And Then There Was Morocco

Morocco is an enchantress, a seductress. It is enticing, beguiling, mesmerizing, dazzling, magnificent, resplendent.

Morocco is its darkened alleys, sparkling mosaics, intricately carved woodwork, veiled women, and handicrafts in many rainbows of colors. It disturbs us with the relentless smell of the blood of freshly killed animals, suffocates us with the odor of damp wool in the rug shops, and revives us with the refreshing scents of mint and cilantro in its markets and orange blossoms in its many gardens. Its medinas disorient us in their maze by hiding the direction of the mid-day sun. Its land stuns us with its picture-postcard beauty at every turn.

We love Marrakech. We love Morocco.

Frequent Flyers

Charlie and I are on a trip around the world and then some. From Papeete, Tahiti, we flew back to LA, which was weird because we just passed through without stopping. We were home, but then we weren't. We still were subletting our apartment to Lissa through the end of the month and so we could not yet go home, except to drop off and pick up a couple things and quickly go through our mail. So, we flew 8 hours from Tahiti to Los Angeles, spent the night in LA and then got on a plane for another 11+ hours to get to London. And, did I mention that I was sick?

Somehow we both survived through it relatively unscathed. We arrived in London on St. Patrick's Day and dined in an Irish gastropub full of drunken guys in hats shaped like giant mugs of Guinness. I received a free bright green Guinness T-shirt and so I now have my go-to St. Patrick's Day outfit for the next 10 years. London is nothing if not fun.

As many of you know, I have not really hidden the fact that London is not my favorite city in the world. (Mostly because, with all of the gray brick, I find it rather Dickensian-style depressing. Nothing that a good whitewashing and a bit more sunshine would not fix.) But, I must admit that, after visiting that city so many times in the past 8-1/2 years and after all the wonderful times Charlie and I have had, most notably with his welcoming friends and family, for the first time ever, it felt a little bit like coming back to a home-away-from-home. Like visiting my grandma's; I don't live there, but it's a nice, welcoming place to visit. I won't say it out loud, but I won't disagree if you suspect that London is growing on me.

Waterfall

During our few days on the island of Tahiti, Charlie and I took a 4x4 trip into the heart of the island. We passed lush jungle growing on the steep volcanic mountains and numerous waterfalls flowing into a cool river pool in which we swam. Just lovely.

Literally, on the ride home from this outing, I started to have a sore throat that, within 24 hours had progressed into a vicious cold that completely blocked up my nose and ears. We were flying out that day, and it was my worst fear that I would burst an ear drum in the ascent or descent. I've done that before, years ago, and it is not nice. Bring on the Sudafed!

French Polynesia

This photo is just to fool you into believing that Tahiti felt particularly Polynesian. Don't be fooled; it didn’t much. This was just some show they put on for the tourists.

Tahiti really felt French. In part because everyone chain smokes. And then there is the fact that everyone speaks French. The means, of course, that the croissants and baguettes are delicious.

Tahitian Sunset

Needless to say, Tahiti is gorgeous. Our hotel is on a beautiful and impossibly soft black sand beach. The weather is perfect. The sunsets over the neighboring island of Moorea are breath-taking.

In an effort to make anyone who reads this a little less jealous, I will console you with the tales of exactly how expensive Tahiti is; the answer is, mind-bogglingly expensive. With the exception of New Zealand, Charlie and I have been visiting countries in order of increasing cost, as follows: India (dirt cheep); Cambodia (really cheap); Laos (pretty darn cheap); Thailand (rather cheap); New Zealand (kind of cheap); Australia (surprisingly uncheap); and Tahiti (OMG! That costs how much?!). I would like to blame it all on the French. Because any country that has been invaded by French people is basing its pricing nowadays on the Euro which makes the prices hard to bear when all I have is US dollars.

But the truth is that it is really all the fault of George Bush. What with two wars going on and the banking crisis leading to astronomical debt, the dollar is just shit. So there is another thing I have against that evil little man. It is all his fault that renting an Economy-sized car in Tahiti costs at least $125 a day and a basic hamburger for lunch runs about $27.

