Happy New Year!

 

Happy travel Christmas from Julie & Roger

 Happy Christmas and we hope you all have wonderful travel adventures in 2025

These boots (sandals) are made for walking

Did I say three days and then I'll be fit?  I find that my only respite from the pain is walking (assisted by very strong painkillers).  So walking is what we do.  There is always something to see in the bustling streets but there are always oases of charm and peace.  Snuggled into a corner of the Medina is one such place - the Legation of the United States of America - a little pocket of history!

 

1777 Under Sultan Moulay Mohammed III, Morocco is the first country to recognize the fledgling republic of the United States during the American War of Independence. 

1786 The Moroccan-American Treaty of Peace and Friendship, still in force today, is signed, commencing America’s longest unbroken international relationship. 

1839 The U.S. consul reluctantly accepts a lavish gift of a live lion and lioness for President Martin van Buren from the imperial court of Sultan Abd al-Rahman.  MMM... wondered how they coped with that!

The legation is located in a beautiful 5 storey mansion that houses some fabulous artworks, photos and a cultural educational centre. Weird seeing all those American Presidents.  I especailly loved the painting of the sevant girl by James McBey

The legation has played a key educational role in providing literacy programs for women from the old city of Tangier as well as training diplomats in Moroccan language and culture.

I decided to take a break and leave Roger reading the plaques he loves so much. Just around the corner is a myriad of tiny streets where kids fly around the corners chasing balls, riding bikes and playing hide and seek. I found a small street stall selling vgetarian food and decided to chill watching women and family groups come and go shopping, chattering and enjoying the same delicious street food I was eating. 

It was the best of times it was the worst of times!

One of the things we love doing is exploring the back streets especially when the disgorged cruise ship passengers flooded through the Medina.  On one of these trips Roger ducked into a little barber shop!  What fun!  There has never been a haircut like it...it included trimming of nose & chest hair, ear cleaning and a facial. 

All with laughter and banter.  Younes was an expert.

I stood and watched. 'Sit' he said 'No I'm fine' I said, I'll stand.' 'Why?' he asked.  Eventually I said that I had hurt my back.  'Massage 'he said.  'Oh No!' I squeaked, the very thought bringing tears to my eyes.  There followed an intense discussion.  'You need cupping' he said, 'not massage. ' 

Mmm, I've had cupping before, maybe it would help with the pain.

A runner was dispatched immediately.

Now in Tanger, if you pause for a minute (as we had found out when we arrived in the Kasbah), there will be someone ready to help or direct you.  'Kasbah?' 'Medina?' they call out.  This time a scrawny man who set off at the speed of light, led us through the tiny crowded streets.  Impossible for me to do anything more than a slow walk.

Eventually I caught up with them at a tiny barbers shop.  A man emerged and looked at me shaking his head.  'No woman' he said.  'Come back in two days.' 

The runner held out his hand for his tip and then disappeared into the crowd.  We wove our way slowly back to our haven 'La Maison Blanche'. When we told Aziz of our experience he said. 'I know a great person (of course he did), she will do cupping for you. 

Next morning Aziz had organised a taxi for us.  Slowly, slowly I said, yelping out with pain every time we hit a cobblestone.  Over the next hour we drove around eventually landing up at a clinic in the middle of town somewhere.

Yes they could do it in fifteen minutes.  I spent the time walking trying to ease the pain.  I was ushered into the cubicle where the doctor said 'hop on the couch.' Hah!  As if?  

I finally managed to lie face down on the couch and he attached the cups.  Then came the point where I had to get down but I could not move.  The pain was excruciating.  What had I been thinking?

Four people lifted me off the table and somehow I stumbled back into the waiting room.  Roger's face turned white when he saw me!

We walked back to La Maison - walking was (and still is) the only way to ease the pain.

By midnight that night I could not move and my back was constantly spasming. Arghhh! Roger and Nushka somehow got me out of bed and down to Aziz's car and we were off to the hospital!

Three hours later Aziz, drove us back.  I was floating with all the drugs they had pumped into me!

Its only on the way. home that we found out it was Aziz's birthday and he had left the celebration to take me to hospital.

