Making Memories

Have you ever had a moment in life where your breath is absolutely taken away and you are completely lost for words? I have. The latest happened on the weekend just past on our trip to Chefchaouen, and I swear to God that I was not under any external influences at the time! For those that don't quite get it, Chefchaouen is the hash/weed capital of Morocco. Deals happen in the middle of the street and you are offered "good stuff" from the moment you leave the taxi.

Prior to this trip however I had a fantastic week.

Normally I try not to become attached to places that I visit. I have tried and failed miserably at this in Morocco. I have made many friends and found a niche for myself that I didn't believe could exist at the start of my stay here. I spent the majority of the afternoons last week with work colleagues whom I can now call close friends and it was absolutely wonderful.

Traditional Saharian dress. It's for males but whatever, I like it.

On Tuesday myself and Mai, a volunteer from Japan, were invited by Mbarek-a volunteer social assistant on stage University Mohammad 5, for Saharian Tea at his apartment. We were introduced to his friends Yahdih (who took great delight in hearing us attempt to pronounce his name correctly) and Mohammad who are awesome and so kind and friendly and then took photos as Mbarek, the "King of Tea" (he actually is-the tea he makes is so good!) made us traditional Saharian Tea. I put emphasis on the "Saharian" Tea because the guys are from Guelmine in the Sahara, and the tea is prepared very differently to the tea we are served at home and in Cafes around Rabat. It is so difficult to explain and the photos do not help in the slightest, however take my word for it that there is a lot of glass flipping and bubble making.

On Wednesday I spent the afternoon with my good friend Sofia and her friends from University. Never have I laughed so hard at things I didn't quite understand in my life. It was one of those genuinely brilliant afternoons; after taking half an hour to decide (accompanied by many jokes and votes) whether to take the bus or the tram (the tram won) we went to Rabat and proceeded to wander. We made our way through the city from Le Gare (the train station) and ended up at the Kasbah and beach. It was so nice to spend time with friends my own age and just do normal Moroccan things. My experience here has definitely been heightened by the people I have met and the chances I have had to get to know them and they way that they live.

The rest of the week was normal, which brings us to the Weekend.

The view from our hotel roof in Chefchaouen

Like any good weekend, we started it off with a bit of drama. After setting 2 alarms, the first for 5am and the second 5:15, I was awoken at 5:45 to a worried Andi on the phone saying "where are you? we have to be on the train at 6:12". Needless to say an expletive was uttered as the station is roughly 15 minutes from the Medina on foot, and I was still in my pyjamas. A break was caught as a grande taxi offered me a ride to the station for 5 dirhams, however when I got there and raced to the platform after buying my ticket, the group consisting of Matt, Andi and Cassie were nowhere to be found. After running back upstairs and looking but not finding the group, the train arrived. My phone rang and it was Andi; they were still buying tickets but had missed the train-they had been sitting in the cafe upstairs all along. I went and met them, but Soufiane, the 5th member of our group was nowhere to be seen. We ended up taking the next train at 6:47, and were in Kenitra before we knew it; from there taking a grande taxi to Ouezzane and another the Chefchaouen.

Me and the Medina from the hill .

I'll be honest, my first impressions of Chefchaouen from the taxi are literally shrouded in fog, as we couldn't see more than 10 metres in front of, or to the side of our taxi. However, arriving in chefchaouen we were treated to the most beautiful Medina. It is painted in all shades of aqua and azure blue, highlighted by wrought iron window grates and intricate doors seen through small, bright blue alleyways. We found our hostel, the amazingly cheap (50D per person, per night) and comfortable Hostal La Joya, and made our first stop the roof. The views from the rooftop were quite jaw dropping as we were treated to spectacular (if still foggy) vies of the entire valley and surrounding hills.

After some group photos we headed off to walk around the Medina and explore. We walked up a small hill (relative to the mountains surrounding us) and at the top were greeted by a tiled mosque where we took more photos and discussed how it was the perfect place to have an epiphany and find the meaning of life. Of all of the qualities I experienced in Chefchaouen, serenity, peace and tranquility are the ones that I will forever remember as impacting me the most. The entire town moves at a different pace. I have a feeling that this is compounded by the natural beauty and the natural products being inhaled constantly.

Pretty Medina alley

After walking the Medina and doing a spot of shopping we returned to our room for a small siesta, followed by a hunt for dinner.

There has got to be a link between being high and having a blue Medina...