However, it is not only a problem for Americans. On numerous occasions and without prompting, local Tahitians bitterly complained about how expensive things like food, gas and clothing are for them. Apparently, everything is taxed highly in order to ensure that all the unemployed Tahitians get good benefits, employed Tahitians enjoy a decent standard of living, and all Tahitians get great healthcare. As one of our taxi drivers said - people in Tahiti enjoy the same social welfare and benefits enjoyed by people in French, plus they get to live in Tahiti. Where do I sign up?

A Little Thing Called 'Date Line'

During the two weeks I have been traveling around New Zealand, Charlie was traveling around Brisbane looking for good surf and mostly being rained out. We reunited in Auckland in order to move on together to Tahiti. We flew out from Auckland at about 2 pm on Friday, March 12, 2010 and were set to arrive at 9 pm. I had made reservations at a hotel in Tahiti starting on March 12. Makes sense, right? How wrong I was... Imagine my surprise when Charlie and I realized that we had traveled over the international date line and miraculously arrived at 9 pm, Thursday, March 11.

And so we found ourselves at 10 pm at night in Papeete, Tahiti on March 11 without a hotel reservation. Our hotel was fully booked, and the tourist information desk had closed for the night. We managed to find an outrageously priced room in a highly sketchy area of downtown Papeete without either air conditioning, mosquito netting on the windows, reliably hot water, or particularly clean sheets.

It is my impression that there is high unemployment in Tahiti and this leads to street crime. The hotel manager warned us not to walk on certain streets in the area because they are unlit and, the implication was that, if we did walk there, we most certainly would be knifed. As Charlie and I walked into town late that night for a quick bite and a drink, most of the homes we passed had guard dogs - as in, ferocious, pit bull type dogs that were not on leashes and ran out after us from the dark corners of their yards as we passed by. I had an unfortunate incident with a Doberman when I was about 3 years old and have lived in mortal fear of most dogs ever since, so the walk to and from town was unbelievably harrowing for my phobic self. I am sorry to say that every time a dog lunged at us with fangs bared, I offered Charlie up in sacrifice.

Christchurch

Christchurch is lovely. It is a mini, old style England. I spent a very enjoyable, but very short time here - not even a full day. I wandered through the lovely botanical garden in the center of the town and strolled along the Thames. No joke, that is the name of the river - or really, given its small size, the brook or stream - that flows through the center of the town. I saw many young boys in broadly striped jackets and caps on their way to play cricket. It is just lovely.

Hiking Around Mount Cook

I hiked the Hunter Valley Trail at the base of Mount Tasman (which is behind me in the first picture above) and Mount Cook (the second photo above). The Maori name for Mount Cook is Aoraki, which means Cloud Piercer. It is 3,754 meters tall, but on the day I visited it, there was not a cloud in the sky.

The day was absolutely gorgeous - sunny and hot. I got to see my first glacier which, to be honest, was a bit dirty as it was covred with a layer of sooty soil. But I treasured the day all the more knowing that it almost did not happen.

Getting to Mount Cook

Oh dear! I had quite a scare there. Throughout my time in New Zealand, I have been flying by the seat of my pants - meaning, I have no strict plan or itinerary or reservations. I get to one place. I check it out. I decide whether I want to stay another day and, if not, I read the guide book to see where I might go next. I buy a bus ticket for the next day without a problem - the buses are never close to even half full - and go there. I arrive without a reservation and walk around until I find a place to stay. Pretty simple. Except it does not work in Mount Cook or getting to Mount Cook. I travelled two days trying to get to Mount Cook and wound up in Twizel - about 50 kilometers away - and almost did not make it to Mount Cook at all, all because I do not plan my travels in advance.

First, as I believe I have mentioned before, there are few hotel rooms in Mount Cook, except one very large, expensive luxury hotel that seems to always have vacant rooms. And I did not really want to stay in a dorm room at the hostel. So, I decided I would stay in the nearest town of Twizel and somehow go to Mount Cook just for the day.

When I arrived in Twizel, I went to a tour company to find out about guided tours to Mount Cook, but they did not have the kind of tour I wanted and the tours they did offer - like a 15 minute helicopter ride - were far too expensive. The tour lady told me that there is one shuttle company that has one minivan run from Twizel to Mount Cook and back in the morning and another set in the afternoon. I thought, fine, I will just take the morning shuttle and arrive at about 10 am, hike for a couple of hours, and then take the afternoon shuttle back at 3 pm. That would have worked out great except that the morning shuttle was fully booked. I could go at é pm, but then I would immediately have to come back. I hung up the phone without booking the afternoon shuttle.

