La Feria cont.

Sorry for taking so long to post these pictures:

Before heading to Morocco we went to la Feria dressed in traditional wear to take part in one of Spain's most famous celebrations.

From Ferris wheels, to churros and chocolate...and of course people dressed in their finest trajes de gitana of all colors of the rainbow la feria is a lively family affair full of Spanish pride. I will include some crowd shots and some that can help you see the absolutely huge fair grounds full of striped tents and carnival rides.

Chaoen

So walking through Tangier was much like walking through any other port city apart form the fact that everything was written in Arabic and French and that the women wore headscarves and the men wore a combination of traditional clothes and western attire. We both felt like foreigners that first day and decided that we would try harder to blend in. To make a long story short we took a taxi to a neighboring pueblo called Chefchaoen for the night- we had looked it up on the web and found a great little guest house called Dar Meziana which was quaint and situated in the center of the little mountain town. Watching the scenery was breathtaking and we saw everything from lakes and mountains to sheep and horses and even huge evergreen trees next to palm trees! 

Arriving in Chaoen was as though we had dropped onto another planet-as the taximan opened the door to let us out we were met with the sounds of donkeys and bells carrying loads of straw and artesania to sell in the local souqs, and a cacophony of conversation in a mixture of Berber (high atlas), Arabic, and French.  Everywhere you looked were little pueblo style clay houses painted periwinkle blue with curiously shaped doorframes and flowers growing wherever they could find space to put down roots.

It was a charming place proud of its berber heritage and happy to welcome new visitors. After being led through the winding streets and stone steps of Chaoen to our guesthouse we were welcomed with a traditional Moroccan custom. We were seated on couches with satin cushions and were surrounded by pillows of all colors and sizes in the parlor, which was in fact an open courtyard and were then served Moroccan mint tea with some traditional sweets made of nuts and filo dough. It was delicious and very much needed after a long day of travelling. 

Next we were shown our rooms which was on the 3^rd floor leading out to the terrace from which you could see all the winding little streets below and could hear the call to prayer which would be chanted from the tops of the local mosques 5 times a day. It was a beautiful place full of new textures and colors and I couldn’t stop looking around marveling at the intricate design of the rought iron trellace or the rows of fresh mint growing by the window.

I promise to add pictures between postings because words can only describe so much and the rest you will have to see for yourselves.

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Planes Trains and...Ferries?

As we lugged ourselves and our equipaje onto the 9:30am bus to Algeciras, Justin and I considered the journey that was about to begin- neither of us had ever been to an Arabic speaking country much less one that also spoke French (a language neither of us had studied) we were exited and a bit anxious to get moving because the trek we had chosen was not exactly direct but in fact was travel as it was meant to be-a journey across space and time to see and experience another culture and its people for oneself.

And that was exactly what we were prepared to do-soak in as much as we could and take in the vibrant personality of Morocco…

Once we reached Algeciras we had to catch a ferry to take us across the Mediterranean to the tip of Africa ie Tangier. Apparently, this was a very big business because when we arrived and eventually made it to the port there was what looked like airplane hangers with counters offering ferries at various prices and speeds of travel as well as combinations of destinations and purchasing options. Thankfully our choice was relatively simple-just get us to Tangier ;)

The ferry was huge and we saw many Moroccans and several French families aboard on their way back to Morocco. It was exciting to receive my very first passport stamp in Arabic.  As we disembarked there were people asking in various languages if we wanted a “tahksi” for “very good price!’ or if we needed a tour guide or even a guy pretending to be some kind of ‘minister of tourism’ Thankfully both of us have travelled enough to know that if we just kept weaving through all these people we could just be on our way.