The following day we awoke early and after a healthy but late breakfast of homemade omelets (yes, we cooked; a dangerous but amazing concept) we caught a grande taxi to a place called Akshor. I'm not actually sure if that is the correct spelling, but the National Park called Talassemtane that we arrived in (after a stunning if not nerve wracking drive) was well worth it. I personally had no idea that Morocco could hold such diverse scenery. We had a choice of two treks; the first to a place called the Bridge of God, and the second to a small waterfall.

We chose to walk to the Bridge of God first, and we rewarded by the most beautiful scenery I have seen thus far in Morocco. We started out on a dirt walking trail, however soon descended into a valley to be greeted by a crystal clear mountain river which we discovered that we had to cross (many a time, in fact). It really did bring back memories of being a young child and playing "intrepid explorers" as I tightened the straps on my backpack and jumped from rock to rock trying not to stack it and make an absolute arse of myself as well as getting soaked.

Walking to the Bridge of God

After walking and jumping and crossing the river back and forth for about 40 minutes, we arrived at our destination, the Bridge of God. Nothing is more humbling than standing beneath pure, massive natural beauty, alone and surrounded only by the sounds of running water and bird calls. It is literally a massive arch in the rock between two cliff faces, at the base of which is a small lagoon stemming from further up in the mountains and feeding into the river. We found a gorgeous little outcrop of mossy rock, overlooking water that was deep but clear enough to see (in detail) the rocks on the bottom. Naturally, we decided that it would be wrong to pass up the opportunity for a quick dip, so throwing caution to the wind we removed certain items of clothing and after a quick countdown plunged in. My first words after surfacing were "(insert expletives here) ...that's cold" (with repetition) and I was out again as quickly as I got in. Nevertheless it did put a lovely touch on the day, even if we had to hike in wet jeans afterwards.

Me at the base of the Bridge of God

After some more photos and a quick check of the watches, we headed back to the start of the trail and started out for a small waterfall. After a short walk (that kept to a path!) into the mountains in a different direction, we arrived at a the waterfall. Had we gone to the waterfall first it may have been more impressive; after the Bridge of God however everything seemed to pale in comparison. We took a short rest and then realising that we were almost racing time to get back to Rabat, set off once again for the bottom of the trail. When I say "the bottom" of the hill, I mean this in relativity. Chefchaouen and Talassemtane are situated in the Anti-Atlas mountains, which in themselves are incredibly impressive. Photos cannot convey the sheer size and ruggedness of this mountain range.

Fact: Moroccan taxi drivers think nothing of driving on windy mountain roads where certain death awaits anyone that goes over the side whilst talking on their mobile phones. Charming.

The Bridge of God. Completely worth the hike.

Once back in Chefchaouen we returned to our hotel to grab our gear and then stocked up on food before grabbing another Taxi back to Ouezzane and then from Oeuzzane to Kenitra. However, our journey then became interesting as we missed the last train to Rabat by 5 minutes, so had to find an alternate method of transportation. it is so disheartening to watch your train pull out of the station as you line up to buy tickets, especially when the Internet timetables say that there are plenty of trains to Rabat. Only in Morocco. We ended up catching a taxi with a man from Egypt who claimed he was a Diplomat, however this was severely challenged by the fact that he was a sleaze that kept hitting on Andi. Understandably this put a dampener on our night and was a low point to finish our weekend.

Whilst the weekend was splendid, this week started off on a interesting trajectory. Between my camera being stolen on Monday (and then found and returned to me on Thursday) and spending quality time with some amazing people, I have had both highs and lows. It is incredible how fate decides to put the right people into your life.

Once again we had our weekly get together at a restuarant in Rabat to mark the last week of the month and had lots of fun. It's always one of my favourite times of the week; seeing everyone and eating amazing food always makes for a fantastic night and memory. However, this week the highlight was definitly Thursday. When I was invited over to the house of my friend Ibrahim and his family for lunch.

