During a quick stop in Casablanca, we met back up with our friends Jill and Adam. I really have no pictures to show of Casablanca as the only thing we did there was visit the famous bar, Rick’s Cafe, while citing lines from the movie “Casablanca”. There wasn’t much to stay for. So, with a “Here’s looking at you kid.”, we drove off to Marrakesh and met up with a local friend, Hicham.
Hicham was actually the identical twin brother of a co-worker of Jason’s. He was super excited to meet us and show us his city. He met us at our Riad quickly after we arrived. Just like in Fes, we were greeted by the Riad owner with extreme hospitality. There was tea, wine, and olives waiting for us. Ethan loved the courtyard that came fully equipped with a small pool and a pet turtle.
He actually loved it so much that he fell into the pool, nearly giving this mama a heart attack. We both quickly recovered from the drama though, and Hicham was ready to start our tour of the Medina.
For our first stop we really wanted some food. Hicham took us to the very popular Jemaa el-Fnaa square.
The square is famous for its tourist attractions of snake charmers, story tellers, dancers, and magicians. I was terrified of the snake charmers. So, I treaded carefully keeping my distance from the cobras as much as possible. The most interesting thing we actually saw was the juice stands. There were a dozen lined up in the square, all looking exactly the same. To get your attention, the juicers would yell at you to come try their specialty. If you started walking close to one, the others would start a playful banter, “No! No! Their juice is awful, come here instead!”. They were seriously all exactly the same, but the back and forth yelling made for good afternoon entertainment. When we finally chose a stand, the juicers were so happy that they let the guys come up into the stand for a fun photo op.
Once we felt nice and refreshed from our delicious juice, Hicham walked us a traditional Moroccan restaurant for lunch. I had been wanting to try traditional tagine. It did not disappoint. Jill noticed one spice she didn’t like at all. Hicham promised to take us a spice shop in the medina to try to identify the name. Then she would know exactly what to stay clear of in the future.
After lunch, we got the full tour of the Medina. Just like in Fes, we saw the multiple different disciplines in the Medina: metal, wood, weaving, dying… it was once again quite overwhelming. However, compared to Fes, this medina was much more spacious and yet packed with tourists. Therefore, everything looked a little newer, a little brighter, and a little more progressive.
We also visited the Ben Youssef Madrasa, an old Islamic college known for the beautiful interior design which boasts a multi-sensory experience.
Hicham owns his very own antique shop inside the Medina. It was an extremely impressive shop, not filled with the typical tourist doodads. Instead, we were surrounded by extremely old pieces of ceramics and tea pots. Hicham gave each of us a gift from his shop. I got a beautiful silver teapot and Ethan got a leather camel. We also bought a few very old antiques to take home. The shop was so packed with beautiful things, that taking photos in the dark room was difficult.
As promised, Hicham also took Jill to a spice shop, where she found that the spice she didn’t like was indeed fennel. She also found some essential oils at an amazing price.
After a very busy day exploring the Medina, Hicham took us to a pool club for dinner. The club was as over the top as you would expect from a pool club, loaded with a red carpet entrance and a no camera policy. I was a little worried they wouldn’t let E in, but we were there early in the day. The place was empty and the staff was excited to have a kid to play with. The waiters kept taking E off to dip his feet in the pool. We relaxed with pizza and hookah while Ethan danced on the empty dance floor.
For the next day, Hicham took us to a resort where we walked beautiful gardens, got fresh made bread, and relaxed in gorgeous courtyards.
Afterwards, Hicham invited us to his house for lunch. He had made us a slow cooked lamb in a clay pot. It was similar to someone in Texas making their guests brisket. We felt honored. His wife had prepared a full table of sides for us. They had a son that was Ethan’s age. It was a wonderful lunch and great insight to local life.
We have been fortunate enough to have local friends show us around countries many times now. I give credit to Jason for being so friendly with everyone he meets. He is always connecting with people that are ready to show us a piece of their world. I love it. Great sites, great food, and great friends. Morocco may have been a big culture shift from what we are used to. But seeing the differences only broadened our perspective of this massive world, leaving us thirsty to see and learn so much more.
Out of all the ways we have transported in our travels, renting a car and driving cross country is still my favorite. Jason would disagree mainly because he is always the one driving. To be fair, it is stressful figuring out how to drive in a country that allows donkeys on the freeway. Nevertheless, I can’t help but to love seeing the country side up close and getting the flexibility to stop wherever and whenever we want. That is exactly what brought us to Volubilis during our drive from Fes to Casablanca.
Volubilis was once the capital city of the kingdom of Mauretania in 25 BC. It was built by Cleopatra Selene II, THE Cleopatra’s very own daughter. Not a lot remains, but there is enough to be amazed. Large pillars, arches, and some very intact mosaics fill the site. The surrounding hills are dotted with olive trees, the same crop that made the city wealthy in the first place.