Seven O'clock next morning after 3hrs sleep, he and Nushka were serving us breakfast.  What amazingly kind generous people.

We cancelled Riad in Fes, postponed our train trip and booked another three nights at La Maison Blanche.  I was going to be fine to travel in 3 days time, wasn't I?

Nuska, Aziz and Roger - what would I have done without them?

Exploring Tangier

Aziz was fantastic always there to help with anything we needed.  Also very vague about what anything cost which made us really nervous.  A tagine ... sure I'll serve it up on the terrace.  The sunset and view up there is  spectacular.  Wine of course, I will bring you a bottle.  Erm a bottle of wine can cost anything from a few dollars to hundreds! We needn't have worried he was just a lovely guy who was concerned for us.

My pain continued to increase and walking was the only thing that helped.  So we explored.

There were wonderful alleyways everywhere, with murals on the wall and suprises like a baker baking cookies on an open fire which he immediately shared with us.  Kids roared screaming with joy chasing home made footballs and there were cats everywhere.  People would make little cardboard shelters for them and as people walked by they would put a little food and water in the makeshift shelters. We never saw a scrawny cat!

One of our favourite places was a little cafe which sold amazing mint tea.  Musicians would drop by and play their ouds, people would join in singing and playing drums. Reminded me of my childhood where everyone sang all the time (especially in our house).  Not so much here in Oz.  I wonder why?

Aziz recommended a fantastic restaurant Hassans which was always full.  He had long tables and you just squished in.  Met some really interesting people, such as a young German woman with her Moroccan husband (who spoke English with a German accent).  He was from the desert region and it was great to hear his perspective on Morocco and Europe.  We were really excited as it was an area we would be visiting.

Aziz also recommended a chemist who sold us some cream and pills to ease the pain in my back which continued to throb!

There were always interesting people to meet such as Punksy who brightened up the daggy electricity boxes bringing a little joy into everyone's life.  

And of course there were the markets... glorious fresh fruit and veggies.  It was one of the reasons we had hired the house so we could experiment with all the different foods.  We loved the Egg House which was crammed with eggs in the morning.  People chattered choosing which ones they will buy. Shopping in Australia is so boring, everything has a fixed price, is one of the most common things I hear from refugees

 !

We were astounded by the fish markets.  Fish of all types and descriptions - not so sure about the sea snakes but the lobster, swordfish and prawns looked delicious.  Men standing on boxes shelled prawns with the speed of light, laughing and joking as they worked!

We mostly walked in the mornings and evenings when it was cool.  It was amazing to gaze over the water to see the two continents of Africa and Europe.  Spectacular! A calm descended when the tourist groups retired to their  cruise ships but hey it was never quiet.  The Moroccans are definitely night owls not early birds.   

 

Sleeping in James Bond's bed and more!

Oh what a find! La Maison Blanche was exactly what we needed.  We sat in the salon, sipping mint tea served by the wonderful Annanuska and told Aziz our woeful story.  We asked if he had a room for five nights.  He shook his head sadly,  You can stay but sometimes you will have to change rooms, but tonight you will stay in the Moulay Ismail room for the standard price.

At that point we knew little of the history of Moulay or the room. All we wanted to do was soak in the deep bath, eat and sleep.  I had a disconcerting pain in my back which distracted me from the vivid description of the beautifully hand painted ceilings, wallpaper and silk curtains. But my ears did prick up when he said.  'This is the bed that James Bond slept in!'   

The next day we discovered it was Daniel Craig who had stayed in the room.  During our stay we tried out three rooms, all for the standard room price.  They were named after famous people, mainly writers and poets. As for Moulay Ismail we discovered it was named after Sultan Moulay Ismail IBN Sharif - the most gruesome character in the history of Morocco. He has some dubious claims to fame including the fathering of more kids than anyone else... and I always thought that was Ghengis Khan!

An interesting read here

After a glorious bath that eased my bath somewhat we chose a quirky closest restaurant to have a tagine. Glorious views, very ordinary food and a sneaky red wine served in plastic beakers.

