Category: Middle East 2017

Monday 6 November 2017

We are flying home with Qatar (Cat-ar), and it’s the best airline we have ever flown with. Perfect, personalised service, ultra comfortable seats and good choice of movies. Just under 7 hours from Madrid to Doha, we land at 12.30am. A taxi ride reveals solar powered street lights

A decent sleep in the Doha Marriott, where they are ultra pleasant about the iron which blew the fuses and then later about the hairdryer which blew the fuses. The engineering team attended both incidents with a smile and housekeeping replaced both with similar smiles.

A tour of the city leads us to believe that this is a much more pleasant stopover than Dubai.

Our flight is boarding.  Nearly home. Just another 15 hours now. Looking forward to another great flight with Qatar.

Wadaeaan, Au Revoir, Adios.

 

A is for AFRICA, ART, ATLAS MOUNTAINS, ARABIC

and AGRICULTURE

B is for BLUE, BROWN, BABOUCHE, BERBER, BURQUA

and  BOWELS

C is for CARPETS, CATS, CAMEL, COLOUR

and CALL TO PRAYER

D is for DATES, DONKEY, DUNES, DOORS

and DIARRHOEA

E is for EUCALYPTUS

F is for FLIES, FOOTBALL, FOUNTAINS

and FRENCH

G is for GOAT, GARDENS

and GASTRIC

H is for HALAL, HIJAB, HEARSE

and HAMMAN

I is for ISLAM

and IS OK?

J is for JILALI

K is for KASBAH

and KING (who has far too many palaces)

L is for LIGHTS, LEATHER

M is for MOSQUE, MOSAICS,  MOTOR BIKES, MEDINA, MINT TEA

and MUSLIM

N is for NOMADS

O is for OFFAL, OLIVES, OASIS

and OLEANDER

P is for PALMERIES, POTS, PRICKLY PEAR, POMEGRANATE, PALACE

and PRAYER

Q is for QUORAN

R is for RIAD, ROMAN RUINS, ROCKS

S is for SCHOOL, SPICES, SOUKS, SHEEP, SHEPHERD, SUNRISE, SUNSET

 

and STEPS

T is for TAGINE, TRANSPORT

and TECHNICAL STOP (aka toilet break)

U is for UMBRELLA

V is for VILLA, VIEW

and VOMIT

W is for WATER, WINE

X is for the X in a Berber omelette

Y is for YVES SAINT LAURENT, YELLOW

and YOGHURT

Z is for ZIZ RIVER

and ZZZZZ early night

 

 

 

Thursday 2 November 2017

We arrive at our hotel in the old part of central Madrid.  We have friends who have stayed here in recent times, two couples in fact, both of whom  told us how much they enjoyed it. Our experience on arrival does not live up to expectation.  Despite having booked a double room months ago, we are dispatched to a very ordinary room with two single beds, a window which doesn’t open and which looks out on the garbage skip. Our pleas for another room, one with a double bed, falls on the deaf ears of the most unhelpful woman at reception.  She assures us there is nothing else available.  Our search of the net on our handy iPads suggests otherwise, but despite my trekking back down to reception and mustering as much charm as possible, she sticks to her guns. Fortunately we had used booking.com and by a stroke of good fortune we can cancel without penalty by 1800hrs.  It’s now 1720 and another quick search of the net reveals a room to our liking in a classy pub next to the Prado. We are so pissed off with this place, we immediately confirm at the new hotel (whose rooms are considerably cheaper than a bottle of wine in the foothills of the Atlas) and return our key to reception, advising them that we are checking out immediately.  We load our cases into a taxi outside and give him the address of the new hotel.  But not before we are chased by the porter who says the manager wants to speak with us and hands me the phone. The taxi driver is torn…does he take off with us, or does he unload our luggage?  He chooses the safe option and stands by the drivers door until all is resolved with the hotel.  I refuse to take the phone, saying in a rather haughty manner that they’ve had their chance and they have my credit card details (which was true but I said it for the cab drivers benefit really, knowing that it would not be charged).  The poor porter, who had been kind to us during the room debacle (and had been tipped accordingly) shrugged his shoulders and told the taxi to spirit us away.  We are very comfortable where we are staying.  The concierge (yes, it’s a classy pub) recommends a nearby casual bar/restaurant which is a triumph of food to our taste. So too is the glass of red wine we each enjoy.  Note, not a bottle on our repertoire since the meltdown in the Atlas.  We walk home on a lovely evening, with light sweaters on, a relief from the recent heat in Morocco.

