Days 202 & 203 - Luxuriating in Luxembourg

Day 202 (Sat) 3 countries in 3 hours


With a free weekend before the real work of study block four began Nakita (Sydney) and I decided to go to Luxembourg. It was close enough to do in a weekend and didn’t involve the rigmarole of having to go to the airport etc. Instead we got on a train about 9am in Maastricht and, after three changes, arrived in Luxembourg. The train trip took us through the three countries of the Benelux region – Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg. I was expecting that things might start to look different out the window as we entered a new country but I have to report that this part of the world all kind of looks the same! Same landscape/scenery, same weather, same roads and cobblestones ... it was only when we got right into the heart of Luxembourg that we registered the most notable difference: the houses in Luxembourg are much more colourful. Whereas they’re grey or brown in Ned and Belg, in Lux they’re all sorts; yellow, red, lots of pink, some sky blue – still with the tiled rooves and cute little windows but just more colourful and therefore prettier to look at.

the intrepid travellers

The next surprise came on our public bus ‘tour’ from the central station to the hostel. The bus curved around a corner and all of a sudden – whoa! – the ground just dropped away straight after the road, into a deep valley! I’ve never seen anything like it. It was just this big hole in the middle of the city (which we realised later goes sort of all around the city, so the centre is kind of on one level and the surrounding area on another, with cliff faces and bridges everywhere). Our hostel happened to be at the bottom of the valley, which was really quite picturesque with manicured gardens around the buildings built there and a little river winding in and out.

to give an idea of the valley

 After we’d checked in our first challenge was getting up out of the valley again (required holiday exercise? Check!). Needless to say we ‘felt the burn’ as we hauled ourselves up to “ground” level again. Walking along the bridge back into the centre of town was just lovely though – wide, spanning views of green grasses, round hills, the surrounding valley and the river running across everything. Luxembourg City (the capital of the country of the same name) is honestly just beautiful, and obviously very old. There are remnants of stone towers, ramparts and under-ground prisons. Throughout the old town (the town centre) are dotted castle-looking churches, wide open squares and even a palace where we saw fully uniformed guards with funny little hats :P

the way up from our hostel!

at the bottom of a bridge near our hostel at the bottom of the valley

After a satisfying but not at all Luxembourgish lunch (at a Chinese restaurant … don’t judge, there’s no Chinatown in Maastricht and we had a craving!) we bought dessert at a nearby patisserie – the most expensive and equally orgasmic macaroon’s I’ve ever tasted! The afternoon was spent wandering around the old town taking in the contrasts of old stone buildings next to glamorous boutiques like Louis Vitton. It’s true what they say about Luxembourg having one of the highest per capita incomes (and disposable incomes no doubt!). After a spot of tourist shopping (think magnets and postcards) we visited an odd little modern art museum before heading back to the hostel for a nap!


mmmm macaroons!

That night we walked in the opposite direction for dinner (may I just lament here that Luxembourg City did not offer up to us the culinary delights we were expecting, but I fear this was mostly because we didn’t know where was good to eat and were too hungry to look too far afield). After wandering through a cute little mall on the opposite side of a classically light bridge we settled in an American themed bar run by a British bloke who was so stressed by an influx of customers he almost refused to serve us. We told him to relax and we’d wait – but it probably wasn’t worth it, the food was pretty average :( Although we did get to satisfy another craving, this time for milkshakes (as we don’t have freezers for ice cream or blenders in Maas). After a mildly disappointing dinner (but with good conversation) we headed back to the hostel to do what all the cool kids do on a Saturday night … play Monopoly! There was at least beer involved, and the added excitement of Monopoly in German lol

cracking night in!

Day 203 (Sun) An early-ish start, an average breakfast at the hostel before a photo-taking walk along a different route back to the town centre. Most of the day though was spent on a little side excursion to the town of Vianden and its well-known (in this part of the world anyway) castle. The hour trip there by train and bus was really lovely, just to look out the window, following the stream that ran along the train route, the cute little colourful houses in the distance, and then the bus ride which actually drove through a bit of a forest and some pastoral areas before arriving at the bottom of a hill atop which the castle sat. It actually looked a bit spooky at first, perched atop a craggy hill, dark with leaf-less trees, and shrowded in the mild gloom of a cloudy day.