We had the most incredible food; chicken with lemon and olives and then a meat dish which I fell in love with. It was beef with dried fruit including dates and plums, and my God it was good! I never knew that dried fruit and beef mixed, but it works amazingly well. The meat melts in your mouth and the plums go all sticky and sweet. The family were all so lovely and I felt incredibly blessed to be able to spend so much time with them! We ended the afternoon by doing henna and I experienced "henna hands", the most beautiful yet awkward thing I think I've had the pleasure of experiencing. When henna goes onto your hands it is a wet green paste (which we then sprinkled green glitter onto for a cool effect in the photos) and you must let it dry for ages so that it turns brown. This is great, but it means that eating and indeed doing anything is made incredibly awkward. Myself and Ibrahim's sisters Wisam and Sirine couldn't stop laughing as Ibrahim atttempted to cut up a pancake (turns out it's not easy as they become like spaghetti) and then cover it in honey and hand it to me, and then as I attempted to put it in my mouth without getting honey all over my face! This will possibly be one of my favourite memories of the entire trip. Ibrahim and his father then accompanied me home as it was impossible for me to do anything by myself with henna hands, and this ended a truly beautiful day. I will upload the photos when I get them from Ibrahim on Monday, as my camera, whilst returned to me, was unfortunately completely dead. Here is a shitty webcam photo until then:

You get the idea.

Once again this post is late-I was too stingy to go and recharge my internet modem for the last few days! I'm spending both this weekend and next weekend in the lead up to my departure from Morocco, which at the moment I don't want to think about. In the words of my close friend Sofia "It's not fair". In my heart of hearts I know that goodbye won't be for long (and that if it is I'm doing something wrong) but it doesn't make it any easier.


Until next time,

Love Love!

Clem xx

"Stop humming!!"... "But it's the background music to your life movie!"

It is now week 8 and my, isn't time flying! This blog is relatively on time considering that I did the whole "general" thing in my last post to cover the weekdays. As such I'm feeling quite accomplished right now.

My week pretty much consisted of the regular routine (see last post), however before I jump into a detailed description of my weekend (more travel adventures!) I want to describe my Friday night to you.

For those who don't know, I'm a bit of a musician. I play a quite a few instruments and I sing with some of them. So far in Morocco I haven't really done much in the way of music, however there have been occasions wherein a guitar has been available and I have had a bit of play around. One of those occasions happened this week. I was speaking to my friend Soufiane, and I can't remember how it came about but the subject of music and singing and my youtube page came up, and he requested that I link it to him. He had a listen and I assumed the matter to be dropped after he joked that he was "going to find a guitar just so he could hear me sing". I brushed this statement off as a nice compliment (as you do), but on Friday night I got a phone call. It went something like this.
Soufiane: "Hey Clem, do you have 10 minutes?"
Me (innocently): "Yes of course, why?"
Soufiane: "Can you meet me at Bab Bouiba?"
Me (curiousity piqued): "Sure, why?"
Soufiane: "I have something that might be of interest to you."
Me (suspiciously): "What?...Can I know what it is?"
Soufiane: "It's just something that you'll find interesting. Meet me at Bab Bouiba in 10".
Me (suspiciously decided): "Sure"
*hangs up phone*
Me to Lexy: "That was Soufiane; he wants us to meet him at Bab Bouiba in 10 minutes. He has something that might be of interest to me".
*penny drops*
Me to Lexy: "Oh shit. It's a guitar'.
Lexy: "And a table by the beach at sunset for a romantic dinner".

She found this hilarious. I however, was markedly less enthusiatic at her joke about romantic dinners at sunset.

Now, Lexy has this thing for surprises. That is: she LOVES them, and becomes rather excited about them-even more so than me in this situation. This meant that I spent the next 20 minutes (I forgot to ask if it was a Moroccan 10 or a normal 10) saying "stop humming!!" as she mimed playing the drums and hummed the "soundtrack and background music to my life".  Hilarious.

The destination at the end of said train and bus journey: Essaouira

After turning up empty handed, Soufiane informed us we had to go to the shop to get "it". It turned out that he indeed had found an old guitar (borrowed from a friend of a friend who was selling-as you do) that I proceeded to tune BY EAR from scratch (Ariella, be proud) and play. It was then decided that the shop wasn't a good place for music; we needed to go to the beach for it to be truly perfect (at which Lexy says "I KNEW IT!!" and laughed). 3 hours later we returned home after playing the guitar and singing and lazing at the beach.  It was an awesome night-even after my initial freak out ("Oh God, he's going to give me a guitar and say 'play' in the middle of the Medina and I'm going to be a massive spectacle even more so than usual"). However, it meant that waking at 4:30am the next morning to catch a train was INCREDIBLY difficult.