Friday 3 November

We walk the streets of Madrid early and inhale it’s beauty and vibrancy.  And it’s welcoming and inclusive spirit.

 

 

We breakfast in a small coffee shop and are at the Prado shortly after it opens at 10.  This is, of course, one of the great galleries of Europe and it’s hard to absorb so much. Except what a troubled man Goya was.  After a couple of hours, we can take no more. I am feeling a little under the weather so I return to the hotel (next door) for a lie down while Cherrie visits the nearby botanic gardens.  But first, outside the museum, she spies South American Quaker parrots nesting in the trees.  They have built quite a community

Our photo editor reports that she very much enjoyed her stroll through the gardens

and here is her appraisal

I’m feeling better by the time Cherrie returns to the hotel so we set out on foot in search of the famed markets.  We walk down main streets, into side alleys, through squares and plazas and have a thouroughly enjoyable and exhausting afternoon.

We eat in the main square of the markets. It is apparent that Spiderman eats here a little too frequently

It’s rather nice to be back in Europe although I am thoroughly ashamed at my lack of Spanish, which eclipses even my lack of French.  Cherrie remembers some from her time in South America 40 years ago, but regrettably our tastes have changed since then and we no longer have any real desire to order two beers please.

Cherrie is rather taken by these drawers she saw which used to store seeds, but they won’t fit in the suitcase.

The steps app on my phone tells me that I have walked 12kms today, Cherrie even further.  We decide that a picnic in our room is attractive, so buy a bottle of red wine (6 Euros for the record), cheese, Serrano ham and a rustic baguette.

The legs are tired.  And so to bed. The turndown service here is after we go to sleep! We know we are in Spain!

Saturday 4 November

We breakfast in Independence Plaza, a 10 minute walk from the hotel, and the site of the arch at the top of this blog.  Rain is forecast today so we decide to join the red bus for a city tour.  We walked a lot of the old section yesterday and the legs are not quite up to another 15kms today, so we think that a birds eye view might be good. And so it is.  There are two routes to this tour and we opt for the historic one first.

There is a major demonstration scheduled for 5pm this evening, the Catalonia thing, and we are warned to stay clear of the Piazza del Sol in the old town.  The buses have changed their route to avoid it and whilst I would quite like to witness the activities my more considered partner advises against it.  She recalls being caught up in a demonstration in 1979 in Lima where she and Vix were hit by water canons and gas. An experience she doesn’t wish to repeat. Woos.

The bus tour is interesting, in that we see just how much ground we covered yesterday.  We see what we assume to be the headquarters the Gastoenterologists Society

And indications that Madrid not only approves of gay marriage but also a man marrying his bike (as it were)

After nearly one whole circuit in the bus we alight at the Salamanca district, the wealthy part of town between the old and new.  This is where the designer shops are  and how comfortable are we in this area?  The locals are out and about and so beautifully dressed, and groomed.  We do see some women who are no longer able to move their heads due to three face lifts too many. Still, it’s nice to window shop knowing that we have no desire to buy.  I am taken with a small cafe which displays its fresh wares outside

After a coffee break we join the second bus for a tour of modern Madrid. These bus introductions to a city are really only as good as the person operating the recordered commentary. The woman on the first bus got it right, but Dopey here is not too quick with the switch. From our prime front row upstairs seat we admire the newly restored arts centre and the intriguing design by a French architect who won the international competition.  He’s done a terrific job. It’s modern, slick and doesn’t look like an arts centre at all.

That’s because we are looking at the railway station. The whole tour is like this. We are two blocks behind on everything, so once we wake up to this impediment we remove the ear plugs and just looked at modern Madrid, which reveals itself to be like any other large city. The heart of Madrid is in the old part, through which we walked extensively yesterday .

The forecast rain hardly eventuates to any extent.  I suppose that means that the rain in Spain is really just a feign?

So we disembark and leave the other tourists to wonder at the architecture and design of Dooey’s city. We walk to the Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, where there is an exhibition of Picasso and Lautrec.  This is a terrific museum of an incredibly extensive private collection of the family whose name the museum bears. Spain acquired the collection in 1993 and housed it in a really lovely three storey building.  The temporary exhibition is fabulous too and a real eye opener for me how much Picasso was influenced by Lautrec.  I have never ‘got’ Picasso’s bohemian style and need the titles to explain to me what it is that I am looking at.   “Man with Jug” for example.  It’s a bit like a cryptic crossword for me…even when I have the answer I don’t understand the question.  But, to see Picasso’s early work, when the older artist had a strong influence on him was quite something.

