Day 186: Escaping Morocco (Seville and Faro)

I fancy this idea of giving y'all a small immediate life update followed by a longer recollection. I've spent the past week exploring Lisboa (just got to Porto yesterday) but mainly I want to share an important documentary which I'm in the process of watching called Zeitgeist: Moving Forward. Essentially it explains how from a young age we are conditioned into pawns of a twisted economic system where the focus is on consuming and making money with disregard to quality of life and sustainability. Phew... Anyway, watch it, but not before you read my riveting blarticle about escaping Morocco.

The bathroom was always occupied I made friends with a plant on the roof.

After three weeks of squatting toilets and choosing between tagine or cous-cous I was beginning to go a little crazy. Morocco was an amazing life experience but I longed for the familiar comfort of Europe. I toyed with flying to Spain but the tickets were too expensive. I was destined for the sleeper train from Marrakech to Tangier. I knew the sleeper train left at 9PM so I was happy but exhausted when I arrived in Marrakech at 8PM, having been on a bus for 12 hours. Before I came back to Marrakech from Essaouira I checked out Taghazout and Agadir (bo-ring). With an iron butt I boarded the train and found my cabin. Unfortunately they were sold out of bunk beds so I made the best of first class. Thankfully it ended up just being two of us in there so we each had enough room to lay down. Too bad it wasn't me and a cute girl.

11 hours was my longest train ride yet.

The seats were comfortable but I thought I'd be sleeping in a ball.

Thankfully I got to stretch out over three seats. Well rested? eh.

Goodbye sleeper train!

Before boarding the ferry I met two other backbackers

I was covering the most ground since my bike ride and flight from Geneva. As the ferry arrived in Tarifa I was elated be back in Europe. Fond memories of Tarifa flooded my mind but before I knew it I was on a bus to Algeciras and then to Seville. By the time the bus pulled into the station at Seville I had been on public transport for 30 hours and I was darn tired. As usual I didn't have any accomidation planned, but I followed a girl I met on the ferry to the hostel she booked and immediately got caught up in a free walking tour.

Seville's cathedral was rebuilt after the earthquake of 1755.

This tower was built by the Moors on Roman ruins and survived the quake.

One of Seville's many squares.

A statue of Peter the Cruel who's lisp allegedly infected all of Spain.

Our guide herding us like cattle.

Seville is the hottest city in Spain and courtyards help keep houses cool.

The famous Sevillian painter Bartolomé Murillo.

At the end of the tour we acted out a silly skit.

This dog was has no historical value.

Seville's monument to Chris 'Killer' Columbus.

This building used to be used as a boat yard.

The next morning I went on another walking tour.

Bullfighting season was just starting. In fact, there was a match this day.

Before the Triana bridge people used to cross on boats tied together.

A lovely view of some classical houses on the Guadalquivir River's bank. 

A huge tower from the Plaza de España.

The Plaza de España was built to host a huge fair in the 1930's that never happened.

The walking tour was great, in fact I went on two walking tours and one pub crawl in two days. Good fun. Our guides lead us all over the city, through Seville's twisty streets, it was a great way to see the city because the tour guide was very knowledgeable. Like Ronda, life is in the streets – when your city's streets are this beautiful, it's easy to understand why. Despite Seville being an excellent place to visit, I had a CouchSurfing host waiting for me in Faro. When I checked the busses around 5PM the next bus to Faro left at 12AM, which meant I was going to arrive around 3AM.

As I groggily woke up and peered at my watch, sure enough, it was 3:30 and I was in Faro. I found my host, Cosmo's place without any trouble. Luckily he was still up and let me in. Introductions were short and delirious. I went to sleep satisfied, knowing that I didn't have to get on a bus tomorrow.

Faro's beach is only accessible by car because it's separated by a wetland.

The next morning I mixed too much chocolate cereal with my yogurt and it turned into a breakfast rock. In the process of trying to digest my creation, Cosmo and I made small talk. He just finished his dissertation on computer image analysis. Basically he designs and codes programs for computers that allow them not only to look at a picture and say "this is a person" and "this is a truck" but because of a uniform the person is wearing and the shape of a truck it can say "this is a garbage man" and "this is a garbage truck" and even infer that this person is collecting the garbage. Teaching a computer to recognize a scenario like this from a bunch of pixels is pretty complex. Needless to say Cosmo is a smart dude. He just moved from Hamburg, Germany to Faro because he wanted a change of pace and he found work here. Listening to him was fascinating. In the three days we spent together, we talked a lot, cooked some tasty food, and swapped a lot of music. We spent a whole day strolling around Faro from bench to coffee shop talking about this and that.

Cool graffiti right around the corner from Cosmo's.

Faro's small harbor.

A building in the old town.

3-2-1

Muckin' for clams.

Not an uncommon sight in Faro. I loved the textures from disrepair.

One café had tasty and beautiful marzipan.

Cosmo's apartment was small and classical with many balconies. 

Other than conversing with Cosmo, there wasn't a lot to do in Faro. Off season it is a sleepy town with a handful of nice architecture but nothing worth bragging about. Cosmo helped me to understand the lamenting vibe of the Portuguese as an empire past its prime. In fact, due to its failing economic state, the International Monetary Fund is bailing out Portugal with $115 billion. Despite problems caused by economic hardships, the peeling paint and disrepair of Faro create a unique vibe. The slow pace of Faro was a great introduction to Portuguese culture and while there's nothing super exciting there, I was glad I went. When I left for Lisboa in the next few days I would get all the 'super exciting' that I could handle...

