may have overstated my French-language skills in the last blog entry. Everywhere I go, my attempts at Le Français is met with blank, uncomprehending stares. I repeat my words often, and slowly the people I'm talking to piece together what I am trying to say. Then they repeat what I just said. Word for word. Didn't I just say the EXACTLY SAME THING?!? Is it my terrible imitation of a Quebecois accent or something?

Very disheartening... :(

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Laundry day in Nimes?

Since we were here in Nimes we spent the day checking out the town. We found out that there are many examples of Roman architecture right inside the city. And they aren't ruins! They are in remarkably good shape!

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Hanging out at the Maison Carrée. It's the most well-preserved Roman temple found anywhere

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French Bullfighter?

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The non-gluten, non-dairy diet continues. Red wine is allowed!

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The city is so empty at night. This isn't Italy anymore, people don't sleep during the day here.

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Dammit! My camera was just a couple of milliseconds too slow for a great shot!

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The Nimes Arena

It turns out Nimes also has a Roman Amphitheatre, we just happened to stumble upon it while walking around. We did a circle around the structure and then Neda peered inside it. She sniffed and proclaimed: "Yep. Ours is better."

I agreed instantly without any hesitation at all, whatsoever...

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It is done up nicely with lights that change every few seconds though... oops, did I say that out loud?

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Gothic Cathedral Saint-Baudile

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Maison Carrée lit up at night

It's been over a week on the non-gluten, non-dairy diet and Neda is still experiencing GI issues. We were seriously thinking about going to a doctor to get it professionally diagnosed.

I normally don't get up before Neda does, but one morning, I happened to catch her at breakfast. She was spreading a thick layer of Nutella over a slice of toast.

"Um, Neda... Nutella has dairy in it."
"So what? I've been eating this my entire life!"
"Well, maybe you should stop eating Nutella for a little while, just so we can tell if that's actually causing the problem or not."
"Well, maybe you should shut your dirty piehole!!!!" (except she didn't say it as nicely as that)

At this point, she was fiercely protecting her jar of Nutella, much like a mother bear would protect her cubs. I sensed I was in imminent danger, so I dropped the issue and backed away slowly.

A couple of days later, I found a half-full jar of Nutella in the trash can. Neda's GI problems had completely disappeared overnight, replaced with a palpable sadness that hung in the air.

This is one "I Told Ya So" that I'm not going to say out loud. Because it would be met with... well, death.

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In Hollywood circles, this happy couple was known simply as "NedTella".
This is my heartfelt tribute to a long-term love affair that still ended much too soon...

Allergic to Nutella? That is the saddest thing I've heard in ages.

Not at all Gene.........we won't say a word :rofl:

A woman in chocolate withdrawals :taz: would not be an experience I would care to live with, so good luck with that Gene doh:rofl:

Glad to read Neda is feeling better. Hopefully it's as simple as an allergy to Nutella. Gluten-free through France and Italy would be quite the challenge. Kind of like going alcohol-free in Ireland. bier Lori is horrified that such an allergy exist. She can't get enough of these rolled up Nutella tortillas they sell at roadside stands here in Mexico.

We both try to go gluten-free for the most part due to health reasons, something that concerned us a bit heading into Mexico. So far we find that bread type products here aren't quite the same as back home. Maybe less preservatives? We're not sure. We had Subway once and that seems to be an exception, we both felt crappy after that.

Wanted to ask if you could recommend a Spanish school in Guatemala, I think you guys stopped in Antigua for a month where Neda was teaching Spanish iirc ;)

Hey Mark,

In Guatemala, we both took a couple of weeks of Spanish lessons in Quetzeltenango (Xela) at Utatlán Spanish School. In Antigua, I kinda gave up and Neda continued her studies at Antigüeña Spanish Academy.

I liked our Spanish school in La Paz, Mexico a lot better than the Xela one. The curriculum seemed a lot more polished, but then again it was way more expensive. Not having taken classes in Antigua, I asked Neda about her experience and she said that both Guatemalan schools were the same and that you could basically pick any one off the Internet, it'll come down to the individual instructor anyway.

Hope this helps, good luck with el Español!

Excellent, thanks Gene!

I fully agree with XS904. It would be such a pitty if you missed this beautiful mediaeval city.
While in Carcassonne, I stayed in Hotel Astoria on 18 rue Tourtel in Carcassonne. This hotel is a member of the "Relais Motards" so bikers are very welcome and there is a big garage for the bikes. It is on walking distance from the mediaeval fortified city.

Here are some pictures of Carcassonne on my weblog;
http://jkrijt.home.xs4all.nl/trips/n2g2/page11.shtml

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/193.html

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It just won't stop raining in the south of France. We wanted to see a little bit more of this country before heading to warmer climates. Neda had researched a great medieval town called Carcassonne, not too far away but the forecast showed heavy rainfall for the next few days. Not good weather to explore castles or go riding around. It'll have to wait for another time.

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Preparing to leave France. In the rain...

I feel like we're just single-cell organisms responding to stimuli. Too cold? Too wet? With no sentient thought or plan, we just swing our flagella and move somewhere drier and warmer.

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Pit stop in Perpignan

On our last night in France, someone stole my motorcycle cover. Or so I thought. The next morning, we hopped on our bikes and headed to the border. We were immediately kicked around by strong cross-winds that threatened to blow our motorcycles off the side of the road. I was hit worse than Neda because of how much luggage I've piled on the back of my bike: my side-profile looks like a giant sail. It was so bad, we had to get off the highway and putter ahead on the backroads riding 20km/h under the speed limit with our 4-way flashers on.

I realized then that my motorcycle cover wasn't stolen. It was the wind that whipped it off last night. I felt really bad about blaming some random French person for something that didn't actually happen, meanwhile some tree is probably wearing a really expensive rip-stop nylon winter jacket right now... :(

I hate losing stuff, especially the things you can only get online. Where do we even get it shipped to when we're on the move all the time?

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Skirting south of the foothills of the Pyrenees

Once we got west of the Pyrenees, it was like someone waved a magic wand and the skies cleared instantly. It was a colour that we hadn't seen for a very long time. Neda's mood was visibly improving. Perhaps it was the weather. Perhaps the Nutella mourning period was over. Maybe it was because her stomach is feeling a lot better and she doesn't have any more washroom emergencies, but the instant we crossed the Spanish border, it was like she came back to life. Like she was reset. Re-animated. Rebooted.

She radioed me: "I can speak Spanish again!" Ah, that's the real reason.

I think with all the Français she was feeling a bit removed from everything. Now she was finally able to break out of her cocoon and be herself. Time for me to relax and let her drive the bus once again.

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A new tankbag hobby

Neda gave all the seashells she was collecting in her tankbag to her niece. She's moved on to collecting leaves now. This one is from Switzerland. Somehow, I don't think her collection is going to survive intact as long as the seashells did...

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We've stopped in a sea-side town of Calella, about half-an-hour outside of Barcelona

And just like amoebas, the minute the conditions start becoming favorable we stop moving and enjoy the sunshine and lack of rain. Calella is a weekend beach destination for a lot of Barcelonans, and is absolutely packed with tourists in the summer, but now we're in the off-season and it's a ghost-town during the week. Nice and peaceful, just the way we like it.

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Can you imagine this beach packed to gills in the summer?

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Too cold to suntan

Although the sun is shining, the temperatures only climb to about 15C during the middle of the day. Still a lot of people wearing thick layers walking around town. It's not raining so we really don't care.

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Namaste on the boardwalk

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Some rock climbing on the outskirts of town

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Better view of where the rock climbers were hanging around

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Calella has about 3kms of beaches, some open, some secluded. There's even supposed to be a nude beach around here somewhere!

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Either Neda is really enjoying the sunshine or she's spied the nude beach...

The cold and wet weather makes for a very draining ride. It's not just having to bear through the elements while on a motorcycle, but all the gear you have to put on: base layer, protective layer, waterproof layer. I really missed just throwing on a riding jacket to go out for a spin. Everything seems like such a production when you tour through these conditions!

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This guy has the right idea

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Birds eye view of the coast

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Parallel to the beach is a nice tree-lined promenade where families go for a stroll during the day

We've rented a small apartment in Calella with a nice kitchen so we can make our own food once again. I think we're going to stay here for a while.

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This is the market that Neda goes to every morning to get fresh groceries

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This is our fish lady. Neda buys fish from her every few days so we're regulars now

She's cutting up something called "sepia". Neda knew what the Croatian word for it, but couldn't tell me what it was in English because she's never prepared it in Canada. A quick SpanishDict search: It's cuttlefish. Very tasty! Our fish lady asks what the English word is and we tell her. Apparently "cuttlefish" is really hard to pronounce for Catalans... :)

Calella and Barcelona are in a region of Spain called Catalunya. The people that live here don't really consider themselves a part of Spain. They've been trying to separate for a long time. Kinda like Quebec in Canada. Catalan is also different from the Spanish spoken by the rest of Spain. Same as Quebecois being a different kind of French that's spoken in the rest of the world...

We're having to get used to different phrases here. A "Buenos Dias" will automatically give you away as non-Catalan. Here it's "Bon Dia". "Hablas español?" Nope, it's "Que parla català?". "Please" is "Si us plau". It almost sounds kind of French! More Quebec parallels!

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Checking up on our bikes one evening

The apartment complex we are staying in wanted €10 for underground parking. A night! Whatevs! We'll just park for free on the streets like the rest of the Europeans do. I get a bit nervous and peek outside every couple of days just to make sure the bikes are still there though...

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On the weekends, all the Barcelonans come into town to wander around the stores here

We're staying in the old part of town where 14th-century buildings are mixed in with modern storefronts on a pedestrian-only street called Calle de l'Església (street of the church). The lights are all up for Christmas and we mingle with the weekend crowd one evening.

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One night, we spied Roman Centurians marching down the street!

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They were part of a Christmas parade. The Catalans must really not like being Spanish... No Conquistadors here!

Gene, if your waiting till later in the year to do more of France, also look at Pic du Midi in the Pyrenees

I just googled that. Wow!

Probably not that nice at this time of the year though... :) If we come by this way again later in the season, we'll have to check it out. Thanks!

It will be closed at the moment, we tried one year in January with a Land Rover and couldn't get near it!

About May/June onwards. Lots of nice places to see as you head north! Where are you planning later in the year?

Plan? :confused1:

Europe? :D

If you get to the UK, shout up!

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/194.html

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Just a quick update as to what we've been doing the last couple of weeks, which is not very much.

We're really enjoying staying in our apartment here in Calella. The weather is sunny most of the time. Neda has taken up jogging on the boardwalk every couple of days, shopping in the market in the mornings and coming up with new dishes to cook for us. I've taken up doing nothing. Life is good.

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Wet ride to the Dali Theatre-Museum. Yes, those are eggs crowning the top of the building...

We found out that the Salvador Dali museum was nearby. It's in Figueres, about an hour north of here, near the French border. Dali was my favorite artist when I was in university, I had a print of his melting clocks, "The Persistence of Memory", pasted up on the wall of my dorm room just like most of the undergraduates I went to school did.

Of course, the day we planned to ride over, it rained. Of course. But we were stubborn and decided to go anyway. The thinking was that we were going to spend the entire time inside, so this was a perfect day as any to do it and not miss any sunshine.

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Outside the Theatre-Museum. Yes, that is an egg dressed up in papal robes. Yes, that is a deep-sea diver on the balcony.
Yes, those are statues holding gold loaves of bread over their head... :D

I love the surreal and absurdist style of Dali. It's just so weird and appeals to the side of me that likes to poke fun at everything, making comments and jokes that most people don't get. In my mind, I always picture Dali creating his works of art while snickering away, amusing the only person that he ever intended to amuse: himself. I totally get that.

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Part of the fun of Dali sculptures and paintings is verbally describing them to someone who hasn't seen them

"Yeah, so there's this old black, vintage car in the courtyard. There's a hood ornament welded to the car. It's a huge Venus-de-Milo type of statue - big boobs, big hips. It's huge. No, it's not a foot high, more like 10-feet tall. Yes, welded onto the hood like an ornament! But wait, there's more... Behind the car is a stack of tires, it's even taller than the hood ornament. Then on top of that stack of tires is a long pole with a boat on top of it. Dripping from the boat are these huge drops of water that look like testicles!

I swear I'm not making this up. I have a picture of it!"

I love Dali...

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One thing I never knew about Dali is that he also made jewelry

A separate building houses a collection of jewelry, most of them made of gold inset with precious gems. The rooms are dark, the only thing lit up are the jewelry. Dali himself is entombed in this building in a crypt on the first floor.

The pieces are quite beautiful and show a different side of the artist I never knew about. The above is a hand mirror decorated with gold coins and a stylized Dali signature that he stamped on all of his works.

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"Figure at a window"

Dali's primary muse was his wife, Gala. Almost all of his paintings and photos are of her. The only other female model that he used was his younger sister, Ana Maria, shown here in his famous painting, "Figure at a window".

My primary muse is Neda's yellow F650GS. Almost all of my pictures are of that bike...

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This style of painting is what Dali is most known for.

I was a bit disappointed that his most famous surreal paintings are not on display in Figueres. The Persistence of Memory is currently housed in the Musueum of Modern Art in New York City. :(

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That's a neat looking couch...

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Sometimes a different perspective is needed...

I'm sure Andy Warhol was in part inspired by the works of Dali. He once said his paintings are "hand-painted dream photographs". So apt. He was one of a minority of artists that actually became famous during his lifetime, due in large part to the self-promotion he and his wife did.

