Family, Food & Fun in Fes - Fanks Phoebe and Karim!

Travelling by train overland from Marrakech to Fes seemed like a great way to experience the vast and arid expanses that fill most of Morocco's land mass. And I can assure you it was quite intriguing to see the landscape change as the ramshackle houses, roadside stalls and stray animals disappeared to be replaced with...nothing. But nothing isn’t always a bad thing The nothing that replaced the menagerie that was Marrakech consisted of expanses of olive groves and a seemingly infinite supply of orange soil that met and clashed with the blue horizon strikingly.

Unfortunately the dessert scene being played out was lost on me as I had a serious fever. When you have a fever the best case scenario is being in an air-conditioned home; in your own bed, blankets wrapped around you and either your mother or grandmother providing a constant supply of wet face washers, honey & lemon tea and paracetamol. The worst case scenario is sitting on a packed Moroccan train hurtling through the scorching dessert for seven hours; without air-conditioning, without tissues, without water and definitely without personal space Unfortunately for me I experienced the latter scenario!

After our hellish train journey, arriving in Fes, it was great to be greeted by a familiar face in our good friend Phoebe. Phoebe has recently married a Moroccan, Karim, and they warmly welcomed us into their home for three nights. For our hosts' sake we tried to contain our excitement, but if we were to be honest the thought of sleeping in the old medina in the oldest city in Morocco, shopping and eating amongst locals and getting an intimate insight into Moroccan life was tres exciting!

The Blue Gate (Bab Boujloud) in Fes

Playing at the old Royal Palace

Arriving at Phoebes and Karim's flat, the first thing we noticed was the Moroccan sofa, called ponjes. The sofa ran around the entire perimeter of the lounge room. Phoebe told us to pick any spot and that it would be our bed for the next three nights. Karim went off to work while Phoebe, Julia and I caught up on gossip and easily chatted for a few hours. Our catchup was cut short by the rumblings of our stomachs and we heeded their demands and left in search of some food. We met Karim and he took us to a local restaurant where we feasted on a spicy and fulfilling chicken tagine. Blowing my nose incessantly throughout the meal, it was impossible to hide the fact that I was a little sick. Karim, concerned, told me he would take me to a traditional doctor and have me on the mend in no time. Culturally, vocationally and socially accustomed to western medicine I suppressed my scepticism and thought the opportunity an experience or story at the very least.

A delicious dinner date with Phoebe and Karim!

Arriving at the small store, I was overwhelmed by the organic smells, viles perched precariously on precariously affixed shelves and a very cluttered space. After the mandatory questions, thankfully translated by Karim, the doctor said, with a toothy grin, that I needed to sniff some 'black cocaine.' By now a small crowd had formed and with some trepidation I inhaled the 'black cocaine.' My eyes watered almost immediately and I can tell you my nostrils and nasal passage felt as though I had just inhaled napalm. It was some hours and countless tissues later until my nostrils stopped burning and my nasal passage stopped expelling black soot like discharge.

In Islamic culture, Friday is their hol-i-day. Culturally, Moroccans couple this Islamic day with couscous and aptly name it 'Couscous Fridays'. Phoebe and Karim told us that Karim's family would be over early Friday morning for 'Couscous Friday'. We were excited at the prospect of sharing a meal with Karim's family and also learning how to make some genuine Moroccan fare. Despite the obvious language barrier we were able to sufficiently communicate with Karim's family and jot down a few recipe notes. Not to mention share countless laughs and good old fashioned fun. The whole process took quite some time as everything was expertly made from scratch by Karim's mum. No instant couscous. No chicken stock cubes. And the resulting meal, coupled with fantastic company was one of the best meals we have enjoyed this trip so far. Our fond memories of sitting around the largest tagine we've ever bared witness to will no doubt stay with us forever.

Karim's mum cooking up a storm! The chicken had been freshly slaughtered that morning.

Couscous - before shot......

.... and after! Yummo!

At risk of giving you the impression I'm searching for sympathy, I have to talk briefly about my sickness. Really just a head cold and under normal circumstances, nothing to worry about. However, Morocco, with its spice infused cuisine, moreish mint tea and abundance of weird and wonderful sweets, is not a country you want to lose your sense of taste and the timing couldn't have been worse! Needless to say I was bloody annoyed at not being able to fully appreciate the varied flavours that I was shovelling into my mouth. Humourlessly the last thing I consumed before losing my sense of taste was an out-of-this-world almond milkshake. So for three days everything I tasted, or didn't taste, tasted of almond milkshake. Not a bad flavour to be stuck with for three days!

