Hippies and Honey in Tuscany

We arrived at the train station in Sarzana just as it was getting dark. We were meeting our new wwoof hosts, Gianni and Christina, to start a full month of wwoofing. We were really not sure what to expect and did not even know if they spoke English. When they were not at the train station 15 minutes after we were supposed to meet them we started to get nervous. When they finally did show up we were even more nervous. They pulled up in this shity van\truck thing that could only be in Italy, with cigarettes in hand. The seats were covered in trash bags and the trunk was full of hay. They drove us down the back roads to get to their farm. On the way we passed a dilapidated old mill, and Lisa and I were both sure that was their house. Luckly we drove right past it to the very end of the road to where they had the small farm and bed and breakfast.

They looked about 60 and like Italys answer to Haight-Ashbury. Gianni looked like a character that Jonny Depp would play. He was smallish, had a buccaneer moustache and beard and ear length hair. He did not have a gray hair but his wrinkled face showed a life lived hard. His arms were marked with tattoos that he gave himself as a teen. There was a picture of his first girlfriend, a poppy flower, an anarchy symbol and the initials L.S.D. We found out this was to avoid the military, he was kicked out when they saw this. Gianni sang songs like Yankee Go Home. Christina had long gray hair, usually wore a little white jumpsuit and unshaven armpits.

Their house was more like a small apartment building, with different sections painted differently in traditional tuscan style as it was right on the border of Tuscany and Liguria. The property sat in a valley with a small creek running through it. The land was terraced and steep. On one of the hills you could see a tiny medieval village called Giucano. As well as a bed and breakfast, they ran a small restaurant with a set menu which was great because it meant that I had a commercial kitchen to play in.

The first work we did was cutting the weeds on the terraces by hand with a seethe (they got an electric trimmer the day we left!). We also worked in the vegetable plots, cleared and covered the land around the olive trees and helped with guests. We also put the geese and chickens away at night.  For the geese you would literally quack and they would follow you into their pen.  As well as geese and chickens there were also bees, donkeys and a little dog named Na Na.  Gianni informed us that he only had nice bees.  Lisa was promptly stung.  It was ok though becasue we got a ton of fresh honey!

We quickly learned that like most Italians we met, they knew everything about everything. Italy was by far the best place on earth, and their region of italy was far superior to any other(that’s how all Italians spoke). They were very much hippies and very into eastern philosophy. They had certain ways they wanted everything done, but would not tell us until we had finished the job that we had done it wrong. By the end we were very sick of being told how to do every thing. We got pretty annoyed by this but were torn becasue at the same time they were extremely nice, catering to Lisa`s gluten intolerance always making her homemade bread and pasta, letting us take their scooter around and giving us free use of the kitchen and all food. We thought they were too nice so we never said anything about too much work.

The second half of our stay, a pair of French girls came to wwoof as well. There was definitetly a French Italian rivelry (both countries were far superior to the other, their people were nicer and each had the best food in the world.) We quickly became the clear favorites becasue while we smiled and did the work anyway, the French girls got a snoody attitude and bitched a lot. One night they even took us out to dinner and didn't tell the girls they were not making dinner.

Our last week we spent building a huge stone retaining wall along side some Italian contractors. It was a nice change because they were not telling us how to do things. We also found out why they expected so much work. Italians may be at work for eight hours but at least four hours are spent talking and arguing about everything from coffee to homosexuality. It was also good because they could really see how hard we worked. Gianni and the other contractors were especially impressed by Lisa, lifting and working harder than the men. They loved the fact that Lisa would jokingly tell the Italian foremen to quit talking and get back to work. The foreman, Stefano was hilarious. Eventhough he spoke no english he would have us laughing. Another funny incident occurred on the first day working before he knew how strong lisa was. Lisa squatted to lift a large rock using her legs to protect her back (as she well knows how to do). Stefano told her this was not the proper way to lift. He demonstrated the right way. He kept his feet touching, and with straight legs bent over and lifted the rock using only his back. He did take her way after he found out she taught people the proper way to lift for a living. Gianni was hilarious to watch work. He was not very strong and while we were lifting and moving the large rocks he would carefully position small rocks to make small walls around the main wall. He also had a really interesting shovelling technique. He would choke way up on the shovel, press it against his hip and sort of just thrust his hips, never taking more than half of a shovel load. Of course, this was the right way and we were doing it wrong. They were however, very appreciative of our hard work and invited us back.