Andi and Lexy in one of the Riad bedrooms

We had decided to spend the weekend in Essaouira, a city about 8 hours south of Rabat. It is known as the 'wind city', and as soon as we stepped off the bus (after our ridiculously early train ride from Rabat) it was clear why. The Atlantic coast is normally fairly breezy, but Essaouira takes this to new levels. Hair and scarves were flying everywhere, and walking upright at times became a challenge as we were swept off our feet by wind that I as yet hadn't experienced in Morocco.

We were met at the bus stop by no less than 15 people all asking if we needed a riad, and being the mostly sane person that I am, I politely but firmly declined. I had no intention of being taken to a dodgy riad and talked into staying there. Furthermore, we had also already reserved rooms at a hotel in the Medina. However, these plans were derailed after members of our group heard "40 dirhams per person" and we were taken to a somewhat run down and dingy riad. Apart from being very spacious and dirt cheap the riad didn't have much going for it. The front door didn't lock so to sleep we had to lock the bedroom door; the sheets were less than clean and a well as a nasty smell the bathroom apparently had hot water (I wasn't game enough to step into the dirty shower to test it). Needless to say it was not an experience that I am keen to repeat.


Outside the Medina

After (nervously) leaving our things in the riad, we went to explore the Medina. Essaouira is quite pretty and the Medina consists of fairly wide roads flanked by all manner of shops; both tourist orientated and local. We made our way from one side of the Medina to the other and then walked along the wharf for a time, returning to the Medina at sunset where we met an interesting character whom we nicknamed "Space Cadet", who repeatedly tried to sell us hash cookies (FYI we didn't try any). After meandering the Medina for a while and deciding that the only prerequisite that we had for dinner was that it was out of the wind we ate a lovely meal in a restaurant overlooking a small square.

The girls and I at dinner

The next morning the group splintered in girls and guys. Cameron wanted (and had to) go surfing, as he had bought his board all the way from Rabat, so the guys headed off to a beach an hour or so away, and the girls stayed in the Medina. We found a quiet square that had several restaurants around the side and decided that pancakes, a choice of coffee, tea or hot chocolate, a choice of jams and argon oil (which despite it's unusual manufacturing process is delicious) as well as orange juice all for 24 dirhams was quite good value. We followed the breakfast by doing a spot of wandering and shopping before Cassie and I stocked up on some food and headed to the bus station.

Breakfast. So good.

The other group of volunteers (minus Lexy who started her two weeks holiday) had decided to bus to Marrakesh and then take the train back to Rabat after a couple of hours rest as they had bought return tickets on the Saturday morning. However after seeing Marrakesh once before Cassie and I decided our time would be better spent doing a long haul bus trip back to Casablanca and then on to Rabat, arriving home by 9. We had a quick sausage sandwich (we were craving savoury food) from the street vendors and laughed at the random music (which had no discernible beat but consisted of drums and click-y things) before returning home for dinner and a long sleep.


So there we have it; I'm up-to-date with my blogs, you're up-to-date with my Moroccan adventures, I feel I've accomplished something to start the week and I can move on to looking forward to the rest of the week and our upcoming trip next weekend to Chefchaouen. You should probably strap yourselves in before that one though, it's going to get interesting.

Until next time,

Love Love!

Clem x

Let's play a game of catch up

Before anyone says anything, yes, I know it has been an entire 13 days since I blogged last. Sorry. I've been busy enjoying life and not sitting on my computer.

Its gotten to the stage where this is another catch up blog! Since it's been an entire 2 weeks of work (and play) that I haven't written down, you'll have to excuse my generalisation. I'm finding that since I've been here for so long, I'm focusing less on writing down every day and more on enjoying as I go. When you're living somewhere day to day things that once would've been blog worthy become second nature, and working life becomes a blur of "same same but different". So, in order to make catching up on blogs easy, here is my week in a nutshell.

The girls

Girls Night Monday
Monday nights are more often than not a girl's night in. We go and see Sala in the Medina and buy a cheap, good quality DVD ("Are they fakes?"..."Is that a trick question? For 5 dirhams they're not going to be real, Dad...") , and then go and find our favourite pancake lady, Rashida, and buy a large pancake, to go with the large jar of nutella that we have left over from the weekend. I love girl's night in Mondays, as it starts the week in a relaxed manner, as we are often still recovering from whatever adventure we just had on the weekend. However, this is about to change somewhat as Lexy just left for her 2 weeks of holidays in the South.

Girls night in. 