Walking the open grounds was a nice contrast to the previous day’s corn maze through the Fes Medina. Little E had the opportunity to run through the open space. Somehow, he still preferred for his mama to carry him though. Seeing that the site wasn’t exactly stroller friendly, that’s exactly what I did… lug a 35 lb two year old up and down over 2000 year old stairs.
Warm sunshine, beautiful scenery, and historic ruins… what more could we ask for? Well lunch would have been nice. But we soon learned that finding somewhere to eat as a family was going to be a challenge. Most restaurants didn’t look too inviting towards a mom and toddler. But alas, we saw those golden arches during our drive and have never been happier. That was the best McDonald’s sandwich I had ever eaten.
Moral of the story: driving cross country may give you experiences you otherwise would have never stumbled across. It is more work, especially for the person driving. But what you gain is flexibility to really explore and experience the country in a more personal way.
We weren’t quite sure what to expect from Morocco, but as soon as we arrived in Fes, we knew we were up for something special. Even the airport was covered in beautiful tiles, fountains, and lamps.
I had read enough to know that we might have a hard time finding our Riad, or what we would refer to as a bed and breakfast here in the States. So, we had a driver pick us up at the airport and escort us through the Medina to our room. And thank god we did. There was no way we were finding that place on our own. For one thing, you can’t just drive up to the front door and ask for valet. Instead, our driver got us as close as the narrow streets would allow. Then we followed the bell hop through the tiny alleys taking about a million turns and wondering if the stroller we bought would hold up in these conditions.
Once we found the Riad, we were relieved to find hot tea and cookies waiting for us. Our Riad owner took the time to tell us all about the city. We asked him if he could find us a guide. After the trek to the Riad we knew we couldn’t navigate the Medina alone. He set us up with a historian and promised we would be able to find some lunch along the tour.
Our historian tour guide soon met us at the Riad after we had time to freshen up. For our first stop, he took us into a carpet shop to see the beautiful rugs that the country had to offer. The shop owner fed us camel sandwiches while giving us a history lesson on rug making in Morocco. They pulled out rug after rug hoping one would catch our eye, and we would take it home. But our wallets weren’t that thick. After lunch we politely declined the purchase of a rug. I expected a more aggressive sell, but the shop owner was very courteous. I think they just enjoyed our company, especially Ethan’s. He covered Ethan’s head in kisses, a strange gesture to us Americans but very normal in Morocco, and let him run around the shop trampling all over the expensive rugs. Ethan even got a magic carpet ride!
After our lunch, the Historian dragged us from section to section of the large Medina, showing us how everything in Morocco was made. We saw the linens section, the wood section, the tiles section, the metal works section, and perhaps my favorite, the leather section.
Fes is home of the world’s oldest tannery, the Chouara Tannery. Seeing the leathers being dyed up on the roof was quite an experience. I’ll never forget the smell! Although the shop owners weren’t aggressive, there was an obvious unspoken expectation that you buy something after getting the shop tours. We left the tannery with a pair of beautiful ottomans.
Of course the Historian wouldn’t let us miss the oldest continuously operating college in the world, University of Al Quaraouiyine, even if we couldn’t go inside. We saw the beautiful entrances into the college throughout the Medina. And a quick drive outside of the Medina brought us to the King’s Palace where I was directed to only point my camera in one direction and stand exactly were we were told.
The Historian filled our heads with all kinds of knowledge that I quickly forgot that night. But I do remember that every shape and every color in the numerous tiles we saw had a specific meaning.
The beauty of the city was quite perplexing. The interior design was always over the top, filled to the brim with intricate details. But the exterior quickly reminded us that we were in a third world country with such labor intensive work and widespread poverty that we quickly felt humbled. Of course, anytime you visit something as old as 8th century, you’re bound to see some wear and tear. And you’re bound to be amazed. We left Fes in awe. In awe of the history, in awe of the beauty, and in awe of the intensity of the day to day life in the packed tiny alleys.
Those who have heard of Andorra are probably wondering why we would visit the tiny country outside of ski season. Those who haven’t are probably wondering why we would visit at all. We really don’t have a good excuse other than it was an interesting stop on our drive from Pamplona to Barcelona that would help us add another country to our list. And what a beautiful drive it was.
For our first drive from Barcelona to Pamplona, we took the highway, which did nothing more then provide sights that made us think we were in Arizona and cost us nearly $100 in tolls . But for our second trip from Pamplona back to Barcelona, we hugged the French/Spanish border leaving us with breathtaking views, scary cliff edged roads, and a heightened sense of adventure. We even found time to stop for lunch one afternoon in Spain and one afternoon in France giving us a unique opportunity to explore some small country villages while singing Beauty and Beast’s soundtrack on repeat.
