Lanzarote: A Canary Island Full of Pigeons and the World's Most Inaccurate Rock Thrower

The four days previous the weekend were full of the German permacloud, however; we were graced with consecutive days of intermittent snow showers.  On Thursday, a total of twelve centimeters fell in our little town, although; when I picked Julie up from work, our accumulation was evidently isolated.  There would be no flight delay or difficulty reaching our vacation destination, Lanzarote, the eastern most Canary Island off the southwest coast of Morocco.  Our trip was two-fold; we would spend a day sightseeing, while the remaining time would be devoted to libation and relaxation.

Parking lot at Timanfaya National Park

Rocky terrain

Spotted our first greenery

Situated on the Canary hotspot, the origin of the island is volcanic in nature, a unique terrain observed on our drive to Timanfaya National Park.  Lanzarote has one remaining active volcano and shares its name with the park.  Bus tours of Timanfaya introduce tourists to a landscape molded by eruptions over millions of years - the most recent, a six-year event starting in 1730.  The arid climate and volcanic soil limit the flora and fauna - a biome composed of succulents, birds, lizards, insects, and lichen; a sparse, yet extraordinary environment.  The bus ride plays audio describing the area in three different languages (English, German, Spanish), but one is easily distracted by the serene, almost alien surroundings.

Montanas del Fuego

Panoramic views

Mars...?

The entertainment continued when we returned to El Diablo, the restaurant atop Timanfaya.  Utilizing the convenience of the hotspot, the cafe cooks food over a well exposed to the underlying hot earth.  For further proof of the excessive core temperature, a guide greeted the gathering tour group and placed a small amount of rocks in everyone's hands.  Immediately, each person dropped them due to the surprising calefaction.  Next, he placed some tumbleweed into a hot vent, within seconds the bale ignited into flames.  If fire and burnt hands weren't convincing enough, the final act included a makeshift geyser.  With metal pipes protruding from the ground, a small amount of water was poured down a spout and subsequently smoked like a chimney.  When the entire bucket was poured into the vent, a geyser spewed the unwelcome water three meters high, temporarily camouflaging our guide behind a wall of steam - concluding our visit to the park.

Volcano kindle

Hooray, the volcano is doing things, everybody look

And now for my disappearing act

Making my getaway

A short drive down the highway, overlooking Montanas del Fuego (Fire Mountains) we found a pull-off area with a museum and some unexpected ungulates.  We lost interest in the museum as soon as we saw the series of camels saddled for rides. In total, there were twenty-four camels separated into groups of six and could each carry two passengers (sounds like a math problem...the first group of camels departs at 11:23 traveling at 1.618 kph; a second group departs 5.8 minutes later and travels at a speed of 3.141 kph.  what is an ungulate?).  For the next fifteen minutes, we rode the docile Hilario, the camel caboose of the group, named after the fabled nomad who planted a fig tree in Timanfaya's volcanic soil that never bore fruit.

Fire Mountains

Camel path

Unwinding ungulates

Julie with Hilairo

Returning to the day's itinerary, Julie penciled-in El Golfo, a small fishing town on the southwest coast.  While driving, we got the feeling we were on another plant - a rigid, harsh landscape enveloped with coarse soil; the Green Lagoon near the sleepy maritime village only added to the extraterrestrial impression. The shore is covered with black lava stones, bordered by turquoise ocean, while white-caps ceaselessly crash into large red rocks.  Parallel to the shoreline, the Green Lagoon rests at the basin of a seemingly lunar mountain (lagoon gets it's color from algae in the salt water).  Enamored with the beauty, we prolonged our visit and sat on the cooled molten rubble.  I attempted to shatter a few of the pebbles by throwing them at a larger formation where the waves broke.

El Golfo

Green Lagoon

and again...

Laughing at her rock throwing ability

"Beach" picture

More rocks

Seated to my right, Julie decided she would do the same, grabbed a rock, placed her arm at her side like an Olympic athlete preparing to throw a discus - then heaved with all her might.  Her efforts were most impressive, not in that she reached the mass ten meters in front of us, rather, she hit me square in the face.  I don't know how Newtonian physics fit into the equation, but I do know that if she were to throw the celebratory first-pitch of a baseball game, it would land somewhere between first and second base.  Apparently, if Julie is throwing rocks, the safest place to stand is directly in front of her, but she is now a under a temporary projecttile ban.