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You can see part of Dali's upturned moustache reaching up to his eye here

We didn't really do a lot of riding in the last couple of weeks, but we did get out to see Montserrat on another occasion. This time we looked for a nice, sunny day to go out.

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Unfortunately, the weather is very different up in the mountains than by the coast

Montserrat is set amongst the peaks of Catalunya, about 50 kms north of Barcelona and only 45 minutes away from where we were in Calella. It's a great area to go hiking and to get some spectacular views of the hills and valleys below. Surprisingly, it was me who organized this hiking excursion. An early Christmas gift to Neda... :)

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Santa Maria de Montserrat Abbey amongst the clouds

Our bikes climbed over 1200m (4000 feet) above the coast and the temperatures plummeted as we ascended. The sunny day in Calella was replaced by a cold, heavy fog and as we reached the town of Montserrat, the famous Benedictine monastery (Santa Maria) was shrouded in mist.

We had brought all of our hiking clothes, but because everything was obscured by the haze, we debated about whether to actually go or not. We didn't really feel like hiking around inside a cloud for the entire afternoon. After a quick sandwich break, the early afternoon sun started burning through the mists so it was Go Time!

Truthfully, part of me was hoping that it would have been too cloudy to hike: "Hey, at least I made the effort, right Neda?" :(

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The Monastery is the most-important religious retreat in Catalunya, many residents do at least one overnight pilgrimage in their lives to watch the sun rise over the peak of Montserrat

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View of the Monastery from the cable-car, mist is slowly being burned away by the sun

We take a cable-car up to one of the peaks of Montserrat so we can hike down the mountain. Hey, this may be a Christmas present to Neda, but I'm not that crazy as to offer to actually hike *UP* a mountain!

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Neda is excited to be hiking above the clouds

We never got to use our hiking clothes. It was way too cold so we just hiked in all of our warm motorcycle gear and boots...

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One Tree Hill

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Montserrat means "Saw (serrated) mountain" in Spanish

On our hike at the summit, we were surrounded by these jagged fingers of rock that reached up from the valley due to the differences in erosion and weathering of the limestone rock throughout the ages.

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You know how you can walk around with a pained expression most of the time and when someone points a camera at you and tells you to smile, you can turn on a happy face for an instant? Well, this is what that looks like...

It wasn't that bad, the weather turned out to be sunny, although it was sooooo cold up there!

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More saw-tipped peaks

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Tall fingers of rock overlooking the valley, must be popular with rock climbers

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Going back home, the weather turns nice again!

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/195.html

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This is our third Christmas on the road. It's another low-key event for us, but that's all about to change. After three restful weeks in Calella, we're packing up the bikes again! But this time we've got company!

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Tajana and Iva have joined us on our trip!

Neda's high school friends have driven all the way from Croatia and they are spending a couple of weeks of their vacation with us. The reason we took an extended break in Calella was to prepare for the arrival of The Pula Girls. I remember how we used to travel when we were on vacation - wanting to see and do everything in what limited span of time we had. So I convinced Neda to take some time off beforehand in preparation for a whirlwind tour with her friends.

The girls descended onto our apartment bearing Christmas gifts - namely lots of food! All the Croatian favourites that put a smile on Neda's face and made me have to loosen the belt on my riding pants. They were very excited about traveling with us and were very curious to discover how we travel: how we packed all our belongings on the bikes everyday, what our pace felt like, how we lived on the road.

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Looking down onto our Barcelona neighbourhood

Barcelona is only half an hour away from Calella, so the next day, we gathered all the belongings that we had strewn all over in our settled-in apartment and got ready to leave. The Pula Girls got the answer as to how we pack our bikes: Very slowly. I anticipated this and Neda and I started an hour earlier to stuff all our belongings into various dry bags, liners and jacket pockets. Everything had a place and it was rare to leave something behind because of the Tetris-like hole it would leave in our crammed luggage.

All the girls did was throw a suitcase into the trunk of their car. And despite the hour head-start we had on them, they were still waiting for us.

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More free parking in downtown Barcelona

Through AirBnB, we found a rustic apartment right in the downtown area, which turned out to be not so expensive since we were sharing the costs four ways. Unfortunately for the girls, parking in downton Barcelona is super-expensive. Some places nearby were asking €40 a day! That was more than what their share of the apartment was! They found parking quite a ways away, but it still cost them €24 per day.

In contrast, we rode up onto the sidewalk outside our apartment and left the bikes parked there. Free. The girls may be discovering how we travel, but we are also learning how expensive our trip could be if we were doing it by car. I estimate our costs would have easily doubled in some of the larger cities we were visiting just because of the parking alone!

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La Boqueria

We are leaving all the planning of the trip to The Pula Girls. This is their vacation so we are merely tagging along and following them to all the places they want to visit in Spain. It feels good not to have to plan at all.

One of the places we visited was La Boqueria, one of the largest markets in Barcelona where you can pick up all sorts of fresh vegetables, meats, pastries, sweets, etc. I loosened the belt on my pants a little bit more in anticipation...

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The minute I saw this octopus on the counter, I knew it was not going to last very long

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As predicted,The Pula Girls all ordered octopus salad

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Iva is toasting to the start of a great Spanish vacation

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Barcelona is cold this time of year. Iva moves faster than we do, even off the bike...

We got a good idea as to how our trip was going to go. Iva and Tajana spent every waking minute exploring Barcelona. Neda joined them for most of it, opting out of the night-time events since she falls sleep early. And I let all the girls hang out by themselves while I relaxed in the apartment, venturing out for sporadic walks and meal-times. When they would come back, they'd regale me with all the things they saw and did in the city.

I felt tired just listening to them! There's no way I could travel like that! Not full-time, at least.

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Barcelona Cathedral

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My favourite part of churches are the votive candles

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Casa Batlló

One of the most distinctive features of Barcelona is the architecture of one of its residents, Antoni Gaudi. His modernist buildings are found all over the city. The Casa Batlló above is made to look like it was constructed out of skulls and bones - the skulls are the balconies and the bones are the pillars of the building. Gaudi decorated the exterior as if it was coral, you can see the marine relief and colours in the higher floors.

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Barcelona's longest pedestrian street, La Rambla, all decked out for the holidays

Like the rest of Spain, Barcelona comes alive at night. This was one of the busiest cities I've been to. It ranks right up there with New York City and Rome, and I can imagine it's what Tokyo also feels like. Although only having a population of 1.6 million, most of the people that we were swimming with and against on the crowded streets are definitely tourists. The cold night air was thick with the din of many different languages.

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"Who knows where the road may lead us, only a fool would say"

Is it embarrassing that for the longest time, I thought La Sagrada Familia (The Sacred Family) was just the title of a cool song? It was only very recently that I found out the song (by Alan Parsons Project) is about a church designed by Gaudi and is one of the most famous buildings in the entire world because of its unique interpretation of gothic architecture.

I think it looks amazing, but like most of his buildings, it resembles something out of a twisted dream. Construction started in 1882, and it is still unfinished today. There is transparent protective wrapping around the bottom of the church that from afar looks like a spider web, lending to its nightmarish quality. The cranes towering above the church are a constant fixture and they say it will finally be complete in 2026, 100 years after the death of it's architect.

When construction is finished, it will be the tallest church in the world.

Gaudi himself is buried in a crypt at the basement of La Sagrada Familia. He died after being hit by a streetcar less than a mile away from the church he was building.

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"First we'll have some of these, then we'll have a bit of those, then..."

*sigh* While the girls stock up on supplies, I go shopping, looking for a bigger pair of pants...

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The bone-building, Casa Batlló, during the day

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Close-up of the top of the building

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I'm not lion when I tell you I'm having a great time!

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Watching the boats come in for the start of the Barcelona World Race

In a few days time, a fleet of two-man yachts will leave from here and race around the globe to arrive back in Barcelona in three months time. The ships are only 18m long and they will have to survive three oceans, 12 climate zones and 23,000 nautical miles. Very extreme!

It's a bit funny contrasting those race statistics to our own trip. Based on how slow we go, we're never going to be able to boast: "xx kms! xx countries! in less than xx days!!!"

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A bit of modern architecture amongst the old

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Some girl-stuff happening in our apartment. I walked in, took a picture and left.

Neda is having such a great time hanging out with her old friends! Iva and Tajana are the first friends that have visited us while on this trip! We have been traveling with only ourselves for so long and although we are good company together, Neda does miss being all girly and doing girly-things.

The dynamics are working out very well, because the girls' pace allows Neda to do all the things she wants to do without feeling like she has to drag me out when I'm feeling lazy (which is most of the time). For me, I've never lived with a bunch of women before and it was eye-opening how much talking, giggling, talking, finger-nail painting and talking goes on...

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/196.html

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We are on the move again!

Lugging all of our soft bags on and off the bike is a bit of a pain, but at least in Barcelona, Iva and Tajana didn't have to wait for us since they parked so far away. We ended up leaving at the same time, and headed south on the coastal road. It was a very scenic ride, here's a short video:


Barcelona to Valencia

Although the sun is shining bright, it's still a little chilly. Neda and I are bundled up in all of our layers, meanwhile the Pula Girls are sweltering because of the greenhouse effect inside their car tailing behind us. They tell us that we look very synchronized in front of them, with our staggered positioning. Cool!

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Enjoying the twists and turns along the coast

The girls wanted to stop in Tarragona, which is about an hour south of Barcelona. When we arrived, I realized why: there's a Roman amphitheatre right in town! Tajana paid the admission price to go inside, since she is a historian by profession. Neda and I looked over the railing because we were too cheap to pay. Iva said she'd keep us company.

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The Tarragona Amphitheatre could house 15,000 people!

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After walking around for a while, Tajana yells up to us: "Neda! Iva! Ours is better!"
I'm starting to sense a pattern...

Because we left a bit later, we arrived in Valencia after dark. This is going to be a problem for us because while the girls like to pack in as much sightseeing as they can during the day and arrive at night, Neda and I prefer to ride while the sun is still shining. It's a bit safer for us, and at this time of year, it's also a lot warmer. We were freezing when we arrived!

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Valencia oranges outside our apartment

Valencia is known for its sweet oranges, but the orange trees that the city planted as decorations must have been genetically engineered to taste bad. There were a few half-eaten oranges lying on the ground under the trees - a warning to other tourists not to pick them. Neda seems to think there aren't enough nutrients in the soil for them to grow properly on the streets.

They did look juicy enough though...

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Iva brought decorations from home so every apartment we're staying at can feel Christmas-y!

Neda found us a great apartment in Valencia, it was even cheaper than Barcelona and it was way nicer. We're discovering that Barcelona is a bit of an expensive outlier - that the rest of Spain is actually priced quite fairly. Also this was the off-season, so I think we were getting very good deals.

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New Years Eve Dinner in our very swanky apartment

It is soooo nice to be celebrating the holidays with friends! The meals are more elaborate and we help lighten the girls' stash of Croatian alcohol. I tell Iva that we're actually helping because now she will have to carry less on the way back to Pula. She replies no, she is slowly replacing the Croatian booze with Spanish ones to bring back home! :)

The green "flowers" above are made from artichokes, compliments of Tajana. Delicious!

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So you wonder why I am not in a lot of these pictures...

We thought we'd go into town for the New Years Eve countdown, so being responsible adults, we planned to catch a streetcar. In our drunken haze, we didn't notice that we were waiting at the wrong side of the bus stop and that these streetcars were going *away* from the city.

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Nice face, Neda. And yes, we brought glasses with us to the bus stop, because we're classy that way...

So by the time we realized we were on the wrong side of the bus stop, we were too late to make it to the city, but at that point we didn't care too much. We took our bottle(s) of wine and champagne and merrily made our way to the beach (did I mention our apartment was right on the beach?). This was a waaaay better idea.

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As midnight approached, there was much drunken Croatian singing and dancing on the beach! :)

With the clocks on our iPhones counting down the last seconds of the year, we popped the cork on the champagne and made a toast to 2015! Wow, 2015. I know people normally say that time speeds up as you grow older, but so much has happened in the last two and half years that it actually seems a lot longer than that!

Time seemed to have rushed by faster when we were back in Toronto. As each carbon-copy-day stacked up on the tray of the Xerox machine, I found that I ended up skimming through every sheet because they were filled with the same details of the same commute, the same job, the same routine, and before I knew it, pages of half-read years piled up behind me.

Time moves normally now. Every day is different for us now and we're eager to greet each new day, devour its pages like a good book.

I may not know how many years I have left in my life, but I'm going to try to put as much life as I can in those years.

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In the distance, fireworks were going off in different parts of the city. Happy New Year, Valencia!!!

We are going to kick off the first day of 2015 with a ride! I really thought Neda would be hung over, but she pulled it together and managed to get onto the bike okay. We figured with January 1st being a holiday, it would be a great day to cruise around the city with no traffic. The girls went off by themselves to do their own sightseeing and we made plans to rendezvous later on in the day.

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There's a familiar sight! I had to get Neda to stop at this roundabout for a quick picture.

We've actually been to Valencia before by motorcycle. On our European tour seven years ago, we passed through the city like a hurricane but one of the few pictures I took was of this statue, because the hotel we stayed at before was right here!

I'm so glad we're keeping a record of all our travels because there's absolutely no way I would remember all these details.

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Valencia train station

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And guess what? Neda found another Arena in Valencia...
She said we had to ride around it to get a better look

Later that day, we met up with Iva and Tajana and I told them we saw another arena in downtown Valencia. Iva replied, "Yes, we saw it too. Ours is better."