Karim also took us to a tannery, where leather is dyed and made into all sorts of products like handbags, jackets & belts!

Julia has coerced me into writing of Phoebe's temporarily adopted kitten Azeya. Azeya was a stray street kitten rescued by Karim. It goes without saying that kittens are by nature very cute and I'm personally an animal lover. So it was lovely having Azeya stumble around, falling off of couches, getting her little claws stuck on things due to her lack of control and watching her belly grow as she was fed and fed and then fed some more in the name of love. Julia was besides herself with love and joy and a plethora of other maternal emotions that only women can experience. As adorable as little Azeya was, her lasting legacy will no doubt be Julia's subsequent own adoption of a kitten once we arrive home! My question is, will I get to help decide a name? 

She's so little!!!!!!!

Azeya wearing a paper hat!! She's so working that samurai look!

Salam Marrakech!

Having spent a few months in continental Europe, we decided to shake things up a bit and visit a new continent – Africa! Unfortunately our visit there was limited to Morocco, but that's where the disappointment ended. With hypnotic snake charmers, sizzling tagines, bustling bazaars and the smell of fresh mint following us everywhere, our senses were overwhelmed by the sheer amount of stimulation around them.

Bundles and bundles of deliciously fresh mint!

Jam-packed full of yumminess tagine!!

Marrakech was our first stop. Renowned for its jam-packed souk (night market) held every evening, we were incredibly eager to check it out and fill our bellies with the goodies that were on offer. Within a matter of hours hundreds of food stalls were set up in what had been a barren square by day, transforming the square into a smoky, crowded, noisy and bustling souk. Admittedly, choosing a stall to eat at wasn't the most relaxing experience, with waiters hastling and shouting at us every few steps to coax us into eating at their restaurant. But all of the chaos contributed to an exciting and electric atmosphere, and it was great fun sharing a delicious Moroccan meal amongst the buzz.

We had a delicious dinner with Justine and Michael!

Working our way through the crowds of people inside the souk

A bustling food stall

The view of the souk from a cafe above

A more intimate experience was had on our second last day in Marrakech. Along with a few new Pommy friends, we decided to visit a hamaam, a Moroccan bath house. Moroccan hammams are rooted in thousands of years of history and tradition, and are not only a place for locals to cleanse their bodies, but also somewhere for them to socialise. In fact, hammams are such a significant part of Moroccan culture that every quarter in old towns like Marrakech have to have a hamaam. So there were plenty for us to chose from. And annoyingly plenty of touts trying to get our business. After being led down a few wrong, desolate alleys, and being quoted ridiculous prices by said hopeful touts, we chose a private (as opposed to a public) hamaam to spend the next couple of hours. Given that males and females are separated, Lucy (one of our new Pommy friends) and I said goodbye to the fellas and went off for our hamaam experience.

Moroccan tea!

I have to admit I was rather nervous about going. I'd read a range of reviews describing various hamaam experiences, everything from men having been inappropriately touched by their masseuses, to women getting ice-cold water thrown at them during the session in the name of rejuvenation. Understandably I was not particularly keen to experience either of these. On the other hand, I was very eager to experience this bathing ritual, and was happy to take the risk. And luckily for me the risk paid off. After being given paper g-strings to wear and told to whip off our bras, Lucy and I were marched over to a marble table where our bodies were cleansed with luke-warm water. After 5 or so minutes, we went inside a steam room, which opened our pores and loosened our dead skin cells. Finally, we were led back to the marble tables, where we were scrubbed vigorously with rough exfoliating gloves. And for the record, four months of being 'on the road' meant a lot of dead skin being exfoliated. All of this took around 40 minutes, and by the end of it our skin had never felt so silky smooth and revitalized. As far as external detoxes go, this one felt incredible, and despite the initial surprise at having to remain near-nude the entire time amongst strangers, it was a wonderfully relaxing and indulgent experience!

This delightful looking fish-paste was spread all over the boys' bodies during their hamaam session too!

Morocco is an incredibly arid country, with 78 percent of of it being dessert land. Surprisingly though, it's also home to some incredible natural beauty that you wouldn't expect to find in such an arid country. Keen to explore some of Morocco's countryside, we went on a daytrip to Ouzoud, home of the stunning Ouzoud Falls. And at 110m high, they were absolutely breathtaking! Unfortunately as cliché as it sounds, our photos don't do the falls justice, but I'm sure you'll be able to appreciate how stunning they were!  