On our days off we went to nearby towns and beaches. We went hiking and explored the mountain roads on their scooter. We got two day of climbing in but it was usually too hot and we were too tired from moving rocks. Our favorite place nearby was an alpine meadow that was above the Carrara Mable Quarries. It overlooked the quarries that could easily be mistaken for glaciers from all the marble tallas. The meadow was at least 15 degrees cooler than the valley and we picked wild blueberries and strawberries. There was and Alpine club Refugee where we could get cappuccino and enjoy the view.

The wild blueberries and strawberries were about the best food I have ever eaten, but all the food was very good. We ate homemade pasta and bread almost every day. We drove the scooter to a neighbor to get fresh milk (she milked the cow while we waited playing with a kitten). We gained lots of ideas for the future restaurant.



While we were there we had fun playing with the kids of the families that came to stay. One night we got an italian lesson from about six kids doing skits to demonstrate what a word meant. We did pick up some Italian while we were there (Lisa more than me) but more so our English got worse. We started speaking english like them so they could understand us, but would forget and speak to each other the same way. "Close the lights because coming the night."

Our first taste of the Alps!

After most of my family left, Lisa, my dad and I headed to Lake Como to stay with a friend of Lisa's dad. We drove from Venice to Como and around the lake to the north side where they live. Luigi and his wife, Elena, met us at the tourist information office, greeted us as though we had been friends for years and said it was time to go eat. We went to a little trattoria where they ordered fish from the lake for us. We then went to their house which was right on the lake and had a jaw dropping view of the alps across the lake. Luigi and Elena were hilarious and very excited for us to see their home. They were passionate about skiing (water and snow) to say the least. Luigi was out on the water at 5am just about every morning. They also had high hopes for their son as a skier but he decided to pursue academics and become an engineer instead. This, they said, was crushing. Around Luigi Lisa was a celebrity and she was introduced to everyone he knew as Dave Goode's daughter. He was also very disappointed that Lisa was not some professional skier. The first day we were there we took a ferry around to a few different towns on the lake, each more resorty than the last. The views of the mountains though, were perfect. The next day we took a drive into Switzerland stopping first to climb near the border, then at a tiny traditional Swiss village that looked as though it were taken right out of The Sound of Music, the ski resort St. Moritz as well as a few other towns. The scenery was breathtaking mountains with huge glaciers and cows grazing in green meadows. Exactly how one would picture Switzerland. The next day Luigi's son, Giovanni the ex-skier, took us on a tour of the lake in their boat. It was the first day that was warm enough to swim and we had a great time deep water bouldering and cliff jumping. We also had a chance to climb in the beautiful Val de Melle. The weather was iffy but we did get a great view for a few minutes. We even got a few routes in before it started to rain.

After a couple of days Luigi had to go to Dubai on business and My dad had to go home, so it was just Lisa, Elena and me. Lisa and I drove their scooter around and went hiking, and we all cooked dinner together. We met their other son, Piedro who was just as nice as the rest of the family.

One night we went to watch a world cup match with Giovanni at his uncle's restaurant. His uncle had an extended cab Dodge Ram parked outside. If you have never been to Italy, a ford torus would be big here, and I have no idea how it could fit down the street. To make things more like Texas, he opened it up to show Giovanni and the back seat was stacked with 15 to 20 shotguns!

It rained at least a little every day which was a bummer, but it made for interesting scenery. Lisa and I also took the train to Milano one day. We were really excited to see it since we had passed through so many times with out every actually seeing it. We were a little disappointed that it really didn't do anything for us. We liked most other Italian cities much better.

