Hasta la vista

Up early and we are very surprised to find it raining outside so dive into suitcase for umbrella before dashing across the wet plaza to the station. Could not believe the number of people (still!) out and about at this hour. The Metro was busy (it is Sunday morning)!! A lot of young people, presumably travelling home from a (very!) late night out!

We have a fumble at the ticket machines but have been good students - after yesterday's scare when the machine temporarily 'ate' my card - and manage the process with only a minor hiccough.

We had to change stations twice - the airport seems a long way out! It took about 50 minutes but once there, it is a very streamlined process through check-in and scanning and passport control - although there is a further 20-minute train to our terminal!! A pretty decent airport I’d have to say. And a very decent leg this one: Madrid to Doha (plane half empty, plenty of room and excellent service).

Long transfer at Doha:

Ronda to Madrid

We oversleep the alarm but still manage to meet our milestones in terms of timing.

We pack and walk to the churros cafe recommended by our BnB host; it is on the way to the station up a side street - fortunately we had checked it out yesterday because, as it was, we still went down the wrong street! Lovely orange juice, very strong coffee and a cholesterol-loading breakfast of freshly cooked churros with hot chocolate. Yum - but not to be eaten too often I wouldn’t think!

We walk casually along La Bola, the main street, to the station where the train - equally casually - arrives 10 minutes late.

There is a guy snoring his head off; I’m glad I’m not adjacent to him or I’d be stuffing a sock in his mouth or pouring cold water over him! (I wonder which passenger will capitulate first!); turns out they are incredibly accommodating!

It’s supposed to be a fast train but it has a few unscheduled stops and seems not that fast; this is confirmed after Antequera when, after another stop, it zooms in speed to 210 km/hr!

We eat the goyescas I bought yesterday: dulces (sweets) tipico de Ronda (honey, almond, pine nuts and chocolate).

The countryside comprises wind farms, olive groves galore (some with incredibly old gnarled trees); and after Cordoba,  some shrubby hills with the most gorgeous white flowers (rock roses?), little farms with stone walls, green waving grasses (maize?), startlingly bright yellow fields of canola as we approach Madrid. The weather is fine, cooler than yesterday and increasingly cloudy. We were very lucky with our weather in Ronda.

Our Snoring Man finally stops.

We arrived into the central Atocha station and working out how to buy tickets for the Metro was an incredible challenge but I guess once you know how then it’s a piece of cake, right?

Finding the way to the platform for Line 1 to station Sol was the next challenge, followed by the transfer to Line 2 to Ópera. Our hotel is 50 m from here! Great spot!

We go for a wander - checkout our restaurant for tonight. The Royal Palace is nearby - we have been here before but have a look anyway. Very (!) chilly breeze but hot in the sun - weird weather but not complaining: it’s not raining ... back to the Plaza Isabella II opposite our hotel and the Opera House and enjoy hot chips, olives and a glass of red vino for me and a beer for MF. Watch the world amble by.  

We walked, we shopped ... went to dinner and enjoyed some nice wine (an albariño and a 2014 Matarromera Crianza from Ribera del Duero) the most splendid jamón ibérico.

Back to hotel to pack (after double-checking at the Metro along the way that we have our route to the airport sorted: we’ll be on the first Metro when it opens at 6 a.m. - or at least THAT is the plan!)

Ronda

We have a very welcome sleep-in (our first real one this entire trip).

Our BnB is in the old Muslim town which retains a typical medieval Islamic character of twisting narrow streets. We love the area and our accommodation: it is just great - it has everything we want; not luxurious but very, very comfortable, quiet, great shower, lovely olive oil products, is heated and even has a kettle!!

We set off to walk the 120 m deep El Tajo Gorge and even though we weren’t up super early, the light was still lovely and there were very few people around. We get great views from below of the 18th century puente nuevo spanning the gorge.

We had already ‘cased out’ Casa Luciano last night and so we now made a circuitous walk for breakfast there via lovely lanes.

This is the ‘real McCoy’: ham (jamón ibérico) hanging over the bar, the locals having coffee and chatting (mostly blokes!), sun streaming in through the windows. What a lovely day.

We returned to our BnB mid-morning as the tourists were pouring in to Ronda. We had a relax before setting out again and HIT the Decathlon shop (yay!) and MF bought some lovely shoes at a shoe shop (for 38€!).

We meandered some more - the day was getting quite hot, t-shirt weather (!) and we happened upon Fabrica Cerveza Artesanal where MF has a locally brewed beer, Rondeña, and I had a G&T - this is the level of the GIN!!

Ronda is one of the more well-known pueblos biancos of this region and is an old Islamic town, its near impregnable position keeping it out of Christian hands until 1485. It features in Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls.

More wandering around: via the old bullring, one of the oldest in Spain, although we passed on going in; back in the old city we enjoyed great views from La Ciudad’s old walls where we followed a path down to the 13-14th century Baños Árabes (Arab baths) and then across the Puente Viejo (the old bridge); the path then leads up to the top alongside the gorge.