Haha! Right. Of course.

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Our rendezvous point with the girls was the City of Arts and Sciences. This is what it looks like as we rode towards it

The City of Arts and Sciences is a huge, sprawling tourist attraction composed of a bunch of buildings that look like they were purpose-built for a Star Trek or Battlestar Galactica movie. When the girls suggested we meet there, I had no idea this even existed. How the heck did we miss this the first time around?

Oh yeah, because we were riding to a different country almost every other day...

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Unfortunately the buildings were closed for New Years Day, but that didn't stop us from frolicking around

These buildings house different exhibits, loosely related to science. Most of them remind me of a giant Darth Vader and his Samurai friends buried up to their eyeballs, with only the tops of their helmets poking above the ground.

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L'Àgora, pictured behind the bridge, is a covered entertainment and sports complex

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Tajana takes a breather from her hectic sight-seeing schedule to check up on e-mails

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More sci-fi statues. This one reminds me of the aliens in A.I.

So are the rest of us Gene :D

Now, is it too late to wish you guys a happy new year?, now that you're that far behind :rofl: :smartass:

Continued safe & joyous travels to you guys :thumbup1:

Feel so bad that I didnt know when u came to India. Good to know all the stomach .... are all ok

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/197.html

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The girls are waiting for us again. It was a tedious process walking to the parking lot, riding our bikes to the front of our apartment then taking a couple of trips in and out of the building to load up all our bags again. Meanwhile, the girls were sitting in their car, watching us with bemusement as we fussed around with all manner of straps, tie-downs, dry bags and tank bags, etc.

It reminded me of when we used to snowboard and we had a few skiers in our group. When we reached the top of the lift, the skiers would stand around impatiently and watch us as we sat down on the snow to fuss around with our bindings before heading down. Invariably, the skiers would tell us that they would just meet us at the bottom or meet us at the chalet for lunch.

So I think that's what's going to happen. We left Valencia together, but because of the different pace and scheduling, we might just meet up at the next apartment and compare stories at the end of the day.

Motorcycles and cars just travel differently.

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Taking the path less traveled. AKA getting lost...

The girls wanted to see a place called El Castell de Guadelest, an 11th-century castle built by Muslims as a watchtower for defense. So we turned inland and the coastal scenery was replaced by semi-arid scrublands and the mountains of the Alicante province (La Muntanyas d'Alacant).

Along the way, our GPSs routed us along this broken road that turned gravelly. Neda and I were really enjoying ourselves as the scenery was fantastic and the road was a lot of fun, but I looked back often to make sure the girls were okay in their car. Tajana's little Opel Astra seemed to be handling the uneven terrain okay, and there was no oncoming traffic on the narrow "road" so it all worked out for everyone!

Here's a taste of the scenery before the road crumbled away and I had to use both hands on the bars:


Riding the Alicante Province

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Back on the main road, and the Castell de Guadelest appears in the distance

Not much remains of the castle, but we could see the watchtower from the bottom. Once again, we opted to not pay the entrance fee, so Tajana the historian went up for a look while we walked around the town at the bottom.

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View of the castle from the bottom of Guadelest

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I'm sporting my new palm tree hat. Picture by Iva

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Amazing semi-drylands of Alicante

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Girl-talk at the fountain in Guadelest

From Guadelest, the skiers parted company from the snowboarders. Iva and Tajana wanted to see Cartagena, but if we were to accompany them, that would mean arriving at our next apartment after dark, so Neda and I opted to head straight to our next stop. The roads around Guadelest are very entertaining and the two of us had a lot of fun until we hit the coast and then it was straight onto Roldan.

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Trying to find our next apartment, through the wastelands between urbanizacions

Iva booked our next apartment in a town called Roldan. It is what's called an "urbanizacion" in Spain, which is sort of like a gated community out in the middle of nowhere. These urbanizaciones are mainly created by ex-pats who want to live in a warm climate, but don't want to live in an expensive city or an expensive beach or mingle with the locals :(. So they create a community of houses and condominiums in the middle of nowhere, maybe also build a golf course, swimming pools and supermarkets nearby as well.

The result is a super-cheap place to stay with all the amenities for vacationers and snowbirds. Since this was low season (too cold for golfing), a lot of the apartments here are put up for rent for short-term stays. Our place in a golfing community was super-luxurious and cheap to boot! I wished we could have stayed more than one night, but this was just a pit-stop.

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We got lost and entered the wrong urbanizacion. But you get the idea... very ritzy...

From Roldan, skiers and snowboarders departed the next morning separately and headed into the hills of Andalucia! It was quite co-incidental that the next place the girls wanted to see was also where we visited on our last tour of Europe. Looking back on our path, we are actually doing our trip in reverse!

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Twisty roads in the rolling hills of Andalucia. That's me, riding somewhere in the middle of the picture!

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I think I have almost the exact same picture from the same area from our last trip! :)

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Pausing for a relaxing break by the fireplace *whew*

We have stopped in a small town called Alpujarra de la Sierra, which is just a few kms from Berchules, where we stayed seven years ago. I took a look at our path in the last few days and I'm astounded at our pace. You know when you're walking in the airport and then you step on one of those moving sidewalks and then suddenly you're walking twice as fast? Well traveling with The Pula Girls is nothing like that. Instead, it's like riding around and then suddenly being towed by a rocketship compared to how we usually travel.

And the funny thing is that the girls are doing twice as much as we were, cramming in all sorts of sightseeing in between stops. They are literally running circles around us! :)

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Walking around the very tiny town of Alpujarra de la Sierra

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Looking out over our apartment. Andalucia is beautiful!

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Shaking the olive tree. There's a net underneath that catches the olives as they fall from the tree.

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Yes, I am deathly allergic to cats

Cats are bastardos. When you call out to them, they'll never come to you. But the minute you ignore them or go out of your way to avoid them, they make a beeline straight for you.

I love that part of Spain! Spent a week there a while ago riding around on a 1200GS on a fly/ride holiday getting lost on all of the twisty roads.
If you're still around there check out La Calera in Teba. Amazing views, cheap accommodation and not at all on the gringo trail.

Enjoy the never ending, near perfect roads!

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/198.html

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I know now why we travel so slowly.

Every place we've stopped in Europe, we have been able to score free parking. But the drawbacks to keeping your bike out on the street is that you have to unstrap all the soft bags and bring them inside. Then rinse and repeat in reverse the next morning when you leave. So we are basically packing and unpacking twice a day. Something we rarely did in Latin America because we always rode the bike right into the hotel lobby... It's a Major Hassle. General Pain-In-The-Ass! Like Corporal Punishment! (HIMYM)

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Strap on, strap off. The Strapper.

The Pula Girls are waiting for us again. Since we only have a short ways to go for our first stop of the day, we leave Alpujarra de la Sierra together and start heading westwards on the very twisty Andalucian mountain roads. Iva has an idea to take a video of us riding away, so I combined some of her footage with mine to make a short video:


Ewan and Charley better start looking for new jobs...

Iva is now the official RideDOT.com videographer. We are going to petition her to change her name to Claudio. Every ride needs a Claudio.

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Around the curve, the white village of Trevélez appears ahead of us

We meet up with the girls in Trevélez, which is known for it's air-cured Iberian hams, specifically the Jamon Serrano. The buildings are white-washed like all the Pueblos Blancos (White Towns) in Andalucia. They say that alkaline properties of the white limewash are anti-bacterial and is also a natural insecticide, but also the buildings are all the same colour for "social cohesiveness". The paint is a relatively recent development. No record of Pueblos Blancos can be found before 1920.

So in other words, "make it appealing for the gringo tourists and their cameras"...

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Gonna find us some yummy ham now!

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Instead, I found an I am un chien Andalusia

We did find a store selling the Jamon Serrano and perused the various sizes and shapes on offer. We wanted to buy a chunk that we could slice off for sandwiches while we were on the road. The owner came out and offered us some samples. They were delicious! Very salty, I like that. I know the Istrians also are well-known for their dried ham, called pršut, so I tried not to be too enthusiastic about the Jamon Serrano, lest I fall into the Pula Amphitheatre trap again...

"It's okay, but I prefer the ham in Pula"

"Don't be ridiculous, this is great!" They picked up a kilo of Iberico.

Oh.

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The owner of the store took us for a tour of his curing facility

Although the pork is not indigenous to the area, the clean, dry mountain air in Andalucia is favorable for curing the meats, and the Jamon Serrano here has been very popular since the 18th century. The Pula Girls remark on the slightly different curing process here. In Istria, the jam is cured with salt and pepper and a few spices, whereas in Trevélez, they only use salt.

mmmm... salt.

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The Pula Girls having a laugh

We ate lunch at a little outdoor diner in Trevélez, a tipico Andalucian dishe called plato alpujarreño with chorizo, eggs, potatoes and blood sausages. The sun was shining and we were all smiles and laughter. That's when it struck me that we've been traveling with Iva and Tajana for over a week now and it hasn't rained one single day. I think this is the longest stretch of good weather we've had since returning to Guatemala in September 2013 (not counting escaping to the Galapagos for a week).

I'm not superstitious normally, but I was starting to see the Pula Girls as a good luck charm. Like some kind of totem against rain.

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Enough of this dog and pony show, let's go!

About this picture: While the girls finished off their meal, I had some leftover blood sausage that didn't taste very good, so I packed it up and walked around trying to find a dog to feed. This little guy was hanging out with the horse behind him like they were buddies. He sniffed at the blood sausage and refused to eat it. Ok, so it's not just me, then...

A bit later, the horse's owner came out and the dog greeted him. They were all from the same family!

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I hope not.

It's only another couple of hours of driving to our next stop for the evening, Granada. Instead of finding an apartment, we were surprised to discover that the place that Neda found online for us was an entire house! Holy crap, every new place is better than the last. It really is better to travel in a group to share the costs!

We settled the communal grocery expenses the other night as well, and we calculated that we are feasting for a couple of Euros each. Not per meal. Per day. Wow!

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Walking through downtown Granada

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We are seeing these big bubble makers everywhere in Spain.

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Hanging out at the square

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Cathedral of the Incarnation

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Classical music fills the air

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Colourful Moorish lamps in a Granada store

There is a lot of Moorish culture in the south of Spain. The cities here have Arabic names like Jerez and Algeciras, which would not seem out of place in Northern Africa. There is also alot of this influence in the architecture and design here. The name Granada comes from the Arabic word Gharnáta. Funny that the Spanish conquistadors carried this name all the way across to Nicaragua. Seems like so long ago that we were there!

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We walked the back alleys trying to find a flamenco show, but they were all very expensive

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Strolling along the Carrera del Darro

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These street musicians were fantastic and kept the crowd entertained with their Spanish Raggae

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Quite by accident, we stumble onto the workshop of the famous luthier family Ferrer

There is a rich history of guitar-making in Granada, but many of the lineages of the current master luthiers can be traced to Benito Ferrer's workshop above which he started in 1875. Benito once gave a classical guitar to a young man because he could not afford to buy one. That young man's name was Andrés Segovia, who turned out to be one of the greatest classical guitarists of all time (his version of Leyenda was the soundtrack to our previous blog entry's video).

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This guy looks a bit sketchy

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Enjoying yet another sunny day with our good weather charms, The Pula Girls!

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A bit of foreshadowing in the background?

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/199.html

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Long day ahead of us, so we're waking up extra early.

The Pula Girls had originally planned to come to Granada to see the Moorish palace, Alhambra. We had booked our accommodations for two nights only, one day to see the palace and then leave the next day. However, we had no idea that you had to pre-book tickets to see Alhambra in advance. You can't just show up and go in and because the tickets are limited, they only allow you a small window of time to enter the palace.

So we didn't get to see Alhambra yesterday and we have to check out today so it's all got to fit in, somehow. I'm really appreciating the luxury of time that Neda and I have, compared to how Iva and Tajana are having to squeeze their tour into their jam packed and tight vacation schedule.

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Neda woke up to find that her bike had sent her a message overnight...

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Early morning ride to Alhambra, you can see snow capping the mountains of the Sierra Nevada in the distance. Brrr....

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Finally! We got tickets!

Truthfully, Alhambra wasn't even on my radar for Spain on this trip or our last one seven years ago. Neda had at least heard of it. The Pula Girls organized this excursion and I'm glad we got to go because it's a beautiful example of Medieval Moorish architecture. From all the readings I've done, they say Alhambra is the most visited site in Spain. For good reason too!

I have to be honest and say that I've never read One Thousand and One Arabian Nights, but I did see the Disney Alladin movie... I could imagine flying carpets all over the place and Robin Williams bottled up in every lamp here!

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The palace walls overlook the city of Granada

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General admissions lets you walk around the palace grounds. Tickets are for entry to the palace itself. Picture by Iva

Alhambra is taken from the Arab "al-qala’a al-hamra" which means "The Red Castle". It was originally a small fortress built in 889, but it lay in ruins until the 11th century when a palace was built on the site. Renovations continued through the 13th, 14th and 15th centuries and most of what we're seeing today is the architecture of the last Muslim emirs in Spain in what's known as the Nasrid dynasty.

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Mysterious Tajana. Picture by Iva

I feel bad for not understanding more Croatian. From the way Tajana makes Neda and Iva laugh, I am missing out on some really funny material. Neda tells me she has a really insightful and acerbic sense of humour and attempts to translates some of Tajo's quips later on, but like most humour of that kind, it gets lost in the translation and it really has to be in the moment. :(

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Fountains in the palace grounds

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In the summer, the grounds must be rife with flowers. These arched trellises bare all in the off-season

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You aren't allowed to touch the intricate stonework, but they did provide a replica for visitors
to paw at the reliefwork. The Pula Girls use it to showcase their nail polish handiwork.