On closer inspection (at the top of yet another steep hill! May I remind you how flat Maastricht mostly is…) it was actually quite warm and welcoming inside. The stone building housed examples of armour and weapons and rooms set up as they would have been when the castle was in use. Many of the rooms were at least partly open to the elements though and I wonder how cold it must have been living there back in those medieval winters?!

Heading back down the hill, we stopped at a cute little creperie with the weirdest menu for lunch. While we had normal main meals (schnitzel and bruschetta) the desserts were another story. There was every type of crepe combination imaginable and also this weird thing called ice cream spaghetti (literally ice cream put through a spaghetti squeezer thingy so it comes out looking like stringy pasta – in all sorts of colours, with any form of topping, berries, chocolate or strawberry sauce, smarties… you name it). Nakita was brave enough to order the sweet ‘spaghetti’ which actually turned out to be pretty awesome, while I had the old favourite of Nutella crepes with strawberries (felt I had to have something Frenchy in the French-speaking country). Better late than never, we’d found somewhere nice to eat!

dessert spaghetti!

view from a castle window, complete with Luxembourg flag

We completed the return trip to Luxembourg City and then it was straight on to the next train, stopping only once on the way back to Maas this time and arriving home about 9.30pm, making it four border crossings and 3 countries in 36 hours :)



Day 200(!) - Sprouting off to Brussels

Day 200 (Thurs) - Brussels for the day … because I had nothing better to do!

After finishing my assignments for this study period yesterday I decided to go on a little adventure today. It took me just an hour and a half by direct train to get from Maastricht to Brussels. I’d seen a piece on the news about a cool ‘taxidermy as art’ exhibition there and thought “any excuse will do” right? Once in Brussels centre, I made a quick detour to visit the Manneken Pis statue – literally a tiny statue of a little boy peeing into a fountain. It’s infamous, and oddly today the little statue boy was dressed in a tiny tuxedo and top hat! Across from the statue I ceded to the temptation of a Belgian waffle, with melted chocolate and strawberries of course, and proceeded to eat it with my fingers as I wandered down the road towards a bus stop.

Little Mannaken Pis doin his thing!

To get to the taxidermy exhibition I had to catch a bus to the suburbs which took about half an hour but was actually a worthwhile experience, just to see how the streets and buildings change, not to mention sitting next to locals on the bus :P The museum was the quirkiest little place, hidden away down a side street. It was a small space inside, a warren of about 4 small rooms with cute Dutch blue and white tiles on the walls, ornate wooden display cabinets and the loveliest French speaking lady running the place who did her best with English for me. The exhibition itself featured stuffed frogs positioned as playing in an orchestra, a baby chimpanzee, a Dodo bird created like out of Alice in Wonderland, a giant elephant’s head/ear and a rather graphic but admittedly interesting video about the process of taxidermy.

froggy orchestra!

froggies chillin' out in the bar!

From there it was back to town to another museum, featuring works by Rene Magritte (the guy famous for his painting of a pipe emblazoned with French words saying “this is not a pipe”). We learned about Magritte and his work in art class last semester so it was cool to see more of his stuff and recognise some of its characteristics etc. It’s really crazy kind of surreal stuff, some dream-like, some just odd. I must admit I didn’t really understand much of it, but that doesn’t stop it from looking cool and being interesting. The most fascinating thing though was the type of people in this museum – it was FULL of school students on tours. Now a lot of Magritte’s stuff features nudity and some pretty full-on sexual themes – but here were these kids, no older than about 8 I’d guess, in groups of about 12, in their smart school uniforms, following their teacher from painting to painting receiving an education that I waited until 23 (just last semester) to get, and receiving it in French no less!

view from the Museumplein

After all that contemplation it was time for a tea break. I’d read in my Lonely Planet (thanks Jess!) that Brussels is home to one of the oldest arcades in Europe and inside was a brilliant little café run “just like Grandma’s house” so I headed there. And it was true – the arcade was gorgeous, old, golden and detailed. The stores inside were glamorous and expensive. And the café was homey but amazingly reasonably priced. I couldn’t resist the fresh raspberry cheesecake on the tart cart, coupled with a pot of tea, and settled in to read a book for an hour or so while Brussels passed by through the arcade.

old ornate arcade with glass ceiling

lunch!