By now it’s 5.30pm, we have been on the go since 9am, have walked 11km despite our time in the bus and we’ve have had no lunch.  We are tired and hungry, but we’re also in Spain where the dinner restaurants do not open until 8.30pm.  We make our way back up to Independence Square,where the tourist restaurants are, and plead starvation to a particularly sympathetic waiter, who probably sniffs our tip.  We succeed in getting a delicious plate of fresh anchovies.  We had these on our first night in Madrid and they are like no anchovies we have had before.  Just yum.   We then share a steak, which our waiter friend has managed to talk the kitchen into preparing for us, with a curious salad of kale and rasperries.  The waiter is really chuffed that he could feed us, as well as provide a bottle of very reasonably priced, and pleasant, tempranillo.  He wants us to have dessert.  We are not tempted by the  selection but bow to his pleas for the( and I quote accurately) the “French Toast with Wire Chocolate Soup and Fresh Milk Iced Cream”.  We get what we deserve and he gets the tip he deserves.

We walk back to the hotel through streets buzzing with more crowds than we have seen before. It’s Saturday night. Turndown will wake us up again tonight.

Sunday 5 November 2017

This  morning we walk to breakfast. The streets are very quiet but half of one boulevarde is cordoned off. Something happening, security around, but we don’t know what. However, walking back, we learn that it is the annual 10km run through the middle of the City

We take a new route back to the hotel, and lo and behold, here is Madrid embracing heterosexuality too

A good place to leave the blog. We’re heading to the airport now to begin the long trip home. Madrid – Doha – Sydney

Le Jardin Secret – Marrakech

The word paradise has its origins in the Old Persian pairidaeza that means an enclosed space. This is an apt description of Le Jardin Secret with its 30 feet high walls making it almost invisible from the rest of the Medina of Marrakech.

Le Jardin Secret was one the the largest riads (house with a courtyard) in the Medina. It’s Islamic garden forms the centrepiece of a palace that once belonged to the wealthiest and most influential people in the city. It was created in the late 16th century and today most of its general character is from the 2nd half of the 19th century. In 2013 a project of restoration began to restore the riads former glory. It opened to the public in 2016.

There are two separate courtyards, a smaller exotic garden and a larger Islamic garden.

The exotic garden does retain the features of the earlier garden but it is planted in a contemporary romantic style using plants from all over the world. Apparently it may be considered to represent an aspect of the Garden of Eden; as it says in Genesis “Out of the ground the Lord God caused to grow every tree that is pleasing to the sight and good for food” There are three Australian plants here. The Acacia covenyi, Grevillea ‘Winpara gem’ and Westringia brevifolia.

The Islamic garden is part of a tradition that goes back to the earliest Persian gardens laid out more than 2500 years ago and is typical of others in Marrakech. A pattern called chahar bagh meaning fourfold garden, is central to this tradition and could be found as far apart as India and Portugal.

The garden has been restored and replanted to reflect the traditional character of a Moroccan garden before European influence. Shrubs and trees are what would have been planted in a Moroccan garden of the mid-19th century where every plant had a special meaning or use.

Water is the primary focus of the design occupying a central position in the composition. In Islam, water has a symbolic value as the divine essence of life and is an essential part of all Islamic gardens. Marrakech was founded by the Almoravids (a Berber Muslim dynasty) in 1071 and was the capital of an empire covering Morocco and the southern half of the Iberian Peninsula. The water supply was essential to the success of the city. The Almoravids built a system of khettaras, underground tunnels, conveying water entirely by gravity from the base of the Atlas Mountains to the city (approx 50kms). Whoever controlled the Atlas Mountains controlled the water to the city and therefore the city.

The defining feature of chahar bagh was the most efficient means of distributing water to the plants later developing as an important symbol of the domestication of the wild desert landscape. In the 7th century with the rise of Islam this way of ordering a garden was adopted by Muslims and the fourfold division became symbolic to reflect the description of paradise in the Quran. In Le Jardin Secret’s Islamic garden the path that leads from the centre of the garden to the Hbiqa Pavilion had water in the form of a narrow rill. The garden is engineered to provide water at the right place and pressure with the main paths and irrigation channels set above the planted level allowing water to spill down and irrigate.

In Islamic gardens paths are paved with traditional terracotta tiles (or bejmat) with glazed green in the more important areas. Around the fountains the paving is with smaller glazed tiles called zellij and at the lowest level each quarter is further divided by bejmat paths.