The next morning Annanuska served us the most wonderful breakfast fresh unleavened bread, jams, thin pikelets, juice, scambled eggs and dark, dark coffee.  Yum!  As we chatted with Aziz we realised we had got her name wrong.  We had been calling her  'My name is nuska'  Ha Ha the joys of travel.

We were excited to set off exploring.  The only niggle was this pain in my back and side when I lay down or sat!

Exploring the Kasbah by foot!

After our wind and rainswept ferry trip we arrive to a sunny modern port of Algeciras.  We quickly disembark to be transported by bus to the city.  We are a bit disconcerted by all the razor wire around the port but everything seems calm.  Exiting the port we spy a row of taxis.  A guy wearing a  djellababsits nonchalantly in a deck chair directing all operations.  He assigns us to a lively cab driver who quotes the amount we have been told and we are off!

We loved the half hour trip, enjoying the sun and the change of architecture. Once we arrive at the Kasbah things start to change!

We had booked an airbnb house in the old Medina. The address was La Maison Bleue, Pl de las Kasbah, Tangier.  The first problem was that no cars were allowed in the Kasbah.  The second problem was that no one could recognise the address!

 

Of course there are always a couple of local boys eager to help and to practise their English.  Within seconds they had grabbed Roger's luggage and they were off.  I held onto my bag, reluctant to hand it over to these nimble teenagers.  Within a couple of minutes we were outside La Maison Blanche!  'No Maison Bleue' we kept saying. Everyone looked confused.  Now I had bought an ESim as i was sick of swapping over sim cards - only problem was it wouldn't work in Morrocco and so we had no phone or internet and no way of contacting our host!

That was the moment we met Aziz who came out of Maison Blanche and handed his phone to us so we could call the host but guess what - no answer.  Undeterred the boys asked to look at the picture of the  house.  Ah Ha!  They were off like a shot.  10 minutes later we were at the house.  We had to arranged to meet Malik who was to let us in.  There was no-one there.  

Over the next three hours we met copious number of people who all knew Malik and assured us that he would be there in 5 minutes.  No one showed up!

'That's it!' I said 'We're off back to La Maison Blanche' the beautiful riad we had seen.

How wonderful was the moment when Aziz opened the door and said 'Welcome.  Come drink some mint tea.' 

Ferry across the Mersey - erm no it's actually the Gibraltar Strait

 Did you know that lots of apartments in Gibraltar don't have windows?  Neither did we until we rented one! The reason?  The omnipresent Rock.  Land is short, the Rock is huge. Apartments are built tight against it, hence units built at the back of the block have no windows!

So now, it's the day  we have to leave our windowless room for our journey to Tangier in Morocco. I'm so excited, It's somewhere I've wanted to go to for a long time. Tangier, Fes, Marakesh and Rabat - here we come!

But wait a minute I haven't posted for a while .  Why is that?  Read on to find out!

Getting out of Gibraltar is not as easy as it seems.  The taxi fails to arrive.  No probs we'll walk.  It's downhill after all. Steep hill and cobblestones conquered we look for the cabs but find a number 5 bus instead.  One of the joys of the island had been the buses especially the no 1 & 2 that thread their way through the town and along the coastline. Spectacular views for only a couple of dollars.  The locals conversations are priceless.

We pile our luggage onboard and head for the border only to find that is exactly where the bus stopped - the border.  We had to haul our luggage back to customs along a road with no pedestrian path. Not a great way to start the day.

When we get there, customs was a non event.  With a smile and a wave they direct back to where we came. A quick negotiation with a cab driver and we are off to Algeciras to catch the ferry.  A spectacular trip along the coast.  Already the scenery and architecture are so different. We arrive at the Ferry Terminal much too early but it gives us a chance to munch our snacks, people watch and to enjoy the 'English' of the effusive waiter.  English lesson over we try to board the ferry.

No signage anywhere.  Announcements in Spanish and a waiting room where everyone is boarding a different ferry to the one we are taking. There's a languid official who waves our questions away until suddenly she sprints towards us saying 'Hurry. Hurry.'

The weather has turned and it is pouring with rain, We see long rows of cars crawling through the rain towards the cavernous doors of the ferry.  We won't be boarding anytime soon.  BUT I am wrong and we find ourselves slithering across the huge deck, towing our bags behind us.