There was time left for a little walk around the town centre’s cobbled streets and open squares before the train back to Maastricht. I had extremely good luck with transport all day and was home by about 9.30pm – a solid 12 hours “abroad”!

Days 173 to 176 - Munchin' on pretzels in Munchen

Day 173 (Fri) *More beeeer, more beeeer, more beeeer, more beeer*

Flying in to Munich for the final leg of my three-week Christmas break. The weather had been fairly mild in London, no snow falling, so I was surprised to see the ground covered in snow as far as I could see when I looked out the airplane window as we descended to land. However, by the time we got closer to the centre of the city the snow had melted and I was pleasantly surprised to find out later that a burst of “warm” air coming over the mountains from Italy (south) was creating unseasonally mild temperatures in Munich too, so it was around 9C the whole time I was there.

view of snow-covered Munich countryside from the plane window

Arriving in early afternoon, I headed straight for the hostel to meet Andra (from Canada) who had been there a couple of days already. First things first we wandered off to the nearest beer hall – complete with ladies in the proper costume, wooden pews to sit on bowls of big fresh pretzels sitting temptingly on every long table. We sat down to plates of cabbage salad, potato salad, meat stew and enormous housemade ravioli (because its further south in Germany there’s a bit of an Italian influence apparently). Was delicious, and all washed down with a refreshing Pilsener. But that was just the beginning, from there we joined a tour of a few of Munich’s finest, if lesser known, beer halls. The tour guide who was Canadian but lived there obviously took us to some of the places she liked including Lowenbrau (which looked like a mini castle), Augustiner Keller (a cool brick underground cellar), one I can’t remember but which was right across from the Oktoberfest grounds (all silent at that time obviously) and which served its beer from vats on site. We learned a drinking song which we sang with terrible pronunciation and no concept of tune and also discovered that beer from Bavaria (the area of Germany which includes Munich) tastes so great and fresh because it is not legally allowed to include non-natural ingredients. Last stop that night was actually the bar in our hostel which was quite handy.

gohst lady at the underground beer hall!

Day 174 (Sat) A more sober day...

Today we dedicated  about 7 hours in total to visiting the Dachau memorial site, about an hour out of town. I won’t attempt to give a history lesson here but I want to share what it felt like to be in a place where so many innocent people were held against their will, starved, degraded, tortured and eventually murdered and incinerated. We walked through old prison rooms, cold, small cement squares with tiny windows. We walked through bare wooden barracks crammed with hard wooden bunks and benches where prisoners slept and ate. We walked through the grounds of the surprisingly large complex, past rows and rows of building bases where the barracks used to be, constraining thousands of people. Most morbid though was the building housing the gas chambers and the incinerators. There was this awful smell that I kept noticing, almost like it was in my nose, musty, dusty, almost wooden – it’s hard to explain but I smelt it everywhere. The rooms, with cement walls and little sun light, were freezing, colder than outside even. The museum however was heated and we spent some time reading about how the camp came to be, how it operated and how it was eventually closed down. There were awful stories of female prisoners made to have abortions, of humiliating hazings by guards, of escape attempts and of course so many deaths. There also was a film which showed the all too familiar footage of human beings just skin and bones or bodies being literally carted away. Given it was such a long day we had brought with us sandwiches for lunch – but after a few mouthfuls it became obvious it wasn’t really a place where one could eat. Throughout the day I felt a mixture of sad, sickened, angry, disbelieving, helpless… but the one thing that kept coming to mind was how the guards could have carried all this out. How could people want to do such things, how could they let it happen? Surely they could see what they were doing was wrong? I don’t know. No one can get inside the minds of people back then, and there were obviously a lot of factors at play that I don’t or can’t understand. But all day, that one question rang in my ears – why?! By the time we left, around 5pm, both Andra and I were feeling rather nauseous and quite drained. Back in town, we needed to just lay down in the hostel and rest for a while until we felt more normal…

