|
Paula Kota - Short travel tales
Hi everyone, My name is Paula (Kota by nickname) and I'm from Portugal, a beautiful country in the western end of europe. Since I remember that the sound of a motorcycle shakes me. Started very young riding a bike and never stopped. For a few years I was a young reckless/unconscious, then came my daughter and life changed course. Now the adrenaline is consumed from 9 to 7h and the attitude on the road is quieter. I love traveling, see the world, experience different cultures. I like to write. I started writing diaries of my trips to remind of all the emotions I felt. When I decided to share the experiences I realized that my "writing" was pleasant to others. I have only 2 weeks’ vacation per year. So, my ride reports are just Short Tales. By suggestion of Mr. Grant, I will start publishing here my ride reports, places where I've been as Turkey, Morocco, Spain, Scotland, India, Himalayas or Africa. In each of my tales is a bit of my soul … I start with the ride report of my Turkey Holidays (2014) I was thinking that Turkey was a complicated country roads in the style of Morocco and the Middle East problems. Things we read in the newspapers. I was wrong flat. I found a fantastic land of hospitable people, a clean and organized country, dreamy landscapes and cuisine for foodies. All this with a strong aftertaste of east and exotic. In Page 2 starts the ride report of Morocco (2012) A Solo trip in Morocco, between 22 April and 3 May 2012. A fantastic adventure, a land of friendly people, a journey that surprised me. Hope you enjoy my tales :mchappy: PS: Sorry for my English. I used the Google translator. Hope that the translation is enough to express my travel feelings. . |
Turkey (2014)
TURKEY
April / May 2014 (solo ride) Just two weeks of vacation and a target 5,000 km away. To drive there takes six days for each side and I burn the holidays. Solution? Catch a plane and rent a bike. Life is about choices and travel plans also. In a country eight times bigger than Portugal I must select a region. I chose the South Mediterranean coast and Central Anatolia, a path with an Ottoman aroma that I can do in two weeks. I found that a motorbike rental price in Istanbul is pornographic. It is cheaper to take my bike there. But as always, out of the "famous" tourist circuits things are different. In Antalya I found several motorbike rental companies at a reasonable price. I choose one with no reason. Just because their Internet page was well made, had good customer reviews and because it was one of those things we call "feeling". Rented a Yamaha 660R at good price that allows me to drive any type of road. [/SIZE] https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Z...itinerario.jpg Landed in Antalya near midnight. It was the cheapest flight I found. Mr Guven is waiting for me. Its part of the bike rental service pack the airport transfer to the hotel. He recognized me for the helmet bag hanging on my shoulder. The way to the hotel is by wide avenues, well lighted, roundabouts and traffic lights working. A modern cosmopolitan city. I’m feeling a bit ignorant. I thought I would find a traffic chaos in this country. Mr. Guven, in reasonable English, explains the history of the places we pass. When we arrived at the Hotel he had lost the ceremony and bombards me with questions about my plans. Show him the route map I want to do. We talk until very late. Insists to explain me how Turks are. Tells me that in touristic places no one will bother me but further inland, where they are not used to tourists, surely I will be harass with questions, with the aggravating circumstance of being very rare to see a woman in a bike alone. Advised me to be careful, not to talk too much. But tell me I should not be afraid. Turkey is a very safe country. PS: He just forgot to mention one word: They're boring, don’t stop asking questions. However quickly give up at the first frown. In my travel plan is scheduled to stay one day in Antalya. To familiarize with the culture and prepare departure. Arrange to pick the bike after lunch and deal with paperwork. I take the morning to visit the city. Antalya is a popular tourist destination. A city facing the Mediterranean, a small historic centre well preserved with strong Roman presence. Ruins spread around the city and surrounding areas. One enters the old city by Adriano door, an arch built in honour of the Roman emperor who visited the city in 130 AD. Like any Arab country, trade takes up the streets, tourist shops with rugs, colourful ceramics, trinkets, articles (identified) as fake, spices artfully arranged in pyramids lined in colours and many, many restaurants. It smells of kebabs. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-h...1654%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-B...1658%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-h...1661%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-f...1662%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-x...1675%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-A...1691%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-P...1694%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-O...1695%2520R.jpg The Turks are aggressive negotiators. The Morocco negotiation tactics don’t work here. The method is more psychological. They start by calling us with a smile. Then, they wrap us with compliments and flirting, do a very interested look about our country, offer tea and Turkish delights and if we are not shop vaccinated we leave the store full of trinkets and with no money. The small marina is full of pirate’s boats that make coastal cruises. All in wood with statues of movie pirates, mermaids and sea monsters. Cruise sellers call tourists. Hundreds of tourists in slippers and with red skin invade the shops. Japanese, Germans and Russians. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-L...1671%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-w...1678%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-6...1684%2520R.jpg When I picked the bike had another one of those "feelings". This registration can only promise good vibes. Do not know anything about numerology but this combination appeals to me. I will make a good trip. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4...1990%2520R.jpg Leaving Antalya was a nightmare. According to the indications, just go down the avenue and right over there I find the coast road. So close that it took me two hours to leave the city. Yes, it was easy, the avenue was wide, but had 20 km of blocked traffic and traffic lights. I begin to think that in here everything is big and far. Only 50 km after leaving the town I felt on vacation. Finally, a road without traffic, open countryside. The Turks drive quite pushy. A bit chaotic for our well behaved Western habits. Yes, there are traffic rules they meet. But they only stop on the intersection limit line. Until I get used to it I caught a few scares. Honked like a crazy. Sometimes afraid, others in rage, because of the overcoming raids that made. The trucks are kings of the road. No, not old and rusty. Recent and modern, silent and fast machines, in line behind each other, filling the road. The most prudent is to go out of their way. Take it slow. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F...1699%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-F...1701%2520R.jpg (....) |
Welcome to HU Paula! Looks like you have some great photos and stories, I look forward to reading more!
|
TURKEY
April / May 2014 (solo ride) The 1st travel stage is short. 200 km to Kas, by a road always along the coast, sometimes climbing hills, sometimes by the sea. I stop in a small town where St. Nicholas, Bishop of Demre lived, whose sarcophagus is in a church built in his honour. According to the legend, St. Nicholas was famous for its miracles and generosity. His remains were taken to Italy by merchants and his holiness led him to become patron saint of Greece and Russia. Devotion of the patron St. Nicholas gave rise to the Santa Claus character we know today. In the city centre there is a statue with an explanatory tombstone. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o...1739%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-0...1741%2520R.jpg Very close to Demre are Myra Tombs, an intricate network of ancient tombs excavated in the hill dated back to IV AC century. Later the Romans built an acropolis which the theatre is still well preserved. The road access to the ruins is full of St. Nicholas religious souvenir shops and sacred stones from the ruins. It’s 10 Lira to visit. I leave the bike near an orange juice stand. The boy says he lookout, no problem. Says I must be very strong to ride with such a big bike. Widens his eyes looking at it. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-t...1710%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-V...1712%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-5...1716%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-2...1729%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-n...1708%2520R.jpg Arrive in Kas in the evening. The road goes down the hill with a superb view. Small islands near the coast, a harbour full of boats. A beautiful fishing village. The esplanade by the sea is full of foreigners. I only hear English speaking. I ask for a tea and wait for the British couple who kindly invited me to spend the night at his house. David and Juliet are retired and told me that travelled the South of Portugal and Spain looking for a house to buy. The prices were so expensive that they ended here. Love living here. Life is much cheaper and people very hospitable. In the area there are thousands of Englishmen who have adopted Turkey. It was the 1st surprise of the day. In the course of the conversation they comment that the island, just ahead of us, belongs to Greece. We can reach it swimming. No wonder that the Turks have itchiness having the Greeks by the door. Ancient wars. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-n...1742%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-X...1746%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-a...1750%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Y...1757%2520R.jpg When I travel alone I like to start at dawn. There is no traffic, the morning light is fantastic. The road from Kas to Kalkan runs always by the sea. Wide, well signposted, delicious windy road curves. Awesome. Feel like doing it back and forth several times. The sea is blue-green, calm waters, broad horizon. It’s called the Turkish Riviera. David ride with me to Kalkan. Has a bike just like the one I rented. He knows well the area and occasionally disappears to appear later in the top of a curve with the camera in hand. Took fantastic photos. The greatest difficulty of anyone traveling alone is to appear in the photos. I am often asked why I take so many pictures of my bike ... well, because there is no one around to take pictures of me. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-I...0381%2520R.jpg Photo by David Bird https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d...0386%2520R.jpg Photo by David Bird https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-S...0387%2520R.jpg Photo by David Bird https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-8...0390%2520R.jpg Photo by David Bird https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-o...0393%2520R.jpg Photo by David Bird https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-r...0405%2520R.jpg Photo by David Bird https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4...0410%2520R.jpg Photo by David Bird In Kalkan I took the road inland towards Pamukkale. It starts to rain, a flood that accompanied me through the 300 km to the famous "cotton castle". I planned to visit the complex in the afternoon. But it doesn’t stop raining. Change of plans. Spend all afternoon talking with the friendly hotel owner who offered to take me up there tomorrow. Dawned sunny. On the back seat of an electric scooter that has seen better days, with no helmet, the Hotel owner took me to the south gate of Hierapolis, 6 km from the village. It took me over 2 hours to visit the majestic ruins and many others wandering in the terraces and pools of warm water. It is mandatory to walk barefoot through the pools. The ground is soft and white. The water runs warm. Pamukkale, a UNESCO heritage, is a complex formed by thermal hot calcareous springs that along the centuries formed pools and terraces on the hillside. They say the water has medicinal properties and cure various diseases. At the top of the hill are the ruins of a roman city - Hierapolis - including a thermal pool known as Cleopatra's Pool, a monument built on the site where it is believed the Apostle Philip was crucified, a Roman theatre and other ruins. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-Y...1762%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-l...1770%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-L...1776%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-P...1778%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j...1781%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--...1784%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/--...1796%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v...1811%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-g...1819%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-R...1879%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-v...1884%2520R.jpg (...) |
Turkey (2014)
TURKEY
April/May 2014 (Solo ride) When I finished was past lunch time. Quickly eat up a sandwich; put on the bike equipment still soaked from the previous day rain and hit the road. The initial plan was scheduled to arrive in Cappadocia today. It is no longer possible. Thankfully did not book any hotel. I am free to stop wherever I want. By mid-afternoon starts to rain again. Strong downpour, hail and wind. The road is overflowed; streams of water turn into waves blew by the wind. It reminded me of the sand waves that snaked on the road when I ride through the desert in Western Sahara. Spooky. Difference is that in here they are of water and join the waves that jump of the trucks wheelsets. I feel wet, cold and miserable. Its only 4: 30h pm. I'm exhausted and sick of rain and wind. I decide to stop in Egirdir, a town on the edge of a great lake, covered by black clouds. I'm so desperate that I stop in the 1st hotel I see. It’s a 4 stars. What the hell. I ask the price. 23 Euros. Hard to believe. I'll indulge me in a spacious and warm hotel room. Hang the equipment on the heater and go for a hot shower. I only made 200 km. A journey into the rhythm of the rain. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-x...1903%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-w...1902%2520R.jpg When I go out for dinner the rain stopped. I walk in the village and getr the opportunity to buy gifts. Outside the tourist season is always cheaper. So cheap I don’t need to bargain. Found a restaurant full of people. With so many clients, it must be so good. Can’t read the menu. I can only point to a picture with a looking good pitta. Employees do not speak English. They try to make conversation but it's hard. The only thing they speak is "where r you frome?" Answering is useless. I shrug. An old man in the background shouted something and the employees stop nagging. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A...1905%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...1911%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f...1925%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-o...1915%2520R.jpg |
Quote:
Yes, I have a some photos :cool4: I will put them here with the ride tales. Hope someone like it :eek3: |
Paula Kota - Short travel tales
Good to see a Portuguese "face" around here, Paula. Welcome.
