Dinner in Marrakech

A juke to the left, and then I perform a spin move around a very aggressive restaurant employee so that I can explore more options before making a decision. And by restaurant, I mean a tent covering a stove alongside several tables, one of which is full of raw ingredients waiting to be cooked. The food is all traditional Moroccan and every restaurant prepares identical dishes with identical prices. That is probably why they all feel the need to tackle prospective customers as they walk near. The first night, after failing to understand the menu, which is written all in French, I stand up and point to vegetables and meats that are laid out on the table instead of guessing what each might be called on the menu. The food comes out hot and as soon as its ready. Adam and I eat like this for two nights, and over those nights I try the couscous with chicken, meat skewers, peppers, mushrooms, and potatoes, all of which are delicious. And after dinner, we wash down the meal with a glass of sweet mint tea before settling our very reasonable bill.

Dinner in Marrakesh

That all said, my favorite Moroccan dish is Tagine, which are slow cooked so that the meat, either chicken or beef, comes right off the bone and melts in my mouth. Unfortunately, the dish is very hot, so when it’s close to 100 degrees outside, a hot meal becomes slightly less appetizing.

The Orange Juice

One glass, two glass
The oranges amass
A fruit and a snack
I always go back

To the orange stand
With no particular brand
And juice so pro-pulp
That I must always gulp.

And at four dirham for one
Being one and done
Would be a big joke
For any thirsty bloke.

Orange juice stand in Marrakech
Orange juice stand in Marrakech

Casablanca

“The guidebooks love to tell you that the movie, perhaps the most famous film ever made, was shot entirely in Hollywood. I found it strange that it should have attracted such a cult following, famous for being famous. As the first scenes came and went, I couldn’t help but notice that the Casablanca depicted on-screen had very little to do with the city in which I was sitting. Indeed, I wondered if the two had ever been true reflections of each other. In the film, wartime Casablanca was a mysterious haven in which refugees heading for America would become stranded. Although the story line may have been founded on a fragment of truth, the city dreamt up on Warner Brothers’ back lot was a suffocating blend of Arab styles, whereas Casablanca of the time was European from top to toe.”

I can relate this quote from Tahir Shah’s “The Caliph’s House” to at least one emotion I felt while wandering around the city of Casablanca. Before arriving, my main exposure to the city came from this award-winning film. My high school prom was even themed Casablanca. I had my fedora ready and was prepared to task Sam to play it again. When I arrived, as Shah describes above, Casablanca is slightly different than the movie suggests. And Rick’s Cafe even closed at the early hour of 12pm on a Saturday night.

Arches from Hassan II Mosque

Hassan II Mosque

The city has a look that it used to be a more glamorous city and that it is trying to recapture some of that sparkle. For example, as I was doing Lonely Planet’s walking tour, I noticed they are in the process of tearing up a major road to install a tram system. In addition, in the 1990’s, the Hassan II Mosque was built on the water’s front. This mosque, one of the King’s projects costing about half a billion dollars, is a controversial subject considering the high unemployment rates in Morocco and the other uses for such a large sum of money. That said, the mosque looked like it cost about that with its 210 meter tall minaret, its courtyard made to handle crowds of 80,000, its centrally heated floor, a different glass floor, and its retractable roof. There was a line somewhere and I think Hassan II may have crossed it.

Fountain in Casablanca

Rialto Theatre, Casablanca

Staying at the Hotel Central in Casablanca’s Old Medina, the owner of the Hotel recommended we try a nearby restaurant called Sqala for dinner. We did just that, were not dissappointed, and it later reappeared in Shah’s book.

“[Zohra, Shah’s assistant,] suggested an excellent restaurant called Sqala, set in a former Portuguese fortress on the cusp of the medina. Moroccan food tends to be as inferior in restaurants as it is superior in the home. To achieve the subtle flavors takes an astonishing amount of care and time. The ambiance is important as the food itself, as is the attention lavished on a guest. As you gorge yourself on the delicacies, with your hosts whispering flattery, it’s very hard not to give in to delusion.

“The meal reintroduced me to the sensory marvels of real Moroccan cuisine. We ordered a selection of dishes. There was chicken tagine flavored with tumeric, honey, and apricots; a pair of sea bream marinated in a saffron sauce and served on a bed of couscous. After that came bistiya, a vast platter of sweet pastry, beneath which lay wafer-thin layers of pigeons, almonds, and egg.