Tchau!

Check out the rest of the photos!

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Day 162: How to Survive Morocco (Tangier and Chefchaouen)

Squatting toilets, no toilet paper, djellabas – talk about culture shock. The past four days that I've been in Morocco have been indescribable. I constantly feel myself surrounded by dichotomies here – the culture may be drastically different from America but people's hearts are the same. My experiences here have been so rich that I almost feel that writing about them would be such an inaccurate portrayal that it is futile. From the second that I stepped out of the ferry from Tarifa it was clear that I was not in Europe any more.

The ferry to Morocco from Tarifa is well worth the €37 ticket.

People's responses to my statement "I'm going to Morocco," have run the gambit from "I love Morocco," to "Please don't." Though I try not listen to other people's opinions, the general advice was to be on my guard, be confident, and realize that you will pay for everything. Initially I was a bit nervous but now that I've experienced the hassling on the streets, squatting toilets, and dilapidated hotel rooms, I feel more comfortable.

No potatoes or flowers allowed.

The group of English hitch hikers I met up with.

The ferry also takes cars and campers.

Bye bye Tarifa!

Everyone warned me that the locals were going to try to get money out of us any way that they could. I expected to be swarmed by these types, and that's exactly what happened. I came prepared with an arsenal of "No, no, no, no, no, no's" but I wasn't prepared for their level of persistence. I met a group of students from England on the ferry and we decided to brave the onslaught together. Taxi drivers, tour guides, all types surrounded us when we got off the boat. We said no to everyone and kept walking but two of the men kept following us. One man told us he knew where we could change money, when the bus to Chefchaouen left, where we could store our bags, and some good places to eat. Hook, line, and sinker, we followed him.

There were a ton of seats.

The ship was really nice with two decks and lots of windows.

Leaving Spain.

View from the back.

Getting artsy with the sun.

Africa on the horizon.

Almost there!

"They will make it seem like they are your friends, but they only want your money," Daniel, my kite surfing instructor warned me before I left. His words have been ringing in my head as I travel through Morocco. I've been trying to decide if the people here are truly friendly or only motivated by money. My decision is that it's not so black and white. Most people in Morocco are rather poor and tourism is the country's main source of income. So these locals on the street trying to help me with this or that of course want money, but some are genuine. I've been shown around by three people now and they've all been friendly and eager to help. Even if money is their only motivation they are masters of making it seem like otherwise. Though I was skeptical at first, now I wish every country had people this helpful.

My second passport stamp.

Once we had gotten off the ferry, our money changed, luggage stored, and I bought a bus ticket to Chefchaouen our guides brought us into the town. I was highly suspicious of the guides, they had handsome dark skin with gruff facial hair giving them an authentic Moroccan look. One was dressed in a bright blue hat and yellow and brown checkered jacket. They were very friendly but slightly overly talkative and pushy. I wish their tour included more historic tidbits but the city was amazing. Another one of their talents was getting us to buy stuff. They took us to a lavish three course lunch for €10 followed by robe shopping (my djellaba was €55). I wasn't expecting to buy a djellaba but they were kind of awesome so I figured I needed one. I'll write more about how newfound robe lust later. After showing us around the streets a bit they brought us back to the bus station in time for my bus. I paid them €17 to split between them and hopped on the bus to Chefchaouen (€4) right as the sun was setting.

I wouldn't recommend going to Tangier but as my first experience in Morocco, I was amazed. It looked like a scene out of Aladdin with street vendors' sunken faces and bustling atmosphere. There were a ton of people everywhere and a giant handful of other cultural differences to absorb, but I had enough. Despite my tour guide's warnings that Chefchaouen is full of "thieves and junkies," I was happy to leave Tangier and get out of the big city.

We're here!

The bus to Chefchaouen was unexpectedly long but chill and comfortable. Our ride took so long because there are no highways to Chefchaouen. All of the roads max out at 60km/hr but I would guess our average speed was somewhere around 40. The beautiful silhouettes of mountains that dimly permeated the window made me wish for the sun – the ride would have been much nicer during the day. About two and a half hours later we arrived in Chefchaouen. I got off the bus hoping to find a spot to pitch my tent as it was nearly 12. I was surprised and not surprised when a young dude came up to me and asked if I needed a hotel. I said I was just looking for a place to camp but then he told me it was only 50DH so I agreed.

I didn't feel comfortable taking photos – sorry I don't have more.

Tangier at sunset before I left for Chefchaouen.

Once again, I was surprised and not surprised. This place made Motel 6 look like King Mohammad VI's grand palace. The only room available was on the roof and the bed was skeezy. Thankfully I found a creative solution. I passed out after a super long day.

If this bed could talk...

I didn't want to take any chances :p

From taking the ferry in the morning to arriving in a new country, exploring Tangier and taking the bus to Chefchaoen, I was wiped out. Morocco is a fantastic wonderland of sensory overload. I felt like I had been pulled in all directions. Although I was exhausted, I felt positive about my upcoming two weeks in Morocco. I am in a land of dualities – surrounded by a new environment where I am the only constant. Morocco is not an easy place to travel, but difficulty feeds personal growth. I look forward to surviving in Morocco.

Salam!