In the Islamic garden all shrubs and trees are species that would have been grown during the last 600 years in a traditional Moroccan garden. Plants with rich history and symbolism. The planting is designed to give the effect of a bustan or a flowering, fragrant orchard with species chosen to give a long season of interest but not necessarily native to Morocco.

The four most important tree species in symbolic terms are:
Ficus carica (fig)
Olea europea (olive)
Phoenix dactylifera (date palm)
Punica grantum (promegranate)

Other tree species are:
Citrus limon (Lemon)
Citrus sinensis (Sweet Orange)
Argania speciosa (Argan)

Shrubs, Climbers and herbs:
Artemisia abisinthium – Wormwood
Cistus salvifolius
Eschscholzia california – Californian poppy
Iris germanica – Iris
Jasminum officinale – Jasmine
Jasminum polyanthum – Jasmine
Lavandula dentata var. Candicans – Lavender
Lippia citrodora – Lemon Verbena
Myrtis communis – Myrtle
Polianthes tuberosa – Tuberose
Rosa damasceana var.Sempreflorens – Damask Rose
Rosa moschata – Musk Rose
Rosmarinus officinalis – Rosemary
Salvia archers var. canescens – Turkish Tea Sage
Stupa tenuissima – Mexican feather grass
Tulbaghia violacea – Society garlic
Viki’s vinifera – Grape Vine

Le Jarden Secret is a place to shelter from the chaos and heat of Marrakech. It is an oasis of peace where the shade of a tree, the splashing noise of the fountains and, when flowering, the scents of the flowers favour contemplation and rest.

Photography & words by Cherrie McDonald
Drawings Tom Stuart-Smith

 

Sunday 29 October 2017 
We watch the sun rise over the Atlas Mountains and marvel at the beauty

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The ever reliable and ebullient Jilali is here at 10am to transfer us to the edge of the Atlantic. He has enjoyed his day off in Marrakech, except for his 4am airport transfer and his 8am airport transfer! Ah, that’s showbiz, as they say in the funeral business.
It’s a 4 ½ hour drive to our final Moroccan R&R destination, Qualidia. We drive through more beautiful agricultural country and pass more eucalyptus trees than the Blue Mountains can boast. OK, accuse me of exaggeration but there are an awful lot of eucalypts. We take photos but due to the speed at which we are travelling (clearly Jilali is feeling better) every one of them is blurred.

Eventually the speed catches up with him, and Jilali is flagged down by a cop. Not a word is spoken. We hold our breath as he gets out of the car, aware of his quick temper. The key is still in the ignition and I muse that we can drive ourselves in the event of fisty cuffs and subsequent slammer. But, Jilali turns on the charm, shortly later returns to the van and extracts some cash from the glove box and a lengthy handshake seals the deal. We are on our way again.

Jilali announces that he will pick us up early on Wednesday for our transfer to Casablanca and that we will go to his home, meet his family and eat lunch with them. He will cook couscous. We have anticipated this, because he has alluded to it several times previously without being specific enough for us to respond. We are fond of Jilali and he has done his best to take good care of us, but neither of us are keen to push the ‘friendship’ to this extent. Besides, I fear that we might have to sit on the floor to eat, which is impossible for me. My floor sitting days are gone. We certainly don’t wish to be rude and we are aware of cultural sensitivities so we explain that we do not leave Qualidia until after lunch on Wednesday.  Fortunately our itinerary confirms this.   He checks his copy of the itinerary at length (which curiously is not in Arabic or French but in English and he struggles to read it), all whilst driving at breakneck speed but show me a Moroccan who can’t read and speed at the same time and I’ll show you an illiterate Berber on a donkey. He then rings the hotel to which we are headed and after his Arabic conversation with them he announces that lunch is not included. We stick to our guns, with as much kindness as we can muster, and tell him that we want to take advantage to rest up before our long trip home. I hope his study of our itinerary does not extend to our three days in Madrid. He accepts our rejection with apparent good grace and we move on to the coast.  Has Jilali been to this hotel before? Two U turns suggest not but we arrive in time for a late lunch. Aware that lunch is not included in our booking, Jilali has encouraged us to eat in the local town but we are keen to arrive at our destination so we are insistent.

We note quite a haze as we approach, is it dust or smog?  We learn that there is a large phosphate mine here, a major export industry from the huge port nearby. Perhaps that causes the haze?

The hotel is situated on a large lagoon, and we look out on the heads to the Atlantic as we eat an excellent sea food meal.