Andorra may have been just another click in our country count. However, it was definitely a click worth making. This tiny country may be tucked between the French and Spanish border, but it has a unique charm of its own. The best word I can find to describe Andorra La Vella is Eclectic.
Down one alley, we came across statues of men perched in the fetal position high above our heads. Down another, was a store dedicated only to 1980’s American fashion perfect for that Saved by the Bell look. And yet another, the most hipster bar I’ve ever come across donned with swings for seats, suspender-ed bearded bartenders, and of course a really old telephone. And you can’t get more eclectic then having dinner in a Valentines Day themed restaurant while listening to Michael Buble Christmas music. Everything was weird. Yet, everything was overwhelmingly charming.
Being nestled in the Pyrenees Mountains meant a lot of walking and a lot of stairs. Some very nice locals finally clued us in to the hidden elevators throughout the city making our exploration a little easier. I had to take advantage of the perfect alleys for an impromptu photo-shoot of Little E.
In the heart of the city we got the perfect representation of the city’s soul. Salvador Dali’s “the Nobility of Time” sits proudly in the center of town back-dropped with a modern cable-stayed bridge spanning the Gran Valira River.
Hanging on the bridge for all to see is the town name in bright circus lights reminding the city that it is unique. It is special, not belonging to the Spanish and not belonging to the French. Only belonging to the Andorrans. It is Andorra.
When our friend Adam told us he was participating in the infamous Running with Bulls ceremony during our group trip to Spain, Jason politely said, “Have fun. It was nice knowing ya.” And he thought that was that. But I wasn’t about to let my adorable hubby miss out on a once in a lifetime adventure. I knew that he would never be content watching Adam run for his life while he sipped coffee from a safe distance on a cozy balcony. So, I did what any good wife would do. I talked him into running too with full intent of watching while I sipped my coffee from a safe distance on a cozy balcony.
Little did I know, I just signed my husband up for a real life thrill. I was sure that the danger associated with bull runs was imaginary. In my mind, I compared it to sky diving or bungee jumping. A little dangerous but mostly safe. I was wrong.
I started to notice how wrong I was shortly after we arrived in Pamplona. Everyone we met had something to say about the festival and nothing led us to believe it was safe and sound. Every TV in sight had clips from that mornings run showing people getting trampled and carried off in stretchers. Suddenly, my heart sunk. Would I be leaving Spain a widow?
The morning of the run we woke before the sun rose, dressed in all white with splashes of red, and headed to the streets. The ladies and Little E had booked a lovely balcony promising the best views of the run the city had to offer. Everyone’s nerves were on high. But we were quickly distracted once we hit Town Center. The previous night’s festivities were still going strong. Ok, strong is not quite the right word. The streets were packed with rowdy, stumbling, not so great smelling, patrons celebrating the previous morning’s bull run. That day’s run was about to start in 2 hours! How would they every clean these streets in time?
Somehow they managed to clear out the rats and clean up the streets. And clean, fresh, but very anxious patrons started to pack the streets. The air was full of anticipation. Jill, Ethan, and I were comfortable in our cozy apartment above the streets. But our hands were shaking as we were starting to think this was the dumbest thing we have ever let our husbands do. My mama brain started to wonder, What kind of mother lets her toddler witness this carnage?
When we heard the first rocket sound, we knew there was no stopping those bulls now. We anxiously watched from our balcony, and within minutes, we saw the hoard coming our way. Everything happened in a flash. We couldn’t pick out our men. We watched as random men got trampled and prayed that our hubbies didn’t have the same fate. Once the run was complete, we watched the entire thing on the TV. We watched as one guy got trampled enough to put him on a stretcher and another got gored in the side by black bull horn. Time seemed to take forever while we waited to get those phone calls from our husbands saying they were all right.
But alas they were. Adam arrived first with a few tears in his cloths and a bloody knee. Jason soon followed with nothing more than dirt on his pants. Both had epic stories to tell. Both were running high on adrenaline. We celebrated with some breakfast tapas and beer. Then when the streets cleared, we started our exploration of the city. The charm of the city captivated me quickly. I’ve never met a cobble stoned street I didn’t love. And something about donning the traditional all white and red with everyone else added to the experience in a special way. We filled the rest of day with celebratory chocolate milk and cognac (a run tradition), delicious food, and of course a lot of sangria.
All in all, the experience was something we will never forget. Did the boys get a little to close to the edge this time? Did our rush for adventure take us a little too far? Maybe. But to quote Ernest Hemingway, “Only those who are prepared to go too far can possible know how far they can go.”
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