Rock the Kasbah

It’s a 1980s song where the lyrics are often mistaken. It’s a 2010s film I’ve never seen. In 2019, I did my own rocking in Morocco. The first time I’d set foot on African soil. Will it be the last? Keep reading.

My friend Jud and I decided that we wanted to link up and explore the wonders of this North African country. I’d heard friends rave about it. Contrarily, while in Europe, I’d heard incredibly poor reviews. Still, it seemed like it was worth taking the chance.

I landed in Marrakech about 3 days ahead of Jud, so I had a chance to familiarize myself with the customs and surroundings. As with many, if not all, of the poorer countries in the world, cash is king. When I arrived, I planned to get some in the airport. I retrieved my bag and noticed just about everyone exchanging money at a single, very central currency counter. I searched for an ATM without any luck and decided to follow suit with the rest of the crowd. FYI – brutal conversion and service fees. There are plenty of cash machines in the city, which I’m sure charge far less per withdrawal. Since my goal was to take a local bus into downtown, I needed it right away, unfortunately.

That plan was a somewhat wild ordeal. No surprise, even in early November, Morocco is hot. I walked about 15 minutes in the baking sun to the bus stop. I was trusting Google Maps even though it had a warning about uncertain schedules. The warning was accurate. I waited there for what seemed like over an hour. Many, many other buses came and went. Just when I was going to surrender for a taxi, the L20 arrived. I was without question the only white person on board. I ignored and/or smiled politely to the onslaught of stares.

A mere 30 minutes later, I was dropped off outside the southern wall of the medina. That’s what a “kasbah” (“casbah” in English) is by the way — an old city or fortress.

I walked among the cramped, often dead-end streets before I found my hostel for the next few nights. The check-in process was interesting as there was no formal reception and no one to greet me for several minutes. That being said, there was a cool vibe with 3 floors surrounding an open-air courtyard with rooftop hangout areas as well. The 2 proprietors took time to sit down and chat with me about life as well as some pointers about the main attractions.

After a shower to wash the 20+ hours of travel off, I did a cursory walk around the main square. It was a blistering cacophony of…just about everything.

  • Motorbikes weaving around cars that barely had enough space to traverse the streets.
  • Mosques.
  • Walls within walls.
  • Snake charmers.
  • Juice vendors.
  • Handcraft stalls and pushy shirt-sellers.
  • Plenty of barber shops.
  • And let’s not forget shawarma.

I was mainly prepared for orange facades and the mix of French and Arabic culture. It was a lot more than that. I grabbed some food from a small eatery and headed back to the hostel to digest this first impression.

There wasn’t enough time to take a 2-3 day excursion out into the Sahara, so I booked a day trip to the Ourika Valley instead. The itinerary was super appealing on paper, so I had decent expectations. It promised a visit to a Berber village, a look at how Argan oil and handcrafts are made, as well as a trek to a waterfall and a camel ride.

It was mostly a let down. Everything was a crowded tourist trap, nature walk included. The camel ride especially was disappointing. The boys were lasso’d to one another, and it was just a 10-15 minute walk next to a main road. The village built into the mountain was sweet to gaze at from afar, but I’m not sure it was enough to save the day. Still, it was $45 USD (including tip for the guide) so at least it was affordable.

That basically brings us to Jud’s arrival. Our Moroccan adventure was essentially split into four parts based on where we spent our time.

MARRAKECH (PT. II)

Jud was more or less my sugar daddy on this trip — covering the AirBnBs and some other transportation costs.

We met up at the first accommodation in the north medina, which was somewhat difficult to find even with a map and specific instructions. Thank the lord for their very specific blue front door.

Even though he had been traveling for 20+ hrs with no sleep, we decided to go for a wander. I was familiar with some of the souks and the main square but that’s about it.

After some time weaving through the maze, we were approached by a “friend” who “just wanted to practice his English.” Many of the vendors and street goers are aggressive in getting your attention. It wasn’t a surprise. But this guy implanted himself into our walk, since “his house was the same way we were going.” Once he brought up taking us to a tannery, I knew it was a scam. An elaborate one.

The thing is, a tannery at its peak definitely looks worth a visit. I’ve seen some enticing photos, this dude even showed us one. The reality was not the same.

I tried explaining what would happen to Jud since I was almost wrapped up in the same scam a few days before. I thought we would arrive and be able to leave at the entrance. Our guy was in the midst of handing us off to his pal, the friendly tannery tour guide, when I asked how much it would cost. “Don’t worry about price,” he said (as if it was a dumb question). Jud and the guide continued ahead as I walked dejected, 30ft behind. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.