I'm sure your tales will be much appreciated. José Bragança Pinheiro using Tapatalk |
Quote:
|
Turkey (2014)
TURKEY April/May 2014 (solo ride) Starts to be a pattern. Dawns sunny. Sunrise in the lake is fantastic. Leave at dawn trying to make up the time lost in the rain yesterday. I no longer think of travel plans. Whatever it may be. And I'm enjoying a wonderful road that skirts the lake and reveals a grand landscape; the water reflects the background mountains. Some km ahead another lake - Beysehir. I'm in the lakes region, a very fertile area, cultivated fields, reed beds margins, villages and tractors, green until the horizon. Like the Swiss and French lakes with the only difference that instead of churches there are mosques and signalling is written in strange characters. Passing through a small village I caught the scent the bread and cakes. I suddenly realized that I was hungry. Bakeries in Turkey are works of art. Various types of bread, baked delights without artificial creams. The windows are irresistible. A temptation that widens the eye, stuffs the nose, involves us in the memories of Grandma hot bread smell. Couldn’t resist. Three cakes and pastries and tea. All for 60 cents. I love these Pastanesi. I have packed lunch for the rest of the day. https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-M...1921%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-n...1928%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-U...1931%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M...1944%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-L...1954%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-3...1948%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-y...1950%2520R.jpg I’m in the expectation of visiting Konya and the famous museum of Mevlana. At the top of the hill, near the extinct volcanoes I look out at the city that spreads on the horizon. Huge. I will spend the rest of the day lost in a city of 1 million inhabitants. Give up, I am slightly allergic to big cities. I like open spaces, with few people. Ride on. To Cappadocia, the road is a straight line of 150 km. Call this region the Turkey barn. A lowland of wheat fields, windswept, an endless highway. Today has not rained but the blast almost lead me through the air. An hour later I'm tired of being beaten and drive in sloping mode. Looking for a service station that has a restaurant. I need a tea. But this area is almost deserted. Only petrol stations and no services. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-d...1937%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-X...1956%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s...1957%2520R.jpg Starving I stopped at a station that had a wooden table with long benches in front of the office. I took the cookies bag and a water bottle that I carry all the time. I sat in my picnic with the company of two chickens that walked by. The station employee came out and realized I did not want to supply. Went in and out again with a warm mug of tea. Placed it on the table without a word and left. Left me alone in my feast. When I tried to pay he refused and did a good trip gesture. Unusual. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-l...1961%2520R.jpg In Turkey all is Big. The men are tall and strong, cities are huge, the distances connecting two points of interest are gigantic. Between Pamukkale and Cappadocia they are 600 km, more than going from Porto to Faro. By the end of the day I arrive at Goreme in the heart of Cappadocia. In the tourist office a rude and disinterested lady announced that there was no accommodation available in the area. All booked. It cannot be, I thought. I only have an hour before nightfall. Went looking for a hotel that I had seen a traveller site. Also sold out but the receptionist says he knows a place that has residential rooms. And that belongs to his mother. Yes, I felt that the matter was settled. Right in the village centre, a simple house, a modest and clean room, a loving lady, includes breakfast, all for 17 euros. The fortune favours the daring. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-r...1994%2520R.jpg A mime conversation with the house lady and discovered that the central restaurants are all expensive. She pointed to the left side of the street. Followed the advice and landed in a small restaurant, mother in the kitchen and son at the tables. An absolutely delicious Anatolia soup and a plate of Toutinni. After dinner took a walk around the village. The souvenir shops occupy the streets and close late. The supermarket is still open. Many Russian and Japanese tourists. Travel agencies advertising tours around the area and buses bound for Istanbul and other sights at affordable prices. A crowd of young backpackers are waiting to travel overnight. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-i...1986%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-7...2004%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q...2007%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-B...2055%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5...2221%2520R.jpg |
TURKEY
April/May 2014 (solo ride) Wake up in the middle of a lunar landscape. Breakfast is on the terrace where we can admire strange pointed shapes that point to the balloons flying over the area. This region is characterized by geological formations shaped over the centuries by wind erosion and by deep valleys where rivers still run. The soft volcanic rocks allowed the excavation of houses and shelters. The result is a desert landscape, misshapen, almost apocalyptic. Two days to explore the area. I went to all the places published in tourist itineraries. Pigeon Valey, Ihlara Valley, Selime Monastery, Rose Valey, Love Valey and many others which I don’t remember the name. I went down to the underground city of Derinkuyu. I ventured by dirt roads through rocks of capricious shapes and inhabited caves, wandered quietly on a different planet. https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-e...2245%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-G...2068%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-7...2090%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-P...2223%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s...2163%2520R.jpg Pigeon Valley owes its name to the thousands of pigeon houses carved into the soft rock since ancient times. The pigeons were used by the Romans as mail messengers between regions and pigeon droppings are very popular among farmers as fertilizer. From the top of the Valley we sight a fantastic landscape of jagged rock formations known as fairy chimneys. https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-v...1995%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-F...2003%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f...1998%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-E...2015%2520R.jpg The underground cities served as refuges for the people in the wars of the Byzantine era, the Roman persecution of Christians, or, more recently, used by the Cappadocian Greeks to escape the incursions of the Ottomans. Intricate mazes of tunnels and caves with several floors underground that could accommodate up to 20,000 people. The underground city of Derinkuyu has a barn area, stable, cellar, dining room, school and even a chapel on the lower floor (five floors below ground). In all tunnels we can feel airflow coming from a complex system of ventilation shafts. Many of these cities are connected to each other through long tunnels. https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9...2018%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-I...2031%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-j...2043%2520R.jpg Selime Monastery is a monastery-church located 28 km from Aksaray. It was also the headquarters of the region. Carved in the rock, in great height, is the largest monastery in Cappadocia, with a large cathedral church where still remaining traces of old ceiling paintings. It was also used as a stopover of the great caravans of the Silk Road where merchants look for refuge overnight. We enter by a ramp and very steep stairs not advisable to dizziness. Upstairs we can enjoy a fabulous landscape. https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-X...2131%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-K...2139%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-T...2146%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q...2123%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-_...2072%2520R.jpg (...) |
TURKEY
April/May 2014 (solo ride) The trail was advised by the Hotel Lady, in a mime conversation (she does not speak English and I don’t speak Turkish), pointing to locations on the map. She advised me the cheapest restaurants, paths to stroll and the shops to avoid. We were a whole afternoon talking through gestures and laughs. The day I left the bike was doing a weird little noise. I realized that wrapped around the handlebar, had a Turkish embroidery ring with a sort of eye stone (called Evil Eye - the eye symbol is regarded as a powerful amulet for protection against the forces of evil). https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8...2157%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-F...2168%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-W...2169%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-K...2173%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9...2183%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-H...2193%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-d...2228%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4...2231%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3...2219%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-T...2203%2520R.jpg Each time we step on the village intersection centre the guy's motorbike rental shop shouts something to me. In the late afternoon of the 2nd day, when I went for last minute shopping I heard a 'Can I help you? ". I stop and look at him - Yes, you can! I explain that I need to lube the bike chain but as it does not have central support I can’t do it alone. He stares at me for a few minutes in silent. Then his face opens in a smile. He calls the mechanical. They lubricate the chain, check the tire pressure and oil level. Offer me tea and fill me with questions of where I came from and what I'm doing and where I'm going. Don´t know where is Portugal but I speak about Ronaldo and his eyes shine. Haaaa .... Portuguisi (I find out that Portugal is a country called Portuguisi because Ronaldo is Portuguisi). Now I understand why when he said that I am from Portugal nobody understood me. I know nothing about football but that makes life easier for travellers, it does! https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-g...1991%2520R.jpg (...) |
Turkey (2014)
TURKEY
April/May 2014 (solo ride) When I planned the trip I found several references of Munzur Mountains, an inhospitable region of central Anatolia crossed by the river Euphrates, bordering the birthplace of major civilizations of Mesopotamia. I felt like going there. It’s only 500 km. Part of the road belongs to the ancient Silk Road, the trade route between the East and the West through which passed the caravans loaded with goods. There still remains the "Kervansarais", hostels fortified by the roadside that served as landing and shelter to merchants. As a tourist spot, around this caravanserai grew a village with several shops and restaurants in the middle of nowhere. Admission is 15 lire. Didn’t feel like going. I stayed by the outside. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-z...1968%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-8...1970%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-O...1963%2520R.jpg Through the great plains of central Anatolia by a highway that crosses a dry, almost desert land. Tufts of vegetation alternate with white hills of earth with strange cuts. There are no houses, villages or people, just the highway, trucks and service stations. After two days of good weather the sky is loaded with grey clouds today. By mid-morning rises a terrible windstorm. The trip becomes a torment. I have to stop at a service station. There is a restaurant where no one speaks English. In gestures I explain that I'm hungry. They make me sign to sit and serve me a delicious soup, a salad and beef stew. Watching a TV cookery show, I´m waiting for the wind to calm. Me and a few truck drivers who also did a safety stop. A couple of hours later I see the truck drivers leave. The windstorm calmed down. I continue my trip. As I approach the mountains the fields are greener, the road gets narrower, there are flocks of sheep and cows and sheep dogs that bark and run after the bike. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M...2253%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-Z...2263%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-f.../IMG_2254R.jpg It rains again and the wind continues to fustigate. At the entrance of a village I stop in a service station. I'm soaked and cold. None speaks English. A boy called me behind the counter. Google translator is open and we talked trough the keyboard. From now on is a rural road, many curves, up the mountain to the gorge of the Euphrates River. It's almost nightfall. I think it is too late for such adventure. Luckily there is a hotel in the village, next to the mosque, where the pilgrims stay. The receptionist doesn’t speak English and the hotel has no restaurant. The closest is in the town centre 2 km away. The hotel has wireless Internet and turn on the Google translator on my phone. I could explain to the old man that I am exhausted and hungry. Outside it’s pouring with rain. He’s going to ask a restaurant to bring a kebab at the hotel. Shortly after Renault parks outside, big, slender, shiny, a well-dressed young boy leaves the car with a tray with a full menu, plate, cutlery, cup and yogurt. The receptionist improvises a table at the reception. All of this for 4 euros. I have dinner thinking that this is not just a trip; it is a life experience where the unpredictable reigns. The mosque loudspeakers scream the call to pray. I fall asleep with the chant and wake up with the same song. Dawns. No sun, no rain. I will ride until weather allows. A narrow mountain road, steep and twisted climbs phenomenal green landscape. Down below, in a canyon runs the Euphrates. The road runs along the bed of the river, goes through tunnels carved into the mountain. Far away an iron bridge crosses the river. I'm sitting on a rock by the roadside breathing nature and thinking if I do the 70 km of a road that is called "Stone Road", a dirt road that runs always by the river. There is a sign that says the road is dangerous. The sky darkens very quickly. Suddenly a thunder crash is heard. While I put on the rain suit a military column approaches. One of the officers speaks a little English. He asks me what I'm doing there. Says there is a village a few km ahead and has a Hotel. I enter the village escorted by several trucks of soldiers (later I was told that in more remote areas there is no police, military forces are keeping order). https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-j...2267%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-O...2271%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-O.../IMG_2278r.jpg At the Hotel nobody speaks English. I point to the restaurant. They make me a sign to sit. In the middle of lunch turn up a girl sits and on the table in front of me. It is the school's English teacher. Someone call her to talk to the stranger woman who arrived by motorcycle. Stays the all afternoon with me. After all, that "small" town has 10,000 inhabitants, is well known for organizing international trekking events and to have a unique feature - the doors have two kinds of door-bell, each one with a different sound, one for men the other for women. Thus, the hosts know which one to go open the door. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-H...2306%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-9...2311%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t...2315%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0...2321%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-y...2347%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7...2302%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...2291%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-2...2283%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-3.../IMG_2327R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-p...2351%2520R.jpg She takes me to visit the secondary school, a huge modern building. It has a natural history museum that is the envy of the Lisbon museum. Several rooms with fossils, stuffed animals and local flora exhibition. It’s the students who maintain the museum. Every year there are raids across the country, in locations where they excavate relics accompanied by teachers. All this state funded. Fantastic. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-o...2352%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-4...2353%2520R.jpg After dinner we stroll around the bars. This small town has many young people and, therefore, late night bars. One is in an old church that was transformed. The altar is the bar, in which drinks are served. She tells me that is the most popular. It reminds me when I was in Ireland in a bar that was an old English church. This thing of religion makes me confused. The waitresses are all young women. I am curious and ask about the lives of women in a Muslim country. Explain to me it's still complicated. In large cities and towns women play a more active role, have more freedom. No longer use the scarf to cover the hair. The problem is the remote areas, small villages where still reign ancient times. They call coincidences to facts of life. If I had followed the road of stones I would be caught by the rain in the middle of the mountain, on a dirt road squeezed between the rock escarpment and the cliff. Fortunately the beauty of the landscape "forced me" to stop and the military convoy did not “give space” to think in off-road odysseys. Sometimes the enthusiasm takes away common sense but fate takes care of guiding us. What's not to be, does not have to be. (...) |