Ice-Cream Tuesdays
I'll be honest, I'm not normally a big fan of ice-cream. I used to have sensitive teeth which sort of put me off. However, there is a place opposite the Medina called Charazad which does amazing ice-cream and I am hooked. I now know exactly what I'm getting every Tuesday ("un boule Pistachio and un boule Hazelnut sil vous plait?"-me and my shitty attempt at French) and when the flavours are changed I am thrown. I say to myself, "But wait? What should take the place of my beloved hazelnut?" The reason  behind this sudden change of mind is that it tastes like smashed up Ferrero Rocher chocolates. Enough said.

Get-Together Wednesdays
Every Wednesday night we have our weekly get together with all of the other volunteers. In the time it has taken me to compose this blog we have had three get-togethers. At the first, we met some new volunteers called Andi, Imogen and Mai. Imogen however left last week, as her two weeks were already up! In Morocco, days seem to be long, but 5 days will pass in the blink of an eye! I'm not sure I like it; it means that my time here is passing all too quickly.

Yakouts Thursdays
We have a new local. Yes, some things never change. It is called Yakouts and is a really cool little bar in Hassan that we go to with our Moroccan friends every Thursday night for dancing. It has a live band that play Latin and reggae infused songs ranging from Bob Marley (Matthew's element) to Shakira or Michel Telo. The ambiance is amazing with coffee tables surrounded by cosy couches in red and dark brown leather; red walls and dark brown tiles, whilst on the walls hang African masks and abstract paintings, all sticking to the colour theme of you guessed it, red and brown. You are obligated to buy at least one drink, and beer is cheap. For those wondering, Heineken, whilst sold in smaller bottles, is only priced at $4.49 Australian Dollars. Life is good on Thursdays.

Plage de Nations

Which brings us to Friday and the weekend. Friday night we are normally on our way somewhere, if we have managed to find a location and means of transportation that suits everyone (we have quite a large group now which whilst awesome makes planning difficult!) Last week was an exception however, as the majority of us decided to spend the weekend in Rabat. Lexy and I had "Girls Night take 2", and can I just say that Black Swan whilst being amazing, is also quite disturbing. This doesn't make me love it any less however. We bought nutella, peanut butter, pancakes, pastries, peanuts, oranges, bananas and water (for that healthy balance) and sat and watched movies until the wee hours of the morning. On Saturday we had a shopping afternoon in the Medina (oh hello pashmina scarf, yes I will pay $7.50 after conversion for you) and started buying souvenirs. I say started as I have rather a long list to buy. 



Lunch!

Sunday was an absolute gem of a day, as we met up with our Moroccan friends Soufiane and Jalal and went to Plage de Nations, a beach located between Sale and Kenitra. It was absolutely beautiful. We bought food from the Medina before leaving as the boys had bought not only a grill but a tangine, and we had a lovely lunch cooked over a fire in the sun. The fact that they not only lit but kept a fire alight in that wind was impressive. After lying in the sun for a good hour or so after lunch, we began the trek back to Rabat, where we promptly grabbed our clothes, buckets and towels and headed to the Hamams, at which we are now regulars.

In between these social outings, I go to and from placement and sleep. Placement is still going well with new volunteers arriving weekly on stages from the social work school. Apparently they are studying to be social assistants. I'm not quite sure what this means, however I assume them to be trainee social workers. They are all really nice and help out a lot which is great.

The bus stop. Yes, the humble Aussie gum tree. I got way too excited...

As far as blogs go, I apologise as to how boring that was. I always start the week thinking I will catch up and then life gets the better of me and I'm distracted once again. In all reality though, weekly life is not that exciting and since we had the lazy weekend in Rabat, I decided to wait until I had something exciting to tell you, which of course will now happen in the next post!



Until next time,

Love Love!

Clem xx

Figuig? You're Figuiging crazy! Part 2

I am so very sorry for my wordplay title. So very, very sorry.

See, this is why I don't try to be witty.

Continuing from my previous blog post, here I explain to you exactly why my weekend was just so damn good. We will start with the numbers.

There are 48 hours in a weekend. We spent 30  hours of this on buses.We spent 2 more  in their relative stations. We ended up with 16 hours spent in our destination; only 7 of which we were awake for.

We travelled approximately 1800 km.


Count it up sweet-peas, that's all 48hours accounted for.

I know that's a lot of travel time for not a lot of time actually spent in your destination, but I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Miles and miles of this...

We spent the weekend in Figuig, the last truly Oasis town in Morocco that is located about 2 kilometres from the border with Algeria. I'll be honest, we didn't really have much of our trip to Figuig planned in advance, or at least as far in advance as I would've liked considering we wanted to travel a round trip of approximately  1800km. It's difficult when you don't know timetables or prices, but that you must take the bus as you have no other choice.