The place was in absolute shambles. It was apparently the last day of its operation for the next while. But we “had to see it” because “the Berber people are down from the mountains” and “only for today.”

The shallow pools used to color animal hides, normally filled with a beautiful array of bright tones, were completely brown and smelly. The dredges of mud and pigeon shit used to seal the stain. It was abysmal.

A 5 minute spiel ended and we were shepherded to a shop that sold the completed goods. Yet another handoff, this time to a salesperson. After we clearly weren’t interested in buying anything they let us leave. The first two guys magically appeared a few steps away from the shop and asked us to pay them for their services. An argument ensued from my end since I was never told the price. It wasn’t a good look, but I was careful not to be taken advantage of. Since Jud is a stand up guy, he paid them something to leave us alone.

Be warned: if you’re ever in Marrakech, don’t accept a tannery tour from anyone other than an agency or your accommodation.

On our walk back to the AirBnB we had to fend off another guy pining for money for trying to show us the way even though we didn’t need him and he didn’t know where he was going. That left me with a sour impression of Marrakech. I mean, I guess you can’t blame them for trying to make money, but honesty when prompted is kind of the decent thing to do.

The next day we made our own tour of some main attractions. First we visited a very disappointing tomb. It was a 40 minute line to see an intricately tiled room for a handful of seconds. Then, we went to a place called Bahia Palace which was built in the 19th century by the head of government. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the main courtyard was surrounded by 12 rooms, used by his 24 concubines. An incredibly detailed place, with carved molding and ceramic designs aplenty. Afterward, we checked out the highly regarded Secret Garden. It was nicely manicured, though I couldn’t help but think that it was only championed because it was a refuge of greenery in the middle of the desert.

So 1 success out of 3 made for an unimpressive day out. However, we finished it off with a rooftop sunset, a liter of beer and some shawarma.

A mistake was made somewhere along the way in terms of street meats eaten because that night was the beginning of a few rough days for the butthole. Another lesson learned.

Personally, I was happy to bid farewell to the hectic ambush of Marrakech for something more relaxed. The following day, Jud and I boarded a bus bound for “the blue city.”

ESSOUIRA

We enjoyed a pleasant yet windy walk along the coast to reach the medina. There was significantly less people and a lot more open space. Our AirBnB host walked us up a few flights of narrow stairs to reach his flat. He showed us our room and the excellent rooftop eating area where we would later watch the sunset.

It was early evening, so we got a restaurant recommendation and took a casual stroll. The wind was bitter after the sun was too low to pierce the slender streets. Jud and I made a wildly unnecessary, in-person reservation considering we were the only people in the place for the first 20 minutes of our meal. A pair of girls (Dutch and American) were eventually seated with us and we chatted for over an hour. I was continually distracted by what was going on with my insides that I didn’t eat or contribute much.

We parted company somewhere in the chilly avenues of the old city and returned to our a accommodation. That night, I nearly oozed the bed, which I’m assuming is a brand new sentence. I roughed it through until morning and turned to a medicinal solution.

It was a low-key start to the day. Breakfast overlooking the sea, no big deal. Afterward we strolled around the port which was bustling with vendors and gulls hoping for fish scraps. We were walking along the top of the sea wall when a rogue wave crashed over the rocks, completely soaking Jud. It was possibly the most direct hit the ocean has ever made. Somehow, I was lucky and only got a little salt water mist on my camera.

Once Jud changed into dryer clothes, we explored more of the city streets and gates. We saw the 18th century cannons and people making handcrafts.

We roamed the beachside path outside the medina for quite a while. There were kitesurfers, ATVs, and camel rides happening even though it was largely deserted. I wondered how different the vibe would be if it was more lively. Perhaps the wind was a deterrent. Strong gales whipped us back from time to time, took my hat for a ride once, and created an invisible sheet of sand that peppered our faces. We took refuge on a tree-lined cafe patio to have lunch.

That evening, after soaking in the sunset, we tried a traditional Moroccan restaurant. It looked upscale based on the fancy table dressings and golden wall decor. However, the entrance was awkward considering basically everyone looked up from their dishes to stare at us. We had the good fortune of sitting side by side facing them, so that was fun. The food was solid though, so we left happy despite having spectators for every bite.

The remainder of the evening was uneventful. We woke up for another rooftop breakfast and then caught a bus back to Marrakech to snag a train to Casablanca.