And in a perfect bookend to the day, we watch the sun set over the ocean.

Monday 30 October 2017

You know that old saying…..When in Morocco do as the Moroccans do. Well, we decided to have  a hamman, the traditional bath where one is scrubbed and sauna-ed – by others. We throw caution to the wind and figure that the chances are we’ll
only live once and so we should experience this tradition – in the hotel, not at a public hamman. It’s an experience I think we are grateful for. We were in this together, in adjoining rooms and in hearing of each other. Undress to the altogether and put on this disposable g-string. Why I don’t know as it covered exactly nothing. I grapple with this, Cherrie less so as she spent 6 years at boarding school. We lIe on a hot marble slab and get several buckets of extremely hot water thrown over us. Get a rub (not a massage) with argan oil, roll over, repeat the experience. Lie there for probably 15 minutes in sauna heat, then more water thrown over us. Exfoliation with what felt like a prickly pear, shampoo, cold water so that I felt I might have been having a shower at Gordounston in mid-winter. A bit of relief with some warm water and then head wrapped in a towel, dressing gown back on (we were not
dried) and out into the tea room for a cuppa. Not a word had been spoken, except between us and not many of those. What was there to say? After we had finished our tea, we got up to leave, having cast the hair towel aside. But out of nowhere, our hammanists appeared and indicated that it was not yet over. Argan  lotion was applied to our arms and legs, and then it was over. I’m sure our attendants will dine out on this.  It’s unlikely they had ever seen such fat ladies, except perhaps when the circus was last in town.

Back in our room we put our swimmers on and marvel at how good our skin feels.
Down to the swimming pool where the water is an alarming 19 degrees,  I decide that I’ve had enough cold water therapy for the day and lie on a lounge and read. Cherrie braves the water,  but not for long and never again.

Another lunch, from a very limited menu, down by the lagoon. What a fabulously relaxing day.

We watch another spectacular sunset over the Atlantic , but skip dinner because we
are not hungry. In fact, Cherrie is quite ill. We continue to struggle with
Moroccan food, as do our digestive systems, despite declarations from others how delicious it is. Oh for a hunk of steak and a green salad!

Tuesgay 31 October 2017

This morning we take a bird watching tour on a little local boat

 around the lagoon, which is enormous, tidal and very salty. There are  surprising agricultural endeavours on its banks

 

More donkeys doing their work.  We love these industrious little creatures and dream of having Arthur

and Martha

in the front paddock at Quamby. But of course it won’t come to pass.

The lagoon is dotted with oyster farms.  I’ll bet someone’s shucked

 

The bird life on the lagoon is amazing

We leave the boat at the far end of the lagoon where a 4WD is waiting for us. We walk a little way with a heard of sheep and their shephard(ess)

and look for the flamingos. There they are

Back at the hotel we have a light lunch in the sun.  I have become such a fashionista that I had to order a glass of (inferior and, importantly, cheap) wine because it matches my hat so well

An afternoon by the pool, but not in it, reading and relaxing.  We eat in the hotel restaurant tonight. The breakfast and lunch staff are absolutely charming but
the evening staff have got the grumps big time. We are served by Lurch whose English is far superior to my Arabic but on par with my French. My French is very close to non existent, but then again I don’t work in a restaurant serving tourists.   The meal is nothing to write home and not even worth blogging about.

 

 

 

 

Wednesday 1 November
More leisure activities this morning, if you can call reading in the sun an activity and then a final Moroccan lunch, of delicious local lobster. Sans wine.
Jilali collects us at 2pm and transfers us to Casablanca, a 2 1/2 hour drive. We hug the coast for much of it, drive past the large phosphate mine and the huge port.
Casablanca is a large, modern city and we have arrived for peak hour. Jilali shows us where his eldest daughter goes to school, and the new tourist phenomenon Rick’s Bar, a perfect replica of where the film was set. Except, of course, the film was shot entirely in Hollywood.

We are staying at a nice hotel which also feels the impact of the film

And from our room a gorgeous view of the big mosque which we visited on our first day in Morocco, 3 weeks ago

Tonight, lying on the comfortable bed, we watch “Casablanca” on our iPads using Netflix. An amusing way to spend an evening in Casablanca, and our last in fascinating Morocco.

Thursday 2 November 

Jilali delivers us to Casablanca airport.  We tip him handsomely, give him little gifts for his 3 children which we had bought from home, and a hand written note thanking him for the care he has taken of us

Farewell Maroc.  It’s been swell