Fine, I thought. I will just change my plans and stay the night. So, I checked online whether there was a bed in the hostel; there were 3 beds available in a mixed dorm room and 1 bed available in a female only dorm. So then I called the shuttle company back to book the afternoon shuttle, except now the afternoon shuttle was fully booked. Harumph! I now can stay in Mount Cook, but I can not get there.

I started to ask around at my hotel if anyone was going to Mount Cook and would not mind giving me a ride, or if there was any other way to get there. Everyone kept saying that the only way to go was the fully booked shuttle or to hitch. I put up a sign at the hotel hoping one of the other guests would see it and give me a ride and then I went to bed.

I woke up early the next morning and suddenly thought of the regular bus. That is right! There is a bus that goes from Twizel to Mount Cook at about 11 am. At about 7:15 am I checked the bus website and it indicates there was no bus that day. I called the bus company to double check and the operator explained that the Twizel stop is optional. The bus had left at 7 am and was now en route and was not scheduled to stop in Twizel that day. I was stunned. Surely there is a radio on the bus! I know there is. I had seen it and heard it. I basically begged the operator to get me on that bus. She put me on hold to speak with her manager and, to my great relief, when she got back on she said, We will get you on that bus.

So then, I went back online to reserve a dorm bed at the hostel and wouldn't you know it, there was only 1 bed left. So I got lucky. I made it to Mount Cook. The photo above was taken from the drive way of the youth hostel. This view alone was worth all the heartache.

Twizel

Mount Cook does not have much in the way of accommodation, or town for that matter, and so at first I stayed in another little town named Twizel. Twizel has a grocery store and for this reason alone is bigger than Mount Cook.

I rented a mountain bike for the afternoon and tooled along some of the walking tracks and roads in the area thanking my lucky stars to be in such a beautiful place.

And it kind of goes without saying, but... yes, some of The Lord of the Rings was filmed here.

Mirror Lake

In case I needed any more proof of just how beautiful New Zealand is, along come the lakes around Mount Cook. This one is named Lake Tekapo. The lakes are formed from the melting snow from the mountains, as well as melting glaciers. As the glaciers melt, they move around and crush the rocks underneath them. The rock dust gets suspended in the water and makes it particularly reflective. It is enough to take your breath away.

Moving Past Marlborough

The next place I wanted to go in New Zealand was the Marlborough wine region. But, after the self-harm I inflicted on my esophagus in Napier, I decided to give it a pass. You realize how much I had to be hurting to skip wine-tasting in Marlborough . . . . And so, I headed to Mount Cook. Because I needed to go by two different buses, and the bus times did not coordinate, it took me two days to get there. The first day I traveled from Picton to Christchurch. That 3-4 hour drive has to be one of the most beautiful in the world. It takes you through tropical jungle, wine country, along a dramatic cold water coast (where I saw loads of baby seals), and through rolling hills of golden sheep pastures. And the weather seemed to change almost as much as the scenery.

Dolphins!

Around one of the bends along the Queen Charlotte Track, I could see down to a little cove that was full of dolphins. They were playing - leaping out of the water, twirling and jumping. I count at least 7 at the surface in this photo, but I reckon there were about 15 in all. They are magic. And how jealous are we of the woman in the kayak who had front row seats for the whole show?

There is a documentary film, The Cove, that is currently nominated for Best Documentary at the Academy Awards. (It in fact won the award.) It documents Japanese practices in brutally hunting, capturing and killing shocking numbers of wild dolphins. It has been in the news here recently, and so the film has succeeded in raising awareness of the problem. It made these moments I enjoyed seeing so many dolphins spontaneously and joyfully playing all the more poignant and special. I cannot believe anyone hunts and kills dolphins when they are so clearly and incredibly beautiful. Just the fact that they are one of only two species that have sex just for fun - that should be enough to get them a free pass!

What a special day I was blessed with on the Queen Charlotte Track.

