Chapter 11 - Day 13 Fes to Estepona (150 miles)
The sun was still below the horizon when we packed up our tents the next morning. We'd all awakened early, despite our jam-packed final day of events and experiences in Fes. Our visit to the Chief of Police's opulent Riad, on the previous evening, had been so luxurious and restful, that we were all sufficiently relaxed to enjoy our final night's sleep in the campsite's cool desert night air.
Breakfast was a simple yet elegant meal of coffee and croissants! We were aiming for the noonday Ferry from Tangier to Algeciras. From there we would slowly wend our back through Spain and France, and eventually, return to England. To avoid tedium, and to allow us to visit as many new Spanish cities as possible, our drivers had chosen a more westerly return route through the Iberian Peninsula.
The long road over dusty plains and through the Rif Mountains to Tangier was, in places, barely more than a dirt track. So we all felt like real adventurers, as we were tossed around like beanbags every time the Love Bus hit a pothole. I was glad that our tents, packs and cooking gear had been tied securely to its roof. Would that we, ourselves, had been as secure within the vehicle! But seat belts were uncommon during this era, so some of us literally did bounce off the roof and windows. Not naming names, but....Ouch!
Frequent random physical catapulting also discouraged sensible conversation - or any other kind of interaction during that trip. Most of us just slipped into an alternate reality - or, in my case, 'stun' mode! We held on to whatever was bolted down, and bravely tried to ride out the bumps as our stalwart vehicle negotiated the terrain.
This was definitely NOT our finest hour!
This was definitely NOT our finest hour!
Unbidden, thoughts, memories and feelings of the past few days flooded into my mind during that four-hour theme park journey. Apart from the nastiness at the tannery, I had really enjoyed my time in Morocco and would miss it, and its friendly people, till my next visit - whenever that would be. Luxuriating under sunny skies in warm 75F weather in mid-April was a real treat, and a far cry from the chill winds and grey rain-showers that we had left behind us, in London.
My soul had absorbed a rich tapestry of cultural and commercial experiences in Fes, but I craved still more time to explore this city's ancient educational roots. We had camped there for five nights, and I, personally, had visited as much of the Medina as I could manage on foot.
On my next visit, I would once again visit the Medina, but I would also make time to explore more of Fes' architectural heritage, with my new camera! I also promised myself that I'd ride a camel, for the experience, and for the fabulous photo opportunity. Meanwhile, I would research how to cook the way Moroccans do, since their cuisine suited my palate.
Thanks to our youthful guide, Azim, our baker's dozen travelling group had been well advised, protected, guided, entertained, educated and, especially on our last evening, treated like royalty. We had willingly paid Azim quite a handsome stipend for his excellent services, since he had truly made us feel that we were as special, to him, as his own personal family!
On my next visit, I would once again visit the Medina, but I would also make time to explore more of Fes' architectural heritage, with my new camera! I also promised myself that I'd ride a camel, for the experience, and for the fabulous photo opportunity. Meanwhile, I would research how to cook the way Moroccans do, since their cuisine suited my palate.
Thanks to our youthful guide, Azim, our baker's dozen travelling group had been well advised, protected, guided, entertained, educated and, especially on our last evening, treated like royalty. We had willingly paid Azim quite a handsome stipend for his excellent services, since he had truly made us feel that we were as special, to him, as his own personal family!
Azim's relatives had also been very warm and gracious towards us, and solicitous of our needs, both at the Moroccan Restaurant (Day 1) and at the home of the Chief of Police (Day 4). Even the local artisans and merchants of Fes had seemed genuinely delighted to cater to our needs and purchasing requirements. Their combined welcome made me feel that most Moroccans have a happy soul.
I have often wondered what has happened to - and for - Azim since 1972. Did his entrepreneurial genius lead him to brave new worlds of business? Or did he follow his family's political and military template? He'd be 51 years old in 2013. I wish him well and hope that he still has that twinkle in those mischievous brown eyes. I will never forget his cheerful laugh and his wonderfully infectious smile!
(excerpt taken from http://receptours.net/en/25/sub-page)
Ouezzane, a town in northern Morocco, north of Fez at the southern border
of the Rif Mountains. It was once a place for Andalusia's Jewish
refugees.
photo by kind courtesy of galenfrysinger.com
The city is well known in Morocco and throughout the Islamic
world by being a spiritual capital for it was home for many of the
pillars of Sufism.
Many Jews of Morocco consider Ouezzane to be a holy
city and make pilgrimages there to venerate the tomb of Rabbi Imran Ben Diwan, an eighteenth century rabbi who lived in the city and whose burial site is associated with a number of miracles.
While we munched on the last of our tasty Moroccan tomatoes, Leanne quietly confessed that part of her reason for travelling to Morocco had been to satisfy her life-long attraction to brown-skinned men. Then she blushingly revealed that she had actually done so, whilst in Fes.
The entire group fell silent, listening intently, as Leanne continued her story:
Early on our 2nd full day in Fes, Leanne had met a dark and handsome (though not particularly tall!) Moroccan man, who had impulsively invited her to his home to meet the rest of his family that same evening.
Given my less than savoury experience with some of 'the locals', Leanne hadn't wanted the drivers to know her plan, or for the rest of us to worry about her. So, she had told only her colleagues, with whom she was travelling, that she was 'going out' and should not be considered missing if she didn't return till the next morning.
Apparently, having a big, buxom, blue-eyed blonde visiting in one's house was a rarity in Fes. Indeed, it might still be rare, for all I know! When Leanne had visited this fellow's family, it seemed to her that every male in the vicinity had turned up to look at her, touch her fair skin, ask her extremely personal questions, and just be seen with her.