After a break we planned to visit the most infamous beer hall in Munich, the Hofbrau haus. Luckily we bumped into a couple of girls from the beer tour the previous night and sat down with them, next to two blokes who were actually from Munich. We asked them incredulously “Isn’t this place only for toursits?” “Yes,” they said, “that’s why we come here – for the entertainment!” We were lucky to meet them though as they engaged us in the proper ways of cheers-ing and explained what was going on when tables around us all of a sudden burst into one drinking song or another. As well as the litre steins of beer, the food there was pretty good too (I had potato soup and apple strudel, just to be as German as possible!). And there were in fact men walking around in rather traditional looking leiderhosen. Apparently if you drink there often enough for long enough (like 3 times a week minimum for some decades) you get your own booth at the Hofbrau haus, and if you happen to come along one night and someone is sitting at your table, you are entitled to ask them to get up and move! Handy at Oktoberfest time I bet! On the way home we stopped back in at the beer hall from the first night for one last beverage and were mightily amused to see, at the McDonald’s on the way back to the hostel, a wiener burger! It was literally a few whole, round sausages in a burger bun :P

steins at Hofbrau haus

Day 175 (Sun) A schnitzel as big as my head!

After a bit of a sleep in (following a sleepless night thanks to the old bloke in our dorm who snored worse than Dad!) we joined another free walking tour. I must admit, the Munich tour wasn’t as captivating as in Berlin, but it was still interesting to learn about where Hitler made some of his early speeches in Munich, the reaction to them etc as well as some of the city’s landmarks, churches, museums, maypoles(!) etc.

town hall: looks old but was actually built in the 1990s

After a few hours wandering around I stopped off at a tiny toy museum on the way home to see an odd collection of old-school barbies and other weird and wonderful toys.

graduate barbie!

freaked out dollies :S

That night, we planned to hunt down Munich’s best schnitzel (as recommended by our ‘local’ beer tour guide). She was NOT wrong. We made the effort to get on the tube and trek out (only about 15 mins away) to a student neighbourhood to a small little eatery. We dutifully ordered the pork schnitzel and a beer each – and both were huge. The schnitzel came on a plate as round as the space between my arms if I make a circle in front of my body; covered in chips and then covered in schnitzel. Honestly, this thing looked like an enormous meat butterfly, two big wings of beaten pig in the most delicious, moist crumbing, garnished with the traditional slice of lemon. Even the side salad was substantial and delicious. Unfortunately, we could have starved ourselves for a week and still not been able to finish it all (where’s Brett when I need him? Or Nellie and Noodles!) But at only 10 euro it was worth it anyway. In fact, I still salivate when I think about it… mmm

before...

after!

Back at the hostel, our stomachs full but with room for another beer or two, we took part in a quiz night in which some of our newfound knowledge from the tour that morning came in handy! Then it was off to bed for an early start the next day … back to Maastricht.

Day 176 (Mon) Returning ‘home’

In a stroke of luck, the only time it rained while I was in Munich was the morning I was leaving@ Andra was going on to Vienna so I packed my backpack and headed for the airport. The flight (to Cologne, the nearest big city to Maastricht I could get a flight home to) took about an hour and then it was a train to Cologne centre from the airport, then three train changes to get back to Maastricht station – ugh. And as if that wasn’t enough, I had to make a detour on the bus home from the train station to stop at uni (after missing classes to travel home that day and needing to sort a few things out with a tutor) What a trip, man was I knackered and after all that … I had class at 8.30am the next day!!!

An overwhelmed Australian abroad...

... that's exactly how I feel at the moment, overwhelmed and accutely Australian. If you read the last post you'll remember it ended in a rant.... well, I must warn you to prepare yourself for another. This not a "feel sorry for me" post or an "I'm homesick" post, but I had to get a few things off my chest - some thoughts that have been building up for a while now.

Firstly, the news from home is just all bad these days. The European and British news services are constantly showing dramatic pictures of floods, cyclones, bushfires back home. First it was south-east queensland drowning after praying for rain, then the far north holding on to its hat as a cyclone the size of Italy (as the euro news points out) bore down, then Perth is suddenly ablaze and finally, as I'm sitting in a pub in Luxembourg, I glance up at the BBC broadcast on silent on the flatscreen and see the headline "Melbourne awash in floods" and bicycles and kids toys floating down the street. I can't imagine how people are feeling at home (and that's half the problem, being so far from it all) but I wonder when our country is going to get a breather. It is all a bit more than an expat can handle at the moment. People here ask about the "unusual weather" in Australia, is my family anywhere near the danger? oh, no? well that's ok then right? But it's not ok - its still my country, my homeland, on fire, under water, being blown away literally. And its affecting a lot more than I realised...