Turkey (2014)
TURKEY
April/May 2014 (solo ride) Wake up very early. The sky is beautiful blue. Today I can recover the km I didn’t do yesterday. And thankfully did not. The experience was fantastic. Driven by curiosity, yet I entered the tunnel that leads to the famous road. I just drove 2km and returned back. It was enough to realize that the road would be dangerous for someone like me alone and with no off-road experience. But the scenery is fabulous https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-2.../IMG_2277r.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o...e%2520road.jpg To exit the mazy of curves and hills took me a few hours. The landscape is spectacular; from top of the mountains we see the canyon and the river down there running sluggish. All in harmony. In the first village I stop for a snack. The smell of pastries call for me. Two Lira (€ 0.60) for tea and cakes. I already have packed lunch again. https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-m...2276%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V...2410%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-V...2389%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-K...2391%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4...2415%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-v...2528%2520R.jpg Today’s destination is the Nemrut Mountain, in the South. Another straight endless road to Malatya. I’ve seen on Google maps a road from here to Mount Nemrut. At the entrance of the city I stop at a gas station. Fuel and was offer tea. As usual. Ask the way. No one knows and no one speaks English. One of the employees makes a call. Hand me the phone where someone on the other side speaks English. I explain what I want. Answer me a man, in good English that he organizes tours to Nemrut and I could go with him. He handles everything. (trying to sell a tour). I say yes and during the conversation I realize that there is a road and in good tarmac. Yes, I will meet you in the centre town. I left laughing. Yes, he could sit and wait for me. (:biggrin:) https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-x...2420%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L...2422%2520R.jpg Just outside the town there are signs to Nemrut. I follow the signs, climbed another steep mountain, a terrible downhill. A local kind of Stelvio. Suddenly, at the top, the road ends. Only a small hotel and a van parked outside that had seen coming before me. Nothing else. The owner greets and asks if I have reservation. I do not understand any of this. Where am I? Where are the statues? https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-a...2442%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-T...2433%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X.../IMG_2435R.jpg Just realized that there is no connection to the south side of the mountain. The road ends here. The statues are 10 km further up, by a trail. I'm lost. The owner tries to convince me to stay in the hotel. The price is exorbitant. I make up a story about having some friends waiting for me on the South side. He tells me that only way is returning to Malatya and go around. It’s about 200 km. I must have made such a desolated and unhappy face that I think took pity on me. Tells me that there is an alternative - make a 4 km track from the last village down there and then I will reach tarmac again. Go around the hill, for 40 km of rural roads and I will be on the other side. Now what? I fear trails. I imagining myself lost alone in the middle of the mountains. Tired, sweaty, after doing almost 300 km, at 4 pm, the last thing I feel like is doing is off-road. I looked at the van and had an idea. I asked him if the driver could go with me through the trail until the next tarmac road. We negotiated a fair price. And here I go slowly on a dirt road with scare curves, up and down. I can´t see anyone on the way. Only the van in my rear view mirror. One of the curves is so tight and down that I gestured to the driver help me get the bike by hand. Then I have to wait for the van to make the curve. What kind of adventure. Not even feel like taking pictures. I just want to get out of here. I'm looking at the miles indicator to see when this torment ends. After the 4 km the track does not end. Almost 10 km of track and fright. Finally we reach the tarmac and my companion went back. I have a map drawn by the hotel owner with the following villages I should go by to get to the intersection of Nemrut. Only when I returned home I discovered that I had a camera recording the whole time. When I watched the movie I realized I made a road with a fantastic view. In the film the track does not seem so bad. I was so nervous that didn’t enjoy the ride. Just thinking the day before I had this insane idea to ride the stone road .... Only in these occasions I miss having company on the road. It would be safer to have someone around or it would be fabulous to be a movie star and ride with a production team behind. The reality is that ... there are limits to the adventure if we want to be sure to get back home safe. I arrive at nightfall. Rain is starting to fall. I ride up the hill seeing unsightly pensions. I found one with looking good. I park. A smiling young man to gets out and greets me. Speaks reasonable English and announces that has rooms and serves dinner. A Western couple passes by and talk to me. They are German and say this place is nice, is the 2nd time they stay here. Until dinner we stayed talking and drinking tea. The room is basic, a bed and nothing else. The shower is on the wall and works poorly. For the price, it’s all that can be arranged. But the boy is a sympathy and dinning with the Germans helps to turn the evening more comfortable They are retired and live in Alanya. They visit Portugal and Spain looking for house but it was all expensive (I've heard this story). Love living here (later I was told that there are so many Germans in Alanya area that is called "Little Berlin") https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-u...2446%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-9...2449%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f...2456%2520R.jpg (...) |
Turkey (2014)
TURKEY
April/May 2014 (solo ride) This trip is happening in the pace of the wind and chance. The storm follows me and narrows my plans. I still cannot comply with the schedules or the stops I planned each day. Everything is happening to me and I always end on different place than I had thought. I begin to think that this not a touristic trip but a life experience. Wake up with the sound of the rain falling. I think I will have to adjust the plans again. At breakfast I encounter the friendly German couple. The lady says in jest - you better go back to sleep it’s a nasty weather to go up to the mountain. No, I answered. I cannot let the rain stop me from doing things. I have breakfast slowly always looking out the window. The rain slows down, slight raindrops. I decide to risk. Put on the rain suit and ride the 17 km till the top of Mount Nemrut. Square tidy stone road, soft curves, so different from the escarpment I drove yesterday. Up there the wind blows so strong that I almost fall to the ground. A badly slop road where I hardly managed to park the bike against the wind. I think it will not be easy to get it out of here. There is a small cafe that also sells souvenirs and carpets and tea and there is a nice gentleman who greets me. He signals that keeps the helmet. There is a walkway with steps to climb to the top. A chain of walkways go around the hill. We go up by one side, go down by the other. I am alone, there are no tourists. Light rain. Strong wind. I climb up, slowly. I'm at 3,600 meters altitude. I get tired quickly. The wind does not stop. Part of the walkway is of gravel and stone steps. Sometimes my boots slip. I try to keep myself right against the wind. Half an hour climb to get the 1st level. The statues are here. Looking at the endless horizon. Classified by UNESCO, the king Antiochus I Tomb ruins consist in 2 terraces and an altar. A roofless temple full of giant statues - lions, eagles, the gods Apollo and Zeus, the half-god Hercules, the goddess of fertility among others. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-y...2479%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-5...2484%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-i...2458%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-T...2460%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...2463%2520R.jpg The rain stopped. Undress the rain suit. I'm sweating. Alone at the top of the world only the wind and I. Blows in my ears, speaks in a language I can understand. Or I'm getting crazy. I start talking with the wind, answer him, talk to myself. I laugh of my appearance. Take lots of time taking pictures of myself using the camera timer. Can’t get a good one the photo catches me halfway running to the spot. Finally I manage some reasonable photos. And I laugh. Good thing I am alone. My look would shock any tourist in the area. Just me, the wind and the top of the world where I feel a strong energy, coming from the innards of the earth that surround me and stifle me. I’m sweating. I laugh. Is this dementia? I don’t know, I just know that I feel good. My eyes spread across the landscape full of clouds. Freedom. Endless horizon. Two weeks a year are mine. No responsibilities, no jobs, no schedules, no clock, with a destination but no course. And a huge world to discover. Free. Happy. https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-b.../IMG_2473r.jpg Go around the hill and start going down to the 2nd level. More statues, heads rolled out of the bodies and spread on the hillside. A king’s outcome that was probably as crazy as I am. Ordered the construction of these statues that watch the horizon, virtually to save or protect the world. Time made the heads fall. Kings, animals, Saints. Icons of a civilization from ancient times. Other beliefs. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-e...2500%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5.../IMG_2499R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...2480%2520R.jpg It is time to get down. It's easier now there are no gravel paths. In the small cafe I sit down to rest. The owner offers tea. I'm psyching myself to go down the hill, the steeply slope in this wind. With gestures, I ask for help to turn around the bike. A man that must be a driver of one of the vans that arrived meanwhile speaks a little English. Came to help. Down the hill, the wind is softer. I stop at the hotel to pick up my bags. I’m in the restaurant talking with the young hotel owner and I mention I’m going to fuel in the gas station that had seen down there the day before. He laughs and says that post only have diesel for tractors. No petrol. The nearest station is 50 km away. I get nervous. The bike tank is almost empty. No problem, he said. Grabs the phone and after a phone call tells me to go down the road till the 2nd village. I'll fuel in the local grocery store, a plastic bottle of 1,5 Lt. This is Turkey. Everything is solved. No problem. I was thinking that there were gas stations everywhere. True only in main roads. In these rural roads, petrol stations only have diesel for tractors and trucks. I was lucky. Back on the road. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-7...2512%2520R.jpg The last target of my trip is Sanliurfa, just 200 km from here. Heading for Kahta to fuel and have lunch. Just when I’m getting out of the city the storm bursts. Hail, thunders and lightnings so strong that I have to cross the highway in the opposite direction to take shelter at a gas station on the other side. The sky collapsed. I look like a wet duck, running as much water as the rain falling from the sky. The employees, three old men, invite me to enter the office and of course offer me tea. They don’t speak English. Friendly. I’m sitting with a cup of tea watching Turkish dances on TV waiting for the storm ends. But it does not stop it seems it’s getting worse. I decide to go back. It will be difficult to achieve the plan today. I enter Kahta searching for a hotel. Through the main avenue, I drive slowly looking for a sign that says "Otel". A van starts honking behind me. Pull over to let it pass. Stops near me and the driver asks if I need help. It’s the man who helped me turn the bike around on top of Nemrut hill. I'm looking for a hotel. He signals to follow him. His brother has a hotel 50 meters away. Nice looking. The rain doesn’t stop. I decide to stay. The price is good. The bathroom has a real shower. And hot water and hairdryer. I’m missing a hot shower in a proper bathroom. Random chance or there are no chance. It had to be. By the rhythm of the wind and the rain things are happening. There is a star that shines through the storm and enlightens my path. Spend the afternoon writing in the esplanade under a nice roof. The owner comes to talk to me. Speaks bad English. He is with another man, migrant in Italy. Between bits of English and Italian we spent hours talking about Portugal, Turkey and religion. They are moderate Muslims. He asks about my religion. I answer that I am Buddhist and I do not understand religions because men kill in its name. Accepted the explanation but insists to tell me the whole Islam story. The conversation ends because men went to pray. The mosque loudspeaker began to sing. I check the weather. It will be raining for the next days. I must take a decision. It's silly to continue with the planned itinerary under the rain. I will return to Antalya earlier. It’s still a thousand miles to get there. In the morning, ready to leave, the man runs for me. Brings me a gift witch offers with deference and wishes Allah to guide me on my trip. Couldn’t be more surprised. This world is full of wonders! https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g...2522%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u...2520%2520R.jpg (...) |
Turkey (2014)
TURKEY
April/May 2014 (solo ride) 200 km to the South there is a highway towards Tarsus. The sky is full of grey clouds. I will try to make as many miles as possible. Before the motorway I stop in a cafe. Rain is starting again. The owner explained to me that the tolls are all electronic and I have to buy a payment card. Do not worry, it's easy, he says. On the way out, before the toll there is an office where you can buy a card and pay. Another 270 km riding under heavy rainfall in a motorway of endless truck queues witch splash water. I'm so tired. In the checkpoint I have to give the passport and driving license to issue the card and pay. It is a small service post with a guichet. Can’t take my helmet off such is the amount of water falling. I enter Tarsus looking for hotel. There are few people on the streets because of the rain. They walk sheltered in shops awnings. I stop at the door of a barber shop and signal to a man who was looking out the window. It must be something never seen here since everyone came outside to talk to me. They indicate me a cheap hotel, on the main street, 100 m. ahead. I enter the hotel draining water down the hall. The reception old man smile and disappears. He went to get a mop to clean the floor. Only after he speaks to me. By gestures I ask for a room to sleep and ask about parking for the bike. Ten euros for the room and he says I can park the bike in the hallway. I unload the bags and the old man helps me to put the bike in the hallway. The handle cannot fit in the glass door. A policeman and the parking supervisor show up. They say it’s OK to leave the bike on the side walk. No problem, no one will touch the bike. They will walk around here all night and know that the bike belongs to a Portuguisi that is traveling alone. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O...2530%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-x...2536%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-b.../IMG_2533r.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-p...2532%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...2526%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-W...2524%2520R.jpg Very early, I have breakfast and load the bag in the bike. The elastic bands to hold the bag are missing. It must have been in yesterday's confusion trying to put the bike in-house under that weather. The reception old man realizes my disoriented look. By gestures I try to explain that I cannot tie the bag to the bike seat. Smiles and makes a waiting signal. Goes up the street and back again in few minutes with two strong and colourful rubber bands. I can imagine that there is a bike shop near. Problem solved by € 2.5. He shakes his head and repeats joyfully - No problem. Yes, in Turkey it seems there is never any problem. Everything is solved. I like it! I have two ways to return to Antalya. Along the coast by a slow road, dangerous and blocked with trucks or by the fast lane that will take me back to Konya. The old man points to the map and signals NO by the coast. Stamp with his finger on Konya. I will drive more 100 km far but it’s a few hours short. I follow the advice. There, I'll have to cross the windswept lowland again. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-O.../IMG_2542R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m...2557%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-o...2547%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-B...2543%2520R.jpg In the afternoon it starts raining again. I have not even managed to dry my clothing of yesterday's rain and I'm soaked again. 3 days that my boots are soaked. I'm sick of rain and wind and trucks. I drive until I bear out. Before crossing the mountains that separate me from Manavgat I enter a small town. It should be easier to get accommodation here that in a very touristic place. Ride down and up on the main avenue looking for hotel. Just nothing. I decide to enter a shop and ask. They indicate me a 2nd street on the left. I am greeted by a nice lady. The hotel doesn’t have garage but there is no problem to let the bike stay at the entrance under the surveillance camera. I still have time for a walk around the city. There are no tourists here. Everyone is looking at me curiously. In the restaurant, in the middle of dinner, the kitchen boys come and ask to take a picture. Very happy and proud they pose beside me. I must be an alien here. A woman, wearing a huge colourful jacket, dining alone. The praxis question "where r you frome?" And then they can’t say another word in English. They let me take a photo of the kitchen. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-j...2565%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-4...2568%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-g...2569%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-c...2570%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-B...2573%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-S...2574%2520R.jpg Today the itinerary is short and I’m planning to visit some tourist sites. I drive up the Taurus Mountains under a grey sky. Damm, the rain is always threatening. The road is twisted and crosses several passes. When I cross to the other side of the mountain I see white and fluffy clouds. The sun shines. On the horizon prevails the blue. It’s so good to feel the warmth. I park by the roadside. Under the sun. I take of my coat and hang it on the rail. Take of the boots. I lie down on the floor in the sun. Finally, it’s not falling water from the sky. I do not know how much time passed. Just know that the boots are dried up and I have a red face. Few cars passed. The worst part of traveling is to realize that is ending and that the time is flying very quickly. It seems like I just arrived here yesterday and within two days I have to go back. A feeling of complete satisfaction because managed to get here and complete dissatisfaction because I want more. https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-I...2575%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-2...2576%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z...2582%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-K...2589%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-X...2590%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-z...2592%2520R.jpg (...) |
