Three Weeks In...From the UK to Morocco

We're holed up in a small Internet cafe in the "new city" section of Fez, Morocco's most mystifying (and challenging!) tourist destination, although we've seen few Westerners here in comparison to Marrakech, where they were abundant. It didn't help that we arrived in northern Africa the week before Easter. We wrongfully assumed that this being a Muslim country, the egg-laden holiday wouldn't be an issue, but it appears that Marrakech is an extremely popular tourist destination for Europeans and UK folks seeking respite from the grey, not to mention the locals on holiday as well. Alas, hotels were hard to come by and expensive. Not what we'd hoped for but it could have been worse.

We haven't been able to post until now because the Internet cafes in Scotland and Marrakech wouldn't allow us access to our blogs. While at the beach in Essaouria, we couldn’t stomach the idea of sitting indoors at a computer; the Moroccan sunshine and the Atlantic's cool waters were calling, not to mention the camel rides, rolling dunes, and yummy macaroons. Here in Fez, where time has all but stopped in the ancient medina and rain has clouded our experience, the connection is speedy and we're happy to be online finally conversing with you all.

I'll do my best to succinctly relay the first several weeks of our trip. London was uneventful and grey (surprise?), but it was fun to ride around town in the upstairs front seats of the double-decker buses and to reconnect with my girlfriend Nikki and her family in the burbs for a few days. Nikki (shown on the right) and I joined another girlfriend, Kathy (on the left), from our early 90s days as au pairs in Paris for a fun dinner out in Picadilly one night, and it was great to catch up, despite almost lighting the table on fire after downing an entire bottle of wine and several margaritas (some habits die hard). David gladly escaped the estrogen frenzy and entertained himself by strolling the theater district and grabbing a hamburger so the girls could have a night out.

Scotland proved a fresh of breath air and completely surprised us both. Edinburgh's imposing castle, Gothic monuments, and cozy atmosphere welcomed us with open arms, as did the great hotel we found online for the low price of $80/night, a true steal in the UK. We ended up spending eight nights in Scotland as we couldn't arrange a cheap flight to Morocco before then, so we treated ourselves to two days in the Highlands, which was pure bliss. We rode a glorious train through winding hills and lovely lakes, then settled into a quaint B&B run by a lovely English couple from Devon. We drank pints of warm ale in the local pub and struggled to understand the Highland drawl. We hiked all morning and afternoon deep into Glen Nevis, an amazing valley rivaling those in Switzerland, if not in scale then at least in scenery. We ate lunch under the imposing shadow of Ben Nevis, the UK’s highest mountain at 4,400 feet. Shaggy Highland cattle mingled along the river with herds of fluffy sheep as David sketched to his heart’s content and I busied myself with a Kakuro puzzle. It was warm out and we relished the wearing of t-shirts after having donned mittens, scarves, and multiple layers of clothing the previous week to fight off the requisite late-March chill.

After seven hours of hiking along the river and relaxing in the fields, we arrived deep in the valley at 5:00pm and figured we had a good few hours’ hike back along the road. Luckily a car full of friendly-looking climbers offered us a lift into town. We piled into the back of a small Renault amid crampons and helmets, keeping a safe distance from the ice-ax-wielding German guy next to us. A nice group of folks, those guys. Their generosity allowed us to be in the pub by 6:45pm and down a yummy dinner in less time than it would have taken us to walk the entire way back.

We returned to Edinburgh late Sunday night and spent our last day in town wandering leisurely up to Calton Hill. We basked in sunshine and stunning city views while cheering the appearance of the Firth of Forth, which had been obscured all week by fog and grey clouds. David sketched a local monument and I wrote in my journal while a busload of Chinese tourists looked on. Several of the men were fasincated with David’s art supplies; one even grabbed David’s kneaded gray eraser and proceeded to play with it like it was Silly Putty. We chuckled and talked about China; they were impressed to learn we’d be visiting there this summer. Later that evening, we celebrated our second wedding anniversary with a lovely splurge in a chic local restaurant. We’d been subsisting on free hotel breakfasts, cheap Marks & Spencer sandwiches (surprisingly good!), and flat ale in the local pubs. That night we feasted on Italian salads, Tuscan red wine, and yummy roasted chicken and pasta. We capped it off with a tribute to the locals and ordered the awesome sticky toffee pudding. It was a great end to our time in the UK. Morocco was next on the list, and we had no idea what we’d be in for.