However, as I think about the devastation Australians are facing, the next news item comes on and its even worse somewhere else in the world. When the first Queensland floods happened there were floods in South America which killed hundreds of people and swept away entire villages in seconds... just in case I'd lost perspective. And of course, we hear about such world events at home, but to have it juxtaposed in that way had a completely new impact on me.

Living in Europe has made me receptive in a new way to the impact of world events. There's always something happening somewhere and its usually bad. While I see international news back home, here it's not international, often its nextdoor! And there is something far more sobering and real about being geographically closer to these once merely abstract problems. Conversely there is something harder about being so far away from the problems I know to be very real and familiar back home.

Australia is one country, an island surrounded by vast expanses of water and - eventually - some other islands. Here, I am living a 10 minute walk from a country that wants to ban the burqa, I'm a stonesthrow from the unrest in Egypt and Tunisia, the recent terrorist bombing just above my head in Russia, an explosion in Ankara to one side and money problems of countries failing to support their most vulnerable all around. And speaking of, I was also approached the other night by the first homeless person I have met in Maastricht. Apparently here the welfare system is quite good but I still felt a pang of guilt that I, a rich little Australian off glavanting abroad with enough money to be heading out for coffee, didn't spare more than a few coins for this man who was homeless (clearly) but still managed to greet me and hold a conversation in English (the thought struck me that even the homeless in Europe are bilingual... ?!)

Particularly the unrest in Egypt is weighing on my mind tho - its literally always on the euronews channel, live footage of crowds which sound like packed football stadiums yelling to oust a President they've had for 30 years (longer than I've been alive!) and this is the only way they can get rid of him?! And the cost to foreign journalists has brought up all sorts of feelings about the career path I and many of my friends have chosen. These journos - like any I know - are just reporting. Without them, I wouldn't be able to turn on my TV and find out what's going on in a land Iv'e never visited. And there they are, being subjected to hotel room ransackings, harrassment on the streets, knife wounds, even death in the case of one Egyptian reporter. And on top of all that, it seems as though the foreign journalists are being blamed for "stirring up" some of the unrest in the first place. It makes my blood boil honestly.

And the worst thing about all of this is that there is absolutely nothing I can do. I can't put out fires in WA, I can't soak up Queenslands watery streets or its misery, I wouldn't even know where to start with Egypt and giving a couple of Euro to a homeless Dutchman doesn't go nearly far enough. It's enough to make a girl feel utterly helpless ... overwhelmed, as I conceded at the start of this rant. I'm not talking about wanting to being able to control or "fix" things, but the combination of all the above as confirmation that I, that most of us, have such a small impact on the world is only making me more accutely aware of the impact the world is having on me right now.

Days 167 to 171 - SUNSHINE my long lost friend (courtesy of Morocco)

Day 167 (Sat) - A 'flying' start to the year! (get it...? get it...? :p)
I spent the first day of 2011 all up in the air - literally. After about four hours sleep I dragged myself out of bed and was walked  dutifully to the airport bus by my two Socttish tour guide mates. At Edinburgh airport I randomly saw an enormous billboard with the Sydney Harbour bridge on it - our taxes hard at work! From Edinburgh I flew to London and faced my first challenge at negotiating Heathrow airport and its multiple and sprawling terminals. I'd like to point out that I CAN read maps, I DIDN'T get lost or lose any luggage and I made my flight on time! From London I flew first to Casablanca (of film fame) and then finally to Marrakech - although oddly we didn't get off the plane at Casablanca, we just landed, let some people off, picked up some more and took off again. Notably there were HEAPS of Italians on the flight there - perhaps a popular Italian holiday destination? Mum and dad met me at the airport and boy was I glad to see them waiting there. Apparently they had a horror time getting there (manic traffic and people everywhere for New Year's Day). We taxied to the hotel Mum had booked and then had to walk down this crazy winding dark alley on foot – mum and dad apparently knew where they were going and looking back on it now it makes sense but at the time I was thinking where the hell am i?! All of a sudden we stopped and knocked on this big dark door with a proper knocker and a nice young Moroccan man answered the door with a “hellooo” and a smile like mum and dad are long lost friends! The hotel, or ryad as they’re known, was as I’d hoped – built up around a central courtyard (as traditional ryads are) with mosaic tiled floors, coloured walls, wrought iron furniture but with pillows and lounges, a little pool (not for swimming just for looks) and a fountain, and curtains draped everywhere. There were orange trees growing up through the courtyard with big fat oranges hanging on them. We were on the third floor, 3 single beds in one room – yay! The room was a bit cold because of the cement walls and huge gaps between the door and the walls! but nothing like Maastricht or London cold! The bathroom had a red clay kind of alcove shower and "moroccan rose" soap :) After such a long day travelling and a shower in what felt a bit like a cave (in a cool way) I was ready to crash in my single bed - earplugs at the ready (sorry Dad Xx)