Not quite as comfortable as the train (but half as cheap) and containing more screaming babies, the bus is the cheapest and indeed only way to get from Rabat to Figuig. There is a train to Oudja, but the bus timetable for Figuig from Oujda doesn't work in well.

At midnight on Friday, after having Simmo help us buy tickets through his friend on Thursday evening, Lexy and I boarded an SAT bus hoping to arrive in Oujda by 9am the next morning. Oujda, according to Simmo, is not a safe place for travellers (especially females) to arrive in at night, so he convinced us very easily to go on the overnight bus rather than booking a hotel after getting the train. I can safely say he was correct about personal safety, as when we got into Oujda we were met with a very small and dirty station, filled with men who were calling out bus names trying to sell everything from tickets to kohl. I wouldn't want to arrive there at night even in a group accompanied by males. Even the bus station in Rabat (we were told right before we left) is not the safest place at night.

In Oudja we bought tickets for the 10am bus to Figuig through Champion Buses, and were told that this would take about 6 hours. You can imagine the joy that this bought us, but we were in clear sight of our goal (figuratively speaking, of course).

...to arrive at this. Amazing.

We spent much of the bus ride trying to sleep. Boring I know, but the scenery was nothing special. Unless you like rocky deserts, in which case this is right up your alley. The most surprising thing about the scenery over the entire trip was the presence of Eucalyptus Trees. Yes, the humble gum tree made an appearance. I felt like I was in the Flinders Ranges back home. However, apart from these intermittent comforting sights, it was miles and miles of mountainous ranges with rocky outcrops and little tiny desert tent settings of sheep herders. It's hard to believe anyone can survive out there, but people can and do.

We arrived in Figuig at 4pm. The bus dropped us off at the Figuig Hotel, which wasn't quite where we were planning on staying. As we had no idea where to go, we walked into the small internet cafe across the road and started asking questions. He ended up ringing the hotel for us, and he got them to send someone over to pick us up. That someone happened to be one of the owners of our guesthouse (Maison d'Hotes), Chez Ismail. Chez Ismail was an absolute character, and picked us up with the first words of "Ca va?" really, really loudly as we walked to his car. He didn't even ask our names, just said welcome to Morocco and moved on.

The inside of the Maison d'Hotes

Called the Auberge Oasis, his guesthouse was an absolute gem. Sticking to traditional design, we had a small room downstairs, whilst the family lived upstairs, all around a lovely big sitting space with a small shared bathroom and table and chairs. We were taken in and treated like family for the night (at a price, of course). His wife and family help to run the place, and it was so welcoming and kind. Because we were there such a short time, we asked when then sunset was so that we could watch it over the oasis. He then said that he would shower after which he would take us and show us. This turned into a walking and driving tour of Ksar Zenega, one of the seven Ksar's of Figuig. He showed us to a small hill from which we could see into Algeria, and take many incredible photos. We then proceeded to walk to the water source, which was surprisingly warm (and that people use to bathe in) and he explained to us how it all worked.

Sunset in Figuig

After walking around the town, we returned to the main square (loose use of the term-3 small cafe type buildings and the local shop) and we were asked if we would like to get into the car and go and drive and see some more places. These places included an underground spring creating a bath-type place which was incredibly hot, and the local project-shop/tourist spot run by Chez Ismail's friend. We signed the guest book and were shown pictures of the festival of artisans and musicians that returns every year. This festival must be quite something in Figuig as it was a major topic of conversation over our entire stay.

Figuig was all about the people. Whilst the scenery was breath takingly beautiful and the atmosphere laid back and calm (almost serene-completely different to everywhere else we have been) the people are what really made the visit for me. Chez Ismail knew everybody, and we had no sooner gone 50 metres down the tunnels of the Ksar than he had found someone that he knew; either a cousin or a sister or another relative, or just a friend that he knew from around the place. Everyone was overwhelming kind and welcoming without exception. When we got back to the hotel (after he bought us a yoghurt drink from his sister's shop) and asked about dinner, and were told that most of the time people paid extra and ate with the family. It was this inclusiveness and caring atmosphere that made Figuig such a nice place to stay.

Did I mention it was beautiful?