After about a week, Lisa and I were sad to leave, but took the long train ride south to Sarzana to start another wwoof for a full month

Family Vacation

After arriving back in Milan for the third time and still not seeing the city, we met my dad at the airport and picked up a rental car. My dad had arrived a couple of days before the rest of my family and was going to stay a few days after they left. The three of us drove south towards the Italian Riviera. Most people who know me know that I would much rather be the driver than passenger as I am a terrible passenger. I am usually convinced that whoever is driving is trying to kill me. I am a particularly bad passenger with my dad because he is always looking around pointing things out to me (usually geological features) instead of being as focused on the road as I would like. Unfortunately I am not yet 25 so I could not drive the rental car. I was a nervous wreck. Italians are extremely fast drivers and not afraid to pass on a completely blind curve. Motorcycles weave in and out of cars travelling at 90mph as if they are parked. They use their horn liberally and for both gratitude and scolding. Italian roads are also about 90% tunnels. Needless to say my dad was quite tired after travelling from the US and then driving for 3 hours. When we were almost there I finally got the nerve to take my eyes off the road and look at the map. As soon as I did, BANG. We had hit a reflector in the tunnel and broken the side mirror. This did not help my nerves. We did make it to the B&B in the agricultural hills above the sea where we were staying safely. After we settled we headed out to get some food. On the way back we sideswiped a stone wall on the side of the driveway at the B&B. This is why you should never buy an ex-rental car. After the first day, there were not any more driving incidents (except us saying right and him going left. Oh, and not knowing how to shift.) The driving did improve greatly as the week went on.

While in the Riviera we drove down the coast into France. It was beautiful in spots but generally really built up. It was a Saturday so there were motorbikes swerving in every direction and people everywhere, but nothing open. We also took a really nice hike over a mountain on the sea to the next town and got to grill in the backyard. After two days we headed to Tuscany to meet the rest of the family. They arrived after us and were pleased to not have had any accidents of their own. They did get stuck in a rest stop though. The next day we all drove the Cinque Terre and walked the Via Del Amor that Lisa and I had done in April. This time we were experts, going in the opposite direction so the hard part came first and not accidently hiking 45 mins to a nude beach. Everyone was blown away by the little villages. We bought pesto in the deli which is as far as I can tell the best in the world. Cait and Anna (my sisters) were happy because they are picky but love pesto.

The next day we went to Florence. As usual we took two cars and were tailgating to get there. The two cars got split up though when my mom got in the wrong lane at a toll booth and had to drive across eight lanes of traffic to correct. I was in the car with her, Lisa and Cait. We had read about a limited traffic zone in Florence that carries a 100 euro fine if you drive in it. Not wanting a fine, we parked as soon as we thought we were near the city center. Turns out we were not. It was an hour walk to the city center. We had no plans for where to meet anyone else so we just headed to the Duomo, the first stop they wanted to see. Sure enough the rest of the family was there as well. We just walked around to some of the highlights in Florence. While we were in Tuscany we also explored Pisa and Lucca and took a really nice drive though the mountains of Tuscany. We did drive into one town and had to back out about 500 meters because the street was too narrow to turn around.

Where we stayed there was a wood burning pizza oven. I had a blow to my cooking ego when I made a couple of scrambled pizzas and a couple topped with burning embers from the wood. After Tuscany we headed back to Venice. Since you cannot drive in Venice we parked on the edge of the island and lugged our stuff across town to our apartment. Again we pretty much just wandered around going back to the highlights and checking out the neighborhoods that we had missed last time. Anna and her friend Lacy had just graduated high school and Anna just turned 18 so they were very excited to be able to drink legally. Every night Anna had a glass of wine and she never liked it. She did however like the Bellinis. One night we were getting ready to go out to a bar and had seen where they were earlier in the evening. We asked her if that is where she wanted to go and she said that it looked boring, “the people are just standing around drinking!” We were sad to inform her that that is what you do at a bar.

Anna and Lacy were also prime targets for the pushy vendors selling knockoff purses and sunglasses. I guess small, blond Americans look like they want to shop. They were also way too nice. When they were being hassled they would just say “I’m really sorry but I don’t have any money on me right now.” Of course they vendors English was not so good so they didn’t know they were being shut down and would continue pushing. The girls would just keep saying “no, but thanks anyway.” The vendors would not relent until they saw the girls were with Cait and me. I guess we did not look friendly.