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Inside the Palace of Charles V. Picture by Iva

It's very rare that the two of us are in the same picture, but now we've got so many shots of us together thanks to Iva. She borrowed our camera with the wide-angle lens for the day and had some fun playing around with it in Alhambra. She's a really good photographer as you can tell by some of the pictures I found on our data card later on.

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Official RideDOT.com videographer/photographer

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Jump for joy!

The Palace of Charles V is a Renaissance-style building that was constructed on the grounds of Alhambra for Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, because he didn't want to stay in the existing palaces after the conquest of Granada in 1492. It has a huge circular patio enclosed inside which was originally supposed to be covered, but the construction was never completed and it remains roofless to this day.

The expulsion of the Moors by the Spanish was unmerciful. You could say they were quite roofless as well.

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Granada through the porticos of Alhambra

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Casa Real Vieja (Old Royal Palace). Picture by Iva

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Gorgeous picture that Iva took of us inside a ḥammām‎ (a Turkish-style bath). I love this shot!

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I like how the exquisite arabesque detail intermingles fluidly with the calligraphy

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Cool tiling? But wait, there's more...

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Moorish tessellation

These tiles all over Alhambra are an example of tessellation, a repeating pattern of shapes that fit together without any gaps or overlap. We all take this for granted in our wallpaper and flooring, but there is actually a branch of mathematics that studies the rules of tessellation. A tessellation that has translational symmetry, meaning it repeats in two directions (up/down and left/right) make up something called a "wallpaper group", because it can be used to make wallpaper (duh).

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More complex tessellations. What do you call a happy Islamic mason? Merry Tiler Moor.

What is fascinating is that mathematically, there are 17 different kinds of translational symmetry or wallpaper groups. They say that all 17 kinds can be found all over Alhambra. This is astounding for 14th century medieval Islamic art. M.C. Escher, the famous mathematics-inspired Dutch artist visited Alhambra in 1922 and was so captivated by these tiles that he made several copies in his sketchbooks. These Moorish tilings eventually influenced his style of art, leading to countless drawings of his own tessellations of which he is most famous for.

I did an art project on M.C. Escher back in high school and he was my favorite artist back then, so while the math is interesting, I really find it cool that Escher thought these tiles were cool. Because Escher is cool.

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Beautiful day for a ride!

We left fairly late from Alhambra. The road from Granada to Cordoba is a nice twisty highway and the countryside is lined with thousands of olive trees planted in uniform rows on either side for as far as the eye can see. The late afternoon sun lends a little bit of warmth, but this is January and most of Canada is blanketed with a thick sheet of snow right now.

I don't complain one bit as I follow Neda's line through the sweeping turns on the smooth blacktop underneath us.

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What a long day! The sun is disappearing in front of our eyes as we get closer to Cordoba

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Arriving at the hotel moments before sunset

Not that I am counting, but it's now been ten days without rain with The Pula Girls. My thoughts turn towards kidnapping...

Lori wants you to know that the Canary Islands are still part of Spain and are TOASTY warm!:Beach:

Maybe you can have a couple of bobble heads made in their image and stick em on the bikes for when they leave...

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/200.html

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I'm pissed. Angrier than I've ever been in a long time.

The apartment in Granada double-billed us for our stay. They charged our credit card for the full amount and also knowingly asked us for the same in cash when we arrived without giving us a receipt, despite us asking for it. We know all this because they've done it a dozen times to other guests - we checked their booking.com reviews and it's all recorded. We should have read all the reviews before checking in.

It's a lucky thing that I check our credit card statements online regularly and caught it last night.

I called the credit card company to dispute the charges but they told me it would be next to impossible without a receipt. All the comments on booking.com reported the same thing, that they were unsuccessful in getting the charges reversed because they purposely *forget* to give receipts.

We called the apartment and they apologized and told us they would initiate the reversal on their end. Again, booking.com reviews also mentioned this and said it never happened.

We got scammed.

I wanted to ride back to Granada and get our money back, call the cops or something. Iva and Tajana offered to cover their half of what we lost, to just forget about it and continue on with our trip, but I couldn't let it stand like that. I know their vacation time was very precious and they didn't want to waste a day, but I couldn't get over the thought of someone willfully scamming us and getting away with it.

Cordoba was supposed to be an overnight stay, but I begged The Pula Girls to stay just one more day in Cordoba while Neda and I rode back to Granada to confront the thieves. So that's what we did.

Long story short, the next day we rode two hours back to Granada, stood in their office while they pretended that it was an accident. We demanded our receipt as well as made sure the charges were reversed on our credit card. Then two hours back to Cordoba again and a whole day was wasted. I was angry the entire day. In the end, we were only out €16 for the gas in Neda's bike as we two-upped there and back.

Thank you so much, Iva and Tajana. They even offered to pay half of the €16 gas bill! So nice of them, but the fact they gave up a day of their vacation to hang around Cordoba was more than enough.

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Got a chance to walk around Cordoba the next morning

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More orange trees here!

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Trying to find a place for breakfast

I was feeling a bit wiped from riding to Granada and back the previous day so I opted out of today's activities. Neda accompanied the girls to visit the Medina Azahara. These are some of the pictures that she took:

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Traveling through Cordoba old school

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One of the doorways to the Medina

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The Medina Azahara was another remnant of Muslim Spain from the 1st century.

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Sunlight streaming in through a window in the ceiling

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More pretty stained-glass sun patterns

We left Cordoba for our next stop in The Pula Girls Tour d'España, Seville. It's a fairly quick highway ride and it was quite uneventful, albeit windy ride. Except we did see this in one of the fields off the highway:

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We pulled off to the side of the road to check it out more closely with the zoom lens

At first, we thought it was some kind of high-tech lighthouse, but it seemed to be reflecting sunlight down to the fields below. Neda thought it may be beaming extra sunlight to certain crops. Later on, I did some research. It's actually a power generator called a Solar Power Tower. There are hundreds of computer-controlled solar reflectors on the ground called heliostats. They are programmed to aim and reflect sunlight to a certain point at the top of the tower where a molten salt solution is super-heated to over 500°C and then transported back down to boil water to run steam turbines, generating electricity.

Cool, eh?

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Found this picture on the Internet: Gemasolar Solar Tower.

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Another picture from the Internet: Closeup of the heliostats that reflect sunlight to the tower

It just so happened that the day we rode by, there was dust in the air that showed the sunlight reflecting off the heliostats to the tower. Someone must have heard The Pula Girls were going to vacation in the area and decided to profit off their Sun-Attraction Powers.

12 days and counting. No Rain. Amazing!

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Free parking under the oranges in Seville

We are going to be staying in Seville for a couple of days. The Pula Girls and Neda go out and explore the city while I stay in the apartment to relax. The pace is too frenetic for me, plus the apartments we are managing to score in the off-season with the four of us are getting more and more luxurious!

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Everywhere the Pula Girls show up, the sun shines and orange trees miraculously sprout from the ground!

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Plaza de España

I did manage to get a little sightseeing done in Seville. Neda told me that she went with the Pula Girls to the Plaza de España and was really impressed and that I should see it before we leave.

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Beautiful hand-painted ceramic details all over the buildings

The Plaza de España doesn't really have much historical significance. It was built in 1929 for the World Expo in Seville that year and today it houses some government buildings.

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Ceramic posts

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Ceramic banister

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You can pay for a horse and buggy ride around the plaza. Or take a picture for free.

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This couple was from Mexico!

We overheard them talking with the rest of their family and their accent was so familiar! You know you've spent a lot of time in Latin America when you can pinpoint people's Spanish accents! :) This couple was getting married in Seville and they were getting their wedding pictures done at the Plaza de España.

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Along the bottom of the building are 48 tiled alcoves representing all the provinces of Spain

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It's a popular thing for Spanish tourists to take a picture in front of the alcove where they are from.
Since we're not Spanish, Neda just chose the one that she went to camp at once...

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You can rent a boat for €5. Or take a picture for free...

Did you know that they filmed a Star Wars movie here? It was the Royal Palace of Naboo in the Phantom Menace! That's cool.

I later found out that I missed seeing the Alcázar de Sevilla, an ancient Moorish palace. It's kind of like Alhambra in Granada. I really wanted to see it not because of it's history, but because I just found out that they are filming the fifth season of Game of Thrones at the Alcázar...

Dammit!

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Leaving Seville through the cobblestoned streets of the historic centre

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/201.html

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We are going to be facing a sad day very soon. After two weeks of traveling with The Pula Girls, they will be turning around and heading back to Croatia. They've been really fun company and we'll miss them, but really, we are scared to see what will happen with the weather once they leave us.

Surely it's just a coincidence that the longest stretch of good riding weather we've had was when we were traveling with them, right?

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The White Village of Vejer de la Frontera

Although the sun is still shining brightly down upon us, the ride to Vejer de la Frontera was fraught with high, gusty winds coming from the south, as if somebody had erected a gigantic wind machine on the Straits of Gibraltar specifically designed to blow us off our bikes.

We can handle heavy winds, you just maintain a constant lean on the motorcycle. But when they blow on and off unexpectedly, it becomes very tricky with a top-heavy motorcycle, especially one with so much lateral surface area like mine. From the side, I am basically one giant sail, and the random, powerful gusts feel like someone has laid a large tablecloth on the road and is violently yanking it out from underneath our motorcycles.

I watch how Neda's bike moves in front of me, hoping to predict when the next gust of wind will kick the front wheel out from under me, but I quickly find out that they're not location dependent. The tablecloth will be pulled out from under us when and where it pleases. My hands hurt from clenching the handlebars so hard and the grips now have a permanent impression of my tightly closed fist. :(

So obviously, no pictures of us while on the bike...

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*whew* made it safely into town

We've been to the Pueblos Blancos in Andalucia before. On our last trip, we visited Arcos de la Frontera as well as Ronda, but because we are just following Iva and Tajana on their tour of southern Spain, this is obviously something they wanted to see. They picked this town because we had not visited this one before, which was nice of them.

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Roaming around the narrow streets of Vejer de la Frontera

Traveling at their own accelerated pace, the girls were completing an extended tour of Andalucia, which left us to find the apartment by ourselves. The GPS maps that we have have let us down before, often leading us down one-way-roads the wrong way or sending us through shortcuts that really aren't shorter. We always tell ourselves to check and double-check the larger picture or corroborate with Google Maps beforehand. But when we do, the GPS tends to behave and does so for a long time, lulling us into a false sense of confidence.

And then we stop checking...

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The road gets steeper and narrower. This doesn't look like the right way? (part 1 of 3)

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It's not. The road ends at a flight of stairs. Our GSes can go off-road but this...? (part 2 of 3)

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Neda makes the backing up noise in her helmet *beep* *beep* *beep* (part 3 of 3)

Some of the villagers peer their heads out the door and watch us back our bikes down. I bet they've seen a lot of tourists cursing their Garmin GPS as they slowly reverse down their narrow street.

Time to start double-checking the GPS routes again. :(

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Riding through these streets reminds me of this

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Finally, we reach the office for the apartment we're staying at.
We slowly follow behind the caretaker as he walks us to our apartment

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Free parking right outside our apartment! We take off the panniers so traffic can squeeze past our bikes.

Iva and Tajana have the same troubles finding the apartment, and to compound their problems, there's no space on these narrow streets for their car, so they they have to park quite a ways away. We help them carry all their luggage back under cover of darkness when they finally arrive. I love being on a motorcycle!

We've booked four nights at this rustic little apartment. I have a feeling that the girls are a bit travel fatigued as well after 14 days of non-stop sight-seeing. I know I am.

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Neda makes some octopus stew. Another delicious home-cooked meal!

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Our apartment has a terrace overlooking the town

Obviously I was mistaken about the girls needing downtime. After one day in the apartment, they hopped in their car and left to visit nearby Gibraltar for the day. Neda and I spent the time relaxing and enjoying the sunshine that the Pula Girls left for us here.

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A great view from our terrace

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Back to her book. Neda loves three things: dogs, her Kindle and me. In that order...

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Taking a leisurely walk around town

I used to watch a TV show called The Prisoner when I was a kid, and I was fascinated by the idea of being trapped in an enclosed town. Although this Pueblo Blanco looks nothing like The Village, while walking through its deserted streets during the off-season, I could easily picture a re-make being set here - retired secret agents spying from behind every shuttered window above the claustrophobically narrow white-washed buildings.

"I am not a number!"

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Iva has a favorite pose where she's looking up and off to the side in pictures.
This is our homage to the "Iva pose"

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Just like in Seville, this is called Plaza de Espana.
I think like "Main St" in the USA, every town in Spain has to have a Plaza de Espana.

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We found out from the owner of this cute pup that she's a rescue dog.
Neda told me that when we settle down, the dog that we get will be a rescue as well.

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Lots of neat little nooks and crannies around town

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The old villa of Vejer de la Frontera is walled in and this is one of the gates: Arco de Segur

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Hanging out atop the ramparts of the old villa

The Pula Girls don't let up one bit. Tajana has taken the last couple of days to do some work remotely on the computer and Iva goes on a day-trip to sight-see in Cadiz. By contrast, Neda has been stuck in bed with a really bad cold, fighting a high fever as well.