Turkey (2014)
TURKEY
April/May 2014 (solo ride) I continue down the mountain towards the coast. I‘ll visit the waterfalls that were announced in tourism sites. Paid to see a small cascade. An entrance flanked with shops and restaurants. Dozens of Russian and Chinese tourists. I know in Portugal about 3 or 4 cascades and waterfalls much more beautiful than these but aren’t announced in any tourism site. The Turks are similar to the British. Any pile of stones with over 100 years is a historical and tourist reference entitled to have special signalling. There are so many spread out along the road that if we stop on all of them it would take a whole day to make a hundred miles. It's a shame and frustration Portugal does not preserve the cultural and natural heritage it possesses. At the best level there is around this world. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-I...2610%2520R.jpg The coast road between Antalya and Manavgat is the most dangerous which I drove till today stuffed with the cars and traffic lights and aggressive Turks driving. I am glad I came through the inland roads. The nice onld man from the Hotel in Tarsus was right. Finally, I arrive in Antalya one day earlier than expected. The return flight is tomorrow night. I enter the city by the beach road - Lara Plaji. A huge sandy beach. It is Sunday and families came strolling in the sun. In the small river which flows into here there are pirate ships cruises for tourists. https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-g.../IMG_2617R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...2619%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-W...2620%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E...2616%2520R.jpg In the evening I deliver the bike back to the renting company. Mr Guven is very pleased. Requires me to tell him all the adventures of the trip. Listens very carefully, nodding his head sometimes laughs. He’s very pleased that I am OK. Very proud he says he made a very careful mechanical review before I go to make sure he had no breakdown. True, this Yamaha 660 behaved very well. I am glad to have chosen this company. They ensure technical assistance throughout the country, which gave me a lot of confidence thinking that in any event it was enough to make a phone call. Moreover, Mr Guven lent me a Turkish mobile phone. During the trip spent a total of 9 euros and called home every day (big roaming saving). https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-9...2623%2520R.jpg Last day of vacation. I give myself the luxury of sleeping until 9 o'clock in the morning. For the first time in two weeks I am not in the road at dawn. The Hotel is on the outskirts of town. There is a bus to the centre town, the ticket costs 60 cents and the driver advises me which bus stop I should leave. Going to last minute shopping. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--...2633%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-X...2615%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-b...2783%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J...2784%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-s...2786%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-a...2788%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/--...2789%2520R.jpg It’s a beautiful sunshine day. I decide to go on a cruise in one of those wood pirate ships. At the marina there are dozens of sales agents for boat trips. They sell whatever departures early. Start by saying no to everyone. I walk by the pier trying to listen to the conversations with the tourists. Manage to hear the prices. Decided to sit in an esplanade and ask for a Turkish coffee. I am fan of this coffee. It is thick, creamy, strong. https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-e...2638%2520R.jpg https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-9.../IMG_2637r.jpg The waiter comes and talks to me. Speaks a little English. Asks me why I’m not in a cruise. I answer that I would like very much but it is expensive. He shakes his head to say no it’s not. Calls a man who is near the boat just in front of us. They speak quickly and the man presents itself as owner of the boat. I tell him that I find very expensive and in the end of the holiday I have no money. He says a price, I maintain the No. Asks how much I can give. I propose a value. We negotiate and I end up with a price half of what I heard the other tourists pay. Cool. I’m going on a cruise. In the boat it’s only ME and a group of Arab tourists. They look at me with curiosity. The women sit all together talking and laughing. The men dance on the sound of the Arab music. But only the men dance. The boat captain is Greek. It seems an old wolf-fish of the storybooks. Even smokes a pipe. Once again I feel like an alien. The Arab tourists do not take their eyes off me. The women come quietly and sit beside me to take pictures. Then, very satisfied they go back to the middle of group. When we reached the Grand Cascade I ask the captain to take photos of me. I am happy and do funny poses. Some of the young women lose the shame and join me. Suddenly are all taking pictures with our arms open. We all laugh. The boat sails along the coast. Resorts succeed one after the other. There is no beach, just the cliff. The hotel beaches are platforms built on the rock cliffs with sun loungers and parasols. Two hours of relax, under a hot sun, resting the body after miles of rain. Another adventure with a happy ending! https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/-w...2645%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A...2650%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-p...2664%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7...2683%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-P...2770%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4...2731%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-j...2714%2520R.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o...2701%2520R.jpg https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-k...2692%2520R.jpg https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-z...2691%2520R.jpg I was thinking that Turkey was a complicated country with lousy roads and Middle East problems. Things we read in the newspapers. I was completely wrong. I found a fantastic land of friendly people, a clean and organized country, dreamy landscapes and fine cuisine All of this with a strong taste of Oriental and Exotic. I want to go back! https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-R...2801%2520R.jpg The End . |
In my next ride report I invite you all to "travel" with me to .... Morocco :scooter:
. |
Nice one Paula.
Thank you for sharing, a part of Turkey I have wanted visit for over 30 years, great photos and nice write up, looking forward to your next:-))
|
Quote:
Thanks for your comment. Apreciate. Its a wonderful country to travel. Don't miss it :cool4: |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) A Solo trip in Morocco, between 22 April and 3 May 2012. A fantastic adventure, a land of friendly people, a journey that surprised me. I've visited Morocco twice. The first time was in 2007 with a group of friends. Marked itinerary reserved Hotels, always running to see as much as possible in a short time. The second time I crossed Morocco on the way to Guinea (Bissau). None of the times I was able to observe the landscapes the way I like it, I could never enjoy this exotic land. Had to go back, at my own pace, to feel this land, to know the people. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-h...rocos_2012.jpg I woke up lazy and only left home by 7 am. It’s not raining but its cold. I crossed Portugal in robotic mode. As always, when I'm on the road my brain stops. As the miles move forward I stop thinking. I enter in a sort of trance. I was squeezing the petrol tank to get to Spain. It’s much cheaper in there. Just “woke up” after passing Aracena. Just a week away from Jerez de la Frontera bike races, the road is full of police and stop operations. And they stop Paula. A harsh looking policeman asks for documents. Took off my helmet and the wind loosed my hair. Astonished policeman´s face. Even more amazed as I seek my wallet in all my pockets, clumsy air, a huge wind. He makes a subtle smile. With an even bigger smile, I give him the papers and move the hair away from my face. Question: Are you going to Jerez? No, I’m heading to Tarifa. When I was young I used to go to Jerez. Not now. Now I just like to travel quietly. He laughed and replied, Yes, I also used to race on these roads. Now I also like to do it calmly. (OK, the police is also a biker). We stand talking for a while. He didn’t even look at the documents. Then, he stopped the road traffic to allow me to go back to the road, under the envy gaze of a group of young people with race bikes that were there paying the speed fine. A whirlwind of sacrifices after I finally arrived in Tarifa, under a stormy wind, driving an inclined bike and fighting neck pain. Damm wind. Tank fuel ending. It has to be enough to arrive in Morocco. I must get into the ferry. In there, petrol will be half the price. Sleep in a small hotel in Tarifa. I got up early. The ferry is at 9 am. By 8 am there was a huge queue at the box office. Almost miss the boat. Luckily is that the ferry only departs after they sell (almost) all the tickets. If they were English the ferry would depart on time and I would have to wait until noon, the time for the next boat. The passport is stamped into the boat. Formerly the officers were at a table in a corner of the deck. Now they have a proper small office inside the ferry. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v...0/IMGP0004.jpg Landing and border. A policeman distributes the customs papers. Have to glue the papers to my nose to read it. Put on my glasses. Start to fill it on the bike seat, fumbling with the wind, between holding the paper, the pen and the passport and the glasses perched on my nose. The guard looked at me ... Give me, I help ... he filled it all, took the passport and told me to wait. There are few people at the border. I'm watching what's going on. A Moroccan, typically dressed holds a tray, offers tea to tourists. Glass cups, a wide smile. After small talk he asks 10 dirhams per tea. Greets and goes to another group of tourists. Welcome to Morocco. Just outside the port, I stop at the bank to exchange money. An usher indicates me where to park. I park by the roadside. When I return, he starts talking to me. Says I’m welcome. Speaks lousy French. Wants bribery ... Fee? ... Says it is by keeping the bike. I answer him that the bike does not escape. I laugh and do a silly air. I leave thinking that this will be my life in the coming days. It's included in the Morocco adventure. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...0/IMGP0006.jpg Just outside the port, I stop at the bank to exchange money. An usher indicates me where to park. I park by the roadside. When I return, he starts talking to me. Says I’m welcome. Speaks lousy French. Wants bribery ... Fee? ... Says it is by keeping the bike. I answer him that the bike does not escape. I laugh and do a silly air. I leave thinking that this will be my life in the coming days. It's included in the Morocco adventure. In Tangier, the 1st petrol station outside the ferry looks like a tourist swallower Staff is almost in the middle of the road calling for foreign-registered vehicles. They fuel with ceremony, the counter is never priced right, round the cents and negotiate the value of change. I turn on the "gypsy mode" and force the employee to give me all the change, including cents. The speed limit within the city of Tangier is 60 km / h. between leaving the ferry to the highway toll, I counted 7 radars. And lost account of the number of radars in the motorway. I’m riding south to Kenitra. Do not feel like going by secondary roads. I want to start sightseeing after Meknes. The northern part of Morocco does not interest me. After leaving the motorway, I begin to enjoy the landscape. Cultivated fields, green and yellow, an empty road, no traffic. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n...0/IMGP0011.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...0/IMGP0012.jpg Near Volubilis we can feel the tourist machine. Hotel ads, auberges. Men jump to the middle of the road waving, open arms gesturing a tent. Trying to sell a place to camp (I think they should find a joke that tourists pay to set up a tent in their backyard). From a distance, I can see the Roman ruins and a car park crowded with tour vans. I get chills watching piles of tourists moving between the ruins. Not feeling in the mood to see old stones. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L...0/IMGP0014.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q...0/IMGP0021.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a...0/IMGP0015.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i...0/IMGP0016.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-r...0/IMGP0023.jpg Take some photos at distance, or turn around and go out of there. I'll go peek Moulay Idriss. Have read on the Internet that is a typical village, ............... I went up to the centre and found traffic mess, unfinished houses. Just a disappointment. We read a lot on the Net. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z...0/IMGP0020.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z...0/IMGP0024.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2...0/IMGP0026.jpg 4 pm and I'm feeling tired. Meknes is very close. 30 km later I enter a big city. I'm standing in a large roundabout trying to tune. A car stops beside me. A man asks if I need help. I'm looking for the tourist office. He tries to explain the way in Moroccan but my ignorant face made him give up. Gestures. Follow me, he said. Here I go chasing a Peugeot equal to what my grandfather had, many decades ago. Arrive in the central square, across from the tourist office ... it was closed. On the doorstep, two men talk. My disappointed look must have been so great that they asked if I needed help. I explain I’m trying to find a hotel. Well, they were the tourism officials. Opened the door and get me a list of hotels. Recommend me one near here, decent and cheap. Also gave me the city map and explain me the places to visit. I thank and return to the bike. One of them came behind me. To tell me that he is available to accompany me on a city tour, show me the museums and the shops (LOL) I think 90% of Moroccans are commission agents of any hotel, shop, museum or restaurant. It’s in their blood to sell things. Once they see foreign dollar signs run in their eyes. Refer us to the places and then return there to receive the bribe. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v...0/IMGP0036.jpg The Palace Hotel charge 180 dirhams for a single room with toilet and shower. Pink toilet paper. The Internet does not work. And hot water only after 7pm. I go for a walk to spend time till I can have a bath, spreading the stench among the crowded streets. The shops are in sales. I'm hungry. The “Salons de Thé” only have men. I find that women go to “Patisseries”. I enter one. Point to a cake. To drink, I do not understand what she says and waved to anything. I get a strawberry milkshake. Cool. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j...0/IMGP0028.