Overall there were not really any incidents and it went really smoothly. My mom did almost burn the place down by plugging in her American hair dryer. She said that she thought it was strange that the handle was getting red hot. Luckily the circuit tripped right away, leaving us in blackness but not burned to the ground. When the girls left they headed to Milan for a day before going home, while Lisa, my dad and I went to Lake Como to stay with a friend of Lisa’s Dad.

Casa Pollo

We left Torrox behind and made the short 1 hour journey back through Malaga to Casabermeja. In Casabermeja we were met by one of our new hosts, Anne. Anne drove us to their house in the tiny 200 person town of Puerto Del Barco. Puerto Del Barco means passage through the mountains and that is exactly what it is. It is set in an agricultural region in the mountains of Andalucia. Out of our window were mountains as alpine and rocky as the 14ers at home even thought they were only a few thousand feet high. They had olive groves and wheat fields stretching up as high as possible up the steep sides before they gave way to rocky outcrops and buttresses. It really looked as though someone stretched the farmland of Pennsylvania over the topography of the Rockies.

For the first few days we were there we had another wwoofer staying with us as well. Harold was an 18 or 19 old German who was practicing English and Spanish. Harold was very proper and polite, quite the opposite of our last German friend. One day when his job was to trim the lawn out front of the house Harold came out in a suit that looked as though it belonged to the ghostbusters, complete with rubber boots and a full face mask. He would certainly be safe from flying grass! Our hosts John and Anne were more British Expats. I’m starting to wonder if the UK is somewhere I want to go since they all seem to be leaving. Our eating at Papa John’s Place was British food on a Spanish time table. We got up and ate a light breakfast, then would eat toast, coffee and fruit at about 11:00. We would then eat our largest meal of the day at about 2:00 and a light snack at night. When they first told us about the eating we thought they were nuts, why on earth would we need two breakfasts, dinner at 2:00 or 3:00 then nothing until late in the evening. Well it didn’t take long for us to start counting on a second breakfast and we were sure ready for dinner at 2:00. The food was very good but very British; creamy fish pies and steamed veggies for example.

While we were there we did some similar work to what we have been doing; watering, planting and weeding. But our main job was to build a chicken coop. We first had to do some research to find out what a chicken coop entailed and how big it should be. We were given a pile of old junk wood and palates to work with. The only power tool was a compression drill from 1984. We had to fix the saw before we could use it. After some carful analyzing we decided to build the coop out of an old wooden dog crate and a masonite bookshelf. We added vertical shelves to the book shelf so that it would have little chicken cubbies for them to lay their eggs in, complete with doors to access the eggs. The dog crate became the roost where they could sleep on some dowel rods that we installed. We used palm wood and bamboo mats for the shingles to give it a nice tikki look. We even installed window shades and a little door made from a wine box with a nice grape pattern. We also had to build a fenced in area for them to scratch around in. It was a challenge using less than ideal materials and tools but in the end it was a really fun project and a nice change from digging and weeding.

As usual we had plenty of time off as well. One day we went climbing at El Torcal, a tourist attraction on top of a plateau. It was all small limestone towers. The rock was bombproof and the usual fun limestone pockets. Towards the end of the day while I was belaying Lisa I got surrounded by a flock of a hundred sheep. Luckily Lisa scared the crap out of them when I lowered her and they took off. John and Anne were nice enough to drop us off that morning but we decide to walk home. It was a few monotonous miles of pounding downhill on a paved road followed by a fantastic few miles on farm tracks through the wheat crops and olive groves. Another day we climbed the most prominent mountain nearby. It was a scramble right from the start as the only trails were old goat tracks. After scrambling for an hour we got to a high saddle that had about 500 sheep in it. From there, we had a short section of semi-technical rock and another short scramble to the top. We also took some time to explore the nearby city of Antequera which had a cool castle and bull ring. On our last day we took the train to Ronda, about an hour away. Ronda was just another white Andalucian village, except that it is divided by a 200ft deep gorge. It was pretty touristy, but for good reason as it was absolutely spectacular. We had a nice lunch overlooking the gorge and watching the tourists go by in their lines following whatever shiny nic-nac their guide was waving. The next day we were back to Malaga to fly to Milan to meet my family.