Our ryad courtyard

our room on the top floor

Mum and Dad on the top balcony of our ryad

Day 168 (Sun) Introduction to chaos

After the cutest breakfast at the ryad (with this delicious fig (or was it quince?) jam, fresh bread and moroccan mint tea) we ventured  out into the sunshine (yes, SUNSHINE) towards the "big square" as the locals call it when directing tourists. Luckily it was a straight walk pretty much and then all of a sudden the fairly narrow "street" (more like a pedestrian way with the odd bicycle, scooter or donkey led cart crashing through and nearly taking someone down) we emerged into the large open square (where we would come to spend quite a bit of time). The square was teeming with snake charmers, guys with monkeys on leashes, dudes dressed in crazy red hats banging cymbals, fresh orange juice stalls, women painting henna tattoos and people shopping and eating. Within a few minutes of being there I had the second-scariest experience of the Morocco trip - a woman came out of nowhere, grabbed my right hand and was about to stick what looked, at first sight, like an enormous syringe filled with brown stuff into my skin!!!! Turns out she was a henna painter and the "Syringe" had not needle but was just an easy way to apply it. Unfortunately, she was also my first introduction into the persistence and aggression of Moroccan touts and hawkers. She would NOT let go of my hand, while spinning this tale (in English of course) about how if the henna went dark I would have "very good marriage". I tried to explain I hadn't asked for anything but it was futile. The woman wouldn't release her pincer grip and it would have looked dumb if she'd stopped halfway through anyway (given it lasts for days). After going to the lengths of sprinkling some glitter on the finished design she then demanded the equivalent of about 5 pounds from memory. Having just arrived, I had absolutely no Moroccan money on me so mum had to give her some change (not as much as she asked for but enough to get her moving anyway). So, my first lesson learned - don't let yourself be accosted! From then on, I kept a keen eye on who was approaching us.

'traditional' water sellers in the main square

my enforced henna design, i quite liked it though

Still, it was a lovely day, and we took a walk in the ... you guessed it ... sunshine! to the Koutoubia Mosque (one of the oldest in Marrakech from memory and probably the most well known) and then to the public gardens behind it. It was inexplicably wonderful to wander around in one layer of clothing (and a shawl of course), with a clear blue sky, a slight breeze and warmth from the sun :D We stopped at a place in the square to have lunch and Dad introduced me to the lemon chicken tagines he'd been eating for the 3 days before I got there! delicious. and continuing my suspicions about the Italians, it seems many of the restaurants serve really good pizzas too.

koutoubia mosque and BLUE SKIES!
Next we took a ride in a horse buggy, I suppose you'd call it (they're everywhere in the main square) out to the Jardin Majorelle - a mainly cactus garden, artfully laid out and encompassing a house which used to be owed by Yves Saint Laurent. Inside that house, now a museum, was a beautiful collection of his designs inspired by Morocco, which Mum and I visited. The designes stretched from the 1960s to quite recently and it was interesting to see Mum recognise so many designs and fabrics. The colours were just beautiful and you could definitely see how these designs came from the women we could see around us outside.
 