Diving into the fresh waterfall water, minus the bellyflop this time

Rainbow!! (pinky promise this has not been photo-shopped in!)

The hills are alive with the sound of...cow bells!

This trip, by way of nature and sheer experience, has obviously taught me many things. Too many things to delve into on this humble blog. However, one thing that I've had reinforced and will happily rhapsodise over is my love of the mountains. I can't tell you why, but I can tell you how I feel about mountains. I'm actually beginning to believe that I must have had some intimate connection with mountains in my past life.

Initially their sheer size is obviously what grabs your attention. For me, their colossal nature demands a certain amount of respect, a resignation that there are forces and elements to them that are so powerful and beyond our reckoning. Then there is their ruggedness. The jagged edges that from afar can look like symmetrical and clean peaks and slopes but up close present as dangerous serrated edges. In Spanish the word sierra or mountain range actually means the 'teeth of a saw.' The breathlessness at their beauty from afar is only rivalled by their breathlessness up close. The lack of oxygen and sharp ascents literally do take your breath away. Despite the enormity of these gentle giants, one cant help but be mesmerised by their inherent vulnerability. Themselves victims of force majeure, they effortlessly and beautifully get covered by layers of innocuous and delicate snow. Much like a beautiful woman; stunning albeit intimidating, the snow capped mountains easily capture your attention, but despite flirting constantly with it it's obvious that you will never become intimately acquainted!

Flying into Bern, Switzerland, I was like a kid on their first day of school. Both nervous and excited. Nervous, at the small plane and proximity of the mountain peaks. And excited, though not having adequate enough control over my vocabulary, to convey my utter joy. The views from the plane where a moment to savour and my inability to convey my joy was replaced by a child like grin and uncontrollable fidgeting.

The excellent view from our disconcertingly small double-prop propeller plane!!!!

Setting foot in Switzerland I immediately felt more at home than I've ever experienced in a foreign country before - with the imposing and ominous mountains like the reassuring eyes of a family member. Bern is the small but picturesque capital of Switzerland. The glacial river that flows through the heart of the town has the most brilliantly pristine turquoise water I've ever bared witness to. I was so drawn to the natural beauty of the water that had it not have been for the furious current, I would have braved the freezing waters for a swim. As the capital, patriotism ran strong through Bern with the streets adorned in Swiss flags. So strong was the nationalism that we felt compelled to purchase a Swiss army knife each. Conveniently, I'd lost mine the week before in Italy and although Switzerland is easily the most expensive place I’ve ever visited, Swiss army knives are the exception and are at least 40% cheaper than back home.

Brilliant!

Very quickly we learnt the Swiss do two things extremely well; chocolate and cheese. Unfortunately their prowess at cheese making was somewhat lost on us. Australians are not know for their cheese production so for our unaccomplished palates most of the cheeses we tasted were simply too strong for us to enjoy. Much to the disappointment of the lady we stayed with in Bern who actually worked at a cheese research lab and subsequently had a fridge full of cheeses for us to try. What we lacked in cheese tasting ability we made up for in chocolate tasting. And, speaking from experience, I can assure you that Swiss chocolate is the best I've ever had. If you're one of our regular blog readers, I'm sure you're well and truly satiated with food related anecdotes. Therefore you'll be pleased to know that the actual purpose for our trip to Switzerland didn’t revolve around food but rather hiking. However, conveniently we had two hikes planned that involved both chocolate, cheese and wine factories. Didn’t think you could get away that easily did you?

Photo A

Cailler chocolate factory

Oh I should also briefly mention that with three official languages; German, French and Italian, the proficiency of languages in Switzerland is very impressive. Our first host spoke German, English, Spanish and French. But most strikingly is the geographic language switch. In Bern, Swiss German is most widely spoken but after a one hour train ride to a town call Fribourg, French predominated. More than the verbal swap, the cultural swap is what surprised us. We could now see French street signs, French advertising not to mention the French conversations surrounding us. Truly quite astounding for an Australian, where language proficiency is generally quite poor.

Photo B - Please vote which photo, A or B, is better?!