WWOOF Numero 2

 After travelling on our own for about 7 weeks it was finally time to stop spending so much money for a little while and get to another WWOOF host. We left Malaga and headed up the coast about an hour to the little town of Torrox. Torrox has 2 parts, Torrox Pueblo which is a fantastic traditional white Andalucian village about 4 km inland, and Torrox Coasta which was horribly built up with ugly flats by northern Europeans. We were staying with Dave and Gill about 1km away from the Pueblo. We arrived at their house to be greeted by three energetic dogs and about 20 cats. (Actually, I think it was only 8 or 10, but still…) Dave and Gill run walking holidays (in American that is hiking vacations). We had a great time picking broad beans and planting new gardens. We also had the chance to cook a lot which was great! We spent the mornings working in the garden and rode their bikes to the beach in the afternoon. Dave and Gill were serious slave drivers!

Their house was set in a very rural area just outside of town. It was very mountainess so the farmers terrace all of the land to plant olives. They are growing crops on land that you can hardly walk up! One day, while running on the mountain farm roads I found myself in the middle of a herd of goats. I was looking at the goats and the goats were looking at me, none of us knew what to do. We looked at each other like “I it’s your move”. Thankfully the goat herder (apparently “Shepard” is only for sheep) made a noise and they all took off up the craggy hillside and I was on my way.

After a few days Lisa made a “quick” trip across the Atlantic to Florida for her good friend Kali’s wedding. Lisa dodged the ash cloud and made it to Florida without incident. She didn’t tell her mom that she was coming, so as well as being a great friend, Lisa got to surprise her mom! Needless to say her mom flipped out. While Lisa was off having a great time getting pampered in preparation for the wedding, I was left in Spain, slaving away. While Lisa was away, the punters (slightly derogatory British term that Dave and Gill used to describe their clients) arrived. As well as guiding their hikes, Dave and Gill take them out to eat every night. This meant that I got to go out to eat with them every night as well. There were about 15 of them, all British and all about middle aged. They were all very light hearted and obviously there to have a good time. I took one day and went on the walk with them. The walk was absolutly beautiful, but also atrociously slows. (I am terrible at hiking slow). It was still nice though as there were plenty of interesting people to talk to. All of the punters were very curious about this crazy girl who flew to America for the weekend and were quite excited to meet her.

On the day Lisa was to come back to Spain, her flight was cancelled due to the ever pain in the ass ash cloud. She rebooked for the next day but she would have to fly to Dallas (for any one with no sense of geography that is the exact wrong direction) then to Madrid and finally to Malaga. All of the punters were really worried about her when she did not arrive when she was supposed to.

Finally after 36 hours of travelling Lisa made it back to Torrox. Once Lisa was back we continued working in the garden and going to the beach in the afternoon. We even managed to find some bouldering on the beach. On our last day we went to Nerja, another very built up beach town but with a beautiful beach. It was littered with gorgeous conglomerate boulders the size of houses. We had a great time bouldering and lying in the sun. Our time in Torrox was a much needed break from travelling every day and our hosts made it a great stay. Our only regret is that we have hardly practiced our Spanish at all! (Our English English is getting pretty good though!)

