More Adventures in Morocco...

Well, it was bound to happen at some point, but we just didn't figure on it being so soon, or here. We were robbed and succombed to horrible food poisoning during our second week in Morocco. Not the experience we'd hoped for, but it could have been worse. We are grateful to have escaped without too much damage.

After four wild nights in Marrakech, we left on a cushy Supratours bus for a three-hour ride to the lovely beach town of Essaouira. It was a welcome change from the hot, gritty red desert interior landscape and proved a great place to chill out for three days. We took long strolls on the beach, sat on a camel, played on the dunes, drank mint tea with the Berbers, hugged dogs, ate yummy macaroons, watched amazing sunsets, relished the Atlantic breeze, and finally found a few beers to quench our thirsts. (Morocco is dry for the most part).

Sadly, we were robbed on our last night in the hotel, which left a bad taste in our mouths for the place. We figured it was the cleaning lady, but how she managed to pick our locks we'll never know. It was definitely an inside job, as they only made away with 300 of our 1,100 dirham (about $35) and most of the free perfume samples I'd picked up in Scotland. This skimming of a small amount of money is a common scam we've read about; hotel worker thieves take only a small amount of cash so you won't notice anything amiss. As I said before, it could have been much worse. The feeling of being violated was the evil thing; just knowing someone had rifled through all of our belongings made us sick to our stomachs. To add insult to injury, we had to get up at 5am to catch the bus back to Marrakech to make a four-hour train transfer to Rabat, so the evening's events took away from our much-needed rest. After explaining our plight to the hotel manager via phone, he graciously refunded us back 100 dirham and was shocked to hear of such an event on his property. We hit the pillows around midnight and had a restless night of ZZZZs.

We enjoyed our evening in Rabat, despite emerging from the train station into an unemployment protest complete with riot police and ambulances. It appears the civil disobedience had wafted into the uncivil; we saw a few protestors writhing on the ground in pain and quickly made our way to a nearby hotel. We toured the exquisite kasbah, Andalusian gardens (where we got offered hash), the famous Tour Hassan, and the mausoleum of the current king's father. We grabbed a beer in a funky basement bar and feasted on free nuts. Our hotel room proved to be a dust-infested trap that we figured hadn't been opened since the 50s; I dosed up on allergy meds and kept my inhaler close at hand. A shower proved impossible in the stupidly small, low-ceiling bathroom, thus we hopped the train to Fes a bit worse for wear.

Despite reports of suicide bombings in Casablanca, we enjoyed five days in Fes, whose medina and surrounding area makes Marrakech look like a modern, first-world establishment. We took refuge in the nouville ville, or new city, enjoying Paris-like cafes, lattes, and amazing pastries every morning. It was a great refuge from the habitual street hassle we've encountered in the country. We hired a guide one day to take us deeper into the medina, whose 9,400+ lanes make it difficult, if not dangerous, to navigate on one's own. I was a bit disappointed by Hussein's leadership, which left us to fend for ourselves in a carpet warehouse for almost an hour while English-speaking Mohammed tried to sell us five gorgeous rugs for the low price of $12,000 U.S. He assured us we would more than pay for our trip by selling them at American auctions, but we didn't have the bank account for it, let alone the gall to imagine shipping them to my mother's house in Scottsdale, AZ, via a DHL truck.

A highlight of our Fes experience was a day trip to the 2nd-century Roman ruins at Volubulis. Lonely Planet makes this sound like a relatively easy adventure, but the reality is anything but for non-locals unused to the local means of road transport. Read on for a good laugh.

We took a morning train from Fes to Meknes, a mere 35 minutes away. From there, it was a simple 10-minute walk to the grand taxi station. Easy enough...but herein lies the catch. There are a few scammers around who will offer you a private ride to the ruins and back, including an hour to wander the site, for the seemlingly "low" price of 300 dirham, or $30+. We knew from our research that you should pay no more than 65 cents for the 28km ride to Moulay Idriss, then another 45 cents for the 3km onward to Volubulis itself. We quickly bypassed this cheat and found the parking lot of grand taxis. And now it gets exciting.

In simple words, grand taxis are nothing more than a bunch of really scummy-looking local dudes in REALLY old run-down Mercedes sedans that shuttle mostly locals around between cities. in Morocco you often see people standing by the side of the road waiting for these cars to pick them up. We paid 10 dirham each for a seat (about $1.10) for a half-hour ride to Moulay Idriss and then haggled for another grand taxi for the remaining 3km to the ruins. But here's the rub: we are crammed into the Mercedes with FOUR other Moroccans plus a driver. It's so ridiculous you just have to laugh. I had to hold onto David the whole time for fear he'd fall out of the door, which wasn't quite securely shut for the journey, not to mention that none of the rear windows roll down and it's about 90 degrees in the sedan. Despite the sub-standard conditions, I still managed to sneak in a lovely French conversation with two smelly guys sharing the back seat with us.

As if it couldn't get worse, once we arrived in Moulay Idriss, I managed to get in trouble with the "local boss" there for trying to arrange my own bargain with another French tourist and a cab driver for the onward journey to Volubulis. They jack up the price for the last 3km since they know it's the main draw. He told me I didn't have the right to make my own deals, and since we realized later he ran the only cab game in town and was our ticket back to Meknes a half-hour away, I did some serious ass-kissing. Thank you, California schools, for the 15+ years of French lessons! We waged our own silent protest on the stupid fees they charge for the second ride to the ruins by WALKING the 3km back down the road through the farms and cows and past the donkey carts coming back from market. It was pretty wild. The locals who passed us thought we were nuts for walking, but we didn't seem to mind. The day was lovely and the scenery impressive.

On our last night in Fes, the intestinal cramps that had plagued me earlier in the week escalated into a full-on attack of food poisoning. I was majorly ill the entire night, awaking at 4:30am to puke my guts out. I was completely empty from the other end as well and not a happy camper. We made it onto the 10:50am train to Casablanca, where we were staying for the night before catching our flight to Barcelona the next morning. Halfway through the train ride, David started feeling ill as well. By the time we checked into the hotel at 3:30pm, we were both down for the count. We never left the hotel, which was a good thing as more fanatics had blown themselves up in the city just two days earlier. We watched a lot of bad French game shows and a Moroccan tennis tournament, then managed to bag some ZZZs before our 8am wake-up call. We both couldn't wait to leave the country for greener pastures. We made it out of Morocco but not without our share of challenges. It was truly an experience we'll never forget!