“Zohra said the family was the center of Moroccan life, and that food was at the center of the family.”

A couple other highlights of my short time in Casablanca were both athletically driven. In the afternoon, the Casablanca futbol team won its league (or something along those lines based on the explanation I was given in broken english), and those dressed in green and white flew their flags, crammed into buses unclear to where, and made lots of noise. Then the following morning, on our way to the Hassan II Mosque, Adam and I walked along a part of a half marathon route. We pretended that we were disappointed that we didn’t know it was occurring as if we would have participated otherwise.

Time for celebration in Casablanca

Although Casablanca was not the cultural center of Morocco, it did have some impressive sights and offered some delicious tastes for my first day in the country.

Istanbul, Turkey

Adam and Andrew’s excellent adventure continues onwards to Turkey, but instead of using a phone booth, we’ll probably stick to an airplane for this journey.

Kebabs, hazelnuts, corn, smashed ice cream and more all the line the streets around Istanbul. More than a snack, the smashed ice cream felt like a show. A server who was all dressed up swung around a half meter long spade-esque utensil kneading the ice cream, lifting it out of its freezer, spinning it around, hitting a bell or two, and then returning the ice cream back only to perform the same routine on another flavor. After a little haggling, Adam and I tried a layering of many flavors atop a sugar cone. The hazelnuts stands, although not as exciting, were impossible to ignore as they sent out smoke signals letting us know when we were close. The smoke from roasting the nuts may have been more okay if the amount of cigarette smoke had not already over-sensitized me.

From the Istanbul Grand Bazaar

A quick aside on cigarettes: Most of the cigarette packs I have seen thus far in Europe have largely printed warnings such as “Smoking kills!” and “Smoking causes cancer” along with graphic images of diseased lungs, removed larynx’s, hospitalized patients and more. However, despite these efforts, smoking companies seem to have little to fear on this side of the Atlantic as most people are not slowing down consumption. During this trip, without ever having a cigarette of my own, I feel like I have begun regular consumption through second hand smoke. In addition, in Turkey, hookah is a very popular activity, and although it is not addictive, it still shares most of the negative effects of cigarettes.

Although cigarettes are one of Europe’s bad habits I am trying to come to terms with, a different Turkish habit that I immediately embraced is the widespread Tavla (also known as backgammon). Most bars and cafes leave out Tavla boards to play while guests drink a beer or tea. One evening, Adam and I enjoy a bit of a Tavla marathon before heading back to our hostel.

While in Istanbul, we are staying at the Bahaus Hostel, where we are greeted by the friendly and always joking Volcano. Volcano is in fact what he called himself; however, it was a nickname for a different name that I did not learn. We walk inside and Volcano steals my hat and sunglasses before giving us a tour of the common areas, bathrooms, and rooftop. Full of information and always willing to help, Volcano made the hostel experience very enjoyable. In addition, Adam and I met the other guests on our first evening while enjoying the rooftop bar, cheap beers and kebabs. And by the end of the evening, we made a plan to tour with three girls we met from Hawaii the following morning. But before morning came, the rooftop provided an international experience in itself as we all taught each other popular games from our respective world regions including the USA, Belgium, France and the UK. I recommend the Bahaus Hostel near the old city of Istanbul to any future backpackers and budget travelers.

Istanbul is a fun city, alive with young people, with culture, and with a proud history. Istanbul and Turkey will be a place to which I already know I need to return.

The view from Bahaus Hostel, Istanbul
The view from Bahaus Hostel, Istanbul

En Route to Mykonos

I land in Athens, find a bus to Piraeus Port, and figure out how the ferries operate. I arrive with a list of islands in mind that I might like to visit and learn which island the next ferry will be traveling to. In twenty minutes, there is a ferry leaving for Mykonos Island (one that was on my list), I figure out how to navigate the large, major port of Athens, and am soon on my way to a Greek Island. The ferry boat is less of a water taxi and more of a cruise liner, complete with 5 levels, bars, restaurants, couches and tables. After a windy and sunny four and a half hours, a quick stop at Paros Island, and a snack, I am greeted at the Mykonos port by many trying to sell their guest houses and hotels. I meet Christina from Mama’s Pension, like the sound of the place and the photos she shows me, and I am soon getting a ride in her car to the guest house. The house is run by Christina and her mother, “Mama”, both of whom are very friendly and helpful in providing tips of how to navigate the island. Mama’s Pension is about 2 km outside of town, but Christina gives me and another house guest, Kristen, a ride into the main town in the early evening. I look forward to a relaxing couple days while exploring the island and starting to learn more about Greek culture.