Rugs on Fire in Morocco

We arrived by bus to Algiceras, a port town right on the southern tip of Spain at the Straight of Gibraltar. The town itself left a lot to be desired and seemed to be made up of the port, the bus station and the train station. Not exactly a cultural hot spot to say the least. We walked from the bus station to our hostel, which was actually just a cheap hotel. When we arrived the door was locked so we rang the buzzer and waited. After about ten minutes a portly older Spanish couple came a stared waiting with us. It seemed as though they lived there but also had no way of getting in. They were very talkative speaking extremely quickly and in some strange dialect that they cut the ends off of all of their words. This made it nearly impossible to understand the simplest phrases, things that we previously had no problems with. We did get that they were telling us that we were “Muy Guapo,” which means attractive, but we had no idea why. After another 10 minutes of this stimulating conversation an old man came and let us in. He spoke in the same impossible dialect, took our passports and left. When we tried to tell him not to take our passports he just kept on muttering something about his son. Eventually his son came and checked us in but we still could not understand him to save our lives. In the end all we really got out of any of it was a headache but we did get our passports back.

The next morning we were going to take the ferry to Morocco across the straight. When we started looking up ferry tickets the previous night we found that they were about 70€ for a 1hour ferry ride. We did find a tour though that was only 50€ that included lunch and a tour of three cities. We had heard about these tours before and how they just try and scam you the whole time, but we figured we would give it a go with a sense of humer.

We met our tour group of a Spanish couple, a Portuguese couple, a Japanese Couple and their kindergarten aged son, and us. We took the ferry across the straight of Gibraltar to Ceuta, a City that is actually part of Spain. There we were met by our tour guide, Ahkmed. Ahkmed was a really, really big Moroccan. We were quite impressed when Ahkmed was able to speak fluently to all of us in our native languages. I guess we really have no idea how his Japanese was but they seemed to understand him. The eight of us were quickly herded into a tour bus built to hold about 50 people.

Our first stop was at the border between Spain and Morocco. It was a really interesting place because you have Europeans crossing in camper vans and nice cars and Moroccans crossing on foot or bikes with all of their possessions folded up in a blanket thrown over their back. People were crossing with huge Costco size containers of dipers and Shampoo held under their arm with kids in tow. It was so interesting seeing what a difference an imaginary line can make. At the border Ahkmed took all of our passports and gave them to the Moroccan Police. We then carried on without them. This worried us a bit but there wasn't really anything we could do about it.

Ahkmed then got on the microphone and told all of us in our native languages what we could expect for the day. He repeated himself over and over because I think he could not remember what he had said in what language. We were heading for Tetuan, a big city about 50 kilometers inland. He was very pleased to tell us that there was going to be an arts market today that only happened once a month. We could see right through this. He was obviously very excited to have a couple of big spending Americans on his tour because he kept talking to us about what we could buy and mentioning that Americans love to haggle. He had the wrong Americans. It is a well known fact that the tour guides get a commission on things that are purchased. After Tetuan we we going to head to Tangier, a huge city on the Northern Coast before we headed back to Ceuta for our return ferry. Before we got to Tetuan, though, he had a special treat for us. We were going to have the opportunity to ride a camel! We pulled off of the side of the highway into a small rest stop like place where there were two men, each with a camel. We all filed out of the bus, gave the men a Euro and rode the camel down the pavement for about 50ft with one of the men leading the animal, and back. Just as I was finishing my Berber experience, another tour bus pulled up and followed our lead riding the beasts.

We then headed to Tetuan. When we arrived, Ahkmed explained 3 or 4 times that there were two parts to the city, an old part and a new part and that the important part for us today was the old part. There was a wall dividing the two parts. The instant we entered the old city it was obvious we were in a whole new world. There were cages of chickens packed in so tight they couldn't move, Berber women sitting on the ground selling herbs wearing bright robes and hats that looked more Mongolian than anything else, and Men wearing the traditional kaftan, a robe that looks like something that Obi-wan Kenobi would be wearing. The streets were absolutely packed with people doing their daily shopping There were butchers with skinned cattle and chickens hanging, bread shops and piles and piles of produce. There was even a cart going around selling live canaries in little cages. (I don't want to know what they were for). Surprisingly, as foreign as the market was, the smells were very familiar. Fresh bread dominated by cilantro freshly picked in the nearby hills.

Ahkmed led us around strutting in front of us like he ran the place, shaking hands with about every third man he saw, grabbing loafs of bread and oranges from the vendors and flicking a small coin at them telling us “You must try Moroccan bread!” (It tasted like any other bread.) This was actually our favorite part of the tour because it felt very real, like this was their daily life. I was getting a little frustrated though because there were amazing photo ops every 2 seconds but we were being toted around way too fast to set up for a good photo.