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F...0/IMGP0030.jpg 8 pm. Finally a hot shower and out for dinner. The Hotel receptionist indicated me a restaurant, cheap, a bit further down the avenue. I choose Tagine meatballs with egg, pointing to the menu that had pictures with marked prices. I sit inside the restaurant. I repent that instantly. It smells like fritters. The Tagine looks huge. I think I'll only eat half. But I finished it all. Realized I was hungry. Forgot to have lunch. I ask for a tea and went to the esplanade. The employee, a kid around 16 years, runs to a shop near to get the tea. He has done the same when asked for a bottle of water. Outside blows a nice breeze. The streets are full of people, the shops are still open. Groups of women look upon shop windows. Men walk in pairs, stop and greet each other with 4 kisses. The traffic is chaotic. At the top of the avenue, in the tourist office square there is a great animation. In the central garden is mounted a camp. Bumper cars, carousels, swivel chairs, happy kids jumping, families strolling, all of this at the sound of pop music... in Arab. In the morning, I have breakfast in the patisserie next to the hotel. Cake and a strawberry milkshake. I say farewell to the friendly hotel employee and go for a walk around town. The Medina is right at the end of the avenue. It is surrounded by a wall that must be miles long. Follow the traffic and enter the Medina. End up in a square in front of Meknes museum doors. Right in the middle of the main shop street. It's still early, the stores have not yet opened but there are already many people in the streets. Tooke some pictures and hang around the avenues of Meknes. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t...0/IMGP0041.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-x...0/IMGP0043.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V...0/IMGP0044.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...0/IMGP0045.jpg (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) The traffic is not very complicated. For anyone who took a master’s conduction in India, I can manage to ride in middle of the rides that cars do. Traffic lights have counters. 5 seconds before the green light fall, as the taxi drivers are beeping. It is a universal tribe. Without knowing how I arrive to a field next to the walls where they prepare a festival. There are huge white tents and horses ready for the show. Interesting. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_...0/IMGP0048.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3...0/IMGP0052.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-P...0/IMGP0053.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...0/IMGP0054.jpg Towards the Cedars Forest. It is now five years I passed here under rain and snow. All I remember is an opaque fog curtain. I recognize some locations. Like the cafe where we stopped to defrost. Today I'm going in the opposite direction. From North to South. It’s a pleasant temperature of 23 degrees (C), clear sky, lots of open space. Perfect! https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c...0/IMGP0060.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L...0/IMGP0063.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B...0/IMGP0064.jpg The scenery is beautiful. The rains of the past weeks left everything green. Endless fields, many sheep. The shepherds sit on the roadside to see the cars passing by. And the sheep too. I drive carefully always expecting to find a flock on middle of road. There are still snow patches up here. And cedars. Forests and flocks. All green. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-b...0/IMGP0065.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z...0/IMGP0075.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c...0/IMGP0074.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6...0/IMGP0076.jpg I have hunch in a small village I don’t know the name. Meat and vegetables Tagine is the only thing they have. Have no cutlery and went to the next shop to borrow some. I ask for a bottle of water but they don’t have, not even in the shop next door. Only have tea. (Tagine and tea cost 32 Dirhams). https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i...0/IMGP0099.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O...0/IMGP0096.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N...0/IMGP0095.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z...0/IMGP0098.jpg As following south the vegetation becomes scarce. The land changes colour. The green was left behind. First shades of red, land of stones. The plates indicate Er Rachilda to about 100 km. Close to Midelt I can see the mountains in the distance. Gray. Is it raining. Began to thunder. On the top of the mountain can be seen huge thunderstorm lightning. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-P...0/IMGP0100.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-p...0/IMGP0101.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I...0/IMGP0104.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W...0/IMGP0090.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O...0/IMGP0084.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F...0/IMGP0112.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2...0/IMGP0119.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j...0/IMGP0115.jpg At the entrance to Midelt there is a police barrier. Signal me to stop. Before the police asks for my documents, I greeted him and ask for help. He asks me if I'm alone. I say yes. Makes a surprised air and looks back on the road waiting to see more bikes. Didn’t let him breathe. I ask if he can advise a hotel, cheap and suitable for me. Recommended me the Hotel Bougafer and gives me directions to find it. I ask if the storm comes to here. Replies that it will rain tonight, for sure. And probably now I won’t be able to pass on the mountain because it’s very windy, rains a lot and the road have ice. It’s still 3 pm but I will have to stick around. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Y...0/IMGP0121.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_...0/IMGP0147.jpg (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) The hotel has free wi-fi. Cool, I will give news to family, see what's new and write. Today I made only 200 km. But the gray mountains in the distance warn me that it is dangerous to continue. The room is reasonable, has air conditioning, TV, shower and toilet. Must be a luxury because the room the boy showed me first has no toilet. It is the French way, toilet outside the room. This one is more expensive. He asks 300 Dirhams. I bargain and got it for 200. Abdul, an old man who must be the owner or family of the owner, says there is no problem to leave the bike in front of the hotel. Has a guard all night. Ask me the name, where come from, laughs a lot. Are you going to Merzouga? He has family there that have a hotel in the desert. Made me see a lot of pictures of his family Hotel and gave me a card. I thank kindly. I tell him that the Moroccans are very friendly. He was very happy. Avail myself to disappear. Go for a walk around the village. I barely move away of the Hotel and appears Rachid a young boy claiming to be a friend of Rui, a Portuguese who came here 2 times and that he took him the tracks of Cirque du Jafar. Rachid does not let me alone. Indicates me the souk, the old neighbourhood, wants to take me everywhere. Says Midelt has not tourists. Just people passing into the desert in the south. But he has a gift shop. I had to ask anything to a policeman so the boy let me go. Went up the street talking to himself and swearing. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8...0/IMGP0125.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u...0/IMGP0126.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_...0/IMGP0127.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z...0/IMGP0128.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...0/IMGP0130.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z...0/IMGP0131.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M...0/IMGP0132.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M...0/IMGP0133.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m...0/IMGP0134.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j...0/IMGP0135.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A...0/IMGP0137.jpg I return to the Hotel. I'm on the terrace and no one approaches. I think Abdul keeps away the gnats. This thing of being hotel client should give some privileges. Only pisser who he lets. But I still have to thank the kindness when he offers me handkerchiefs to the desert. I tell him that I already have. It's on the bike pannier. It is the 3rd time I've been to Morocco. He gives up to selling me things. At 8 pm I'm having dinner in the 1º floor lounge because the restaurant looks like a movie theatre. The tables were arranged in a corner and chairs are lined up and facing an LCD almost 2 meters long. Today there is the Champions game and all the villagers came here to see it. Down below are heard the screams of football fans. I've heard two goals. Here in the lounge, I am with two Moroccan women who see the night novel. The day starts early. In the restaurant there are still the remains of the football game. Misaligned chairs, smoke smell. I wonder what there is to breakfast. The employee points to the Hotel terrace where an old lady is cooking pancakes. Smells good. Ask the price - 3 dirhams each. I have a barred pancake with jelly and tea. Its 7 am, there are few people in the street. Abdul is sitting next to the bike. Says he was there all night. Laughs. Tells me he won’t ask me for bribery. I think he realised he couldn’t take nothing from me. When I pay for breakfast the lady asks 4 dirhams for the pancake. Even the old lady old fools tourist. There goes one extra dirham (9 cents). It’s not worth to claim. This is in their blood. Towards the South, I start to see some groups of bikers. The road has few traffic. Some trucks and many tour vans. And jeeps. Speed up all the way to the desert. I drive slowly ..... https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-U...0/IMGP0150.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L...0/IMGP0153.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H...0/IMGP0154.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-y...0/IMGP0162.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q...0/IMGP0164.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f...0/IMGP0165.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-k...0/IMGP0167.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q...0/IMGP0169.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F...0/IMGP0172.jpg (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) I stop in a service station, to fuel and have a coffee. They have coffee machines like in Portugal that take normal coffees. Good coffee. There is an army patrol outside, and many policemen. A motorcyclist policeman also. Ask me for my group. I do not have, I travel alone. I am going to Erfoud. He’s going too. We go together. There I go, well accompanied for a hundred miles by a Moroccan police. Does not let me take pictures of him. I found that in Morocco coffee is awesome. I do not know the coffee brand. It's good! Served in cup or glass cup, is tasty. Creamy. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-H...2/IMGP0056.jpg On the way to Erfoud the road passes through a tunnel, called "Legionnaire Tunnel". It’s marked on the maps as a reference point, as a gateway in the Ziz Valley. It seems that it was excavated by French Legion to allow a connection road between the North and the South. But it’s no more than a tunnel ... https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s...2/IMGP0176.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n...2/IMGP0177.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7...2/IMGP0178.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L...2/IMGP0179.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u...2/IMGP0183.jpg The road snakes along the ZIZ valley. It’s beautiful. Up and down the hills, sometimes there is a view from above, sometimes runs next to the palm grove. The houses have the colour of earth, sometimes red, sometimes yellow sand. The air is hot, smells of clay, smells of South Morocco. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...2/IMGP0186.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-m...2/IMGP0188.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V...2/IMGP0189.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N...2/IMGP0192.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B...2/IMGP0193.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-L...2/IMGP0195.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i...2/IMGP0199.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-h...2/IMGP0201.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4...2/IMGP0197.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4...2/IMGP0198.jpg I enter in Erfoud main avenue. Many restaurants, some groups of western riders having lunch. I drive slowly looking for somewhere that I like. From experience, the first restaurants are the most expensive. This is where the hungry tourists stop immediately. Turn in another avenue also full of esplanades. All the waiters wave and say to approach. A young man approaches in a mobilette and ask if I want to have lunch. I say NO. (I am stubborn. I go where I want.) I see a tiny restaurant with a chicken roasting machine at the door. Noone calling me. Only a local man drinking tea in the esplanade. That’s it. I enter in there and ask if I can eat. A young boy tells me that only have chicken. Its 45 dirhams and goes with chips and olives. I answer that I do not want fries (I think to myself that the fry oil should be Jurassic) or olives. Just chicken and bread. The price goes down to 30 dirhams. Cool. I have lunch on the esplanade without being disturbed. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T...2/IMGP0204.jpg When I finish lunch the young boy comes talking with me. I asked him for a Hotel. He knows one right next door (family, of course). But the price is reasonable and the place is clean. Also knows one in Merzouga (of course). I tell him that I go to Merzouga and maybe I come back. I'm curious to go there. It’s only about 70 km. Still early. Another bit of conversation waiting for the afternoon heat wave to ease. In the middle of Rissani, half lost searching for the road to the Merzouga, stops beside me a a Moroccan in a jeep with a couple of Italians. Indicates to me the way and asks if I already have a Hotel to stay. (Dammit, they do not disarm). I tell him I'm will follow him. Happy he goes on the road. I follow him till I find the way. Then I go at my own pace, slowly. I lost it on the road. Good. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d...0/IMGP0209.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C...2/IMGP0210.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s...2/IMGP0211.jpg The asphalt ends in the Merzouga portico. Also ends the peace. I drive with fear in a gravel and sand a track. A crowd of vendors - camel rides, hotels, cadeaux. I’m trying to balance me in that road hell and the guys harassing me. One of them, riding a mobillete, speakes French, English, German, Spanish and then he noticed in the bike the sticker from Portugal. There I was at 5 km/h trying not to sink in the sand and the boy perched on the mobillette shouting in all languages that he could find me a hotel, camel ride and a bivouac in the desert. He would not shut up. In a lack of response from me he shouted in Portuguese ... Don’t you talk to Berbers? ... It’s the last drop. I leave the local in a hurry. Speed off down the track. At the end of the track I land in the middle of the camels. Haven’t turned off the bike and a camel driver is already trying to sell me 1h of desert ride. I felt myself like a camel to have decided to came here. Uninteresting village, shops and bazaars, some jeeps and TT bikes splashing around in the sand, ads of desert crusades, a tourist gimmick that does not work for me. I want asphalt, I want a good tarmac road that does not give me a hard time driving, that does not require me physical effort. I’m not feeling to stay here, not even for 170 dirhams that the Auberge Sable D'Or in Hasselbit charges for the room, dinner and breakfast. I will go back to Erfoud. I have about 2 hours until nightfall. The desert does not attract me. It was enough the 3.000 km of desert I did in 2009 on the way to Bissau. Seed up and turned back. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...2/IMGP0225.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E...2/IMGP0216.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u...2/IMGP0215.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s...2/IMGP0220.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n...2/IMGP0223.jpg (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) If until here I was enjoying the road, now I want to go back quickly. I only relaxed when I approached Rissani and I entered in the palm grove. I felt calm of being surrounded by plants, people, life. The desert is sterile, it seems that nature gave up living. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-k...2/IMGP0222.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2...2/IMGP0226.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n...2/IMGP0228.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-E...2/IMGP0236.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-w...2/IMGP0235.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z...2/IMGP0234.jpg Right back to the Hotel the kids advised me. For 150 dirhams I have a spacious room, air conditioning, bathroom with shower and toilet (start to think that having toilet is a luxury). And wi-fi. The hotel owner has a garage for the bike but it is 15 minutes away. Just thinking that I will be far from my “RED ONE” I will have to carry the bags over here .... Then he says that I can leave on the sidewalk. He has a Guardien all night. It will be fine here. Its right under my bedroom window. It's late. I'm sweaty, the clothes are glued to my body. Go to the shower. It's very hot, I wash myself with blue and white soap (granny’s soap). Finally I manage to peel the heat, the sand, the fatigue. I'll look for dinner. The hotel owner has a friend with a restaurant. Soon appears a Moroccan who takes me there. I'm sick of Moroccans who want to sell me things. I go back to the restaurant where I had lunch and ask the young boy where ca I have dinner. Just in next door there is a small restaurant frequented by locals, should be good. Eat a meat with vegetables Tagine of on the eslanade and a bottle of water. 