She's not fully recuperated when we finally bid farewell to the Pula Girls as they set off back to Croatia. Neda and I talked about staying another night in Vejer to give her a chance to rest and recover, but we can't afford this apartment alone and if we're going to move to another place, we should find something more in our price range than Andalucia.

Thank you so much Iva and Tajana for letting us travel with you! We had such a good time together! And thank you for bringing the sunshine with you!!! :)

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Sidecases back on, getting ready to leave Vejer de la Frontera

Without The Pula Girls guiding our destiny, we're left to our own devices (GPS, iPhone, Kindle, laptop). It's been so long since we had to pick a destination. Where to now?

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/202.html

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Let's go to Portugal!

We're very excited because we've never been to Portugal before. Ever since arriving in Europe last summer, we've basically ridden through a bunch of countries that we've visited before, just exploring them in more depth. But Portugal is uncharted territory for us. A friend of ours told us that it's really inexpensive compared to Spain, so after losing our cost-sharing friends from Pula, this might suit our budget a bit better.

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Lunch on the road, Neda prepares some parking lot cusine!

We're doubling back through Seville to head west to the southern coast of Portugal. Before leaving, Iva told us that she had been to Faro and that the whole area was very nice. Then we looked at the prices on AirBnB and decided to go to nearby Albufeira, which was cheaper... :)

It was mostly highway on the way to Portugal. We battled the same strong winds that plagued us in Southern Spain and we crossed the border with very little fanfare. This whole Eurozone thing really takes the pomp and circumstance out of arriving in a new country! Gimme a stamp on my passport, dammit!

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Albufeira and the sky is darkening overhead...

Our first day without the Pula Girls and it looks like it's going to rain. :( I'm not a superstitious person, but this might just make me believe in hexes and curses, rain dances and black magic. Because it really seems like someone has placed a permanent rain cloud over our bikes...

We're changing the logo on our website, BTW:

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Our first task before bunkering down is to hit the grocery store. That's when we realized that for the first time in two and half years, neither of us speaks the local language! I did some work in Brazil many years ago, and Neda joined me for a week as we visited a few places in the country, but the only words we remembered from back then is, "Obrigado" (thank you).

We both feel so ashamed for not checking on the Internet beforehand for some basic Portuguese phrases. We feel like such clueless North American tourists....

The check-out girl at the grocery store spoke English, and she gave us a quick language lesson on how to say, "hello", "please", "good day", etc. Surprisingly close to Spanish...

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So it did rain.... we are definitely cursed.

We watched the rain fall on our bikes from our AirBnB apartment. Neda's cold has migrated down to her chest and she's developed a really bad cough, one that keeps her up at night so she's not getting much sleep. She's feeling a bit low because she's been having a lot of health issues lately, with her stomach before and now with this cold. And she's also sensitive to the weather and the rains have also added to those feelings.

Neda is basically bedridden, as any attempt to leave the apartment seems to exacerbate the cold and her fever returns as well. We had originally planned to spend some time riding around the southern coast of Portugal, but now we've had to delay that and extend our stay in Albufeira to help poor Neda recuperate. I feel so bad for her!

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Riding into Albufeira to do some exploring

After four days of intensive rest and relaxation, Neda shows signs of improvement. We can see the touristy town of Albufeira from our apartment window and it's been beckoning to us all this time, so on one sunny day we decide to ride into town to do a bit of sightseeing.

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As always, we gravitate to the historic old town

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We met the mayor. This little guy was walking around like he owned the place.

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Checking out the pedestrian traffic below

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Peruvian pan flutes in Portugal? We had a flashback to the last place we were in South America!

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Old town in Albufeira

Albufeira used to be a fishing village until the '60s when the tourism industry turned it into a beach-side resort town for European vacationers. The remnants of the original village can still be seen amongst all the souvenir shops and swanky restaurants.

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One of the shops had this nice painted tile of what the Algarve is famous for

They call Albufeira the Gateway to the Algarve. It's one of the eastern-most points of entry into the region that's known for beach-side tourism.

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The shoreline is rife with all sorts of hotels and vacation rentals

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Every year, Albufeira hosts a sand-sculpture competition. This was off-season, but there were still a couple of artists honing their craft

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"Come on, you haven't eaten all day. Just one bite..."

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Further proof that we are here in the off-season - empty beaches

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So those leaves that Neda was collecting in her tankbag? Disintegrated. She's going back to seashells...

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Playing tag with the waves

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"The um... wind... knocked it over..."

Seriously though, what is up with the wind in Southern Spain/Portugal?

We've run out of time in Agarve and have to leave the region because we have an appointment to keep! We'll just have to come back later to explore more of the area.

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/203.html

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A couple of our friends in Toronto PMed us to tell us that they were going to spend a week in Portugal for a last-minute vacation. Since we were in the area, we're hopping on our bikes and heading to Lisbon to meet up with them!

It's mainly a boring, straight road ride from the Algarve region north. Checking the forecast, it's going to be a wet ride. What else is new? Couple the cold rain with continuing high winds and it made for a very miserable ride. Since we had left later in the day, we rode through stretches of rural southern Portugal in complete darkness with no streetlights for miles. The raindrops collecting on our visors refracted the headlights of oncoming traffic into a starry mess of road blindness and I had to focus on the red taillights of the car in front of me to help us stay between the ditch and cars and trucks hurtling towards us.

We miss the Pula Girls! Come back and travel with us full-time!!!

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Arriving at our hotel in downtown Lisbon in the pouring rain. The only plus: Free Moto Parking!

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Wet, cold and miserable. The RideDOT.com curse continues.

Neda is still suffering from the ravages of her chest cold. It's pretty serious and we are thinking it might be bronchitis. Her hacking at night is getting worse and she finds it painful to breathe. Plus she is horking up this thick green phlegm on a regular basis. I know this because she took a picture of it and showed it to me. That's gross, Neda! She said she took a picture because she was concerned and wanted to show a doctor. Most guys would have taken a picture just so they could show their friends...

The cold and wet ride to Lisbon did not help her get well, so I put her back on bedrest. We've been in Portugal for over a week now and haven't really seen much, but Neda's health is a priority at this point and touring and sightseeing in cold weather is the last thing she needs.

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We decide to splurge and treat ourselves to a nice dinner for a change

I figured maybe a hot meal would do us some good, so we tried some of the bacalhau, the salted cod that Portugal is so famous for. Delicious! Our appetizers in the picture above are cod fritters (pastéis de bacalhau) and chorizos set on fire! So yummy!!!

We did go into town for a grocery run:

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We visited the Expo '98 site. Every World Fair has to have a flying saucer shaped building. It's in the rulebook.

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This is not an Expo building, it's a shopping mall. We went grocery shopping here.

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Friends! Marco and Lori arrived the next day!

Marco was born in Portugal and lived in Lisbon for the first part of his life. It was great having a local guide to the city and he showed us to all of his favorite spots - which were all cafes, restaurants and bakeries! He only visits once a year and he really misses all the foods here, so everytime he comes back he gorges himself. We were going to witness gluttony on an epic scale tonight! :)

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€1000+ bottles of port. Most of them covered in dust. At €1000 I can see why...!

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Picture by Marco

It was so nice seeing friends from back home, we had lots to catch up on! We used to go riding on our sportbikes to random sushi restaurants with them all the time. Marco is an avid photographer, so he showed me the latest in mirrorless camera technology, and we talked motorcycles with the both of them. Our time in Europe so far has been very social. We've spent so much time with family and friends, new and old, in the last six months! We love it!

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We weren't that hungry ourselves, so we bookmarked several places for later with our camera! :)

I love listening to Marco talk Portuguese with his fellow countrymen! It really makes me wish I had learned a second or third language when I was a child. The Portuguese language sounds very curious. It's got a Latin root, so it's very similar to Spanish, but it sounds like there's bit of Russian thrown in there.

But unlike Spain, most people in Portugal speak English as a second language. There were very few times when we couldn't communicate here. I think there must be a lot of British tourists that come down here for vacation, they speak more English here than Spanish.

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Statue of King Jose, near the beach

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Just cannot get enough of these pastéis de bacalhau. These ones were filled with melted cheese. *drooling* just typing this blog entry out.

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Sharing a glass of port after dinner! Very sweet! I like it!

During the evening, we saw Marco devour cups of coffee, pastries, dinner, port. And he was just geting started! He reminded of the time we went back to Toronto and I filled myself with all the food I missed. And it's not even Canadian food, it's the fact that you can get so many different cuisines from all over the world in the same city. I have a list of restaurants I want to hit the next time we visit our old home town!

I'll also need to shop for pair of draw-string pants in Toronto...

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Double rainbow outside our hotel the next day

Marco and Lori were on a whirlwind tour of Portugal for the next few days, we originally thinking about joining them later on, but since Neda was still sick, we stayed in Lisbon for a while longer to help her recuperate. It's been ten days now and she's still being kept up at night with all the coughing and the chest pains. :(

If it doesn't get better in a few days, we are going to go to a doctor and show him all the pictures of Neda's green loogies...

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Staring out our window, we check the weather once in a while. Just as well Neda is sick, it's raining everyday, anyway...

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One evening, the rains stopped briefly and we ventured out to try some of the food places Marco showed us

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We are staying in an older part of Lisbon called Alfama

Fado, is the traditional Portuguese music that's played with a classical guitar. The Alfama district is the place to be to catch a show, but unfortunately, it was too early for that and we didn't want to stay out too late.

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Marco's favorite bakery

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Just the thing to lift Neda's spirits!

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Walking around downtown Lisbon at night

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Time to leave, still a bit rainy in Lisbon. :(

I know we're not really doing Portugal justice, only venturing out a couple of times for food runs. But we've got to get Neda back up on her feet first.

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/204.html

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We originally wanted to head further north into Portugal to visit Coimbra and Porto. Marco had given us a list of all the touristy sights that they were going to see and we wanted to follow in their footsteps (albeit a bit more slowly) and possibly meet them as they made their way back to Lisbon.

They were our advance reconnaissance team, and when they reached Porto, Lori PMed us and told us to stay in Lisbon. It was cold and rainy where they were - still too early in the season to take motorcycles up there. They also tell us that this is unseasonably frigid and wet for Portugal this time of year. I replied, "Yep, RideDOT.com in da house".

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So we're off to someplace warmer and drier. Not north.

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Bye bye, Lisbon!

In addition to the crappy weather and Neda's lingering chest cold/bronchitis/pneumonia/ebola (thanks ADV doctors), we're also a bit down because all of our gear is slowly disintegrating around us. In the space of a couple of weeks, we've lost bike covers, various zippers on our luggage liners have come apart, my riding jacket zipper unzips by itself from the bottom-up turning itself into a cape, Neda's tankbag has holes in it and so does her motorcycle seat so the foam inside is waterlogged all the time, her sidecases are cracked at the bottom and leaking, my indestructible yellow dry bag has a tear in it. All of these problems are made worse because it's constantly raining here and water is getting in and soaking everything. :(

It's as if the warranty for everything we own just expired all at the same time.

Normally, I'd be serving cheese with all of this whine, but Neda is lactose intolerant... Add *that* to the list!

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Dropped into Touratech to check out their bags and see if they have a replacement seat for Neda's bike.
No luck, but we did get our picture taken for their Facebook page.

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Visted the Ducati dealership in the pouring rain.
Not to buy anything, just to look at bikes because that makes me happy...

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So we didn't manage to get anything replaced or fixed in Lisbon... :( kthxbye.

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The town of Évora is only an hour away and is where we are meeting Marco and Lori as they finish up their tour of Portugal

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Azulejos, which are these ceramic tiles, are commonplace all over Portugal

Azulejos are tin-glazed ceramic tiles which are used to decorate the outsides of buildings, walls, floors and even ceilings. They're not only ornamental, but also serve double-duty as a sort of insulation for temperature control.

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Church of Bones! Well, not the entire church, just a Wing of Bones...

The Capela dos Ossos (Chapel of Bones) is one of the most well-known tourists sights in Portugal. It's not built from bones, just the interior of one of the wings is lined with human skeletons. It was quite creepy to think how many dead people were being used as wallpaper here. And probably not serving double-duty as insulation...

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Skull protrudes from a pillar. This was somebody's head attached to a body at some point.

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More human skulls lining the ceiling

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Thousands upon thousands of bones stacked up againt the wall.

The Chapel of Bones was built in the 16th century by a monk who wanted to bring home the point that life is transitory. The bones are the remains of his fellow monks. Perhaps there could have been a less creepy way of making his point?

At the entrance of the chapel there's a sign that reads, "We bones, lying here, for yours we wait".

AHHHHHH!!!!

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Walking around the historic centre of Evora

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Abstract sculpture overlooking the town

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Clothes being hung out. To dry?
No, it's raining so much here, this is the wash cycle...

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Ruins of a Roman temple in Portugal, beautiful churches and castles surround it.

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We found out that Évora is a UNESCO town, ie. total GringoTrail Town. Main economy: tourism.

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Marco took us to his favorite restaurant in Évora. It was so well hidden, we worked up an appetite trying to find it!

For dinner, the restaurant served Black Iberian Pig, which was indigenous to the Évora region, and it was all-you-could-eat. Marco's gluttony was contagious and we all gorged ourselves silly on all this delicious food! It was a great way to end a fantastic time with our old hometown-friends.

But now with our plans to explore northern Portugal stymied, we had to figure out where to go to escape the cold weather.

If you decide you need new panniers, I can highly recommend ::::.ProjectVND.com.:::: built by a lovely chap called Vern, they're probably the strongest ones you'll come across. I love mine and use them daily in all weathers.