De Locos Tapas for dinner - sensational! Unbelievable meal: pulpo, goats cheese, ox-cheek, grilled vegetables, patatas bravas, artichoke with quail egg, egg with truffle, etc., etc. with Ribera red wine and finished off with a yummy white chocolate dessert and raspberry sauce for me - deelish!! This was sitting by the Almocabar Gate of the old Arabic wall, full moon on the rise, late afternoon/early evening light shining off the old rocks.

Ferry to Spain

It’s a lovely walk to the port (if a little hurried: always that frisson of anxiety that one is definitely walking in the right direction!) after a lovely breakfast on the terrasse. 

Tangier is quite majestic - imposing buildings along the waterfront boulevarde with ramparts rising up steeply behind.

At the port it was a myriad of steps to work out where to go, the port under renovation, just like about everything else in Morocco (and probably behind schedule too ...). Once we had filled out the requisite documentation, we followed the hordes. We were told the boat was full and we were lucky we had booked - months ago (!).

A myriad of races progressed through Passport Control - ours was very quick given we look completely unlike anyone else! (white, tall, not dressed in a jellaba or head-scarf!). I feel like a refugee - and wonder how many of these people are: certainly the officers look at them very carefully and it all takes time; on the other hand we are waved through, almost like royalty: it’s a bit embarrassing.

We leave half an hour late. So it’s goodbye Morocco via the Strait of Gibraltar; hello Spain. 

We arrive at Estacion de Tarifa and take shuttle bus to Algeciras (note to Bill: pronounced Aljer-sì-rass emphasis on ‘si’) which -  finally ! - arrives. Picturesque bus ride. We can see Gibraltar as we arrive into Algeciras. 

OMG I can’t believe it: Spain! We walk UP to Plaza Alta (and the Iglesia Ntra. Sra. de la Palma) - a pretty square! And then we find a great spot for lunch! An excellent glass of red rioja; 2 beers for MF. 

Does someone look happy?!And tostadas (guacamole and fresh anchovy for me). OMG the best thing I have eaten for weeks (although this morning’s omelette was THE BEST!!). I am in Heaven. Can not believe it! I LOVE Spain - the people are so friendly and helpful; it is wonderful not to be hassled! The clothes, the food, the wine. All muy bueno!! 

Ah darn it! The train is not running all the way to Ronda! Argh! This is meant to be one of the great train journeys of the world! Argh. We are going by bus to San Roque; then train - apparently. We’ll see how this ‘pans out’. MF has his map app working and San Roque is only a small distance along. We duly change onto the train at San Roque. 

The scenery is amazing: a stream wiggling its way through a rocky gorge, yellow flowers, orchards, olive groves, lots of tunnels as the train snakes its way around the valley to Ronda. There are a good many dirt walking tracks following the river too which look great; we see some bike riders. 

The post-lunch sleepiness is banished and the dirty train windows make photo-snapping almost impossible but still it is a picturesque trip that I simply don’t want to end!! 

In Ronda, as we walk from the station to our BnB, we pass a tapas place as we pass over the Puente Nuevo (the new bridge); make a mental note to return. 

We get lost looking for the BnB and have to make a call (especially worrying is impending rain and I don’t want to be caught out in it!). We are hit by a thunderstorm just as we arrive at the BnB (finally!) but it clears as we sit down in the Tabanco Los Arcos - the bar we had seen earlier - where we ‘down’ two red wines (from the region) with tapas - the liver enzymes are definitely getting a pick-me-up today!; the Tempranillo/Syrah is the better. We have a great spot looking out the window straight down the gorge! Choices: Provolone de casa; jamón ibérico de bellota, sardina ahumada, queso de rulo de cabra y mermelada de frambuesa. I have to laugh though: just when I thought we’d left Morocco behind, our coffee arrives and is called Dromaderio. But of course, the Islamic/Moorish influence is very strong here! 

The weather clears and although no sunset, we enjoy the last vestiges of daylight over the gorge; we have gained an hour since crossing the Mediterranean so are relishing the extra daylight. Spend an hour walking around enjoying the town.

Arrival into Tangier

We had rung ahead to our accommodation to let them know we’d be in late so we were grateful to see a taxi waiting for us, the driver waving the name of our BnB on a sheet of paper. Less pleased were we to be charged double what we should have paid - the last of our Dirhams so we’ll have to walk to the port today; he had waved away my request to put the meter on and had made a show almost that we were being done a favour. Of course, no such thing in Morocco; my bullshit meter was not working properly no doubt due to weariness and always open to the possibility that maybe just this time a kindness (on the part of the BnB) was being shown.