On my way to Mykonos Island

Kristen (from Australia who is currently studying in Sweden) and I explore the city as the sun starts to set, all the while looking for a perfect spot to enjoy a drink and watch the day’s final light. After exploring and photographing the windmills and Little Venice in various parts of town, we settle down at a nice bar called Katerina’s, which is located in Little Venice and has a small west-facing balcony. The food is a bit on the pricey side given our budgets, but we enjoy a drink to keep our seats, and after dark settles in, we move on to a small gryo shop down the street. A gyro is a delicious pita wrap filled with meat from a vertical spit, tomato, onion, tzatziki sauce, and french fries. Because they are inexpensive and my hunger still strong, I go back for seconds. The gyro may have been so good because of the delicious tzatziki sauce with its yogurt, cucumbers, garlic, olive oil and dill. I immediately know I will be searching this place out again before leaving the island.

Delicious Greek gryo

The Kids Table

As I travel and search for new cultural experiences, I want to try the local foods, see how different people lead their lives, and start to understand the world as they do. Having dinner with Quynh and her family is this authentic experience. I arrive at her home complete with a small store front, several bedrooms, a kitchen, a small dining room, a chicken pen, and her big family. Quynh has 4 other sisters, all of whom live at home with their father, mother, grandparents, and two dogs. The newest addition to the family at only 6 months old is Susu. When I arrive, I meet most of the players as we all congregate in the front while the father mans the store of cigarettes, snacks, and drinks.

My Hue Family

Hue Grandparents

After a tour of the home, much playing with the baby, and getting to the know the family while using a couple of the sisters as translator’s, it is time for dinner. At this point, one of the sister’s boyfriends also enters the scene, making dinner a crowded occasion. As would happen in my family, the adults sit at one table and the kids sit at another. The parents and grandparents sit in the dining room, while the kids sit outside around a small table.

The food is traditional and at times, too traditional. I try everything on the table, and as I am eating, the five sisters continue adding more to my plate. Most of the dishes I enjoy even if I have little idea what it is I’m actually consuming, and half way through the meal, I realize not knowing is probably easier than knowing. One of the sisters puts something in my plate, and because they like to joke and try to mislead me, I assume when they say it’s a pig’s tail, they are trying to get a reaction out of me. I give them their reaction as my face cringes, but I learn that they are not joking and slowly work my way around the cartilage in the center of the tail.

The night ends where it began, in the front near the street. We drink tea, laugh, and learn about each others’ cultures and customs while I thank them repeatedly for their hospitality using the new Vietnamese vocabulary I learned during the day. Half jokingly, one of Quynh’s sisters keeps questioning me if I want to take Quynh back to the States with me. I respond with an uncomfortable smile and an enthusiastic yes. The follow up question is then do I want to take one of the other sisters back with me. Again I smile, blush, and respond that the whole family should come to California. They all laugh at me, and I feel relieved. Before leaving, we arrange ourselves in many permutations for a quick photo shoot so that we all can remember the night.

More than the inspiring sites and adrenaline-pumping activities, it is experiences like these that are making traveling so exciting.

Smoothies

Strawberry, dragon fruit, passion fruit, papaya, pineapple, guava, and my favorite mango! My post-monastic life has been spent eating and smoothie-ing. The day I left the meditation retreat, I never turned down a smoothie and stopped for any and every snack I could find. Several curries and pad thai’s later, I again feel energized to see what’s out there, until I find another stand selling rotis or sticky rice with mango. The rotis with banana, egg, chocolate, icing, sugar all in a thin pancake then soaked in oil, butter and more oil are the perfect morning, mid-afternoon and bedtime snack. Good thing these treats fit in the budget as most smoothies and snacks can be found for 20 baht ($0.67 USD).