The Queen Charlotte Sound

From Wellington, I took the ferry and crossed over to New Zealand's South Island. The boat travelled through the Queen Charlotte Sound. My goal - to hike the Queen Charlotte Track, a 70+ kilometer hiking and mountain-biking trail. I ended up hiking a 15-kilometer section of it from Ship's Cove to Resolution Bay (most of the bays in this area and the Sound itself were named by the British explorer Captain James Cook - the Resolution was the name of his boat). These areas are inaccessible by land. I had to take a water taxi to drop me off at the starting point and pick me up at the end. I could not have asked for a more beautiful day for the hike. It was sunny and warm with not a cloud in the sky. Until about 6 pm, that is. That was when the clouds rolled quickly in. Within an hour the weather completely turned from the height of summer to a cold and wet autumn. And with the change in weather came high winds and perilously stormy sea. The boat ride back was a white-knuckler. Our boat regularly became airborne as it fought its way across the high waves. The boat bounced around so much, some of the seats came loose from their metal supports. The waves crashed above the bow of our boat, and indeed over the windows of our little cabin. I was very thankful we did not capsize.

Wellington

Wellington was a delightful surprise. I am convinced that it ranks up there with New York and Paris as one of the most artistic cities in the world. There appear to be more art museums and galleries and live theater and performance spaces per capita than any place I have ever seen before. Even the downtown public library had art and historical exhibits (... and this is without any homeless people. Come to think of it - where were the homeless people? I didn't see any.)

It probably did not hurt that Wellington Arts Festival was going on while I was there, as was the Wellington Fringe Festival. But any city that has interactive art exhibits (check out the Japanese Anime figure that clever guy is creating with those fridge magnet word pieces!) and puts multi-colored polka dots on buildings wins my heart. I LOVED Wellington and sadly was not here long at all.

Hawke's Bay

The predominant reason I decided to visit Napier is that it is located in the Hawke's Bay wine region. And I took a wine tasting tour there. However, before we get to that I first must describe a terrible mistake I made while in Auckland. Because Charlie and I traveled in malaria-areas in India, Laos and Cambodia, we have have been taking anti-malarial medication - first Lariam and then, when we ran out of the Lariam and couldn't find it anywhere, doxicyclene. We had to continue to take the doxicyclene for 30 days after we left Laos. With the last 4 or 5 pills, I kept forgetting to take them. But, finally, when I was in Auckland, I was down to my last pill, and I again forgot to take it. And then the next day, I went all day again without taking it until I was lying in bed, teeth brushed, eyes closed, just about to fall asleep when I thought, "Shit! My malaria pill!" I reached over to my bag where I had the last pill and, not having any water within reach and not wanting to get out of bed, I just forced the pill down without any water, rolled over and quickly fell asleep. Big mistake. At about 4 am the next morning, I was awakened by the strong and painful sensation of burning in my chest. The doxicylcene pill got lodged in my esophagus and had burned a hole. It felt like someone was holding a car cigarette lighter into the center of my chest, behind my sternum. So, for the next few days, I had trouble eating and drinking anything. Even water hurt. Ice cream was the most tolerable. So, that was my first mistake.

By the time I got to Napier, it has been 2 days since the hole appeared, and I was definitely getting better. I ate a grilled veggie sandwich without too much discomfort. And so I booked a wine tour. This itself wasn't my second mistake. My second mistake was actually drinking wine. The first couple of sips burned, but strangely, the more wine I drank, the less pain I felt. (Isn't funny how wine will do that?) I then went the rest of the day feeling just fine. But, the next morning was hell. The wine had angered the esophagul ulcer. I was back to not being able to eat a thing. As I write this I am now at day 9, and I am just getting back to normal. I ate a pretty crunchy granola without thinking too much about it this morning. I am scared to drink any wine though.

The moral of the story is, when you are supposed to take medication with a full glass of water and/or a meal, follow the directions.