Soaked to the skin, we arrive in the cavernous snack bar.  We sit isolated looking at the rain until the bartender snaps the curtains shut.  Why? Who knows? 

 

Over the next hour,  people dribble in. Maybe we misunderstood the words 'hurry, hurry!' 

A message keeps thundering over the speakers. 'All passports must be stamped before you enter Morocco. I assumed this meant at the port.  By the time I had worked it out and found out where to get the passports stamped, there was a huge queue snaking through the restaurant.

One official sits trying to cope with the hundreds of people flowing through.  Eventually I reach the end of the queue.  I listen to the woman in front. She has to prove where she is staying in 6 different cities with receipts etc.  I decide to wing it and say we are only staying in one place Tangier. 

'I show him the receipt for the house we have rented. 'This not address' he says. 

'Yes, Yes' I say.

''Show picture of house.'

When I show him, he shakes his head and reluctantly stamps my passport. I didn't pick for one second that anything was amiss.

THE ROCK! Gibraltar Part 2

Of course no trip to Gibraltar would be complete without a walk up the Rock, well in our case a cable car up and a 5hr walk down!

The Rock is huge!  The cable car up reminded us of the home exchange we did in Cluses!  Everyday we would take a different cable car to Pique du Midi or some other place and walk and walk and walk and so it was today!

The Macaques were everywhere.  If a tourist mini-bus stopped for a moment, they were onto it!  Tourists who didn't take the warning signs seriously about keeping their bags safe were amazed at how quickly they could unzip them and steal their lunch!

Roger here ... O'Hara's Battery located on the highest point of the Rock surrounded by the Upper Reserve, was named after the Governor, Charles O'Hara in 1740 - 1802.  He was a flamboyant character who dressed well and was well known for lavish hospitality.  He never married but had two mistresses and four children.  He was replaced by Prince Edward, Duke of Kent and the future father of Queen Victoria.

O'Hara built a watch tower at this point which became a gunnery position and the current museum represents it as it was in 1890.  I LOVED it,  but I think Julie preferred looking at the ocean and the seabirds. 

Julie here.  There is photo there of a Lister Engine... When we volunteered with National Parks we ran tours of Barrenjoey Lighthouse ... ALL of the men raved about the LISTER engine!

Oh and did you know there are 8km of road tunnels in the Rock... I didn't!

St Michael’s Cave was long believed to be bottomless. This probably gave birth to the story that the Rock of Gibraltar was linked to Africa by a subterranean passage under the Strait of Gibraltar.

I wasn't prepared for the sheet size and grandeur of the place.  These photos really don't do it justice.  Check out the video here.  I found the light show a bit overwhelming.  The stalactites and stalagmites were enough for me.

I would have loved to have heard a concert here!

Yes the history is all there in the names they chose. Walking down from the Rock we were more than relieved to see the Devil's Gap Path.  So much to see and do.... one day on the Rock really wasn't enough!

Trafalgar Cemetery occupies a small area outside Gibraltar city walls.  It was here that injured sailors from the Battle of Trafalgar (21 October, 1805) who died of their wounds were laid to rest.  

Captain Thomas Norman, Royal Marine Corps and HMS Mars aged 36 and Lieutenant William Forster HMS Colossus aged 20. Those killed in battle were buried at sea.  HMS Victory was towed to Rosia Bay (Gibraltar) and Nelson's remains were transported to England and buried in a crypt in St Paul's Cathedral.

A ceremony is held each year that commemorates those who died in the Battle of Trafalgar.  One gravestone outlined the poignant information that two sailors had died from the same shot! Amazing peaceful place.

Great to hear all the family news and to share the stories... Hopefully not such a long break next time!

A fast and furious trip to Gibraltar! Part 1

Amazing what you can do in four days!  Such an interesting place, much more multicultural than I thought although the English culture certainly makes its mark!

English Bobbies now there's a surprise! English food and Spanish murals.

The Rock Hotel is famous for the many stars who have stayed there: Sir Winston Churchill, Errol Flynn, Alec Guinness and Sean Connery to name a few.  