Jardin Majorelle

Unfortunately, we didn't take the hourse carriage back and got completely lost trying to walk back to the main square for dinner. The souks - the market streets - are an absolute rabbit warren and you can't see any sort of landmark by looking up and all the hawkers are telling you to go in different directions. The streets don't last for very long before they come to an intersection of split off in another direction. It was a miracle we eventually made it back out into the open! Once in the square again I busted out some of my high school French (NOT as good as I'd hope it would be after 5 years!) and we had coffee and croissants :) Later we had dinner at a balcony restaurant with a lovely night time veiw of the flat rooftops, the moon in the sky ... oh and satellite tv dishes everywhere! As for the food, all of it was very tasty, they serve these great semi-flat bread rolls with every meal and there was a pot of cumin on the table which I smelt and was instantly reminded of Houmus (although, sadly, this was as close as I got to houmus there, apparently its more a turkish thing). Only downside is the prices have skyrocketed since Mum and Dad both visited separately in the 70s.

rooftop dinner

Day 169 (Mon) BIRTHDAY!!

Left ryad at midday (after viewing some truly fabulous birthday msgs/videos on FB) to then have the most awful experience I've had on a birthday (yes, even worse than having to spend 17 hours in a car driving back from Sydney one year). We were heading to a tannery off the beaten track and a guy latched on to us wanting to take us there for "no money, no money" which of course meant $$. We said no, he said no worries, we said no again, he wouldn't leave us alone - eventually mum had to bust out the "we'll call the tourist police" threat and then he just snapped, yelling at us in a mixture of languages, his eyes bugging out of his head and literally frothing at the mouth. Ugh, talk about unsettling birthday vibes. After that, I threw the 24-year-old equivalent of a hissy fit and announced that I wanted to get out of there pronto and go somewhere birthday worthy (preferable inside!).

And so we did - the Marrakech museum, much better with a cool courtyard out the front where I got a fresh birthday orange juice and even had a coffee (yes, look at me go) before venturing inside to see amazing mosaic celings and floors, cool jewellery (including necklace talismans with, I quote, "prohylactic" qualities! as in for safety protection though, not baby protection), pottery and ornate wooden carvings. It was very cool inside the thick walls and obviously no one hassling you like out on the streets. Next stop was an outdoor relic type building (best part of that was walking around int he sun having a look) and finally a theological college which featured the most inexplicably intricate moulded stucco ceilings and door archways, more mosaics, a calm pool in the middle of a courtyard etc.

Marrakech Museum mosaics

theological college couryard

Dinner that night in the square again before grabbing some birthday biscuits from a delicious little bakery on the way home. Back at the ryad we ordered fresh mint tea and sat outside on one of the balcony areas (yes, outside, at night - and we didn't freeze!) and had tea and cookies for substitute birthday cake :)

Mum and I gobbling birthday dessert

DAY 170 (Tues) Running for the hills
Due to mum's prodigous planning we were able to seek refuge in the hills today. A driver picked us up in a sedan and we spent the day stopping off along the way, heading into the hills/waterfalls and napping in the car on the way back! I started out speaking my admittedly terrible french to our driver Halid who spoke only some English. It was good at first, I could understand him and get some basic points across, and translate for mum and dad. But I hit a speed bump when mum started asking me to say things that I had no idea how to say in french (although on the upside, I realised how much I could have said in Dutch if the occasion had called for it!). And by the time we were on the way home, I was pretty knackered and didn't have the brain power to speak another language so it was a pretty silent trip home (excpet for the terribly embarassing 90s western music coming from the radio - think a cover of Lady gaga done by a community radio station :P)

bridge we crossed during our hills trip

During out trip we stopped off at a house of the Berber (village) people for some fresh made flat bread, honey and olive oil (which tasted completely natural) and fresh tea, as well as a look around their house. It all felt like a bit of a set up (they were obviously quite a well off family who got tips from everyone who visited) but it was still pretty cool to see their kitchen (still very rudimentary), where they kept the cows under the house(!) and the TINY alcove for the shower.

