Morocco
Firstly, www.couchsurfing.org has been the coolest thing I’ve done in a long time. Through this site I met Salah Heddine, a Moroccan who met me in Tangier, guide me to a famous cafe overlooking the strait of Gibraltar, had strong mint tea standing on the edge of Africa, where Phoenicians, Romans and Europeans have fought to control the strategic location. Next we walked through the kasbah & medina, where I got fish guts on my pantlegs walking through the souk, ate some rad chicken/veggie dish, and watched peeps walk by while drinkin more of the ubiquitous tea. Wandered through the new city, strolled the beach, got some henna, then took a train to Salah’s home in Ksar-el-Kebir.
Salah runs an export business moving rhassoul mud & argan oil to Brits who’ve taken on the ‘organic/natural’ craze. His brother and sister welcomed me with a great dinner, then I splattered myself onto a pillow and slept like the dead, like a baby, like a dead baby. Kickstarted with some flatbread, eggs, hot milk, tea, marmalade & unbelievable olive oil. Off to the hamam, the traditional bath house used at least once a week. Another of Salah’s sisters (7 siblings!) prepped the washerwomen about my utter lack of language, knowledge, or protocol, and hand signaling began. A loofah that could give a rhino skin like a toddler’s ass mixed with an olive oil paste scraped off…everything. Buckets and buckets of nearly scalding hot water + a trained hand massaged out the kinks & got some funk out of my elephant-sized foot. Apparently I’ve developed some kind of gout the first day of a two month traveling binge. Almost as good as ripping my meniscus 2 days into the SwingShift northern European tour earlier this year. Hopefully Das Foot won’t require surgery or anythin beyond anti-inflammatories & rehydration.
Back to thee uber sloughage. 10 showers won’t get you as clean as a hamam; I needed a 3 hour nap afterwards. Salah & his sister woke me for even more amazing food; saffron couscous and super tender meat. Ksar-el-Kebir is a trade village of 40K, land of the 3 Kings Battle, a village cum city with goats herded around the soccer field, trucks brimming with goods and/or people, and everyone walking in the street. I woke to the amplified call to prayer, heard horses whinnying outside my window, and slept heavier than I have in years; Salah said the air here is like a drug, and I agree.
I need a few years to discover Morocco more thoroughly. Off to Barcelona, Rome & Rijeka.
Madrid!
Made it safely here, against Continental/United’s best efforts…a quick unplanned layover in Amsterdam didn’t hurt though. Mighta twisted ye ole ankle, but having a blast with my couch surfing host Jesus. He took me to this rad anarcho-cultural-art center, La Tabacalera. Off to La Reina Sofia Museum, zee Royal Palace, then flamenco in a nice seedy bar. Oh yeah, thank bajeesus for Provigil: no jet lag!!
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