Napier

Next in line is the coastal town of Napier. I am a little fuzzy about the exact dates, but the general gist of the story is that in the late 1920s, Napier was the epicenter of a massive earthquake that completely leveled all but one or two buildings in the town. A couple of years later, the town was rebuilt. The town planners took the opportunity of starting from scratch to do something bold - they rebuilt the entire town in the Art Deco style. "How charming!" one would think. That's what I thought when I read about Napier in my guidebook. That's why I chose to come here. I like Art Deco, at least I thought. But, in reality, a whole Art Deco town is a little weird. Somehow the buildings looked very dated, rather than classic. It kind of reminded me of the horrible '80s fashion of the Golden Girls. It was dated and rather lifeless. It probably did not help that the entire town shut down, except for a small number of pubs and even fewer restaurants, promptly at 5 pm, if not 4 pm - which was fully 4 hours before it gets dark here at the moment. So, I spent quite some time wandering around what felt like a strange pastel ghost town. I hear South Beach, Miami has the largest collection of Art Deco architecture in the world. I wonder if they manage to pull it off?

Why Do We Not Have This in the US?

Here it is folks - a biodegradable water bottle made exclusively from plants. Charlie will be leased to know that it is sold here in New Zealand by the name "Charlie's Honest Water Eco-Bottle." It is time to petition Whole Foods. Why are we still using plastic when this is a viable alternative?

Taupo

From Auckland, I caught a bus heading South to Lake Taupo. I love it here. The weather apparently is relatively mild here year round. There are gorgeous walking and biking paths around the lake that are very flat. And, the lake is warmed by mineral springs from volcanic activity underground. This all translates to prime triathlon territory. Indeed, Taupo is the site of an Ironman competition and many stores in town are dedicated to triathlon supplies. I could easily and happily live here and spend my free time doing tris. I think someday I will have to make my way back and do one here.

Taupo is also known as the spot on the backpacker circuit to sky dive and bungee jump. I did not partake in either of these activities. Intead, I went hiking, so much so that I have been too hard on my feet. My heels are so dry they are giving me problems. I went to the local pharmacy and asked a shop person whether they had any pumice stone. She directed me to a couple options, and then said, "You know that there are heaps of this stuff down by the lake. It floats to shore." It was true. Down on the lakeshore there was a supply of pumice stone that would last many lifetimes. So goes the mysteries of life. Who knew that pumice stone magically floats to shore? What is pumice stone anyway? In any event, it is yet another reason I really liked Taupo.

Human Hamsters

I am not sure whether these kids are having fun or are being terrorized. Perhaps a little of both. It apparently is really difficult to stand up inside one of these bubbles. It made me laugh.

Auckland

I arrived in Auckland the same weekend as the Chinese Lantern Festival. So, I am left with the distinct impression that Auckland is more than half Asian. It is unclear whether this would be true on any other weekend. However, it is clear that something has changed in the world. The change is palpable. The world is becoming more diverse. Dubai is pretty diverse. Sydney, Perth and Brisbane, Australia are all pretty darn diverse. And now I see that Auckland, New Zealand is too, except there are very few Latinos, except for a handful of South American backpackers who have come here to study English.

Reflections of India

While in Australia, I picked up the book The City of Joy from a Book Swap shelf. It tells the story of a Catholic priest who dedicated his life to helping the poor in the slums of Calcutta in the mid-1980s. The book has blown me away and brought me to tears. Although Charlie and I only briefly encountered at a distance the terrible destitution that exists in India - and even though we visited Mumbai and Chennai in 2010 and not Calcutta in 1985 - I found the descriptions in The City of Joy all too recognizable. And so I share the following passage:

The arrival of these successive waves of destitute people had transformed Calcutta into an enormous concentration of humanity. In a few years the city was to condemn its ten million inhabitants to living on less than twelve square feet of space per person, while the four or five million of them who squeezed into its slums had sometimes to make do with barely three square feet each. Consequently Calcutta had become one of the biggest urban disasters in the world - a city consumed with decay in which thousands of houses and many new buildings, sometimes ten floors high or even higher, threatened at any moment to crack and collapse. With their crumbling facades, tottering roofs and walls eaten up with tropical vegetation, some neighborhoods looked as if they had just been bombed. . . . In the absence of an adequate refuse collection service, eighteen hundred tons of refuse accumulated daily in the streets, attracting a host of flies, mosquitoes, rats, cockroaches and other creatures.