All the adulation had made her feel like a celebrity and she totally lost touch of time - and place - and, methinks, her sanity! Yet, the next morning, escorted by three tired looking Moroccan men, Leanne was indeed returned safely to our campsite. Despite sporting a huge smile, she had waved away all of her girlfriends' questions with a shake of her hand, promising to explain everything to them after she had slept.
By
evening of the following day, Leanne had slept, but had yet to reveal anything about her solo adventure. Only after we had put many miles of rough road between ourselves and the city of Fes, did she deign to explain her overnight excursion.
Listening to Leanne describe her private adventure in Morocco, made me curious as to what kind of experiences the others had encountered - and what they had learned about life, or themselves, whilst in Morocco.
I was particularly interested in knowing which aspects of this region's culture and customs my travelling companions found the most enlightening, intriguing or challenging - and why!
The drivers, knowing that our road would likely prohibit prolonged or animated conversation, suggested that we each think about our unique Morocco experience while travelling to Tangier. Those who wished could share their own individual stories later, over a proper restaurant lunch on the ferry across the Strait of Gibraltar to Spain.
My mind then slid into neutral so that I could more clearly view the many events and experiences I had attracted in Morocco. In only a few short days, I had enjoyed so many different experiences in this exotic land, that my rich and varied memories had become engrained in my psyche:
Photo by kind courtesy of susanreep.com
Photo by kind courtesy of susanreep.com
- Tangier: where I sold my watch for the group's lunch, and played street football
- The scent of orange groves, the flavour of local tomatoes, lamb tangine, couscous and mint tea
- Camels on the dunes at sunrise; dancing in the wind in my djellaba photo by kind courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/sallyrango/5061545997
- Moroccan warmth, humour and hospitality
- Constant sunshine; dry air and the happy mingling of exotic aromas
- Fes' secure campground swimming pool and facilities; the armed guards and lockable gates
- Azim and his entire clan, and how they catered to our needs in Fes
- The Tannery incident and its emotional impact on our entire group.
- Anton's compassion and kindness, our hilarious shopping trip and romantic outdoor supper.
- The authentic Moroccan restaurant and
- Our visit to the Police of Chief's sumptuous home and its revelations
After several days of unscheduled relaxation by the pool, or strolling and shopping in ancient souks, my mind and body had rebelled mightily against having to hurry up and get on the road again.
The 177-mile direct road to Tangier skirted the dry foothills of the Rif Mountains. In 1972, its more rugged areas were poorly maintained causing our drivers to decrease speed without notice, adding to the already considerable discomfort of their passengers. Despite leaving camp before 8am, we only just managed to connect with the noon ferry crossing to Algerciras.
photo by kind courtesy of afar.com
Weary from our 4-hour journey, most of us shared a late lunch in the ferry dining room.
But everyone was a bit shell-shocked and I, too, was very introspective.
Only Leanne, it seemed, was ready - or willing - to elaborate on her unique experience of Morocco - and Moroccan men. That she was the only one still smiling after our rather vigorous journey from Fes, spoke volumes.
But everyone was a bit shell-shocked and I, too, was very introspective.
Only Leanne, it seemed, was ready - or willing - to elaborate on her unique experience of Morocco - and Moroccan men. That she was the only one still smiling after our rather vigorous journey from Fes, spoke volumes.
Our destination for that evening was, once again, the elegantly groomed beach at Estepona. After four days of sleeping on desert baked soil that was as hard as concrete, my entire body relaxed at the mere thought of sleeping on the soft sand tonight.
Two hours later, refreshed by the strong winds and a ferry meal, we disembarked in Algeciras and headed eastwards towards the same private hotel at which we'd eaten supper on our outward journey to Morocco.
We campers were not permitted to set up our tents on the beach till well after dusk. But our hosts suggested that, whilst waiting, we change into our swim gear and enjoy the facilities, with the hotel guests, on that deliciously private beach.
Two hours later, refreshed by the strong winds and a ferry meal, we disembarked in Algeciras and headed eastwards towards the same private hotel at which we'd eaten supper on our outward journey to Morocco.
We campers were not permitted to set up our tents on the beach till well after dusk. But our hosts suggested that, whilst waiting, we change into our swim gear and enjoy the facilities, with the hotel guests, on that deliciously private beach.
photo by kind courtesy of marbella-guide.com
And that was how Anton managed to acquire several sunset as well as sunrise photos from the very same beach in Andalusia!
The Mediterranean was still too cold for a swim, especially after the warm waters of the campsite pool in Fes. But frolicking on the beach with the rest of the group was great fun.
We all relished this time to play and stretch our muscles after that long bumpy trip from Fes, especially since nobody knew when - or if - England's beaches would ever be warm enough to permit such carefree activities.
Later that evening, we enjoyed a light supper, lovingly prepared for us by the staff. Then, just after sunset, we pitched our tents for the night. Most of us turned in very early, so weary were we after our adventures in Morocco. I don't even remember my head hitting the pillow!
Sleep, the great restorative, was exactly what we needed. Tonight we fondly remembered the thrills of exploring a tiny bit of Morocco. But we had precious little time to grieve leaving its enticements.
The whole of Spain lay ahead;
Sleep, the great restorative, was exactly what we needed. Tonight we fondly remembered the thrills of exploring a tiny bit of Morocco. But we had precious little time to grieve leaving its enticements.
The whole of Spain lay ahead;
and Espana had assembled for us an extraordinary
extravaganza of exotic experiences
extravaganza of exotic experiences
Little did we know that our most exciting
Andalusian Adventure
was to begin the very next day...
;
;
;
;
;
;
;
;
;
;
Coming Soon!