CASABLANCA

It seemed like nobody had anything good to say about Casablanca. “It’s a very industrial place.” “There’s nothing interesting to do there.” “Meh.”

I guess we should have listened.

The AirBnB was super nice, with lovely hosts, but the city left something to be desired. It was the most sprawling, but the least interesting in terms of visuals. There were some newer buildings under construction, but no consistent theme.

Apologies for this unimaginative section. The absence of descriptive writing reflects the blandness of the location.

We made our own walking tour to look at the purported interesting architecture. An old post office and bank, several hotels, and then some more banks. It didn’t offer enough to get my camera out of the backpack. “Meh.”

Even the medina was dull. Maybe it was the path we took, but there seemed to be very few remnants of history and alluring sights. We followed a boring street for a while until we got to Rick’s Cafe. Again, my expectations were different from reality. It was sandwiched between two other buildings and had a security guard out front. It appeared rather new and lacked any sort of unique 1940s vibe. I mean, the design was inspired by the movie, but that was difficult to ascertain from the exterior. The interior probably did a better job but since we didn’t want to get gouged by steep beer prices we passed.

Instead, we made our way along the water to check out the world’s third biggest mosque — Hassan II — an ominous sight, with a low layer of fog hugging the building. The minaret is the second largest in the world, so that had no problem sticking out of the translucent white blanket. Unfortunately, we were there at a weird time so we missed out on taking a tour of the inside. It was still by far the most interesting attraction we saw on our journey around the city.

(As a caveat, we didn’t visit La Corniche, which is apparently the beachy area where “the golden youth” hangs out. The nightlife was supposed to be decent there, but I’ll have to give that a shot on another trip.)

RABAT

Since we were unimpressed with Casablanca, we spontaneously decided to take a day trip to Rabat, which was a short train ride up the coast. It turned into a very worthwhile audible because it was easily the coolest place we encountered across our entire Moroccan adventure.

The main city had a slightly modern European vibe in terms of the layout and architecture. We made our way through the medina quickly until we reached the kasbah nestled on the mouth of an inlet. Inside, there were beautiful alleys of white and blue houses from around the 12th century. It would have been an awesome place to get lost in for a few hours. However, some guy took us on an unwanted 20 minute tour, whisking us through the place before requesting a ridiculous amount of money. A 2 hour walking tour in any major European city has more information and costs a quarter of what this guy was trying to charge. It was the only downside to the entire excursion.

Once we left his company, we found a free art museum inside a gorgeous palace courtyard. Then, we took a jaunt by the water and had lunch on a nice cafe patio.

From there, we made a gigantic loop around the freshly constructed part of the city until we wound up back at the train station.

Rabat had the potential to be a great 2-3 day destination, if only we had known beforehand.

On our last day, we took a train back to Marrakech and then a taxi to the airport. Jud disappeared through security in the early afternoon but my flight didn’t depart until around 7am the next morning. I made a quick trip back into the city to spend the rest of my dirham on some decent Christmas gifts. I rearranged my luggage for another 20+ hours of travel and stayed up chatting with friends until I was able to go to my gate.

Due to the lack of sleep and new destination excitement, I left my laptop smushed between bins at the security checkpoint. Surprisingly, I didn’t panic when I noticed hours later.

Thanks to a random travel mate connection, I was able to get it recovered. It was a painful and expensive process receiving it in Mexico, but now it’s back in my possession. Hooray! I’m going to blame that ordeal for the tiny abyss between posts.

Next I’ll have a summary of Morocco as well as a big look at my European leg. Hopefully sooner than later. Stay tuned!

Düsseldorf & Hamburg

A big ole bag of dirty laundry. That’s basically what I was for the 3 weeks I spent in Düsseldorf. I mean, I took showers. Mostly. But I did next to nothing apart from feed a pseudo-annoying cat that had more of a weird jungle growl than a meow.

It was my first experience using Trusted Housesitters as a travel tool. It’s definitely handy to find free accommodation, sometimes for weeks or months at a time. For those of you interested in using it yourselves for upcoming trips or petsitting needs, here’s a referral link.

I almost totally forgot that I took a super quick 2-day trip to Munich to PA on an Audi shoot with my friend Nick and our old company. I honestly can’t believe it worked out even though it more resembled whiplash than a chance for buddies to catch up. But, I’ll absolutely take what I can get. Amazing to see a familiar face. 

Transition back to Düsseldorf and me punishing some Netflix. I’m simultaneously embarrassed and impressed at my sustained stamina for those marathons.