Back to the hiking. Our first hike was broken up into two legs. The first leg ending at a chocolate factory, the second leg ending in Gruyère at a cheese factory - the home of Gruyère cheese. But to focus solely on those two deliciously happy endings would be irresponsible. The terrain and surrounds of our first hike where stunning in every sense of the word. Quintessentially Swiss, the 'pre-alp' area we were hiking in had it all; rolling hills carpeted in the most verdant grass I've ever seen, black and white dairy cows conspicuous by the chimes of their cow bells, air so fresh and crisp that my diaphragm egged me on to inhale more, more, and traditional wooded homes. The only thing missing from it truly being the scene of a Swiss tourism commercial was some yodelling in the background. Huffing and puffing up the steep tracks, we couldn’t have asked for better motivation than the very real thought of a Swiss chocolate factory. Quickly enough we arrived, enjoyed an interesting tour but the real reason we were there was for the tastings. No different to a scene straight from Willy Wonka, the tastings did not disappoint as we were surrounded by trays and trays of chocolate. I'm not talking plain milk chocolate but an assortment of luxurious pralines and truffles. Ironically as quickly as we had devoured the seductive goodies we were feeling sick from pure gluttony and vowed not to eat chocolate for at the rest of the day.

The town of Gruyeres

So much outrageous cheese!!

Our next hike was through the picturesque Laveux region. Situated adjacent to Lake Geneva, the rolling hills were literally covered with vineyards as far as the eye could see. When we averted our gaze from the unique scene before us and peered across Lake Geneva we were actually looking at mainland France. Quite simply walking through 12 kilometres of vineyards proved to be a fantastic day with photo opportunities galore. Needless to say that by the end of the hike we had developed quite a yearning for some wine and purchased a bottle to rehydrate ourselves later that evening.

Stop fighting, I love you both!

The view from our apartment. That's France on the other side of Lake Geneva!!

Our final stop in Switzerland was its most well known city, Geneva. Most famous because it is the home of the United Nations. Though as far as a tourist destination goes, Geneva was quite lacking. Nevertheless we embraced the opportunity to visit the headquarters of the UN and enjoyed an insightful tour of the premises. Rubbing shoulders with diplomats and dignitaries, it was easy to imagine big decisions and important meetings taking place behind the closed doors around us.

Our final memory of Switzerland is in contrast to the utilitarian ones we hold of the UN. Led by Julia and in search of some cheap food we took a wrong turn and ended up in the red light district of Geneva. Not that big a deal you sneer? Well I've never seen such scantily clad prostitutes roaming the streets, nor have I ever been hit up for drugs so frequently along a street not more than 80 metres long. Regardless, Switzerland as a whole was an incredible destination and we left with mild cases of wine, cheese and chocolate overdose.

Laetitia our coach surfing host! She was very welcoming and even took us to a festival! Thanks!

I thought it tasted weird!

Julia the packaging is still on! So wild!

Cheese fondue - probably the worst meal I've ever eaten. Eww. 

Arrivederci Italia!

Roma. This ancient and great city almost deserves a blog of its own because it is...um well, so ancient and so great! Yes it is super touristy, yes there are tacky souvenir stores strewn everywhere and yes there are people dressed up as Gladiators constantly harassing tourists to be photographed with them. Aside from all of that, it is difficult not to be awed by the sheer amount of significant historic monutments. It's hard to believe that they all fit into the confines of one city.

Our first morning in Roma didn't start off smoothly for us though. Whilst Italians are exceptional makers of coffee, the take-away variety is still pretty much non-existent. Especially where we were staying, in the suburbs of Rome, a lazy one hour journey to the city centre (mistake #1). Conscience of the one hour commute ahead of us and wanting to fit in as much sight-seeing as possible, Jay and I made our way to the local cafe, and ordered a takeaway coffee and tea (mistake #2). After some confusion, a few hand gestures and the assistance of a couple of locals, the barrister finally understood that we were after takeaway beverages. Unbeknownst to us, she was making them in pre-used plastic juice bottles, which we soon found out still retained the flavours of their original contents. It was hard not to hide the disappointment we felt on our faces as we half-heartedly thanked the barrister for her efforts and made on with the rest of our day, albeit with a coffe tasting like grapefruit and tea tasting off pineapple.

The fateful vessel of our early morning beverages

The significance of Roma as the capital of Catholicism shouldn't go unmentioned either. Despite ongoing controversies surrounding the Pope and the frustratingly conservative nature of the Catholic church, it goes without saying that the Vatican complex, including St Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel, were incredibly breathtaking to visit. And to think that these immense and intricately decorated places of worship were built during the 16th and 17th centuries is another feat in itself.

Inside Saint Peter's Basilica

A view over the Vatican from the dome of St Peter's Basilica

Funny uniformed Vatican guards

The impressive walkway leading to the Sistine Chapel

Having well and truly walked ourselves out in Rome, we decided to give our feet a bit of a rest and hopped on a 12 hour train down to Sicily in southern Italy. Even though the train ride itself was uneventful, it's worth mentioning that to cross the channel from mainland Italy to Sicily, our train drove directly onto an awaiting ferry. With the train on board (and us too), the ferry then crossed the channel.  Once arriving in Sicily the train disembarked the ferry and continued in its tracks! Wowzas!