I think it's high time to get the girls back & get a break from the rain Gene :rain:doh

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/205.html

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No place to go but south at this point.

Since we left the Algarve region in a rush to get to Lisbon last week to meet our friends, we're going to return to see it properly. Neda says she feels that her cold (or bronchitis we suspect) is in its final stages, so we both agreed that we shouldn't travel any more until she is 100% better. I think all this moving around and going out sightseeing in this cold and wet weather has actually prolonged her illness.

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Heading south back to the Algarve

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On the way, we pass through some quaint Portuguese towns...

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...as well as some picturesque roads

After a prolonged absence, the sun joined us on our travels. The last couple of weeks without the Pula Girls have resigned us to rainy rides and when the weather actually clears up we are pleasantly surprised.

Our destination in the Algarve region is the very popular tourist town of Lagos. Tripadvisor says it is the #1 vacation destination in Europe. Which means that we are staying just outside of it, in a tiny beach-side suburb called Luz, because our Canadian pesos have informed us that we can't actually afford to be swanky, European vacationers...

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I forced Neda to do this for a few days. There was little resistance

This cold/bronchitis has lasted for two weeks now. While her chest still hurts, at least the coughing has subsided and no more dark green loogies. We think the worst has passed, but just to make sure she is confined to bedrest, or patiofurniturerest in this case. We're getting a lot of sun down here, which is also helping to lift Neda's spirits.

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Hiking around Ponta da Piedade (Mercy Point)

When Neda is feeling better, we ride down to Ponta da Piedade, which is a small cape overlooking very scenic beaches 60 feet below some spectacularly-striated cliffs, with the same patterned rocks rising up just off the coast out of dark blue-indigo waters.

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The sands collect in beaches between the cliffs like the webbing between your fingers[/size][/b]

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Pillars of rock poke up above the waters all along the shoreline with the city of Lagos in the distance

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In the summer, these beaches are packed to the brim with tourists

Because we are traveling in the off-season, it's not warm enough to go swimming or lie on a beach towel in a bathing suit. But part of the reason we are even able to stay here is because the prices are so cheap this time of year and we have the entire place to ourselves!

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A break in the cliff walls lead to the next beach

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Birds have a nice place to hang out

We were hoping to get some nice views of the beaches at sunset, but we should have checked a map to see how Ponta da Piedade was oriented: the sun sets on the other side of the cape! All we saw were the shadows of the cliffs. So we rode back the next morning bright and early to catch a sunrise:

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The only picture that worked out because 10 minutes later, it started raining. Of course.

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The next day we headed into the historic centre of Lagos to check it out

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More of the pretty Portugeuse ceramic tiles covering most of the buildings here

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The reason why Lagos is so popular with tourists: lots of restaurants, bars and nightclubs here

We splurged a bit and found a nice Indian restaurant down here. Indian food is one of Neda's favorite foods, so this indulgence was purely medicinal. Hopefully it'll help flush (literally) whatever is making her ill out of her system. :)

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The older part of Lagos is walled off, and they've put some funky lights on the top of the walls

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Looks like a video game!

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Ok, I think we're done here.

I've reviewed the last few entries in our blog and it seems we've both hit a low point in our travels with all the bad weather, illnesses and our gear falling apart. Perhaps we need a change of scenery? We are at the western-most tip of continental Europe. We've already explored most of Southern Spain and it's too early in the season to head north.

Only one option left, really...

Great to read that Neda is on the mend :thumbup1:
Nothing worse than travelling with illness :funmeterno:

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/206.html

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Africa!

We're going to Africa today! On motorcycles! When I think about it, it seems pretty unreal. But Morocco is only a very short ferry ride across the Straits of Gibraltar and since the weather is so crappy here...

We're very excited!!!

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Leaving Jerez in the rain

In our mirrors, we left Lagos, the Algarve, Portugal and the sunshine all at the same time. True to our luck, the weather had turned for the worse overnight while we were stopped over in Jerez and when we awoke, it was pouring rain *and* Neda's motorcycle cover was missing. I now knew that the only thieves were the high winds that have been pestering us all over Southern Spain. Dammit! Add yet another casualty to our dwindling and deteriorating equipment list. :(

It was a very disappointing way to leave Europe, but it was just another strike in a long series of downers. It was like this continent was telling us to get out.

Fine, you win. We're leaving.

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We battled high winds on our early morning ride to Algeciras and we saw these along the way.
Either it's windy here all the time, or they heard RideDOT.com was coming and hastily erected these for our arrival

There are a couple of ports in the Gibraltar area that we could catch ferries bound to Morocco. But we chose Algeciras because it was the biggest one with more ferry operators servicing the routes with greater frequency, so we wouldn't have to wait too long for the next one. We found out that between all the companies, there was a ferry departing at least once every hour, all day long.

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Waiting in line to board the ferry. The high winds and rain made pretty patterns in the standing water in the parking lot

We didn't really do too much research about Morocco beforehand, but from what little reading I'd done, there was a big problem with hustlers in the cities. I remembered how we felt when we were assailed by people trying to rip us off in Cuba and a part of me was dreading facing the same thing in Morocco, but then I thought maybe Cuba had toughened us up a bit and we would be better prepared mentally to deal with them this time around.

But we weren't prepared for the Moroccan touts to start appearing on the Spanish side.

As we approached the ferry docks in Algeciras, a parking lot attendant motioned for us to park in a lot that seemed a long way away from the ticket booths. We were being corralled into an empty lot with nobody around! Our bullshit detectors automatically went off. Neda radioed me, "It's a trick, let's leave!" and we made a U-Turn past the angry "attendant" who yelled at us to return immediately. Yeah, nice try buddy.

We eventually found a policeman who directed us to the real parking lot. He told us that these hustlers directed unsuspecting tourists to travel agencies which then re-sold ferry tickets at greatly marked-up prices. The hustlers, of course, got commission for every tourist they brought in.

We nodded, "Si, claro". We had already figured that out.

I shook my head. And so it begins...

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Still smiling, still excited about visiting a new continent despite the rain and the hustlers

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Heading into the bowels of the ferry

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Our bikes waiting to get strapped down for the journey to Africa!

There are a number of ferry companies servicing the Algeciras to Morocco routes, and they run vessels of differing speeds. Some of the newer ones can make short work of the trip and be in Tangier Med in 30 minutes, but we just so happened to pick the slowest one because of when we arrived. This old girl would spend an hour and a half plodding across the Strait! I looked around to see if there were oarsmen boarding with us...

It wasn't a very leisurely ride over since the ferry company also opted to perform passport control during the cruise (hey we have the time, right?), so we spent the entire journey standing in line with over a hundred other passengers to get stamped into the country. Well at least we wouldn't have to do it once we landed...

So far we were not doing very well in our choices... Mental note: we have to do a bit more research and planning beforehand!

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Arabic writing as we unloaded from the ferry really made us feel like we were in a new continent!

Africa! So we've now ridden motorcycles in six continents! Four on this trip alone! So awesome!!!!

The official languages in Morocco are French and Arabic, so once again, the baton was handed off to me to perform all communication duties. I don't know what's worse: not knowing the language at all or knowing just enough that you're expected to do all the speaking, but also knowing that they won't understand your accent or the way you're using the words...

*le sigh*

Being in Europe for the last 8 months has really put us out of practice crossing borders - getting our temporary import permits in Morocco was a bit of a circus. There wasn't an official line-up so all the cars and trucks were parked all over the place and it wasn't clear who was next in line to be serviced. There was no pushing or elbowing, it was fairly orderly: every single person who approached a customs official was told to step away from the booth and wait until they were called. There didn't seem to be any methodology as to who got serviced next, it certainly wasn't first-come-first-serve.

After watching a few people get called in. I finally figured out how they determined the order. It was by height. Or maybe it was the colour of their pants...

We actually got our permits before a lot of other people who had been waiting around when we arrived. They must have liked the colour of our motorcycle pants.

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Africa! Africa?

And we're off! We punch in the town where we're going to stay for the next couple of days into the GPS and promptly got lost.

The problem was that we had the "Avoid Tolls" option selected from our time in Europe. At this point, it was late in the day and we weren't mentally equipped to deal with navigating the smaller roads in Morocco yet, so we sucked it up and rode the toll highway to our first stop: Chefchaouen.

Our trip on the highway was eye-opening. We both had visions of Africa being more... deserty. Like with mud huts everywhere and tribes of people dancing around fires... totally stereotypical. That's okay, everyone thinks all Canadians live in igloos. Actually, from looking through all our friends' Facebook pictures this week, it's absolutely true!

Morocco, or at least the northern part of it, was very green. Lots of agriculture and rolling hills. It kind of looked like an extension of Europe. I radioed Neda, "Soooo... when are we going to get to Africa?", she replied, "I know, right!?"

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"I'm going to take a picture of our hostel room"
"No wait! Let me make the bed!"
"Too late, now everyone on the Internet knows we're messy..."

The roads were in good condition, considering we paid to ride them. We pulled into town late last night because we got lost and we also had to find a place to eat for dinner along the way. The streets of Chefchaouen were crowded and we inched our way slowly to the hostel that Neda booked for us, through the local traffic of the historic centre, which is called the "medina". Our big bikes were attracting lots of stares. I didn't like that too much.

From what we saw, Chefchaouen's medina seemed like a very happening place in the evenings. I was very surprised at how many westerners were milling around, specifically hippie westerners all dreadlocked and decked out in their sandals and hemp clothing... which told me all I needed to know about this town: The Ganja runs strong in this one...

With all the foot traffic (and dirty hippies), we didn't really feel safe leaving the motorcycles parked on the street overnight. For the first time in months, we would have to pay for secured parking... :(

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Morocco is an Islamic country, so no alcohol is sold here. The national drink is Mint Tea, otherwise known as "Berber Whiskey" :)

Mint tea is apparently a big thing down here. When we first arrived in our hostel late last night, the first thing our host asked is, "Would you like to sit down for some tea?" We still had our helmets on, holding all of our softbags in both arms, hanging off our shoulders and around our necks and we hadn't gotten our rooms yet. "Would you like some tea?" He said it more as a statement than a question.

We took his cue: "Um... okay". We both plopped ourselves down haphazardly on the comfy couch in the reception area still clad in all our gear, bags strewn around us, sipping the sweet, hot mint tea that was specifically brewed to greet us. It was delicious, but more importantly, our host seemed happy - as if we had passed some sort of test - and as a reward we were allowed to stay in his hostel.

I found out later that offering tea to guests when they first arrive is a very traditional and ingrained Moroccan custom. It is considered horribly, horribly impolite not to offer and perhaps rude not to accept? I didn't want to find out.

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At breakfast, with the auto-timer on the camera. Sometimes the mistimed shots are the best ones...

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Nice details inside our hostel make us curious to see what's waiting for us outside

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Getting ready to do some sightseeing!

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We're in Africa!!! Let's see what's out there!

Great trip Envious
 

Have been following you two, an genuine envious. Was in Africa in the 60,s working for uncle sam. Hope you have a safe and enjoyable visit.:welcome:

Hi Neda and Gene,

I was in Morocco some time ago and really enjoyed my visit to Fez.
In the hotel in Fez, I asked if it was possible to get an Engish speaking guide for my visit to the Medina and that was a good investment because I saw places that I would not have seen without him.
Check the Morocco part of this trip on my website;
Jan Krijtenburg homepage (Travel pages)

I really enjoy reading your travel stories. Keep up the good work :thumbup1:

Thanks for the info!

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/207.html

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We awoke to the distant sound of the Moroccan Call to Prayer blaring over a set of loudspeakers that sounded like they were tucked in somewhere deep in the neighbourhood, yet powerful enough to be heard everywhere in the medina. It was a semi-familiar sound to me. I grew up in Malaysia and I remember the Call to Prayers being broadcast on TV stations at regular intervals during the day.

The Moroccan ones differ slightly from what I recall from my childhood, the monotone voice slowly rising and falling in pitch sounding like a combination of air-raid siren, wolf call and racing cars.

Muslims are expected to pray five times a day, with the first Call to Prayer commencing at dawn. If you know me, then you know that the one we heard when we woke up was not the first one of the day...

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We peek our heads outside our hostel (building on the right). OMG (OMA?) it's sunny!!!

Upon leaving our hostel, we're thrust out into a brilliant, alien blue landscape. The buildings were familiar-looking, but all were painted as if to blend in with the colour of the cloudless sky above us. It was an amazing visual treat wandering around these narrow blue streets, like we were all inhabiting a shared dream.

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Shopkeepers getting ready for the start of another business day

It seems like the stores open fairly late in the day. We're doing our sightseeing after a late breakfast and the store owners around the medina are still fussing around in the front of their stalls, cleaning up and setting up displays. Almost all of them are shawled in the hooded djellaba, a robe that totally reminds me of what the little Jawas wore in Star Wars, which is understandable, because George Lucas probably stole the design when he was filming in nearby Tunisia.

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Very Meta

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Daily life in Chefchaouen

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More Djellaba-d storekeepers waiting for business

Although the Djellaba has its roots within the indigenous Berber culture of Northern Africa, worn as a protective garment against the sun and the wind-borne sands, today it's more of a fashion statement. I saw businessmen with djellabas over suits and ties and lots of guys wearing jeans and running shoes underneath.

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Neda got pulled into this store selling soaps and spices, the aromatic waves and bright colours capturing her attention

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We asked what these powders were. It's paint, used to colour the outsides of the buildings!

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Moroccan herbal tea mixtures!