John & Yoko made it even more famous when they chose to get married in Gibraltar and to spend their honeymoon at the Rock!

The art on the street is a series of road blocks.  The artist was still painting them when we were there and of couse there was John and Yoko and Queen Elizabeth's visit in 1954!

Farewell Sevilla ... we will be back

 Thank you to everyone who made this such a great trip!  See you again soon!  Gibraltar here we come.

Alcazar Palace of Sevilla

No we didn't do the tourist tour the city by horse and cart or climb the Giralda Tower but we did succumb the other main tourist attraction - the Alcazar Palace of Sevilla.  It was an incredible but not a really enjoyable experience. Hot, crowded and all just too much!  

The history and architecture were truly amazing as you can see from this short video.  https://artsandculture.google.com/story/a-walk-through-the-royal-alc%C3%A1zar-in-seville-ayuntamiento-de-sevilla/mAVxSW6XgETNJQ?hl=en

There were two things we loved...the gardens - (There are thirteen of them in all, Flower, Pond, Lady's, Troy, Dance etc).  Most people were trying to recognise scenes from the 'Game of Thrones' but we loved the plants, they were truly beautiful.  

Our favourite spot was the Baños de Maria Padilla.  This pool was hidden away on a small path which led off from the Gardens. Most people missed it and so we had it to ourselves.  

The story is that it was built for the mistress of Pedro I (Pedro the Cruel).  She would walk naked through the palace to bathe in the pool.  Pedro insisted that embassadors drank from her bathing water before they consulted with him. (He wasn't called Pedro the Cruel for nothing!)

She bore him several children but he didn't marry her until after she died (weird eh?) when he asked the Pope to annul all his previous marriages and declare them man and wife!

I must have been such a relief to swim and escape the relentless sun or in our case tourists!

 

Early morning walks

 

Love how you can peek into the gorgeous courtyards and see glimpses of another lifestyle! 

Lots of art work scattered through the city!  Roll over Beethoven!

The Mushrooms of Sevilla

On our wanderings we discovered in the Plaza de la Encarnación the Metropol Parasol also known by the locals as the mushrooms of Seville. The area was run down and the square was destined to be a car park but the remains of a roman town complete with mosaics from houses from the first century AD were found.  An architectural competition was launched and Jürgen Mayer, a German architect  was chosen to revitalise the square.He designed the largest wooden construction in the world (150 x 70 meters and 26 meters in height). Of course it went over budget and time but has become one of the most popular sites in Sevilla.

Amazing what you find when you wander!  Loved it!

A babble of languages in Seville Cathedral

We hate the disgorged tourist experience but we couldn't really miss Seville Cathedral and the tomb of Christopher Columbus.  So we forked out our 25 Euros and joined the queue of thousands of tourists who followed the yellow umbrellas or red flags of their guides.  Around us was a babble of languages.  Bedlam!  However the tomb was impressive!

Roger here! I just love all the history and this is my take on Christopher Columbus.

Christopher Columbus (1451 - 1506) originated from Genoa in present day Italy is famous for a voyage to the Americas sponsored by the Catholic Monarchs of Spain.  It is known fact that the Vikings visited and inhabited America hundreds of years before and the native first peoples would be surprised that Columbus "discovered" America.  Anyway he was still an amazing self made man who dreamed of finding a Western passage to the spice islands of the East Indies. What followed was hundreds of years of colonisation, exploitation of resources and slavery.  Many places bear his name: Columbia (S. America), British Columbia (Canada), Columbus Ohio (USA) and Washington (Capital USA) located in the district of Columbia.  He is buried in Sevilla Cathedral.  Sevilla was the major port and held a monopoly of trade with the Americas for many centuries. 

 

Seville is a city of light, laughter, and music.

The mornings are crisp - around 19 degrees and the raucous streets of the previous evening quietened. This is our time to claim the city. Mist rises above the river and we start our daily circle walk.  Which of the narrow streets will entice us today?

From our balcony we watch as the day slowly unfolds.  A lonely runner pounds across the bridge. A truck laden with fruit, blocks the street to unload fresh fruit for the market.  Everything in slow motion.  When we first arrived, we rushed to the market at 7.00am eager to buy freshly baked bread.  We now know that 10.00am is an acceptable time!  Ah well, if you have dinner at 10.pm it makes sense!