Unfortunately this will be one of our lingering memories of Morocco: the constant ‘on the make’ of people: nothing is done without expecting something in return or something is always being offered even when you don’t want or require it; not that I begrudge fair payment for a fair job. But I do hate being ripped off and here overwhelmingly they are always trying you out: like the ‘restaurant’ where we had dinner with John our last night in Essaouira - ‘we have no change’ he says; I said ‘you’ve had previous customers tonight, you must have change’ (or they’d been fleeced the same way), ‘we are not running a bank, it’s a restaurant’ he cheekily replies, ‘it is a business and you must have change’ I retort. He does. This of course leaves you less inclined to give a tip which is what the economy runs on: tipping - or ‘no change’!

On the other hand, Fatima (one of the staff at our gorgeous riad in Essaouira) had been in and out of our room all day moving the washing around so it dries (and was most concerned that MF had an uneven number of socks - welcome to MY world!; she offers a service well beyond what one would expect; clearly the staff here are very well trained - we happily tip generously. The same had been the case at the riad in Marrakech: excellent service - without overt seeking of recompense - for which we were happy to reward.

Our BnB here in Tangier looks gorgeous in the early morning light. It is an old home with the most beautiful garden and I woke to birds twittering. It certainly is a little oasis.

Essaouira to Tangier

Well, that is the plan: 3 hours by bus to Marrakech then 8 hours by train. 

We are up super early, the riad does rustle up some breakfast - not as great as yesterday but still nice, especially those home-made preserves! Quick walk in the dark to the bus with light misty rain settling in as we arrive at the depot. We amuse ourselves watching everyone else arrive, some dashing in by taxi. We leave 2 mins late as light dawns. 

Basically sleep the first hour until noos-noos stop. I try to have it without sugar; I have got addicted to sugar here - apparently the average sugar consumption is 19 kg per person per year. 

It is freeway all the way until last turnoff into Marrakech which is an awful road: narrow and shared with little motor scooters which the bus has to negotiate around avoiding oncoming traffic. Very industrial as we approach and lots of colourful bougainvillea. 

The transfer from bus to train station is seamless and in fact the bus has arrived early. We don’t muck around though and board the train quickly, helped by the conductor with our luggage. It’s 1st class but 2nd class by our train standards. The half hour transfer passes quickly and we watch as the seats all fill up: it’s going to be a long haul. Thank goodness we are in 1st class because the seats are wide and comfortable despite there being the full complement of 6 people in our compartment and the luggage racks are totally full. It is raining again - has been off and off so far today - good day to be in a train! 

Travelling north towards Casablanca, we can see minor flooding in the fields. I must say, I had pictured Morocco as being hot, t-shirt weather but I’m glad I checked the forecasts before leaving home because, apart from the desert, it has been mainly cool and I have been grateful more than once for my warm jacket - like today!! 

The sun comes out and we pass fields of lovely flowers: yellow, white and interspersed with red poppies. There are also signs of the new track for the TGV fast train that the French are building.

At Casablanca we change trains but there is a delay - we leave an hour late! Very tedious. We are not scheduled to get into Tangiers until 20:20 as is!

Essaouira - a day of relaxing!

Essaouira is a 14th century port city and resort on Morocco’s Atlantic coast; it used to be called Mogador. Its medina (old town) is protected by 18th-century seafront ramparts called the Skala de la Kasbah, which were designed by European engineers. Old brass cannons line the walls of the medina from which there are ocean views. Strong "Alizée" trade winds make the city’s crescent beach popular for surfing, windsurfing and kitesurfing. 

We actually sleep in a little; breakfast is 8:15 a.m.  - late by our standards. I escape quickly down to the waterfront before breakfast and the alleys are empty of stalls and people. There are huge clouds in a dark sky but this clears an hour later. Sandstone walkways contrast with whitewashed houses, bright blue sky and the sand of the surrounding beaches and dunes.

This artists' town was once home to sizeable British and Jewish populations, including well-known people like Orson Welles (who shot and starred in his classical film version of Othello here in 1949) and musicians like Frank Zappa and Jimi Hendrix (who, according to local legend, spent much of his time here in the 1960s).

We have breakfast on the terrasse - it is a beautiful spot and lovely food! The small group next to us are heading up to the High Atlas - to a resort owned by Richard Branson (I look it up: over $900 a night. Pass.).

We walk around the alleys (also making sure we have the route sorted out to the bus station for our very early departure tomorrow). It starts to rain a little, the ominous clouds having been a harbinger of rain all morning. Patisserie Chez Driss offers a welcome spot out of the weather, although it’s only a few spits really: the merchants don’t even bother moving their merchandise indoors. This patisserie has been going since 1928. We indulge in reading the paper and buy some pastries/cakes (for later).

Oh yum! Eat your heart out Trace!

More wandering around - this time to the beach then the other side of the port. Then back to the hotel where we spend the afternoon relaxing on the terrasse.

We met up with John (from our tour group; he is also staying in Essaouira) and wandered some alleys until we found a place for dinner. We reflected on our Moroccan experience and agreed it had been a tough gig, but that life for the ordinary Moroccan must be tough too.