After a big day we had a low key dinner - mum and dad brought back an assortment of stuff from a place nearby and we had a sort of picnic out on the balcony again. I LOVE the salads there, they have spices and herbs on them that taste great and the meat generally melts off the bone. And the bread, oh the bread, warm and crusty mmmm. NO HOUMUS tho!!! devo

Day 171 (Wed) Last day
First stop today was a Maison des Glaces (ice cream shop) on the square to satisfy Dad's craving :P Then we took our time wandering around the souk markets at a time of day when they weren't too hectic and it was actually much nicer. We saw stalls with towering piles of olives or fresh mint leaves, pig heads sitting on tagine plates!, leather and wood works, chickens in cages and some guy who yelled out that he could sell dad herbal viagra!!! I bought a shawl (with mums help) - a bright green on, surprise surprise, to liven up my black/grey/brown maastricht wardrobe. Our last dinner was an early one, again on the square (its the place to be) with a great view out over the action. Dinner was a good pizza, another lemon/chicken tagine, some grilled chicken shazlicks and salad, and more fresh OJ (i miss that now). And we were treated to a sound track of drumming from down in the square and even some fire twirlers (while being a safe distance from the monkey handlers trying to impose their tiny beasts on us!) We were also lucky enough to be in town for a Morocco v France soccer match, being held just out of town at Marrakech stadium, which we were able to watch on a portable big screen in the main square. It took us an embarrassingly long time to figure out which team was which but it became obvious after a while (judging by the crowd reaction), although it also became clear it was probably france's B-team. Topped the night off with another ice cream (wanted to make the most of ice cream weather given its freezing in maastricht but I don't have a freezer!) and then back to the ryad.

aerial view of the main square

browsing in the markets

Day 172 (Thurs) On the road again
Another full day of travel, from Marrakech airport, via Casablanca again, to Heathrow airport, where we stayed at a hotel near the airport grounds so we could all get our flights out the next day. Was a nice opportunity to have one last dinner and drink at the bar with Mum and Dad, look back over the holiday and say a proper goodbye.

Day 173 (Fri) See you in 6 months!
Early morning departure for me so Mum dutifully got up to have breakfast with me (but I don't blame Dad for needing his sleep!) Then it was a hug and a kiss goodbye before I jumped on the arport shuttle bus to make my way to Munich - the last leg of this mammoth break....

Epilogue: Forgive me now as I'm going to have a huge rant about Marrakech. Let me preface the rant by saying that I was very grateful to be able to visit Marrakech, I learned a lot, gained some life experience, got some sun and some tasty food and was able to spend my birthday somewhere exotic with my parents. However, it was tough to be there...
I was completely overwhelmed with helplessness at the poverty here. Theres this cycle of feeling sorry for someone begging, then annoyance and not wanting to give them anything, mixed with a bit of skepticism, then helplessness and hoplessness because even if I gave them 100 durhims (Moroccan currency) it still wouldn’t do any lasting good, so then this feeling that how can I really help anyone, and then anger at their government, why don’t they have welfare or health care, and realisation of the magnitude of the problem and the lack of future or likely change, how will it change and when and what must be done and will it ever be done, so then I end up feeling completely awful that I don’t give anything and yet I have so much myself and these things are so easy for me… but then I still don’t give anything because it won’t make much difference anyway!!!!Except then I see the little kids and all they want is an ice cream and it would make such a difference to their day … but then the skepticism creeps in again, if I do it for that kid, what about all the others? Its not fair for just one … but isn’t one better than none…. OH I just can’t face it, I ended up being cowardly because I just wanted to be away from it. I resolve to do something about it in my future, to volunteer, to support or start a charity … but of course that’s like saying I’ll diet… ugh the whole thing just make me so depressed … I actually almost cried…

Also the whole covering and men thing has really gotten to me … men make funny noises when you walk past, you can FEEL their eyes on you and they shuffle in your direction, one guy came round my back and made odd noises in my ear, others whistle or say “very nice” or some such things in the little English they know, or in French, others still might say nasty things but it all just made me feel so uncomfortable, so exposed, so insecure and self conscious. I looked down all the time, I avoided men’s gazes or try to get out of their way. I’m acutely aware of how close I am to them or where I can move to hide. But the odd thing is I AM covered, so much more so than in western society, but I feel more exposed because of their standards … and bc I’m foreign. I REALLY hope this is not what women in western societies who come from places like this feel like around us...

hrm... anyway... that's all I suppose. just wanted to get that off my chest.
actually, I got that off my chest at the time but its been a month since I got home and I'm only now completing this blog and looking back its already easier to digest - but I thought it was important to include my thoughts at the time when I was actually emotionally so affected by it.
Food for thought perhaps and a recorded reminder of my feelings for future reflection I hope...