Neda really wants to buy something. I can sense it, and so can the storekeepers who call out to us as we walk by. She's like a butterfly that is drawn to all the bright colours of the spices, soaps and paints as if they were flowers.

I got to talking to an artist who was selling some of his captivating paintings of Chefchaouen in his gallery, and he immediately invited us in to sit down and have a mint tea. I'm starting to realize that offering tea is kind of like shaking someone's hand: "HelloHowAreYouWouldYouLikeAMintTea?" I politely declined for fear of being obligated to buy one of his paintings, beautiful as they were.

I read about the aggressive sales people here in Morocco but surprisingly the store-owners in Chefchaouen were very laid-back. We shook our heads and "No, thank you"-d a few of them as we walked by, and they smiled and nodded understandingly back at us. Good experience so far. Maybe we won't have to don the body-armor that we built up in Cuba...

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A local shopper peruses the spice rack

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Lunchtime! Time to try some of these much-talked-about Moroccon dishes!

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Tajine!

While Neda is a die-hard couscous fan, I ordered the tajine which is the national dish of the country. It's a stew with any kind of meat or vegetables you want in it: chicken, beef, lamb, etc. The stew is infused with a blend of Moroccan spices, different in each city and restaurant. Each portion is slow-cooked in a clay base inside an oven or over a grill. The thing that makes it unique is a conical lid which drips condensation back into the base. They say that tajines were popular in areas where the water supply was scarce because of this water conservation over long cook-times.

Real tajine has to be cooked inside the clay dish! They say that most of the cheaper tourist places just ladle the stew from a huge pot and use the tajine clayware as a serving dish. Not real tajine! Then it's called Pho.

Having said this, the tajine that I tried was just okay. Not as flavourful as the legends of Moroccan spices made it out to be. I'll just have to keep sampling similar offerings from other places! We now have a theme for this leg of our journey: The Ta-Gene Tour of Morocco!

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Our restaurant overlooks the Plaza Uta el-Hammam, the main square of the medina

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The reddish-brown castle in the plaza is called a kasbah, and is perhaps the only non-blue building in the old city!

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Moroccan the Kasbah

We decided to duck into the castle to get a bit of a break from all the blue surrounding us. The kasbah was a 15th century fortress used to protect high-ranking officials when the city was under siege. It's now a museum.

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Deep in the bowels of the fortress

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The kasbah was used by the Spanish in the 1920s to imprison the Moroccan resistance leader, Abd el-Krim

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Back into the land of the blue and djellaba

I asked a few people why the buildings are all painted blue and got several responses. The painter I talked to told me that the blue was a better colour than the standard white-wash because the sun reflecting off the white gave off too much of a glare. The Internet says the buildings have been painted blue since the 1400s when Jewish refugees settled here and blue was supposed to remind them of God's power above.

Regardless, it is a visual feast and a photographer's dream! It took a very long time to finish this blog entry because I had to look through and choose from over 500 pictures I had taken in Chefchaouen!

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Cats rule Chefchaouen

There are wild cats roaming everywhere in town! What is strange is the absence of any wild dogs. There is no barking at night, no packs roaming and fighting in the streets and no canine beggars at the tables in the restaurants. Just lazy felines in every doorway cleaning themselves and giving passerbys the DaFuqYouLookingAt? stare. I suspect that at some point in the city's recent history, there was a great battle between cats and dogs, and while dogs are bigger and stronger, they are dumber and cats are way more devious and evil, so all the dogs have been exiled from the city.

It's the only plausible explanation, and now that it's on the Internet, it will get quoted as a fact.

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Camo outfit

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Cat is waiting for the laundry to dry so he can pull the clothes down into the dirt.

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We are having such an amazing time in Morocco, so far!

We've even learned some Arabic words! Every time we pass by our parking lot, the old man that watches our bikes comes over and greets us and assures us that the motorcycles are still safe. He's super-nice and seems very paternal. We asked him to teach us some Arabic. We learned the important basics: Thank you - "Shaw-Kruhn" and some greetings - "Salam Aleikum" which we knew before, but that seemed too religious for us, so we like "Marhaban" better.

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These are Moroccan tourists trying on indigenous Berber clothing.
I think that hat is typically worn by the men though! :)

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More dress-up by other Moroccan tourists

Northern Morocco so far has been fairly modern outside of the medinas and not as interesting from a motorcycling perspective. I'm hoping that will change as we explore more of this country. We talked to these tourists above and found out that they were from the big city, Casablanca, and they were as enamoured of their country's culture and history as much as any other foreigner!

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The real deal

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Something about curiousity and cats...

They obviously don't eat cats in Morocco......but maybe your dog theory is out a bit Gene ?? :rofl:

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/208.html

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We left Chefchaouen feeling very optimistic about our tour through Morocco. It was such a great introduction to a country that is so rich with culture that we were both excited to see what lay before us. This sense of elation was not to last.

Our continuing journey from Chefchaouen south to Fes was an unremarkable 3 hour ride through green fields dotted with farms and the occasional town. We pre-booked accommodations on the Internet and because our riad was located in the medina (old town), and all of our research indicated that finding these places were very hard to find, I made sure to arm myself with as many maps and GPS co-ordinates as I could find online.

Upon reaching the ourskirts of Fes, a motorcyclist pulled up beside me and struck up a conversation. Normally, I am very friendly, especially with a fellow rider, but my guard was up after reading so many stories of the hustlers in big cities. He made some small talk, and I just nodded. Then he asked me if I had accommodations booked already. There it was: he was commissioned to bring tourists to the hotels. Wow, these hustlers really grab their marks early - we were over 5 kms away from the medina!

I told him very clearly we had accommodations booked. Then he asked us where we were staying. Uh-uh, no way I'm telling you! I shook my head at him and sped off. Neda followed, and then our moto-hustler kept pace behind us through traffic. I stared at him in my rear-view mirror in confusion. What did he want? We weren't going to his hotel. What monetary gain would he have in continuing to follow us?!? I radioed Neda that I was going to pull over until our Klingon rode away. He stopped right beside us and continued to try to make small talk. I told him to go away and stared at him in silence for over a minute until he gave up and rode off. Unbelievable. I still couldn't figure out what his game was. But we were going to find out very soon...

This wasn't the last of our moto-hustler. Our friend was keeping pace with us *in front of us*, slowing when we slowed, speeding up when we caught up to him. He knew we were headed to the medina and it was obvious he was determined to find out where we were staying. There was nothing I could do about it, I didn't want to delay our arrival any more.

We pulled into the large parking area where I thought our riad was located. It was littered with moto-taxis waiting for fares emerging from the medina. I looked around and couldn't find our place. I approached one of the taxi riders to ask for directions and he told me to get in and he would take me to the riad. I declined. All the maps said it was right here. Neda heard the exchange over the radio and told me, "Why did you even bother asking, they're just after our money".

I knocked on one of the other riads and someone came out to give me directions to our place. It was right next door! The problem was that we had come up on the back-entrance where the parking lot was and the gates were unmarked. Gah!!!! So much unnecessary hassle and annoyance and irritation.

Our host came out to lead our bikes into the parking lot and then helped us carry our soft bags into the courtyard.

Before we could even take off our helmets, he announced: "You are welcome! Would you like some mint tea?"

Wait, wait... I know the answer to this question!

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The medina in Fes is a true labyrinth! This is one of the better marked signs...

As we got settled in, our host informed us that we had a visitor. Strange? Who else knows we're here? A tour guide introduced himself to us and tried to sell us a guided tour of Fes. We thanked him and told him no. Undeterred, he told us that Fes was the worst city in Morocco to navigate and it was impossible to find our way around the medina by ourselves. He made it very clear that a guide was the only way to see the old city. We were unconvinced. The tour was too expensive for us so we declined once again. He sold hard, but we stood our ground and he left empty-handed.

Our host overheard this exchange and asked us if we knew the tour guide. We shook our heads. Our host told us that the guide had knocked on the front door and told him that two motorcyclists from Canada had asked for him personally. He described us to the host and based on that, he was let in.

I now know why the moto-hustler had followed us to our hotel. He was also paid commission by tour guides for informing them of when new tourists came into Fes, what they looked like, what they were riding/driving, etc, so they could gain entrance into the riads or hostels where they were staying. Our host was very angry that he was deceived. I'm guessing partly because the hotel had their own tour guides that they got commission for! :)

We hadn't even stepped foot outside in the city and I was not liking Fes very much already.

That evening, Neda and I huddled together in our room feeling very discouraged and dejected. We had experienced aggressive hustling before in Cuba and didn't deal very well with it - hiding out in our hotels most of the time. We had to ask ourselves: is this how we wanted to spend our entire time in Morocco? "Snap out of it, Gene and Neda! Look at where you are!"

We had to forcefully talk ourselves into an attitude adjustment. Something told me that this was not going to be the last of our self-pep-talks.

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Next morning, we enjoyed a typical Moroccan breakfast of carbs and more carbs

Our riad, which is a Moroccan guesthouse, was a serene and beautiful place. It was quite a contrast to the storm of hustlers that we had experienced on our way in the Fes. Hopefully we would have a better experience in the medina today.

Anyway, enough of the rant, the rest of this entry will be just pictures, because pictures are fun. Yay, pictures!

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It's all about the Babs in Morocco. Bab Boujloud (above), Bab Chorfa, Bab Streisand...

Bab means "Gate" in Arabic. Because most of the medinas are walled off, every entrance has an intricately decorated Bab. They are the main attractions in the medinas and are the few things that are well-signed. A popular thing for tourists to do is to go around taking pictures of the all the Babs in the medina like they were collecting shirts from Hard Rock Cafes.

Although they're neat-looking, personally, I find other things more interesting.

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This one chicken woke up when I took a picture of his buddies.
Ever wonder where the expression: "Don't risk sticking your neck out" originated from?

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Fes is known as the pottery capital of Morocco. Subtle difference from Chefchaouen, which is the pot capital...

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Resist the temptation, Neda! Resist!!!

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The roots of veiling in Islam are modesty and decency. Or at least I thought it was...?

So far Morocco has been an interesting contrast of old and new. We've seen women wearing full head-to-toe burqas, while most of the younger women only wear headscarves. Even fewer walk around with their hair showing. There seems to be a general tolerance for whether womens' heads and faces are covered or not.

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A group of brightly garbed women walk past another of Fes' decorated doorways

So far we were doing fairly well in Fes' medina. The streets were unmarked and narrow and were not laid out in any sort of pattern. They were lined with vendors all calling out to us to come take a look at their wares. Every now and then a hustler would ask us if we needed directions, but we declined knowing they would only demand money for simply pointing the way.

Besides, I had a secret weapon: I had my motorcycle GPS nestled neatly inside my jacket pocket and it was silently tracing our path away from our riad and around the medina. The night before I had programmed all the GPS co-ordinates of all the sights we wanted to see.

HAH! Take that, you two-Fesed hustlers!

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Madrasa Bou Inania

A madrasa is a place of study for the islamic religion. Located right in the heart of Fes' medina, Bou Inania also serves as a mosque.

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More Moorish tessellations? These tiles in Morocco are called Zillij or Zellige and are very commonplace in Fes

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The old (mosque) and the new (Crocs) at Bou Inania

We are quickly learning that any carpeted area in a building is a prayer area and is off-limits to non-Muslims. This just makes me more curious and I try to sneak a peek into these areas any chance I get.

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Like Chefchaouen, there are no dogs in the medina in Fes. This family of cats
is celebrating the 15th anniversary of the exile of the dogs in Fes.

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A quick greeting in the crowded souk

A souk is the traditional Berber word for "market". Although the medina is mainly stores, there are people who actually live inside the walls of the old city, and the "souk" is meant to distinguish the areas where the stores are concentrated. There are many different souks in the medina, some are focused on food, others on clothing and others on pottery and lamps.

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Neda almost got souked into this store, enticed in by some genuine leather slippers

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A serendipitous shot I found on the camera. Was initially going to discard it until I checked it much more closely...

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Walking past a wall of colourful textiles

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/209.html

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Our sightseeing tour of Fes continues with less ranting, more pictures:

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It's all about the doors and gates in Morocco. Beautiful colours!

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Cat silently begging for food outside a butcher stand. Unlike dogs who whine,
cats will stare a hole into your head until you feed them... Because they're evil.

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More carpets means another mosque. So curious to see what's inside!

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The women have a separate area in the mosque to pray

From being in Morocco for the last few days, we have noticed that there is a pronounced segregation between the men and women. From an early age, the girls and the boys congregate separately. Even with Morocco's moderate attitudes, I think it is still considered indecent for a woman to be seen in the company of a man that is not family or her husband.

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Another neat shot I found on our camera. The blurring is natural and not photoshopped.
The donkey remains calm even amongst all the chaos surrounding it in the medina!

The storeowners and passerbys thought it quite funny that I was taking pictures of this donkey carrying supplies through the medina. The old city is crammed full of tourists, local shoppers, hustlers and storeowners. And this is on a weekday in the off-season! I can't imagine what it's like on a weekend in peak season!

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One thing we have not mastered successfully in Morocco is the art of haggling. I am trying to pick up some tips here...

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This artisan was carving the intricate patterns from memory with no template

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Such amazing and precise artistry!

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Looks like a shield! I was going to ask him if he could make me one coloured alternating red and white with a star in the middle. Then I remembered where I was...