One of Roger's greatest pleasures is to research the Blue Plaques in the country he is visiting.  Tirania being the centre of ceramics has some of the most beautiful in the world.  And who was Andres Martinez de Leon... Oops.. Hey Roger who was he again?

Little St Martins pulls out all the stops...and trumpets ... and drums and ...

We love visiting the grand churches and palaces but our greatest joy is wandering through the narrow streets and finding the little (but grand) community churches and so it was with St Martins. 

 

At 10.00 am we could feel the excitement.  Was it a wedding?  A funeral? 

Then I got it! Memories and emotions flooded through my body.  I was seven years old again! 

It was a religious procession,  

Now I grew up on an economically challenged council (commission) Estate.  Unlike our neighbours, my friend's surnames were Desforges, Valerio, Kempka etc.  We were a small island of catholics in a predominantly Protestant community.  As a seven year old there were many exciting times but none more so than the 1 May and 1st June - the months of Our Lady and The Sacred Heart.  It's only now in this village of St Martin's it strikes me what a shock it must have been for our neighbours to see us walk in procession through the streets, band playing, proudly parading the statues of Mary or Jesus.  

Communion frocks and suits were washed and lengthened, shoes polished.  Flowers ordered and the choir and band rehearsed! One year my friend Margaret Valerio was crowned May Queen and I was her handmaiden!  Oh the joy!

Its over 50 years since I left the Catholic Church but to see this procession was a truly emotional experience.

Ps Don't you love the feet shuffling under the canopy of the trailer bearing the Madonna.  What a hot and heavy task that must have been!

Sevilla Paseando

Everyday we plan to take a bus or a tour of Seville but as usual we start walking and can't stop.  We do circle tours and Roger being the avid geographer he is mapped our trips.  Amazingly as we wandered and chatted to people in our deplorable Spanish we walked over 10km a day!  

Loved it... the following blogs are highlights of our walks in Seville.

We couldn't resist the funniest Flamenco EVER!

On one of our morning trips to the Mercado, we saw this intriguing sign and theatre.  We couldn't resist.  

When we arrived the market was closed but as we walked by the closed stalls, we saw a large box like structure being wheeled out by a plump, jocular guy.  He set it down unfolded it and unbelievably somehow slid himself inside.  The evening had begun!

We showed him our phone booking and he beamed. Then very carefully wrote seat numbers onto our tickets before rolling them carefully into a cone.  (Everything here is packaged beautifully in paper and yes, usually in a cone).  We sat on a bench watching audience members arrive but confident smiles were quickly replaced with looks of bewilderment. The wall behind us vibrated with the thunder of flamenco shoes punctuated by the sound of someone wailing. 'What had we let ourselves in for?' 

Time ticked by.  Every now and then the ticket seller would open the door behind us and peer inside releasing a wave of sound.  Finally, he smiled and carefully ushered us into one of the smallest theatres I've ever seen. 

There were about twenty people in all.  When we were seated, a hand reached out from behind the curtain and pulled a string to reveal two chairs.  We waited until we saw and heard the stage door open onto the tiny stage.  An embarrassed looking guitarist bowed his way to a chair and started to play.  He was terrific!

When he had finished he bowed again, looked around him and waited. Nothing happened.  He leaned over to the stage door and knocked loudly before turning back to us and shrugging!  He looked as amused and bewildered as the rest of us!

A small, tubby man in black suit, gold necklaces, flashing rings strode the centre of the stage, nodded to the guitarist and then began to sing.  No wait, that should be WAILED!  Tears poured from his eyes and sweat from his brow.  Eventually, it ended.  The guitarist was a relieved as we were!

We were jolted awake as castanets exploded like fireworks and the rhythmic thunder of feet announced the Flamenco dancer.  She burst onto the stage,  froze and fixed the singer with sultry eyes. The guitarist watched with an amused look as the singer wailed once more.  The cycle of sultry looks, staccato of castanets, feet and the wailing singer continued a metre away from our front row seats.

It was an unforgettable evening.  We loved it!