Our first stop was Palermo. Being in Palermo was like arriving in another country. Aside from people speaking Italian, we never would have guessed we were still in Italy. It was utterly chaotic, with horns blaring, piles of rubbish dumped everywhere, run-down grey buildings lining the streets and the smell of pollution encompassing the city. A stark contrast to the vivid green hills and fresh country air of central Italy. Also in stark contrast was our first night's accommodation with a genuine drug addict. But the story of our hasty exit has no place in this G-rated blog.   

Sicilians evidently also love foosball...there were tables placed around all over the city!

But what Sicily did have was granita (a Sicilian speciality made from ice and typically almond syrup). And cannolli. And lots of almonds (they even come in a crushed form to sprinkle over meals instead of parmesan). And, most excitedly, the brioche con gelati – or less eloquently put, an ice-cream sandwich. Literally. We were acquainted with this devilish dessert on our first night in Palermo, and after seeing hoards and hoards of Sicilians lining up to purchase this treat, we joined in to see what all the fuss was about!

Get in my belly! Ironically the chocolate flavours we chose happened to make our brioche look like a meat-filled one!

Mmmmm yum cannolli!

 

After Palermo, we made our way to the east coast of Sicily, to a lovely little town called Siracuse. Siracuse was a lot less chaotic and dirty than Palermo. It was a lot less touristy too. There was a gorgeous old-town area by the port with an outrageously good market we had lots of fun visiting. We left the market with fresh, handmade pasta and pistachio pesto to make for dinner that night, molto delizioso!! 

The very awesome market of Siracuse

Crazy Sicilian zucchini!

Siracuse also happened to be the home of the best gelati we had in Italy - the ricotta and pistachio flavours were a treat!

Jump if you love Italian food!

Our next stop was Taormina, a clifftop coastal town further north of Siracuse. Unfortunately Taormina has been overrun by tourists and the town itself has lost a lot of its quaint charm. That said, it had an absolutely stunning beachfront for us to enjoy – we didn't take our camera there so this postcard image will have to make do.

Our last destination in Italy was Napoli (Naples), the city which happens to be the birthplace of Italy's most famous and ingenious foods – the humble pizza. Admittedly it was rather intimidating being in THE HOME TOWN OF PIZZA, a food so very world-renowned. Nevertheless, we did not shy away from the challenge of finding THE BEST PIZZA IN NAPOLI (which, given that Napoli is the home of pizza, would mean we were seeking the best pizza in the world). And, I am proud to admit, we came very close, if not actually succeeding, in accomplishing this challenge! Having consumed many a pizzas in our lifetime, in many a different cities, I can confidently say that we undoubtedly ate the best pizzas possible in Napoli. 

A speedy Napolian pizza connoisseur

What was it that set these pizzas miles apart from the common-place varieties of our pasts? Put simply, it was due to their sheer simplicity. A well-rested dough, coupled with an outrageous, bursting-with-flavour passata (tomato) paste, layered with deliciously creamy buffalo cheese, cooked in a searing wood-fired oven for no longer than 3 minutes, was all that was needed to create the best pizzas of our entire lives. That was it. No unnecessary vegetables or silly stuffed crusts. Just a simple, well-prepared and executed combination of tomatoes, cheese and dough. Coupled with a beer (as is customary to have with pizza and subsequently the only time we tried beer in Italy), the meal was most definitely a bon appetit!

Oh-my-goodness-yum in a box!!!!

 

Aside from out-of-this-world pizzas, Napoli was another incredibly chaotic Italian city. It too was loud, dirty and grungy, but it definitely had a lot more charm and appeal in comparison to Palermo. And a lot more washing hanging up in the streets too.

It was laundry day everyday in Napoli!

We went on a day-trip to Pompeii too. To be able to walk around such a well-preserved ancient city (Mount Vesuvius erupted and buried the city in 79AD) was a truly unique experience, especially as it wasn't difficult to imagine day-to-day life in what would have been a very bustling town. It was a great way to finish off our Italian adventure and we left with our eyes, ears and stomachs incredibly satisfied! Grazie mille Italia!

The notorious Mt. Vesuvius looming in the background of Pompeii

A plaster cast of an ill-fated Pompeiian

The main street of Pompeii