Martian surface

Salinas, but closed for the day

For the remainder of the weekend, we remained relatively sedentary, enjoying on our oceanside balcony - reading and relaxing to the ebb and flow of the waves oscillating below.  The hotel was all-inclusive and we shared the wealth with some local wildlife.  Over the next day and a half we made two new avian friends, pigeons.  Later, we met a third who was particularly inept, unable to associate bread with food - we named him "Mush," symbolic of the bird brain within.  Sadly, the weekend had to come to an end, but our island visit was the perfect combination of adventure and leisure.

Our new friends, Piggy and Skidmark

The smart one

Room with a view

Goodbye Lanzarote

Marrakech: Improper Buffet Ettiquete, a Cobra, and I Set Myself on Fire

Marrakech averages fifty rainy days a year and we woke up to one of them.  At the breakfast buffet, we decided to delay our arrival downtown by an hour to avoid the pouring rain.  We took the 11:00 bus to Djemaa el Fna and headed down the "main street" that appeared to run north-south (according to our map) towards Ben Youssef Madrasa.  Sadly, this wasn't the case - we continued down the alleyway and eventually reached the outskirts of town.  Being the only tourist in the area, we turned around and headed in the other direction.

Market near souk entrance

Ali Baba

Woodworker making us a free souvenir

Fifteen minutes down the road, a gentleman stopped us and introduced himself as the prayer caller for the mosque opposite his storefront.  He warned us to be careful with the aid provided by some of the locals who may steer you in the wrong direction then demand payment.  Somehow, he reeled us into his store and claimed it was the only place in Marrakech where 100% of the proceeds go to OXFAM.  His credentials, OXFAM was etched into the wall with the faded markings of a BIC pen (we listened with increasing doubt and further research confirmed our suspicions).  He asked if we would like to make a purchase to which we kindly declined.  Instead, we gave him a small amount of Dirham as a donation, but he was not pleased with the lack of a sale.

Donkey coming to the market

Spice vendor

Another woodworker

Continuing with our initial course, we eventually found Ben Youssef Madrasa - a former college for Islamic studies.  The Madrasa is the largest in Morocco and was home to (up to) 900 students.  The school is beautifully decorated with a large courtyard, stucco features, mosaic tiles, and cedar carvings - much like Bahia Palace.  However, the student's rooms left much to be desired, resembling holding cells more-so than living quarters (some had windows).

Ben Youssef Madrasa

Mosaic tiles

Mirhab

After leaving the Madrasa, we made our way to the leather tanneries, another of our guidebook's "top ten" attractions.  The location is off the beaten path and difficult to find, but somehow we selected the right route - a blessing and a curse.  We realized we wouldn't make our lunch reservations at Dar Essalam (site where Alfred Hitchcock filmed a scene for The Man who Knew too Much) because the impossibility of navigating through the souks in a timely fashion.  Instead, we followed our senses to a local baker who recently removed a fresh batch of bread from the oven.  Not familiar with the custom, we stood in the window and waited to see if we could buy a loaf.  Unknowingly, it was the neighborhood bakery where locals gathered to collect a pallet with their daily allotment.  As we waited, a man received his batch and handed us a loaf from his portion; we tired to compensate him, but he refused the money and expressed it was Moroccan hospitality.

A rare room with a view

Space Cadet exploring the other side

More student rooms

Fortunately, the bread was devoured by the time we reached the tanneries, an olfactory nightmare - the pungent odor suffocates the fresh air.  We passed by and met a leather worker who spoke with us and explained the scent is from an important ingredient - pigeon droppings.  Suffice it to say, the attraction does not merit the accolade of "top ten" things to do in Marrakesh.  Redirecting ourselves, we made our way to the Marrakech Museum (admission purchased along with Ben Youssef) which turned out to be a pleasant surprise.  The museum is a nice venue to relax to the soothing sounds of the fountains in the main courtyard and also observe local artwork.  While sitting in the chairs we plotted our course to another "attraction," Dar el Bacha.

Entrrance towards Mirhab

Courtyard

Nice school grounds

This had us venture into the souks where we became disoriented and struggled to get our bearings.  At one point, we reached an intersection that had two signs, both for Djemaa el Fna - each pointing in opposite directions, it made no sense, but could be accurate.  We found our way back outside and reached the main road - twenty minutes later we identified our destination out of luck.  Unfortunately, we were soon informed that Dar el Bacha doesn't grant access to visitors.  An utter waste of time - if you have seen a brick building, you have essentially visited Dar el Bacha.  Conveniently, this misfortune was followed up with another failure - a trip to Ensemble Artisanal (another government owned souvenir area).  This "must see" (TripAdvisor #4) is essentially the strip mall version of the souks, but I suppose if one finds bargaining tiresome, the fixed prices simplify the shopping experience.  Although, these stores are government owned - so I am sure "fair market value" implies a monetary profit.  Our preferences is to barter, thus, we returned to the main square and souks.