It was so comfortable in the guest house with the other tourists. At dinner, a massive bowl of steaming cous cous and vegetables was placed in front of us and the 5 other guests, accompanied by milk and another dish of extra vegetables and sauce that we proceeded to share like an ordinary meal (and not 7 complete strangers). Followed by a massive fruit bowl (I have become a bit of a fruit bat) this meal left us feeling incredibly content and sleepy, but sleep was not to be found just yet. Chez Ismail bought out some dvds that showcased not only the building of the guesthouse we were in, but how the water system worked in summer with crops, and then the infamous festival that we had been hearing about. There was no question about it; this was just what they did and how they lived.

Looking into Algeria

We fell into bed at about 11 after organising breakfast for the next day, and then awoke far too early considering our midnight bus and all the travel we had just done. After a breakfast of bread, sweet biscuits and mint tea (of which we asked for the leftovers for the bus!) we boarded the bus for the ride home. Sleeping proved difficult, but we managed to get to Oujda without incident, even luckily finding a bus that left right after we arrived. The day was pretty much spent trying to sleep but not quite succeeding, waking at our intermittent stops, only to be stared at (we were at the front of the bus behind the windscreen) and on occasions receiving winks and waves. We made fun of this, and giggled outrageously in the men's faces much to their confusion.

We arrived home just after midnight, getting the bus to drop us at the medina, and made the trek through the medina, falling into bed at 1am. Needless to say waking and getting to work on Monday was a difficult task!

Surprises around every corner!

Figuig was not a hectic weekend-indeed once we were on the buses it was just counting the hours until we reached our destination. Rather, it was a lesson in patience and self-control when you wanted to scream back at the baby behind you. We met the kindest people who genuinely wanted us to enjoy our albeit short stay, ate some good food (in between bread and nutella) and the adventure was in getting there, not the place itself (even though it was amazing). I have never had the experience of getting off a bus and automatically liking the destination, but this happened in Figuig and surprised me to no end.

As another Australian guest so eloquently put it, "Figuig is a cool place to chill out and do nothing for a while", and I couldn't agree more. It was the Oasis at the end of a very long journey, and was worth every one of the 16 hours we spent there.

Until next time!

Love Love,

Clem xx

Figuig?...Really? Part 1

"Hey guess what, we're going to Figuig this weekend'
"Oh Figuig!
"You've heard of it? Have you been there?"
"Oh no...too far!"

This is a basic recount of the conversations that we had in the lead up to our weekend of travel. Almost everyone we spoke to had either heard of Figuig but never been there, or hadn't heard of it at all and wanted to know more. We could not oblige when asked about it however, as the guidebooks said very little!

We spent laast weekend in Figuig, and it was without a doubt the highlight of my stay so far. Because there was also a week of placement and other happenings in between I have decided to split this post in two, because there is still a fair bit to talk about in between last weekend and now, Monday afternoon.

John's last night. Damn we are sexy.

Last week held some unexpected surprises and happenings. John left on Saturday (that's your last mention by the way) and the night went swimmingly! Beer was drunk, friends (with bar tabs) were made and merry times were had.

Placement went well once again, and I was back into it this morning. The volunteers from high school have mostly left, as they are back into school and exams (good luck guys!). However, a few were around last week, and it was so nice getting to meet more people! So far even though I have seen some amazing places, this trip has really been about the people I have met (as you will see in part 2 of this blog). It has made me appreciate diversity even more. The most important part of last week was the creation of a program that this week we are going to start implementing into the organisation so that the children can continue learning even when they are sick. It is going to be tough as most of the program centres around learning French and English, and then using games, arts and crafts to reinforce the learning, however the children have very little French and no English (and their writing skills of Arabic vary greatly). However, I've spoken to most of the other volunteers and we're confident that we can get it to work, even though it might take some getting used to for the kids.

In other news, Lexy and I have a new Monday night ritual. We go and buy pancakes from the pancake ladies and then spread nutella on top and watch a movie. Such a good way to start the week. We complement our pancakes with Clementine Mandarins, also spread with nutella.

Fact 1: Everything tastes better when spread with (a lot of) nutella.

Fact 2: Walking is my friend.  .

Why? Because I haven't added photos of capture the flag yet. Don't ask.