Roti Cart
About to cook up a delicious Roti
sticky rice with mango
Sticky rice with mango made to order

Amlapura

After 1 pool dive, 6 ocean dives, 4 quizzes, 1 exam, and numerous breaths underwater, I received my PADI Open Water Scuba Certification, and was ready for my next adventure. I wasn’t expecting the next adventure to come in the afternoon following my last dive. This was the afternoon that I hopped on the back of the motorbike with Dive Master Ketut and took off towards Amlapura. As soon as we exited Tulamben, the atmosphere surrounding the road and the vibe from the people felt more natural and more authentically Balinese. During our trip we stopped for a late lunch at a place run by some of Ketut’s friends and I tried some Balinese cuisine along with an Avocado smoothie. I was skeptical about a savory smoothie at first, but Ketut had one, and I was very pleasantly surprised.

Motorbike
Katut and I on his motorbike
Motorbike view
The view from Ketut's motorbike

As if riding on the back of Ketut’s bike wasn’t adventure enough, soon after we started, it started to rain. Luckily, because of the humidity and warmth, I was never cold, but little rain droplets hitting my arms and legs at 40 km/hr is not a completely painless experience. When we got to our first destination, the Water Palace, where the last king of Karangasem used to vacation, the rain had stopped and I explored the grounds of this Palace, which had ornate water ponds where most palaces might have gardens. After lunch, we continued on to the Water Garden, the spot where the king and his family would venture for day trips, and I jumped in one of the pools that was said to contain the equivalent of holy water and should bring me good luck.

water palace
The Water Palace in Amlapura, Bali

Before heading back, I purchased a durian, a type of fruit native to Indonesia that looks almost like a spiky pineapple. The edible part is the fleshy area around the seeds. I had heard that the durian can give off a very strong smell, and I later had the opportunity to experience said strength for myself when I left the durian in my room for a while. When I returned, the smell in the room was overwhelmingly strong. I then learned that in some cities, the taxi drivers will not allow passengers to carry a durian because of its strong smell. It had the texture and taste of a slightly sour banana. After realizing the smell was coming from the durian, I promptly placed it directly outside my room for safe-keeping.

durian
The infamous durian fruit

Invest More in Chicken

While listening to the radio in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, the same news story was repeated multiple times in an hour segment. The price of chicken in Malaysia has reached a 10-year high. Chicken now costs more than 6 ringgit ($2 USD) per kilogram, which surpasses the 1999 record price of more than 5 ringgit ($1.70 USD). Chicken supply is just not meeting the needs of the chicken demand. And as one of the largest fast food chains in Asia, KFC may be one of the culprits. Here’s an article from the Malaysian Star Newspaper explaining the issue in more detail:

Country’s chicken shortage to be overcome by next month
By P. ARUNA

KUALA LUMPUR: The shortage of chicken in the country is expected to be overcome by next month, said Agriculture and Agro-based Industry Minister Datuk Seri Noh Omar.

He said that the shortage was due to several factors, including the unexpected high demand that exceeded the supply of chicken after the Chinese New Year.

There is usually a drop in demand between April and June after the festive season.

This year, the high demand for chicken continued into the school holidays after the festive season,” he said, adding that the poultry industry had not been prepared for the continuous demand.

Commenting on the recent price increase for dressed chicken, he said that prices would stabilise by next month when the supply returned to normal.

Noh added that floods in several states, including Negri Sembilan, Malacca and Johor, early this year and the 60% surge in the price of chicken feed last year also contributed to the shortage.

The Veterinary Services Department (VSD) would take several immediate measures to ensure sufficient supply of chicken, he added.

A national buffer stock programme will be implemented to stabilise the price of dressed chicken,” he said, adding that excess supply of chicken would be frozen and stored for distribution to locations facing shortage.

He said 24 import permits were issued to private companies but none were used as the price in neighbouring countries was higher.

Currently, Malaysia imported only chicken parts while local poultry farmers produce adequate whole chicken to meet the demand.

Noh said that the shortage of chicken had nothing to do with the disaster in Japan as the country did not import meat from Japan.

There are no production plants in Japan that meet our halal standards,” he said, adding that the VSD would make an audit trip to Thailand next month to increase the import of chicken from the country.

Department director-general Datuk Dr Abdul Aziz Jamaluddin said that the daily demand for chicken in the country stood at 1.2 million.

The supply of chicken is usually more than enough with 1.3 million, but it has now dropped to below 1.2 million daily,” he said.