In summer the proliferation of filth brought with the the risk of epidemics. . . . Articles and reports in the local press never ceased denouncing the city as a refuse dump poisoned with fumes, nauseating gases ad discharges - a devastated landscape of broken roads leaking sewers, burst water pipes and torn down telephone wires. In short, Calcutta was a 'dying city.'

And yet, thousands, hundreds of thousands, even millions of people swarmed night and day over its squares, its avenues and the narrowest of its alleyways. The smallest fragment of pavement was occupied, squatted upon, covered with salesmen and pedlars, with homeless families camping out, with piles of building materials or refuse, with stalls and a multitude of altars and small temples. The result of this was an indescribable chaos on the roads, a records accident rate, nightmarish traffic jams. Furthermore, in the absence of public toilets, hundreds of thousands of the city's inhabitants were forced to attend to their bodily needs in the street.

The above photo is of the street corner across from our hotel in Chennai. The woman in the blue sari in the corner of the photo by day sold chai on that little piece of sidewalk and by night slept in that same spot along with her two children, one about the age of three years old and the other not even one year old. She is one of tens, if not hundreds, of thousands or more who sleep on the congested, broken and filthy excuses for sidewalks in Indian cities because they have nothing and nowhere else to go.

In the last 25 years, with outsourcing and the IT revolution, I am sure some Indian citizens have escaped brutal poverty. And yet, maddeningly, widespread poverty still exists today. I have yet to visit North Korea or Mexico City or Haiti or the shanty towns of Africa. But of all the places I have visited, nowhere have I seen such pervasive and abject poverty as in India and I am haunted by it.

Brisbane

In Brisbane, Charlie and I stayed in a very cool, arty neighborhood full of punk rockers with gravity-defying blue mohawks and the like. A river runs through the center of Brisbane and there is a wonderful park along one of the river's banks, complete with free public pool and beach, with actual sand. Brisbane has many great art and natural history museums and all offer free admission. We saw a fascinating exhibit about a collection of exotic Australian butterflies and moths.

We also enjoyed Brisbane's fine selection of cafes and restaurants, many of which allow you to bring your own wine or beer, when they themselves have no liquor license.

And before you knew it, I was off to New Zealand sans Charlie. He already has been to New Zealand before and I haven't, and he wants to stay in Australia, and I don't. So we are spending two weeks apart, me in New Zealand and Charlie on the West Coast of Australia. (He doesn't know it yet, but his surf plans are about to be almost entirely rained out.... But more on that later.)

Charlie says that you can divide people into those who loooooove New Zealand and those who loooooove Australia, and he is in the latter category. I don't know which category I belong to or whether I even accept such categorization. My heart has a great capacity to love many things.

When Art Imitates Life

As Charlie and I flew from Perth to Brisbane, I stared out of the airplane window at the beautiful colors and patterns of the dry Australian bush below. It strikes me that the land itself looks very much like Aboriginal Art. You can judge for yourself.

Peaceful Bay

One of the many treasures of Southwest Australia is the Bibbulmun Track, a "tramping" (Aussie slang for bush walking) trail that runs 465 kilometers from near Perth to Albany along much of the coast and through several National Parks. Charlie and I were eager to tramp along at least a section of it, and so we went to the invitingly-named Peaceful Bay. Unfortunately, we found that the particular section of the Track that we chose was not well maintained. Charlie repeatedly performed trail maintenance by pushing or cutting back branches and pulling out new growth in the middle of the track, while simultaneously trying to avoid walking into spider webs and/or the very large spiders themselves. The track also was tantalizingly close to the beach - you could hear the waves crashing down just on the other side of a sand dune - but we were on the wrong side of the dunes and could see the ocean at all. So, after walking a while, we turned back and thought we would instead head straight to the beach.

On our way back, we noticed some animal poop - big round pellets, like rabbit poop, but each was the size of a golf ball, if not a bit larger. From Charlie's background working in outdoor education, he noted that the big pellets did not contain any fur or bones, which indicates that the animal was a vegetarian. What animal could possibly produce such large poop and be a vegetarian? A kangaroo! We saw kangaroo poop! I never thought I would type those words or be so genuinely excited about it.

The beaches along Peaceful Bay all have their own names, like the very descriptive, "Sandy Beach." They were all beautiful and deserted. It turned out that the beaches themselves also were part of the Bibbulmun Track. So we got our wish.