On Tuesday night, we caught up with Cassie for ice-cream, and we had a most random evening. Whilst sitting in the cafe next to the ice-creamery, we were met by two strangers, Jean-Claude and Tarik. Jean-Claude is a 35 (debatable) dj (also debatable), who mostly djs raves in Holland and England, and who loves attention. In a nutshell, he will do almost anything to continually be the topic of conversation.Needless to say, this included speaking with accents, trying to do martial arts (in reference to Lexy being Chinese) and then doing magic tricks. Yes, magic tricks. He managed to make Tarik's cigarette disappear, and then make a full telephone with cord and antenna come out of his pocket. So of course we accompanied them to dinner at McDonalds (where the aforementioned appearance of antenna and phone happened). Cassie (bless her cotton socks) then arranged for me to meet Tarik the next day at the Hospital to practice my Arabic and teach him English. Long story short, his number is now blocked and he is mad at me becuse I "have" a boyfriend.

Boo hoo. I'll play my sad violin.

Moving on!

Wednesday night was our get-together and this time it was spent at a lovely little restaurant called Dar Naji, about 5 minutes walk from the Medina. I love that way in which Moroccans mix fruit with everything. Who knew that caramelised oranges, bananas, and strawberries would go so well with chicken and rice with raisins-not forgetting the dark chocolate drizzle and the orange sauce! Let's call it "a culinary experience". We also had many laughs; mostly at the fact that Tarik called and between the 3 of us (Lexy, Cassie and myself) we had an 11 minute conversation about nothing. We also found out tht Youssef was leaving Projects to study. This was sad, but understandable with the work-study balance being so hard to acheieve.

So. Good.

On Thursday Lexy, Cameron,, Matthew and myself went dancing. I am a big fan of dancing, especially to latin and reggae music-there's just something so easy about the beat, so this pleased me greatly. We were going with Tarik and Jean-Claude (the number blocking only happened after this) which was good, even though Jean Claude seemed to not know the way to drive to Yakouts, our destination. The club was quiet when we arrived at 9:30ish (should've been 9:20, but again-directions are not Jean-Claude's strong point...) so to liven things up, Jean-Claude me his way to the stage, where he promtply took over the drumkit for a few songs. We assumed he knew the drummer, but we never confirmed it so at the moment it's just a random happening that made us roll on the floor laughing. We started a danceflor (I sense a pattern happening after Amnesia) and the night really kicked off. We had a lot of fun, but the night ended somewhat sourly (for some) when Tarik claimed he would "cry himself to sleep" over the fact that I "have a boyfriend back in Australia". My hum-drum response (between fits of giggles) was "C'est La Vie" and he didn't quite catch on to the ring of sarcasm underneath. I have no sympathy. With regards to being a single female in Morocco, I feel like I'm becoming a bit like ice-woman, but you get so many offers and comments on the street that you very quickly develop the ability to not feel bad about being rude and ignoring people.

Pouring tea from a great height.My photography skills amaze me; my lack of editing ability more so.

Friday heralded the weekend. Yay! In between the dancing, socialising and working this week, Lexy and I had been (attempting) to do some planning. We wanted to go to Figuig, a small town of about 12,000 (yes, small) on the border with Algeria.

Now Mum don't worry! The border is closed (we only really looked over it from a distance anyway)and Figuig is relatively safe, and as such it was an amazing weekend. However, planning was difficult.

We have managed to get into a really good habit of throwing together our weekends at the last minute. Two days in advance we take out the Lonely Planet and decide on a hotel to stay in (normally the cheapest hotel that sounds nice) and then the night before look up train timetables. However, this was not possible with Figuig. There is an air of mystery surrounding Figuig that made us all the more curious and determined to get there. Google searches returned little about hotels, things to do and how to get there. I won't lie, by Thursday night I was sceptical that we were even going to succeed. Our plans consisted purely of "catch a bus to Oujda and then find/hope for one to Figuig". When the idea was originally raised we had no idea how we were going to get there, only that we wanted to succeed. On Thursday night we still had no idea. However, we ran into Simmo, Lexy's friend, who apparently knows everybody, and he helped us out by getting his friend to give us discount bus tickets. the rest is history. We were in the headset of "get there, tick the box off the Top 18 in Lonely Planet, and get home". We had lost sight of the reason we wanted to go in the first place (something about an Oasis...) and and started thinking along the lines of just being able to say we had been. Figuig had become our mission, and we were eager to embark on what would undoubtedly be an adventure.

"But wait!" I hear you say. "You're leaving it here? You're not going to tell us what happened next?" My dear friends, that is what Part 2 is for. By this time tomorrow night, there will be another blog post up, complete with a witty title and photos, just for you.

Until then,

Love Love!

Clem xx