Lost in Translation

Although I knew I was traveling to a foreign country where English was not an official language and not spoken everywhere, I expected more English-speakers than I found. As a result, over these two weeks in China, I began to perfect the gesticulation dance so integral to my survival. Traveling with an English map is the first step to any successful day in China. Street signs include English text, even if just the transliteration of the Chinese characters, taxi driver’s respond well to pointing to locations on a map and running my finger underneath the Chinese characters of where I want to go, and most tourist maps even included a city subway reference. With a map and an idea of where I wanted to end up, I could successfully arrive at most places. In other cases, however, when communicating with non-English speakers, as comes with trying to perfect any art form learned through trail and error, I had my fair share of errors. These are a couple, but by no means all, of my more memorable errors.

One of my first days in Beijing, I ventured out to find some dinner, and ideally, I wanted to find food to take back with me to my Beijing hostel family. I found a place that looked promising. It looked like a good restaurant with a menu full of photos so that I could have some expectation of how my food would look. I have been lucky that most Chinese menus abide by this photo philosophy, a useful tool whether or not the menu also included English. I walk into the restaurant and immediately try to convey that I want to take the food to go. Quickly realizing that my English isn’t going to get me anywhere, I start playing charades while repeating the words “box”, “bag”, “to go”, and “take away” out loud.

Two words. Big picture. I make a box with my hands. No reaction. I mime carrying a bag. They start getting more excited, and run over to me with a menu. They point at exotic dishes in the menu. I look at the door, perform the door-opening motion, and start walking in place. They start pointing to more things on the menu. I shake my hands indicating I want a clean slate and want to start over. I point at the door a couple times. I now realize that I’m the dinner entertainment for the rest of the restaurant’s customers. All eyes are on me. Realizing this game was not to be won and the sand in my charade’s hour glass had all fallen, I point at a chair to sit in.

I take a seat, they give me a menu, and after a minute or two of looking through the novel that was this restaurant’s menu, I find a chicken dish that looks safe and delicious. I order this, rice and a beer. My server immediately begins to laugh, a reaction that happened often at my expense not knowing what I was supposed to in most situations. He walks away and I hear chatter between the restaurant staff. They continue to say “chicken” between stretches of Chinese vocabulary. This is when it hits me that I had them on the completely wrong track and that they thought through all my gesticulating, I was trying to convey some sort of dish or animal that I wanted to eat. Even though “box” and “bag” sound nothing like “chicken”, I can see the humor in the situation in that they might have thought I was trying to mimic a chicken’s walk or something similar. I then understand why they were pointing to dishes in the menu as I was making a fool of myself. In the end, the dish was great, and I ate it as the majority of the restaurant continued to stare at me.

On another occasion, which was less comic and more common, I ran into communication difficulties trying to find my hostel in Hangzhou. After arriving via high speed train, which traveled at a speed of 350 km/hr, I buy a map and find a taxi, in which I point to the address of my hostel that I have saved on my phone. Not yet being well-acquainted with Hangzhou, I cannot place my hostel’s location on my newly purchased map. The taxi driver drops me off just far enough away from the hostel to make the last short walk a true challenge. I get my barrings on the map and even find my general location. Unfortunately, when searching for a very specific location, only understanding my general location wasn’t going to get me there. Based on the English instructions from the hostel, I knew that it was on a small side street off the main street where I was currently standing. This small street, however, was not visible due to the map’s high-level resolution. I walked up and down the street a couple times and then unsuccessfully tried to ask a couple people for help. I quickly realized I was no longer in a big city and even fewer people spoke English in Hangzhou, which is a much smaller city of only several million people.

Eventually, I stop and stare at my map while leaning up against a near by light post. After about 10 minutes, an attractive girl approaches me speaking disjointed, but very understandable English. I am not sure if I am more excited that she was helping me or that she is a cute girl who decided to talk to me, but either way, I stay focused on trying to navigate to my hostel. She says that she was already late for something and only had a quick minute to help me. She then asks a couple people around us for directions and we run around until she figures out where I need to go. I was confident that I am now at least pointed in the right direction down the street. We part ways, and I am left on my own to find an alley on the left side of the street at some undefined distance ahead. This task I had learned how to do. I keep asking people around me to direct me towards the alley, and eventually, once I pass it, someone will respond by telling me its behind me. After a fair amount of searching, I finally find my destination, where the staff speaks great English, there are other foreigners, and there are people to show me exactly where we are on the Hangzhou map.

That all said, now that I’m at the end of my Chinese portion of this adventure, I find myself feeling very comfortable in China.