Marrakech Museum

Fountain

Taking a seat

When we arrived to Djemaa el Fna, the masses had gathered for the staple shows: magic, transvestite dancers, fortune tellers, henna tattoos, and snake charmers.  We wanted to get a picture of the snakes, but didn't want to pay.  We tried to snap a few photos from a distance, but our covert mission was unsuccessful.  A peddler reeled us in, and for a few Dirham he allowed us to snap away before imploring us to get closer to the two black cobras.

Koutoubia Mosque

Active scene in the Djemaa el Fna

Two charmed cobras

While I was taking a picture the snake charmer put a small snake around my neck and corralled me to a seat next to him, the two cobras at our feet.  He let go of the snake on my neck and was now in my possession.  The charmer decided it was a desire of mine to have a cobra wrapped around me, but I only wanted a photo of the snake - not one on me - less so, a cobra.  Before I knew it, I had a large cobra draped around my shoulders and its head is a few inches from me.  I was either charmed or temporarily petrified - possibly a mix of both.  However, when the cobra flared its hood and opened its mouth in front of my face, adrenaline coursed through my stagnant body.  Julie tried to capture the moment, but I wanted the damn snake away from my facial region.  Soon enough, we were set free but not before being hounded (Note: some of these snakes are de-fanged, but this doesn't prevent the snake from producing venom - hence a slightly unsettling feeling).

You sit here

Escape into the Souks

Upon my release, we were chased down by the charmer who immediately demanded 200 Dirham - a laughable price.  He blocked my path and shouted at me until I circumvented his un-charming posture.  I made my way to Julie for some petty cash (never pay a snake charmer more than 20 Dirham).  He was unsatisfied with our gratuity and demanded 200 Dirham.  I told the snake charmer that we already paid his friend and he could either accept or refuse the additional payment.  Finally, we said, "your unattended snakes are running away as you waste our time," and we absconded into the souks.

Natural dyes

Hanging wool

We had an idea of what we wanted to purchase having bought some souvenirs the previous day - setting course for our favorite section, the dyers market.  The others markets are lovely, but the ambiance and abundance of colors create a majestic environment.  Our strategy of "barter-and-walk-away" served very fruitful as we escaped with numerous commemorative items.  We spent the majority of our money and were able to get everything we wanted and some additional gifts.

Just dyed

Out to dry

We returned to the hotel for our dinner reservation at the Moroccan restaurant.  We were quickly seated and started with some traditional hirrira.  While helping ourselves to the Moroccan specialty, we witnessed some of the most disturbing buffet etiquette (or just plain etiquette in general).  When Julie poured the ladle into her bowl, a woman from Liverpool grabbed a spoon (an odd buffet choice - to go for silverware and not dishware).  Then she delved the hand shovel into the vat and into her mouth - slurped loudly, making odd intonations as if she was a soup connoisseur.  Next, the unthinkable happened - with hand on hip and spoon in mouth - she proceeded to lift the cover of the other container.  Using her filth ridden flatware, she mixed the contents before helping herself to another taste (hope they used the cold sore elixir in those soups).  We were dumbfounded, as I got my serving, Liverpool lady's abhorrent twin repeated the same exact repulsive behavior (not genetic twins, just in level of obnoxiousness).  The restaurant was an all-you-can-eat buffet, there were forty bowls next to the soups - why not pour a little into a bowl and sample a small portion?

Enjoying an espresso at Café de Paris

Us at the Koutoubia Mosque

Feeling the need to purge our memories, I inadvertently used the aseptic technique on my dress shirt and forearm - specifically, flame sterilization.  We had a small table and with the abundance of plates which tend to accumulate at a buffet, limited maneuverability.  I was getting some spices and and while my arm was placed across the table, the temperature started to rise, but only on one side of my body.  Then it occurred to me, my arm was burning and my shirt ablaze.  I casually blew the flame out along with the candle, but the hotel staff remained insistent on relighting our candle every time it went out.  This was our last meal in Morocco and I am glad it was a most memorable occasion.