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This is another place we wanted to visit: a leather tannery

There are many hustlers offering to lead us to the famous leather tanneries of Fes. They really don't need to offer up directions, you can smell the tanneries from a mile away. Just follow the pungent aroma of animal excrement. From a terrace
which doubles as a leather store, you can watch workers toil away in large vats that look like ink pots from above. Except instead of ink that is used to dye the leather hides, the vats are filled with liquid pigments that are composed mainly of natural dyes, pigeon droppings and cow urine.

The payment for this terrace tour of the tannery is voluntary, but we are "strongly encouraged" to donate 10 dirham (€1) each, I think more for the sprig of mint that they give you to place under your nose as your walk around. Personally, I didn't find the smell too strong, but this is the Moroccan winter and I can't imagine what the odour must be like wafting up from those vats in the heat of summer!

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The workers ensure that the animal skins were thoroughly soaked in pigeon poo!

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After hearing the tour guide talk about what they used for dye, I didn't want to know which ingredient made yellow leather...

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Worker scraping off excess flesh, fat and hair off the hides with a knife

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Back in the medina, we try to get rid of the smell of pigeon poop out of our noses
by inhaling some Moroccan spices

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Getting ready to leave Fes, we check the weather outside

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Like a lovelorn teenager, the rains have managed to find us even after we've fled to another continent. :(
The restraining order doesn't seem to be working. Witness protection program is up next...

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"When I say Hello Mrs. Thompson and press down on your foot, you smile and nod..."

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One last shot of our bikes in front of one of the Babs (Chorfa). Bye Fes!

We leave Fes on a somewhat muted note. All the warnings of the hustlers that we have read about in Morocco seem to have come to fruition here. And to top it off, it's raining again.

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/210.html

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It's only about 60kms or an hour between Fes and Meknes, so we left late in the day in the middle of a Moroccan downpour. Like the scenery we've faced up in the north part of this country, it was a fairly unremarkable ride. Things start to look a bit more interesting as we approach the walls of Meknes' medina.

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These high walls are a key feature of the old city. There are supposed to be nine monumental gates that lead into the medina. Riding around trying to find one right now...

Unfortunately, the riad that we've booked is right inside the medina, which is closed off to motorized vehicles. We park on the ring road that circles the old town. I did my homework and armed with a Treasure-Island-style map on my iphone, I grab my motorcycle GPS off its mount and dive into the medina on foot while Neda stays with the bikes.

The showers have tapered off to a drizzle by now and the riad is supposed to be about 500m inside. I ignore several hustlers who offer to guide me for a fee while holding my GPS in front of me as if it were an electromagnetic shield that would ward off the touts!

The riad is at the end of a cul-de-sac that would have been impossible to find without a map. A knock on the door revealed a kindly-looking man who introduced himself as Rashid, and he quickly invited me in out of the rain. "Would you like to sit down for some mint tea?" :) We still had to move the soft bags off our bikes and find parking, so I told him to keep it warm for us...

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We had to park outside the medina, so once again, we paid an attendant to watch our bikes.
We caught him napping on the job later on!

So we've discovered that staying in the medinas in Morocco is a three-trip process because of the no-motorized vehicle rule. First trip is the exploratory hike to find the guesthouse, armed with a GPS, dodging hustlers. Second trip is a sherpa trek, 50 lbs of softbags hanging off every shoulder, elbow and hand ("One trip or die trying!!!!"). Third trip is to find parking outside the medina and then walk back to the riad. It is friggin' exhausting, especially doing it with full motorcycle gear and rainsuits on...

*phew* So ready for that mint tea now!

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Without a map, there's no way we could have found our riad, tucked away in a cul-de-sac deep within the old town

After taking the temperature of our mood, we've decided to stay a few nights here to decompress a little. We're wary about moving too fast or dawdling too slow, but in reality the optimal pace can only be confirmed in hindsight. After so long on the road, we're still not able to get it exactly right.

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Making ourselves at home

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Our guesthouse is a beautiful three-story building. Neda hangs out in the terrace while I work on the blog downstairs

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RideDOT.com's Neda-tor-in-chief proof-reads the latest blog entry at breakfast. More carbs on the menu...

Breakfasts in the guesthouses have been mainly an assortment of flat breads, pitas, cakes, pastries and various jams. Proteins are sorely missing from the menu. Thankfully Neda sneaks down some of the food we smuggled in from Europe. So now we can have a blend of the Moroccan and the West: Peanut Butter and Djellaba sandwiches for breakie!

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This is the square where we left our bikes to carry our softbags to the riad

From our many walks to and from the bike, we've noticed that Meknes is quite a bit smaller and easier to get around than Fes, and not as confusing. In Latin America, you can tell how complicated a border crossing is going to be by how many helpers swarm you. Same in Morocco, you can tell how big and labyrinthine the medina will be by how many hustlers offer directions for money.

One good thing about going back and forth through the medina is that the hustlers now know our faces and most of them stop hassling us. Most of them...

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Outdoor veggie market

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That's a lot of tajine pots!

While Neda likes visiting all the stores that sell pretty scarves and dresses targeted towards western tourists, my camera prefers the markets that cater to the locals. The last time I was this shutter-happy was back in Guatemala. It's taking a while to write these Moroccan blog posts because of the sheer number of photos I have to wade through!

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Bab el-Mansour, one of Meknes' most elaborate gates

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Bab er Rih (Gate of the Winds), Bab er rah, Bab er ah-ha-hah-hah...

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We paid a visit to the Mausoleum of Moulay Ismail

The Mausoleum is the final resting place of one of Morocco's ruthless and monomaniacal sultans, Moulay Ismail. He killed anyone who stood against him and built opulent monuments and palaces in dedication to himself. It's good to be the Sultan!

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Many slaves and prisoners toiled ceaselessly to create intricate tiles and reliefwork in the mausoleum

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There is a small mosque inside where non-muslims may enter! Finally!
We had to take off our footwear to enter. Our Shoe-Guard's name was Rae Lenard

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The tomb hall was very fancy

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Neda found a niche for herself

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A young admirer of the fancy tilework in the courtyard of the mausoleum

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Medina, medina, medina (Menzel?)

We're getting a bit Medina'd out, hopping from one old city to another. We've done some research and there's a lot more to see in Morocco than the mazes of souks and hustlers. We've decided that after Meknes, we're going to do more riding and less Medina-ing.

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Not sure exactly what was going on here, but the colour of this lady's robes was perfect!

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Fancy horse rides for hire in the main square

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Daily life in Meknes

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Battlements of the old city's walls

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Cemetery outside the city walls

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Neda couldn't resist picking up a little something in the souks. One of the ladies in our riad showed her how to tie a headscarf the Moroccan way

Neda really makes an effort to talk to the local folks everywhere we go to understand the culture, which is something I greatly admire about her. Because we're spending quite some time in the riad just relaxing, she got to know our host Rashid and talked to him extensively about his travels in Morocco. After Meknes, we want to cross over the Atlas Mountains and head southwards into the country, but Rashid told us that he was in Ifran (about and hour south of Meknes) this last weekend and there was snow on the ground.

Hmmm... perhaps it was too early to cross?

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Our restaurant experience: more mint tea!

We went out for another Moroccan meal. This place was highly recommended, but when we got to the door of the restaurant, it looked to be someone's house! We knocked, not knowing if it was the right place or not, despite the small hand-painted sign near the entrance, and then we were led inside through a living room, past the kitchen and into a dining area that looked more restaurantish. Ok...

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After a looooong wait to build up our appetites, we finally got our food

We were warned that the restaurant took a long time to prepare the foods. We discovered why - like a lot of the restaurants we had seen in Central America, they save money by not keeping any food in stock. When someone comes in to order something, they just run out into the souk, buy the ingredients and make the dish from scratch! A lot of customers call ahead to order their dishes.

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Neda had couscous again, and I tried a delicious chicken pie called Pastilla, crusted with almonds

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Bikes are moved back out into the square to begin the tedious process of packing up

After a few restful days in Meknes, we're going to shed ourselves of the medinas of Northern Morocco to do some exploring by motorcycle! Yay!

Updated from http://www.RideDOT.com/rtw/211.html

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We've decided to venture further south, over the Middle Atlas mountain range. Despite Rashid's warning of snow on the ground, it's the most direct way to gain access to the more interesting geographies of Morocco. Hopefully we won't run into too many problems.

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Our riding day starts off with a lesson in Arabic writing

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Just south of Meknes, we stop at a scenic overlook, with beautiful vistas of the distant mountains to the west

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We're not the only tourists, people from all over the country visit this area

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More bikers pull up to admire the view with us

This couple pulled up in their Moroccan touring rig and smiled and nodded at us. I went over to look at his bike to try to figure out what kind of motorcycle it was since the sticker on the side said, "Batman Motorcycles". To my surprise, he had changed more than the tank sticker, even the engine cover was engraved, "Batman". :)

I tried to strike up a conversation about his Batman motorcycle, but the couple didn't speak any French at all. I did some research later and I was mistaken - the official languages in Morocco aren't Arabic and French, it's Modern Standard Arabic and Berber.

French is considered a "prestige" language, used mainly for commerce and government, but it is considered the de facto second language of the country, despite only a third of the population being able to speak it. Even with the language barrier, we were still able to convey to our biker friends "Beautiful scenery!" and "Have a safe journey!" through the international language of pantomime.

Never did figure out the brand of motorcycle...

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Sitting with the locals having a fried chicken lunch on the road in Boufekrane. Reminded us of all our meals in Latin America! :)

There are absolutely no hustlers outside of the medinas. A few people stop to look at our motorcycles, and during lunch, a couple of them ask about where we're from, but instantly we recognize that there's no hidden agendas, just curiousity. I can feel the mental guard that we put up in Fes and Meknes slowly begin to fall and we're feeling much more relaxed about being in Morocco.

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As we ascend the Middle Atlas, we are surrounded by cedar trees, their limbs laden with... snow! Uh oh.

It is quite a sight to see snow appear on the ground in Morocco. This is not what we were expecting to see when we crossed into Africa! The Middle Atlas is the most northern of three Atlas Mountain ranges in the country and the peaks of this range reach over 3300m (11,000 feet) above sea level. We were nowhere near that elevation, but still high enough for the snow on the ground to pile up higher the further up into the mountains we climbed.

The road skirts the edges of the Azrou Cedar Forest, but we get a good taste of what the scenery must look like. It's a popular tourist destination, with the trees here growing up to 200 feet tall over a lifespan of 400 years! Along the road, we hit a traffic jam, cars were stopped on both sides of the road making the passage between very slow. What were they stopped for? We got off our bikes and hiked into the forest to find out for ourselves:

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Monkeys!

Actually, these are Barbary macaques, indigenous to Northern Africa and named after the Barbary Coast where they originated from. They were everywhere up in the cedars, looking down at the crowd of people gathered below taking pictures and offering fruit up to them. I'm not sure how friendly they were, but they must be very used to human presence. This guy gladly took the banana that was being handed up to it.

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Ah, a better portrait! To get his attention, I had to act like a monkey...

Back on our bikes, we left the snowy cedar forests and climbed higher up the Middle Atlas. We watched in wonder as the snow banks on either side of us grew higher and higher, sometimes reaching up over the height of our helmets! We had read that although the Moroccan government does a very good job at clearing the snow regularly, sometimes after a heavy snowfall the road can still be impassable for quite some time.

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This is just astounding! We have to stop and take a picture of this!

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So we do!

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Morrocan in a Winter Wonderland!

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This was an unusual custom in Morocco...

We noticed that most of the cars passing us had neglected to clear the snow off their windshields. We thought that they must not be used to driving in snowy conditions here. But it soon became clear that this was intentional - Moroccans visiting the Atlas Mountains will make a snowman on the passenger side of their hood in front of the windshield. It's a big thing up here, almost everyone does it! While coming up, we had no idea it was supposed to be a snowman because the snow had melted by the time the cars reached us. But as we reached the peak of this pass, we clearly saw the three balls of snow piled high in front of the windshields. So funny!

Some people do the same thing in Canada, except instead of a snowman, they make a thick blanket of snow on top of their cars and hoods, blinding all the vehicles behind them as their artwork disintegrates on the highway. They get a nice certificate from the police for their effort... or lack thereof...

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Up near the top, the road becomes a makeshift parking lot.

Whenever there are high enough hills by the side of the road, little industries have popped up renting out toboggans and skis to the tourists traveling through the area. There is actually a real ski resort in the nearby town of Ifrane, but this is the cheaper alternative - no lift tickets required!

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And dogs! Lots of them! This is where they all went after being exiled from the cities by the evil cats

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"Hey Neda, I have something I want to give you..."

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The snow disappears as the road that we're on descends a little bit into Timahdite

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We pass by small streams and are absolutely blown away by how beautiful it is up here

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And then the road climbs again, we know this because the snow reappears around us

What an amazing riding day! We really haven't ventured far from Meknes. We're in Midelt for the evening, only having traveled a mere 200kms, but there was so much to see along the way.

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Our riad in Midelt, which is a popular mid-way point for travelers along the Middle Atlas route

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In addition to the pastries and jam we also got dates in the morning.
You could say we were Carb and Date-ing for breakfast...

So far our first steps out of the medinas of Morocco have been thoroughly enjoyable! We've shed the hustlers of the big city and the scenery and geography here is absolutely incredible. Can't wait to see what's ahead of us!

That's so awesome! But I think you guys may have made a wrong turn in Albequerque. This is what happens when you start missing :freezing: Canada, your subconscious goes looking for snow in Africa, eh.

I have been reading all through your post. Find it very readable. Some of the places I would like to see and travel my self. Have you thought of putting up GPS location references to the over night stay's, so other traveller's can follow in your foot steep's.
John933