Somewhere along the way we picked up Muhammad, who seemed to not actually be doing anything except following us. At one point I asked him a question, he answered then asked for a small tip. After about an hour of this, Ahkmed had a special surprise for us. A local school for the arts had invited us for a mint tea, the drink of choice in Morocco. We were immediately suspicious but what choice did we have, we were now quite far inland without our passports! When we went in they separated us into our native languages so that we could have better discussions with our hosts. We were taken upstairs to a large room with brightly colored rugs wall to wall. An eager Moroccan started telling us about all of the rugs and showed us that they would not light on fire by holding up a lighter to the rug. This apparently meant that it was a top notch rug. After showing us about a hundred rugs he asked us which one we would like to buy. We expressed that while they were all very nice we didn't want any of them. He kept on us asking us how much we thought they were worth. We knew this whole thing was a set up because we were never allowed to change our money into Moroccan Durham, instead they only wanted to deal in Euros. Eventually we were able to convince this guy we were not going to buy one of his “hand made” rugs. We were then lead downstairs into a huge room full of more “hand-made” goods. Everything from tea pots to swords. Another Moroccan came over telling us about how nice the rugs were, again trying unsuccessfully to light them on fire. He informed us that his mother had made these rugs and that the would cost 180€ in summer but we could have it for 80€! We passed.

We did find a teapot we wanted. We were asked how much we thought it was worth and we said 1 euro. Our host was not amused and told us that it actually cost 30 euros but he could make us a deal. I said we only had ten euros with us so he then countered with 28 euros. This went on for about 20 minutes when he finally said, “Ok, just give me the 10 euros.” As we were leaving the guy trying to sell us his mothers rug came over to us and whispered that he could probably let one of his mothers fine rugs go for just 25€. His colleague came over and once again try and light the place on fire, but thank god they were good rugs that would not burn!

We left the shop with absolutely no mention of mint tea. We then went for a traditional lunch in a “typical restaurant.” The typical restaurant turned out to be a huge ballroom that was beautifully decorated, had a live band and belly dancers. It was full of banquette size tables and very western looking tourists. While it was far from a typical restaurant, the food was actually very good. After lunch and more people asking for tips we took an hour bus ride to Tangier. In Tangier we were again given a short tour of the old city. During this tour we were surrounded by men selling all sorts of shit from toy horses to African drums, saying “you like, you like.” They would literally not get out of our face for a solid 20 minutes. During this time Ahkmed was chatting them up in Arabic and shaking their hand instead of sending them away as any decent tour guide would. Finally we got some relief when we were taken into a traditional pharmacist and spice shop. Again we were separated into our respective languages. This time however we were given a demonstration of local medicine from spices that was actually pretty interesting. Of course we had the opportunity to buy herbs and spices, but at least this guy was less pushy. When we stepped out we were greeted by the same pushy salesmen trying to sell us shit. We were then given some free time to go shopping. We wandered around a little trying to avoid the the vendors. Somehow Ahkmed seemed to know everyone in this city as well.

At this point is was about 6:00 (8:00 in Spain, even though it is due south there is a 2 hour time difference) and we still had an hour bus ride back to Ceuta. When we went back through customs their seemed to be a problem with our passports, but not to worry Ahkmed got of the bus a returned with our passports and said that he took care of it. Even though they had our passports for like 10 hours they never got around to stamping them, so who know what was going on. It was really hard to tell what was a set up and what wasn't. Again, just by crossing an imaginary line we were back in the western world with churches instead of Mosques and infrastructure that didn't look as though there had just been an earthquake. After a quick 30 minute ferry ride (This time we got on the fastest ferry) we were back in our hostel eating a cold tortilla and chocolate milk for dinner. Even though it the whole thing was just a sales pitch for shit we didn't want, it gave us a good taste of Morocco and left us wanting to actually see the country without Ahkmed.