The Dorf was a semi small city but I’m sure I still skipped a decent amount. I did develop a nice rhythm of grocery shopping in Aldi every 3rd day. After one trip, I was able to get out of there without anyone knowing I wasn’t German, largely thanks to Apple Pay.

In terms of productive activities, I did take a walking tour of the downtown area. I visited a museum that was all about life in Düsseldorf during the Nazi regime. I also spent one night out drinking in the Altstadt which has a street that’s been coined “the longest bar in the world.” There a few breweries known for their alt bier — you guessed it, a specialty of the region. Customarily, it’s served in a small cylindrical glass and they just automatically bring large trays around to replenish the empties unless they’re asked to stop. A local told me that 16-20 glasses was a proper night out. I didn’t get near that number but I also never properly tried.

Could it have been done? Possibly.
Should it have been done? No.
It wasn’t my favorite style of beer, so the cost-benefit analysis wasn’t lining up.

Aside from wandering around a few neighborhoods, I got invited to the Trivago Summer Party. It was an all-inclusive bash for employees but I lucked into a ticket through my Altstadt drinking buddy, Kamila. Free food and bev. What’s up?? They even had a cheese course. They also waited until 8pm to roll out the liquor, a smart scheduling method to ensure people didn’t get housed too early in the evening.

That basically sums up Düsseldorf. I’d be happy to go back, but I think other places might have more to pique the interest.

On my way out of town, while standing on the platform, my train got canceled 5 minutes after it was scheduled to depart. It didn’t take much to sort out a fix, but it was a bit complex without cell phone minutes or an internet connection.

Either way, I eventually boarded a 4 hour train bound for Hamburg – the biggest city in northern Germany and the 3rd biggest city in the world for musicals. Who knew?

On my first full day, I took another free walking tour. I will forever do this as an easy way to learn the layout, history and current recommendations for whatever city.

In addition to musicals, Hamburg is known for its port (so a lot of water and ships), the Reeperbahn (a street with bars and adult night life where The Beatles notably got their start), and maybe the anti-establishment philosophy of St. Pauli.

I primarily stayed outside of the city center, so I got very familiar with a particular walking loop. I passed the town hall square, the warehouse district and the harbor promenade on several occasions. I also went inside the newly renovated concert hall which cost almost a billion Euros but was free to enter. It had an insanely long escalator but a really nice wrap-around viewing deck of the water.

Another unique attraction was the old tile pedestrian tunnel that runs under the river. It’s something like 60 ft deep and 1,200 ft long. It seems like there’s always someone in there too.

One day, I stumbled onto the FC St. Pauli stadium. This is a team in the soccer world that’s had a very progressive reputation since they formed in 1910. I was really excited to get a tour and gobble up some more of that sweet foundation. Unfortunately, the entire thing was in German. I got a few seldom tidbits of private translation. Millerntor, the stadium, was named after a gate that separated that area of Germany from Denmark’s territory. Also, it’s fan owned, anti-fascist, and LGBTQ friendly. A slogan for the team translates to “No Man is Illegal,” which I love. Lastly, the teams walk out to “Hells Bells” by AC/DC (I’m pretty sure).

For an obligatory night out, I met up with a girl named Anne who took me around the Reeperbahn but to the more local dive bar spots. Miraculously, I avoided being harassed by a lady of the night or strip club promoter the whole time I was in Hamburg. Aces.

Overall, I got a very comfortable feeling from the HH. Once again, it’s a city with the right balance of nature, nightlife and artsy neighborhoods that could be a great spot to live. At some point, I’m going to have to put together a list of how all of these places are ranked.

It’s been almost a full year since I left Richmond. It’s safe to say I’m losing my sense of “home.” Maybe it’s been gone for a while or it’s adapted to a feeling of transience. The lack of consistent routine is an understatement. Not knowing what I’m doing from day to day is one thing — a lot of room for unlimited possibilities in there — but it’s also gotten a bit daunting to try and snatch plans out of thin air. Researching, exploration, decisiveness. I know it’s one of those privileged complaints. I’m not saying I’m over the journey because I still love it. However, I’ve definitely recognized that my momentum has come to a halt and the motivation to push the boulder back up the hill is a work in progress. It’ll be nice to either find a renewed purpose or erase the concept from my head all together.

After I spend a week in Berlin, I’ve got almost 2 months of Workaways lined up. I’m stoked about the prospects. It should be a solid kickstart.