35 dirhams. The usual. Realized that it is the normal price. I do not know if it's priced for tourists or whether it is also for them. But it is not bad. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C...2/IMGP0237.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-r...2/IMGP0238.jpg After dinner I ask the boy where to buy Morocco stickers. Of course, 30 seconds after comes a man who has a shop and has stickers. 15 minute walk through the village. Off the tourist circuit, to the neighbourhood where they live. A warehouse full of tourist things. Ask the price of the bracelets and the Berbers necklace. Tells me to choose what I like. He will settle a price for everything. Of course, Moroccan scheme. He asks 98 euros for 2 bracelets, 3 necklaces and 4 stickers. We are dealing and having tea. I turn on the “gypsy mode” and offer him 20€. (I make the price based on the Chinese shops). I “cry” I have no money that I would like to buy everything but does not fit on the bike. And that I am a journalist and I can do publicity for his shop. (This always works). We closed business for the 20€. For Moroccans (and Arabs) trade a ritual. The longer it takes the more they want to sell. They use a multitude of arguments. After setting the 1st price and the refusal, They ask how much are we are willing to pay. If we make a value, we have to defend it until the end. If they don’t accept, we leave. Becomes a selling stubbornness. An obsession. They do not let us leave without buying. It takes patience and perseverance. They do want to sell. We buy if the price pleases us. Time is a weapon we have to use. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...2/IMGP0240.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v...2/IMGP0241.jpg Breakfast - 25 dirhams. Milk, coffee, bread, butter and jam. Normal. Well served. In the dining room is just an American, already in his 60 years, gray, woolly hair. He stares to the kids sitting at the door. Yesterday afternoon I saw him talking to them, very interested. Walks alone and speaks to all that is a child. When I greeted him he did not deign to look. I do not like him. The hotel owner, dark black skin, is behind the counter talking to the maids and looking at me. I must be a rare specimen here. They wave me and smile. I eat all the bread. This Moroccan bread is a delight. I have to wait to take the bike of the sidewalk. A 9 seats van is parked right in front. I do not have space to take the bike out, is sandwiched between two electrical posts and the van. A kid run to call the owner, a young man who is tourist guide. I think the Hotel population (except me and the American who likes kids) is all tour guides. The street is full of parked vans and jeeps. The hotel price is clearly visible at the front desk. There is no need to negotiate or being deceived. I pay and go to the street to wait. To help me get the bike off was the hotel owner the guide who owns the van and the young boy from yesterday. The maids are at the door laughing. All laugh to see my effort to take the bike of the sidewalk and nearly drop it on the floor. It looks like a circus. I think it was almost impossible to steal my RED ONE during the night, such a huge effort to take it out of the sidewalk. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u...2/IMGP0243.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8...2/IMGP0242.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u...2/IMGP0247.jpg I leave Erfoud toward Tinejdad by a road without number. An old track that now has a good tarmac. An immense plain of sand. It's hot. After a few km I can see some stalls by the roadside and sand hills that seem old craters. And tourists coaches. A sign indicates that we can visit "Le sisteme d'irrigation Tuareg". I stop by to watch the tourists siting on the floor, watching wooden structures with pulleys, some of them pedalling and hearing explanations of a system of wells and underground water tunnels (which are now dry), very happy to hear the blue men they call Tuaregs. I take some photos and drive on when I see a "Tuareg" to coming towards me to offer me fossils. One of them even tried to follow me by bicycle, shouting anything that could be a unique opportunity. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-P...2/IMGP0251.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...2/IMGP0249.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M...2/IMGP0252.jpg Until arriving at the main road, the N10, is 87 km of few traffic and lots of space. I cross small villages by roads stifling of dirt and sand. Few people on the streets. So different from the romanticism of the imperial cities pictures with buildings full of arabesques. In Tinejdad I stop hungry. I see a patisserie and buy a croissant for 2 dirhams. In the café next door I sit on the esplanade under the sun. I am a fan of Moroccan pastries. And coffee. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-y...2/IMGP0256.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B...2/IMGP0262.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-k...2/IMGP0248.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n...2/IMGP0254.jpg Note: "RED ONE" is my motorcycle's name :mchappy: (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) Todra valley can be seen. Palm grove and green grown flaps. In Tinghir I turn right into the Todra Gorge. The intersection is under construction, the road is all chopped. Up and down, the closer the Gorge, the hardest the road. Lots of traffic. In this narrow road if it’s not the cars that almost throw me off the road is the air turmoil from the tour buses that pass at high speed, curve with the wheels in the air, it almost seems that will fall down the cliff below. Tourism places in Arab countries are dangerous. Inside the valley, the mountains walls press the space until there is only a narrow strip where it just fits the road and a small river. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-h...2/IMGP0269.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N...2/IMGP0267.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Y...0/IMGP0272.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3...2/IMGP0275.jpg I'm standing on a bridge taking pictures of women washing clothes in the river when I see a group of motorcycles with Portuguese registration. Found them later on in Todra Gorge. It is an organized tour, almost all BMW motorcycles. I know one of them. Soon we started talking. I ask to take me a picture in the Gorge. Wonderful, it’s hard to have photos of myself when I travel alone. They are staying to have lunch at Yasmine, one of the two famous hotels here and invite me to accompany them. I check see prices on the list. Each dish is marked about 100 dirhams. Out of budget. I appreciate the invitation and I leave to find a cheaper restaurant. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-l...2/IMGP0280.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-k...2/IMGP0283.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...0/IMGP0286.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-x...2/IMGP0287.jpg Walked to the parking lot thinking of the miles he could do with this value. I must be badly accustomed as I never paid so much for a meal. Later a Moroccan friend explained to me that the Moroccans have three "official" price lists. One for the Americans, French, Belgian ... those with lots of money and do not negotiate. One for Portuguese and other cheapskates who haggle the prices. Finally, the real price list which they practice between them. By comparison, my Moroccan friends stay in "Yasmine" or at "Les Roches" (right next door) for about 120 dirhams for dinner, accommodation and breakfast. (...) |
Brilliant !!!
Paula,
I have just caught up with this thread and want to thank you for talking the time to place it here. You painted such a great picture of Turkey that, when I travel through it next year, I may want to spend all my time there. Happy travelling and once again, thanks. Dave:clap: |
Quote:
Thanks Quest. I hope you will enjoy Turkey as much as I did. Wish you a wonderful holiday .. |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) After eating some chocolate cookies that I brought Portugal, to fool the stomach, I leave searching lunch. Stop in Tinghir, in a restaurant with a decent look. There are two Italian bikers having lunch in the esplanade. I step into and bargain the price of lunch. Another Tagine the only thing that is ready to eat. Tagines are a kind of meat and vegetables stew, served in a clay pot, which is prepared in the morning and gets to cook steamed. In lunch time is always ready. The maximum price is 40 dirhams. What a difference between this quiet restaurant and the confusion of the Todra Gorge. I have lunch quietly without anyone bothering me. The employee butterfly’s around my table, but does not speak. I feel him looking at me obliquely willing to make a conversation. When I finished lunch, he did not resist – Do you travel alone? – He sits next to me and asks where I come from, because he has never seen a single woman traveling alone in here. Sometimes he sees some Germans traveling alone but most times they travel in pairs or groups. He speaks quickly in bad French and shakes his head. Doesn’t stop to repeat that admire my courage. Travel alone in Morocco. Courageous woman. I tell him I think it’s a very safe country and very nice people. Waves with head affirmatively, looking like a pendulum, very happy. Swells with pride. I have the map open in the table to see where I will stop tonight. I ask him if he knows any friendly Hotel in Bumalne (was watching this big city near the Dades Valley where I want to go). Replies that there is nothing to see and the hotels are very expensive. Advised me to stay in the “Gorges du Dades”. Beautiful road and nice hotels. Recommended the “Auberge de Peuplier”, at km 27 of the road to Msemrir. Usually he goes there with the family in vacation. Scribbled the address and directions to get there on my notebook. Says the maximum price will be 120 dirhams. Will call the owner (his friend, of course) to let him you know that I’m going. It's still early and I'm near. Its only about 70 km. If I don’t like the hotel I can always go back and look for another place to stay. The miles that separate me from Boumalne is a straight road straightforward, a desert straight road line only cut off by turrets that limit the provinces. A huge space of rock desert and undergrowth and the mountains in the background. The weather is really hot. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-P...2/IMGP0291.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-l...2/IMGP0292.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B...2/IMGP0294.jpg I cross Boumalne and turn towards the Dades Valey. Suddenly, the landscape changes. The land is no longer yellow. It is red. Many villages, people in bicycles, women with herb bundling on their backs, buildings built in clay. The road snakes along the green oasis in the middle of the mountain. Herds of sheep cut the road. There are many hotels and small hostels, looking good hanging on the slopes or on the roadside. There is no traffic, just some trucks driving slowly. I'm controlling the miles to know where I am. The mountain walls narrow, there’s only space for the river and the road. When I think I've already pass through the hostel, almost to giving up, I see a small house, leaning against the rock wall over the road and the river with a sign saying "Auberge des Peupliers". https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-j...2/IMGP0296.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g...2/IMGP0297.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W...2/IMGP0299.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V...2/IMGP0309.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M...2/IMGP0322.jpg As soon as I park, a man in his 60 years comes out. Was waiting for me. Shows me the room and introduces me to his sons. The newest works in the garden and cooks the meals. The oldest one attends school studying computers and also works in the Auberge. The women work in the fields. The hostel is cozy, simple, few furniture and clean. It has wireless internet. They offer me tea. After all, the restaurant employee in Tinghir was right. This place is beautiful and pleasant. I sit at the entrance drinking tea and seeing some motorcycles and jeeps passing by coming from Imilchil, covered with earth, driving fast. Most Germans. I park the bike in the craft shop next door. After a warm shower, dinner. Harira soup followed by Tagine. My stomach is complaining about anything. I cannot eat it all. For dessert, a candy with a delicious aspect. I can’t eat it also. I see this very complicated. Outside everything is quiet, thought the open door I can hear the crickets. The night is dark. There are thousands stars. Shining. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z...2/IMGP0311.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-u...2/IMGP0314.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...2/IMGP0312.jpg I sleep badly. Neither the peaceful sound of the river, not the peace that I feel can calm my insides. I already know the symptoms. I'm screwed. In the morning, I go down early. I ask for a tea and a toast. I am sick, it’s hard to swallow. I inform that I will stay one more day. Spend all morning on the way to the bathroom. Sleepy and with temperature. From 2 in 2 hours I eat a piece of bread with tea, to take the medicine. This will not get better today. I'll stick around. I sleep deeply. Wake up after lunch time with the noise of conversation. Apparently there are many people down there. I'm Hungry. I go down to the reception half dizzy. There are five women in white robes, heads covered, speaking all at the same time. When I appear there is silence. They shrink up, hide behind each other. The older one says anything I do not understand. I look at the boy in the reception desk. He translates. She's asking if I'm okay. I smile and answer. We started talking, come to close to me, observe me from top to bottom. They are the sisters of the owner. Heard about the foreign lady, riding alone in a bike, who is sick. Came to make company and see if I needed anything. They want to know where I come from, don´t know the names of countries or places that I speak. Listen carefully, eyes wide. Spent hours asking questions about me, my family, what I do. Every answer, they throw exclamations and laugh. Cheerful smiles. Land their hands on my head and forehead, say that tomorrow I will be OK. Have their palms brown, painted with Henna. It's tradition. They are going to make me a special herbs soup that will heal me. By late afternoon, I feel better. The women are in the kitchen. I dare to take a ride. It’s a fantastic evening. Get on the bike and go up the road by a huge ramp. Tight curves, steep. At the top, strong wind blows. The landscape is magnificent. The road is fantastic. Continues up the slope, the river is a thin line down there. Then it goes down again. The rock walls almost touch themselves. I arrive to the pass of Dades (Dades Gorges). Much more beautiful and much quieter than the Todra. A nice American couple walks around. They take me some pictures. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o...2/IMGP0320.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i...2/IMGP0324.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F...2/IMGP0326.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I...2/IMGP0331.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-n...2/IMGP0332.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J...2/IMGP0335.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...2/IMGP0338.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g...0/IMGP0347.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q...2/IMGP0353.jpg (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) I wake up early. I'm ready to continue my journey. Breakfast is tea and toast. It’s safer. Pack my luggage, pay 120 dirhams per night plus 30 dirhams for the gallons of tea I had yesterday. Mals are included in the price. I ride through the Dades Valley slowly. This valley filled my dreams. We can breathe space, peaceful, people working in the fertile fields along the river, red soil, many kasbah, there is no tourists or traffic. I'm alone on the narrow road looking at the horizon. I think this was a good place to rest. I was lucky to get sick in this paradise. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...2/IMGP0356.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3...2/IMGP0357.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i...2/IMGP0360.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-x...2/IMGP0363.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O...2/IMGP0365.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1...2/IMGP0367.jpg On the road to the Flowers Valley, a place I had seen on the Net as not to miss. In Kelaat M'Gouna, a small village where I turn right into the valley, I can already breathe the rose industry. Rows of shops full of pink plastic bottles, with production line aspect, but rather than detergent have rose water. It smells of dust. I ride through the road inside the Valey, waiting to be surprised with beautiful rose fields. I didn’t. Just another fertile valley, green fields, lots of children along the road with rose petals bags. The rose bushes, can’t find them. Ride for about 20 km without filling my expectations. It begins to be cool. I park on the roadside to put the interior lining of the jacket. In a house near me many children look at me with curiosity. Don’t approach. I don’t feel like going further seeking rose bushes. I'm 50 km away from Ouarzazate, a city where I’ve already been. I’ve have also made the road to Marrakesh through Atlas in 1997, a mountain road with thousands of curves and blocked with trucks. They say it's the worst road in Morocco in terms of traffic. I decide to turn North, to the interior. The hostel boy in Dadés said the road was in tarmac and easy to ride. He passed by a few days ago. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-y...2/IMGP0369.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-3...2/IMGP0372.jpg I have lunch in Skoura and the restaurant employee repeats it’s an asphalt road, through the mountain and it will take me about 2,5h to get to Demnate. Is 1 pm. Even if it takes more time, I still have six hours of light until the end of the day. Don’t know why but I’m turned to this road. There are things that have to be made. I never understood why but there is an inner voice that tells us to do something, inexplicably I like breadth, like roads with little traffic, like to explore. I go towards the Atlas, the road is a line of about 30 km, the mountain in the background. It is a clear day, sunny, beautiful https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-x...2/IMGP0373.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C...2/IMGP0375.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...2/IMGP0376.jpg The road begins to go up. It is narrow but reasonable. Without noticing the miles I’m already at a very high altitude. The wind rises. It blows stronger. The road is dirty, the roadside begin to vanish. Higher and higher, the tar is shredded, huge holes, bits of asphalt begin to disappear until it’s just a dirt track and terraces flowing with water. Twists and turns ever more narrow, more and windier. The wind blows so strong that it is difficult to maintain the bike vertical. If I stop I fall into the ground with the wind. I have to continue. The landscape is wild. Craggy windswept rocks, no vegetation. A scenario from another planet, reminds of catastrophe films of the future. No cars, no villages, no one sees us. Only shepherd’s shelters indicate that perhaps someone maybe around ... or not ... https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J...2/IMGP0378.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z...2/IMGP0380.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g...2/IMGP0381.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C...2/IMGP0382.jpg (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) And the tarmac vanishes. The road starts to go down lightly. The last weeks rains dragged dirt and stones. The road track seems like tilled fields, deep grooves, water that flows down the mountain, narrow gorges. On the way down I can spot shepherds and herds of goats. Up ahead a jeep moves slowly in this track that the Moroccans say it’s a road. I start to become more confident. There are people here. In the background appears a village. But to reach the village there is more 30 km of track road. It seemed closer. The road snakes through the mountain. It’s a repeated movie. Each time there is a slope there is no road. Tar only survives in horizontal curves. I have the notion that the landscape is fantastic. If the conditions were different, I would take some excellent photos. But time flies, the road is difficult, every meter is a victory. In my brain pounds the advice of those who taught me to ride in tracks. Constant speed, no break, look forward. I am sweating in the middle of this freezing temperature. Finally I reach Toufrine. Cross the village by a goat path, narrow. Arrive to a bridge that seems to be built recently. Unusual. There is a group of TT motorcycles parked on the bridge. Motorcyclists are equipped with armours. I’ve passed two hours without speaking to anyone, riding in the dust. I start a conversation They are surprised to see me. Look amazed. They are French and are riding the slopes tracks of the Atlas. They have a support Jeep with a trailer with more bikes. By my accounts, I've done about 70 or 80 km. It’s only missing about 60 km. The French confirm. Good road, they say. Asphalt. There is a Moroccan guide with them, has an hallucinated look. Says the worst part of the road I've already done. From here it is softer. I do not know if I believe. Between opinions of Moroccan and TT enthusiasts, let the devil come and choose. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d...2/IMGP0383.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A...2/IMGP0385.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-x...2/IMGP0388.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0...2/IMGP0391.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-r...2/IMGP0389.jpg I hate dirt roads, rocks, gravel, sand, all that involves driving in effort. I like to have a smooth carpet under the wheels so I can have my nose in the air to look around. I still consider about turning back. But I'm just at the point of no return. I need to get to Demnate with day light. I have 3 h until the sun goes down. Night falls by 7,30h afternoon. Suddenly it gets pitch dark. I bid farewell unto the French. They say they admire my courage. I answer them I don’t know if it's courage o if I'm crazy. We all laughed. I go up again to the mountain. The road is better, there is more tar. Except that I no longer trust the information I got. I could even go faster but at every turn I am expecting to have a ploughed road ahead. I'm already on the North side of the Atlas, start to go down, the landscape is greener. The road goes up and down more quickly. Sometimes goes up very high sometimes goes through fertile valleys and small villages where the locals look at me with curiosity. I feel like I could make a stop, breathe and take pictures. But I'm alone, I want to arrive with day light, ride slowly, I do not risk. I'm not a heroin, I do not want to fall or break anything. I'm riding thinking how curious is the notion that the road is different depending on the person, or the experience or tastes. I know some for whom this road is a highway, for others it would be impractical. For me, it’s possible to do it. Slowly Finally I spot the horizon. Green. Beautiful. The end of the line is in sight. Down below there is civilization, there are good roads, there is a hotel and a hot bath waiting for me. I even accelerate down the curves. I'm happy https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-w...2/IMGP0393.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1...2/IMGP0395.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F...2/IMGP0397.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s...2/IMGP0398.jpg I arrive to Demnate at the sun set. Cross the city without seeing Hotels. I stop and ask. Indicate me one further back, to the right. I could find the hotel but it has no sign. Still haven’t turned off the bike and the receptionist comes out and gives me a warm welcome. It's an old man and speaks French badly. It has rooms. It’s 100 Dirhams (€ 9). And has Internet. I ask to see the rooms. On each floor there are four bedrooms, facing an entry which has the bathroom. There is no room with toilet and shower inside. At this time, I no longer have the strength to go look elsewhere. The facilities are new and the place is clean. In the reception again, he gives me the key to a room on the 4th floor. The Internet does not reach there. The owner appears. I insist on having Internet. The receptionist says it's more expensive. Just the rooms on the 4th floor. I speak directly with the owner. I explain that I'm a journalist and I have to send news today for my boss. I cannot be working in the lobby. I make a panic face. They speak in Arabic with each other. Finally, they give me a room on the 2nd floor. It is double but does the same price. And he will open his particular garage to park my bike. (Cool. I was not feeling like climbing 4 floors. This place has no lift). I leave to look for dinner. I have the stomach glued to my back. My legs are still shaking from today's adventure. The receptionist appears out of nowhere. I do not know how these guys can be invisible and suddenly appear. Advises me the restaurant across the road. Takes me there. Must earn a commission for sure. In here or they ask for bribes directly or they receive a commission in the place for which lead us. The King must have difficulty to collect taxes. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-A...2/IMGP0402.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c...2/IMGP0403.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-P...2/IMGP0405.jpg Only at the end of the day, already in the hotel, after investigating where I was, that I realized that I always drove at about 2000 meters of altitude and climbed up to 2,800 m. Up there, I remember seeing a sign with a name and the altitude. And I remember it was a good place for a picture. But the wind was so tough and so strong that if I would stop the bike I would fall in the ground. I only thought I had to continue going down into the valley, hoping that the wind calm down. More important than take photos of the location was my sense of survival that was shouting me out of prudence, warning me that I could not risk, that I was alone at that end of the world. And I heard and obeyed. (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) I wake up early with the street noise. The sound of motorcycles passing. Strange. Then I realize I'm in the middle of Raid D'Amitié, motorcyclists are leaving to the Atlas Tracks. TT bikes, all equipped with armours, noisy exhausts, depart in groups. I sit in the cafe next to the Hotel to watch them go. The café ... only serves coffee, tea, cola and crepes (stiff, barred with sweet). I've already tasted and I do not like it. The owner says there is a bakery up the street. Sends someone to buy a croissant. Cool https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t...2/IMGP0408.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4...2/IMGP0412.jpg Today I'm going to the D'Ouzoud Cascades. North. I’m not worried about the way there because I bought a map that has all the attractions referenced. I've never seen such a map, full of little stars indicating points of interest, landscapes and with all the tourist sites underlined in red, whether in tar roads or on tracks. I do not have GPS or understand anything it. But I have a map that takes me where I want to go. The road to the waterfalls snakes by the mountain base. In the northern side of the Atlas the landscape is greener, fields of olive trees, undergrowth. The underway is slow, the curves are many. The map shows a very twisted road. But the altitude is lower. I drive slowly, the mountain is further and further away, in the background the peak with snow shines in the sun. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C...2/IMGP0417.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I...2/IMGP0419.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M...2/IMGP0423.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z...2/IMGP0427.jpg I stop in a small village. I'm hungry. A grocery store has a counter full of croissants flashing me the eye. I ask the price - 1 dirham – I make an astonished face. The boy repeats almost with fear - 1 dirham - as if it were too expensive. I buy two. In the city I have already given 3 dirhams for a cake. Even here, in the countryside the quality of life is better It should be noted that one dirham are 9 cents. Only! And no, there were no flies on the top of the cakes. The fluttering animals were concentrated in the butcher’s area furiously stinging the goats hanging in the sun. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-8...2/IMGP0418.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W...2/IMGP0519.jpg Very close to the waterfalls in a really secondary road, there is a market on the roadside. Lots of people, rusty vans, dozens of donkeys. I cannot resist and stop. I hesitate to enter. There is a small house with a man who seems to run things. It’s the market Guardien. I ask if I can go in and see. He kindly answers me Yes. But I can only take pictures away from the road to the market. People do not like to be photographed. I walk to the entrance and switch off the camera flash and hold it casually as though I was not using it. But I keep shooting stealthily. Maybe get some decent pictures. I've done it in a market in Mauritania and resulted. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T...2/IMGP0432.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-y...2/IMGP0430.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-v...2/IMGP0434.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-k...2/IMGP0475.jpg I am the only Western here. I wander in the middle of fruit boxes and glossy vegetables, shoes and clothes tents, agricultural artefacts, popcorn and nuts. Occasionally I nearly stumble in a goat. The older ones wear long costumes, faces covered with hoods. Women have coloured scarves that hide their hair. Children line up to buy ice cream. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-R...2/IMGP0443.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4...2/IMGP0445.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N...2/IMGP0462.jpg There are no streets in the market, the stalls are disordered, who arrives exposes the products in spaces there are free. They are the mountain people, arrive in donkeys and sell the products they cultivate. Right in the middle of the market I look up road. I’m hearing motorcycle noise. They are two motorcyclists and stop. Quickly take some photos from far and leave fast. I do not understand if in a hurry or in fear. Then a few jeeps European registrations do the same. None of them visits the market. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-W...2/IMGP0446.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/--...2/IMGP0454.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-0...2/IMGP0458.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C...2/IMGP0463.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I...2/IMGP0466.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...2/IMGP0453.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C...2/IMGP0451.jpg (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) I arrive the waterfalls near the lunch time. In the village square there is a police patrol. I ask where I can park. Indicate a park on the left. At the entrance there is an old man calling. I ask the price. There are 5 dirhams. 5 Dirhams? All day, he answers. I cannot hide a smile. Runs ahead of me to indicate where to park the bike. No time to take the helmet off and he is already offering guiding services to show me the waterfalls. I have no money, I answered. He looks at me surprised, I don’t know if it was for being woman or by saying I am in bankrupt. Scratches his head and laughs. I show you the falls for free. And he laughs. I follow him. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...2/IMGP0476.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-h...2/IMGP0477.jpg In between the houses there is a passage to a platform from where we have a total view of the waterfalls. There are no tourists here, just two young Moroccan who head in my direction as soon they see me. But they see my guide and walk away fast. Mohamed is the old man's name that guides me, a man already in their 60s, wrinkled, moustache remains, nonstop talking in French mixed with English. In a brisk pace of someone who knows all the steps he is leading down the promenade to the waterfalls. A walkway lined with shops that sell everything. To our passage he greets everyone and presents me. His brother, who has a necklaces, rings and bracelets store, later the uncle, who carves figures in stone. Soon after, he shows me a restaurant where his wife and the sisters prepare the best Tagine the country. Talks and talks, quick little steps, ask me where I come from, why I'm alone, why I have no money. I tell him that I arrived in Morocco two weeks ago and now my holidays are over. Now I go to Casablanca where I have an uncle whom I will ask for money to return home. Still going today to Casa? (Casa is short name of Casablanca in Morocco). It is a long way, he says. And you have family there? Neither the questions stop neither the stairs to go down the waterfalls ahead. The walkway has its own life. Old man serve tea to tourists (his family, of course), his niece paints hands with henna, his brother rents decorated pony’s for tourist sightseeing. Halfway he showed me an alley of old houses. It is where he lives. Beside there is its sister’s Auberge. I begin to think that my guide is the patron of the site. Definitively because there are dozens of young people who are offering guide services that do not approach. Respectfully salute Mohamed and go. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X...2/IMGP0478.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-V...2/IMGP0482.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s...2/IMGP0483.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-f...2/IMGP0489.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a...2/IMGP0496.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z...2/IMGP0497.jpg The waterfalls are magnificent, the water falls abruptly to an enormous height, the sound overrides any noise. We reached another platform, almost against the water wall, wet ground, splashing water in the air. Suddenly he points and shouts gleefully: Regarde le rainbow! I couldn’t disguise. I laughed loud. My luck is I speak French and English, otherwise I couldn’t understand him. He thought I'm glad to see the waterfalls. Laughs with his mouth open, brown teeth in front, the back ones have disappeared. I take some photos and sat on the wall of the sidewalk that is not over. There are still missing thousands of steps till the lagoon down there where tourists have fun rafting rubber boats. We stood there talking. It’s hot as hell, I sweat from every pore, it took us about 20 minutes to get here under a burning sun. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q...2/IMGP0491.jpg He says today is a weak tourist day but tomorrow will be a good day. We had information that planes of tourists will arrive to Casablanca tomorrow and the tour will begin with the waterfalls. It's good for business. He tells that has always lived here. Used to be a guide but now is retired and is the Guardien of the mosque. Says that I seem a friendly person and he decided to take care of me. Speaks fast, always laughing, very kind. I'm wondering if he is crazy or is stoned. I don’t understand half of what he says. He says he is happy with life. Ends with "I am happy in the Cascades" and laughed so loud that everyone looked at him. He gets up and goes down the stairs. For me it was enough. Just seeing so many steps I felt tired thinking I would have to climb them all. Told him that I still have to ride a lot of miles today. We went back up. Dressed in the bike equipment, the climb was difficult. He’s bouncing around in front of me and I’m breathlessly. I have to stop from time to time and sit down. In each pause he talks and talks. I’m nodding my head and I smile as if I‘m understanding everything. On the way up he still tries to sell his niece painting hands services. Lower the price by half. I ask him how many days the ink last. Answers it will be in my hands for two weeks. Therefore, I cannot because I cannot show up in the office with painted hands. Looks at me very seriously and waves. He understands. Give up. (Cool, I’ve got rid of this). https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_...0/IMGP0492.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-R...2/IMGP0500.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-P...2/IMGP0501.jpg Mohamed https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Z...2/IMGP0502.jpg We returned to the car park where the motorcycle was. Tells me that the road to the other side of the mountain is very pretty, but I must drive very carefully the next 35 km. Small road with many curves. Then I can drive faster. And he laugh a lot. Stoned is for sure. He doesn’ resist to ask me for a cadeaux. Anything, a souvenir from a Portuguese biker. I put my hand into my pocket where I have a few coins, no more than 10 dirhams. I tell him it's all the money I have. And you have nothing else? In the other pocket I have a packet with only two cigarettes. I offer him. He is very happy. Portuguese cigarettes. Smell the packet and laughs. To get out of this labyrinth is necessary to cross road transformed in a car park. Up ahead the small village of Ouzoud and a rotten wooden bar bridge that seems will fall at any moment. Esplanades and restaurants. Hundreds of tourists, shops and cars parked chaotically. The road that connects to the N8 is reasonable. Narrow, chopped tarmac, up the hill till Gorges de L'Ouzoud. A fantastic landscape. Along the way many children who keep herds of goats, wave and make signal asking for drink. As soon as they hear the noise of a bike, they run to the road and ask for water. Strange. There is water running down the mountain, the curves seem like rivers. I never stopped with children in sight. Later explained to me that it is a trick to make tourists stop and ask for cadeaux. Children cleverness. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-_...2/IMGP0504.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d...2/IMGP0506.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-l...2/IMGP0509.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-e...2/IMGP0512.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G...2/IMGP0508.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-M...2/IMGP0507.jpg After the Gorges the road goes down into the valley. In the background may be seen civilization. An immense plain, villages and towns, the fields are tilled into perfect squares. The weather is changing. The wind rises. I look back and a thick fog curtain is chasing me. I am beginning to dislike the scene. I drive fast downhill, always with the fog stuck to my back. Grey sky, I want to get out of here. The rain catches me already in the valley, on a wide road, signposted and very busy. The last 240 km that separate me from Casablanca are made under the storm, through roads flooded with water and traffic, crossing busy cities and villages. I arrived to Berrechid at nightfall. Soaked. Fortunately there were the first rains of the whole trip. I hope it's the latter. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-p...2/IMGP0515.jpg Entering in Casablanca in the evening, at rush hour, is an exercise of courage. Driving, at nightfall, in a metropolis of 5 million inhabitants, the largest city in North Africa is not impossible, but very difficult. I stoped in a small village 30 km from Casablanca and call my friends - Come and get me please. This is chaotic. I can’t see anything at night (I sense some smiles in the other side of the line). I'm the 1st roundabout at the entrance of Berrechid, in the only cafe in sight. It is full of men. I'm the only woman. They look at me with curiosity and continue to talk. I ask for some tea while I wait my friends to come get me. At 8 p.m. the night is very dark. Entering into Casablanca is crazy. It seems that everyone decided to come to the street at the same time. Cars everywhere, huge avenues, intersections and roundabouts where I cannot understand the priority. Here the rule is - the largest car goes first - but I notice that at roundabouts, who is entering is who has priority. The intersections are made from the outside, because within the stopped bus block the traffic flow. All drive very fast. Hear no horn, only I honking furiously when someone is closer than to 2 mm. (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) Today I woke up lazy. Slept deeply until 11 am. I'm at Dalila’s house, a woman in her 50s, dynamic, with a Western mentality. She is the founder and president of "Miss Moto Maroc", the first female motorcycle club in Morocco and in the Arab world. She insisted to receive me in Casablanca and almost forced me to stay in her house. We have a common taste - bike travel - and empathy was instantaneous. We spent the rest of the morning talking. Two different cultures, different experiences, so many things in common. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g...2/IMGP0677.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g...2/IMGP0678.jpg In the afternoon we went sightseeing. Driving in Casablanca is like driving on a track of bumper cars. The only rule is to stop at traffic lights. Moreover, save yourself if you can. After a while, we become accustomed to different rules. Still, I feel safer than in Lisbon. I notice that no one wants to run into me. They are just in a hurry. Unlike Lisbon that cars throw themselves (sometimes) deliberately against us. We spent the afternoon in the Hassan II Mosque. Built in the 90s, it is a white stone building, majestic, dominating the Casablanca Bay. Gigantic arcades, indoor richly worked, a huge space with capacity for 25,000 faithful. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K...0/IMGP0524.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c...2/IMGP0526.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-I...2/IMGP0527.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-G...0/IMGP0530.jpg At the entrance everyone should take off the shoes. They give us a plastic bag to keep them. Locals or tourist, everybody walks with a plastic bag in hand. It has a wooden gallery, a separate area for women. Inside reigns the gloom. My camera does not have enough flash to take pictures. It must be on purpose. Downstairs there is a hammam (a hall bath). A giant pool, a sauna room and a lounge richly worked with Liz flowers carved in rock where water comes out to the faithful wash their feet before going to pray. It is the only mosque that allows visits from non-Muslims. But they do make us pay. Special prices for tourists (more expensive than for locals). https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-F...2/IMGP0531.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2...2/IMGP0533.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-g...0/IMGP0537.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q...2/IMGP0538.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-l...2/IMGP0541.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o...0/IMGP0543.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-X...0/IMGP0545.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-l...2/IMGP0546.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q...2/IMGP0583.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...0/IMGP0591.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-i...0/IMGP0597.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5...0/IMGP0599.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-z...0/IMGP0605.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...0/IMGP0607.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-Q...2/IMGP0620.jpg In the evening we went to dine out. A fashionable restaurant, "La Scala", inside an old bastion of the eighteenth century. A nice area, a menu that did not surprise me, most customers do not use cutlery. The prices are even reasonable (must have presented a menu for Moroccans. If I was not with them might pay three times more). The marginal promenade by the see in the district of "La Corniche", is the night fashion place of Casablanca. Bars and restaurants facing the sea, a hell of a traffic until late at night. Each bar delivers music louder than the next, Arabic pop-rock. On the promenade by the sea there are lots of stands and food kiosks, crepes and snails (a snack much appreciated around here). The young people dress Western clothes, sometimes too Western. All have mobile phones in the ear. On the esplanade sipping a tea I’m enjoying the luxury cars and powerful jeeps passing by. It is the chic part of town. They say that sometimes they see the King come by, driving the car, unescorted (apparently). https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-6...2/IMGP0556.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1...2/IMGP0557.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-b...2/IMGP0559.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-s...2/IMGP0561.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-4...2/IMGP0563.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5...2/IMGP0564.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-o...2/IMGP0570.jpg (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) Dalila has a special program for today. In the morning we go shopping, stroll in the Medina in the city centre. At the entrance, shelves of things for tourists. Scarves, colourful lamps, smoking pipes, ashtrays, all sorts of souvenirs printed with Casablanca name. The sellers don’t talk to Dalila. But I have a foreign look. Ask me where I come from, call me to see the merchandise. All of them say they offer the best price. They speak in various languages and wait to see if I answer. I pretend not to hear. Dalila answers something and they drop me out. Deep inside the Medina, a huge labyrinth of narrow streets, small shops full with things, the products exhibited almost over our heads. Here, deep inside, where the tourist don’t come, no one bothers to call us to buy. We walk unbothered. Dalila must go to the tailor. A courtyard away of the shopping street, she knocks in a large iron door. Inside there are several small rooms in each one is a business. In one some man works in leather. A sewing machine, leather bits scattered all over, craftsmanship. In one corner a camping stove with a pressure cooker whistling. She’s ordering jacket leather for female motorcycle club ladies. Taylor shows the prototype, discuss, they observe the seams. Smells like leather. Outside, right next door there is a tavern that only has one counter and two tables on the street. But it has a huge LCD hanging broadcasting … football. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-7...2/IMGP0622.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-S...2/IMGP0625.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T...2/IMGP0629.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2...0/IMGP0630.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-K...2/IMGP0632.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-r...2/IMGP0635.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-a...2/IMGP0636.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-J...2/IMGP0640.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-q...0/IMGP0643.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-p...0/IMGP0644.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-d...2/IMGP0647.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...2/IMGP0649.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-T...2/IMGP0660.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O...2/IMGP0662.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-t...2/IMGP0663.jpg In the afternoon the program is very special. We go to a Hammam, a public bath, almost obligatory ritual for the Moroccans. There are many and varied public bathing establishments, with separate hall for women and men. Prices vary between 50 and 170 Dirhams, according the services contracted. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c...2/IMGP0674.jpg We entered a huge building that besides the public bath has pools (separate for men and women, of course). At the door a sign that says: Centre de remise en form (this name sounds like a beauty SPA). Access is by a locker room where we are given a bathrobe, towel, slippers and a small box with Henna paste. I'm in my underwear and the ritual begins. I spread Henna mass in my body (Dalila says that is to open the skin pores), a viscous brown mass. Then we go for the sauna room, high temperature and steam. We stay there talking for a long time. The sauna is full of women, relaxed, talking a lot, laughing. I feel no shame or prejudice among them. It is natural to use the public bath. Next door, a room with a row of four beds in hot stone, where four masseurs make "gomage", an exfoliation with horsehair gloves. I'm almost skinned alive. Dalila laughs, they all laugh at my admiration and discomfort. My body is full of brown skin bits, forcibly removed by the glove. She says its dead skin. Then an almost cold water shower ends the treatment. At this point Dalila has already commented with everybody about the Portuguese that is traveling by motorcycle alone. We are in the washing room, water drips by a fountain at the corner, runs water by a wall, several basins in stone where women wash their hair or rub the soles of her feet with pumice. Most of them have very white skin and long hair. They are all Moroccan, I am the only foreigner here. All use Western underwear, known brands, elegant. In the rest room I repeat several times some details of my trip. Each woman who arrives asks questions. Some of them have travelled for other countries. All of them have more than one child. There are entire families, grandmother, daughter and granddaughter who come together to the baths. Really nice women. When they dress up the appearance changes. Over the clothing they dress a long robe that hides their bodies. The hair is covered by a scarf. They leave the Hammam covered up, silent women, looking down. So different from childish joy inside. (...) |
Morocco (2012)
Morocco - In the Land of the Setting Sun
April/May 2012 (solo ride) I left the place starving. In the street there is a man with a cart selling bread. Looks delicious. We bought bread and went to a grocery store to buy butter and cheese. I’m thinking about where we will find a way to make sandwiches. But it is simple. Here everyone exchange services. The grocery owner makes the sandwiches and also gets some chairs for us to sit right in the middle of packets of biscuits, Coca Cola bottles and tins. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-O...2/IMGP0673.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-c...2/IMGP0670.jpg In the evening Dalila makes a special farewell dinner. Couscous. It is made in a three-storey pressure pot. Below puts seasoned meat (poultry or lamb) cooking in water. In the middle pot the vegetables. Upon bakes the semolina flour. Both the vegetables and the flour bake in water vapour. A delight. It is served on a huge plate, the semolina down, in the middle the meat and the vegetables around the meat garnish the dish. It’s eaten with spoon and all in the same dish. Serve with skim milk. It is the tradition. I ate this delicacy until I could eat any more. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-2...2/IMGP0665.jpg Today is return trip day. Dalila and her husband accompany me outside the city. Before that we passed by Rick's cafe. A disappointment. https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-D...0/IMGP0681.jpg I left Casablanca already behind scheduling. I did the 400 km to Tangier within the limits of the police radar. In Tanger I took the wrong way to the harbour. When asked directions I was sent to Tanger-Med, the new seaport 30 km east of the city. Until a taxi driver asked me which of the seaports. Finally I managed to get to the old harbour to catch the ferry. I arrived at the harbour 5 min after the departure hour. The ferry was still there. It took me 2 minutes to stamp my passport. In the confusion to put on the glasses with the boat beeping, the customs officer filled out the papers. Then another 30 seconds for the customs papers. I ran like crazy by the counter windows. I think everyone was laughing at me. The officer looks at me over his glasses and stamps the paper that allows me to leave with the bike. I ran to the boat. Show the ticket. The clerk asks me for the green paper boarding ... don’t have .... he communicates with the Central ... looks at me and shrugs (women, he thought) ... let me in ... By ... by ... Morocco https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-1...2/IMGP0689.jpg https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-N...GP0694-001.jpg The End . |
Next Travel Tale will be .... Spain or Scotland ???
hummmm ..... :p .. |
| All times are GMT +1. The time now is 20:05. |