A little place called Morocco...

So going back a few steps from now, I thought I should just write a few words to get up to date on my little jaunt to Morocco... See this is how it all happened...

Meet Dave:

This is Dave (and Me). He was my travelling partner for my Morocco days.
Important facts include that he is a banker from Melbourne who likes to weigh up the idea of buying kite-surfing equipment and can speak Russian. Cool huh?
So whilst everyone in our post-Benicassim festival had meandered off to other parts of the Spanish land, Dave and I found ourselves still in Granada, sitting by a pool on the 26th of July.
Dave, sunning himself beside the pool asks:
'Where are you going to next?'
Amy, pries her eyes from her books and replies:
'Well, I was going to go to Morocco, but I'm not too keen on going on my own...So I don't know.'
Dave replies:
'Yeah, me too'
A moment of silence ensues before Dave says:
'We should go together...?' with a half question, suggestion casualness.
'Sure'. And a trip was destined.
On the 29th of July we found ourselves, at 8pm at night, passing through the border from the Spanish enclave of Ceuta to Morocco. To most the chicken wire, portable buildings and distinct lack of any bar one police official seemed distinctly non-border-like, but hey, this is Morocco.
Walking through the border and trying to find a taxi, I immediately thanked those gruelling hours of high school French class for being able to lodge some sense of the Francophile language in my brain. Something I would do time and time again during my visit with Morocco being colonised by the French and all.So luckily we were able to do some bargaining for our first 245 km taxi ride (25 euro each! what a steal... read: rip off in Morocco... oops)
Arriving at our first destination, Chefchaouen, at night, we woke up the next day to see this:

An absolutely blue medina. Everything is painted blue and if you ask anyone they are pretty clueless as to why that is... but for some reason it was done by a small Jewish community that used to live here. Nevertheless, after browsing markets, dining on fine Moroccan cuisine (including the must-have taste of Mint Tea-the 'Moroccan Whisky') and being offered hash more times then you can count (Chefchaouen, apart from trying to fit every vowel into it's name, is also set in the hills amongst Morocco's biggest Marujuana plantation!) it was time to leave.
To Fes, the old capital of this nub of Africa. Which was also a lot harder to get to then we first thought, but a cramped bus ride into rural Morocco (baby spew included) and a grand taxi ride (literally a taxi ride with 7 people in the one car that only leaves for the destination when it's full) and we were there. And Fes is the best. It has a huge maze-like medina filled with markets and craft shops and is the largest area of car-less city centre in the world. Picture a maze, now times it by a thousand, make any street signs barely legible or non-existent, add in your frequent donkey carrying large load of hay/wood/bottles/anything, stray cats and you're getting close. There is no way you can not get lost. But it is fun to wander around the stores, the tanneries, leather markets for hours having absolutely no idea where you are. Then asking a small child to please lead you back to your hostel. After fun times and making friends in Fes we headed for the big mumma... Marrakech.
Which really turned out to be a non-event as I was hostel-ridden after a (sad to say) voluntary run-in with a pigeon tajine in a Fes restaurant.Whilst my new friends ran around and told me of the square with the monkeys and the snake charmers that I had only briefly seen, I hounded myself mentally for the thought process that provoked me to chow down on Melbourne's only native animal urban dweller.
Anywho, off to Essaouira (on the west coast of Morocco) for some small town for some sun, sand and WIND. My gosh, it was windy. So really good for kitesurfers, hence Dave's quest for kite surfing gear. But really, just a relaxed place to hang around, lay on the beach and watch Ramadan unfold. Which was quite an experience. Everything was pretty quite for the whole day, but when it got to around 7pm the street markets were madness as people went food crazy in readiness to all break the fast together... But whilst I wasn't joining in on the religious festival I was enjoying the freshly caught seafood that you got to pick from the market and have served to you in minutes.
Nevertheless, after a couple of days here I was back in Marrakech and away to Italy (a two week venture I will have to write about in a later adventure), and from there I'm now hanging out in Eastern Europe (another installment that still awaits publishment.
But on leaving the designated 'African' segment of my European trip, I must say I was glad to touch down in Pisa, Italy. Where, whilst busses may not necessarily run on time, at least they run, frequently, and have air-conditioning, toilets and seat covers that don't stick to you. Morocco was such a vibrantly differently place to anywhere else I've been and so it was exhausting to just exist there. I met some great people and had a ball and am already incensed to plan more trips further Middle East.
Ciao

Other things that are interesting...
I got a new camera! After mine was sadly stolen in Valencia.
Cadel Evans won the Tour. Yes, this is technically old news, but still something of note I thought I should write down.
I lost one of my big toes hiking (not again)
And I'm currently dealing with the idea of buying my own toothpaste... Being the daughter of two pharmacists I have been spoilt for dental hygienic choice throughout my upbringing. Now I face the grave day, a kind of coming-of-age travel moment.

ART-WANK
Nothing, nada, nothing in Morocco to see! As in, no museums open! Relax time away from art.