The Cosmopolitan Blog

I don’t really have much to report on London, since the few days i spent there were more about family then vacationing. A few observations though, as someone who left 7 years ago after having lived there 22 years. When i left, the labor government had just started making changes and nothing significant had yet happened. Now, 12 years into their “reign”, London is a very different city. Customer service actually exists now, things are automated and functioning, and the world no longer stops outside business hours. All consumer services such as banks and movie theaters now have automated answering machines (you know, the press 1 for this option, and press 2 for that option), yes surprisingly, it wasn’t universal until recently. But one of the drawbacks of this (and we’re obviously on phase 2 of automation in North America), is that they haven’t gotten the timing quite right. So messages and recordings are sooooo long, the bland British automated voice goes on and on and on and on… Take the Heathrow Express for example. Awesome concept, a train that comes every 15 minutes, and takes you into downtown London in 15 minutes. But, oh my goodness, the voice that speaks to you as the train approaches the platform… “Your Heathrow Express train is now approaching. Remember to wait until the train has come to a complete stop before boarding. Please watch out for the gap. Please keep your bags with you at all times. Once you enter the train, first take care of putting the large bags on the lower shelves, and small bags on top. Then only find yourself a seat”, she went on for so longer, i was wondering if she was going to give me instructions on how to go to the bathroom next.

Same thing for when i called to find out the movie times at the local theater. Before you can get to select your options, they have so much information to tell you about, who owns the theater, the fact that they’re an equal opportunity employer, general theater info, what cards you can pay with, security measures… Never realized British people liked to talk so much (i guess I’m really British then), wasn’t planning on this post being so long

Ok, final observation. When i lived here, i used to hate everything about London, i found it noisy, dirty and ugly. I used to think that they would never move on the a modern city. But today, strange thing happened on the way to the airport. Along the main motorway, there are those typical little British row houses, usually council houses (state-given housing), they look a little rundown, they all have the typical British style doily-looking white lacy curtains in the windows… I used to hate the look of them, simply because they represented something typically British. And today, we’re driving down, and i find myself looking at them nostalgically, finding them cute and quaint and worth preserving…

Funny how perspective changes things…

The New City
So, we get off the boat, and look out for our guide, who turns out to be this middle-age, rather short, happy-faced unshaven Moroccan man, wearing the typical jalaba long robe. He guides us to a very modern looking small coach (in fact, probably the most modern, brightest item in the whole Moroccan port). And we’re off, cameras on lap, for a trip through the “new city”… Honestly speaking, there’s nothing really new-looking about the New City. The street along the coast is pretty enough, if not a little bare, but very Arabic looking, reasonably large beaches, nice waterfront walkway, palm trees and the feeling of sand in the air. The beachfront properties, however, are rundown, obviously not taken care of. Which is basically the whole theme of the New City. Everything is run down, the sidewalks, the streets, the benches, the statues, the buildings, the balconies. Entrances are not decorated or lit up. One can tell that there was a time when this city was shiny and new, probably built still at the time that the French occupied Morocco, but since then, nothing has been upkept. This is the main point, i believe was different from the documentary on Fez that i saw on the plane. There, large parks, walkways, avenues and buildings built by the French have been kept up with pride, in order to attract tourists and offer a pleasant experience. Cafés line the street in Fez, and at the cafés, you see tourists, just like you would in Rome or in Paris. There is none of that in Tangiers. As a pretty adventurous tourist, i, myself, would never venture on my own in the new city, there is nothing there for tourists, just the local population leading their everyday life. There are no outdoor cafés, and the few bars are uninviting, usually with a Moroccan man standing in the doorway encouraging you in. There are few women, and those one see have their head covered, again, different from the shots of Fez i saw in the documentary. In Fez, the women stroll and enjoy life, here, in Tangiers, the women rush from one point to another.

The new city is hilly, and we’re glad to be sitting in the bus. We snap away from behind the window at a couple of architecturally interesting buildings, balconies with carpets hanging out of them, and we drive by a couple of mosques. There is no indication that these mosques can be visited, they seem bare and solemn, again, very different from Fez where people seem to understand the way tourism works: you keep up sites worth visiting, you stick an entrance booth in front, and you charge tourists a fee to visit.

In Tangiers, this is not the case. We didn’t pay for the bus tour, it was a special package set up and subsidized by the Moroccan government, businesses such as cafés don’t set up an attractive cafés, and sites are so rundown that there is nothing to visit.

We made 2 stops while on the bus, one, in what could only be described as an open-air parking lot, camels sitting on the ground waiting for us to ride them, not far, you understand, just a few steps so we can take a picture. So we’re all told to get off the bus and encouraged to ride one of the 5-6 camels available, and by encouraged, i mean harassed until we do. In the meantime, men are walking around with items they are selling, belts, sunglasses, hats, jewelry, and shoving them in your face telling you the price in Euros and reducing it progressively even though you show no interest. After 15 minutes of feeling trapped and harassed, it’s up on the bus we go again, and are told to get down again 5 minutes later. Here, we get off atop a large clip with a beautiful view on the sea, and we’re told, this is the point where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Mediterranean Sea. What a fascinating place, i tell myself, but look around, not a café, not a stand with souvenirs and photos, the area has not been beautified and the trees lie there now as they must have for centuries, no one here is capitalizing on this site and making it a proper tourist attraction, instead, they rather have local, aggressive men shoving belts in your face and selling them for 1 Euro.

The Old City
Then the bus makes its way to the old town, the Medina. There, we get off and are told that, for the rest of the day (about 5 hours left), we will be walking around and having lunch. The main plaza seems bright and pretty enough, although no building is very old or particularly attractive. By then, i had understood that you don’t go to Tangiers for the sites, you go to Tangiers for the experience of how a poor people and a poor city live. Tangiers is like the forgotten city of Morocco, and even though, apparently, the King has his summer vacation house there, this city seems to have been frozen in time and ignored, when it comes to budget, city management, beautification, and cultural preservation.

Lunch
Our guide takes us through the narrow streets and the sook, which is the main market place for the locals. Women buy their groceries, men sell impressive varieties of olives, bread, dates, herbs, meats, and jalabas and kaftans (the men and women’s local dress/robe). After about an hour, we proceed to a restaurant that seems out of place, beautifully decorated and obviously made for tourists. Musicians play as we walk in, we’re told the meal is included in the tour, but alcohol is extra… Alcohol! The first act i saw this city do in the name of tourism, allow alcohol in order to reap the profits. Not that I’m complaining. Interestingly, we start speaking to our travel companions, and it turns out that one of them had done a similar tour back in the 70s, and wanted to see how things had changed. Not surprisingly from what i had seen so far, he confirmed that he saw no difference, down to the restaurant set up for tourists on their tour. The food was good and plentiful: local soup to start, then kebabs, then couscous, and honey cake for desert.

The Medina
Then, we’re off again, through the winding narrow streets of the Medina, with all sense of direction lost, since these streets are so enclosed that you can barely see the sky. And there, the harassing starts again. We would walk at a reasonably fast pace to keep up with our guide, a maximum of 2 people side by side able to fit in the narrowness, and we’re constantly followed by 10-20 street vendors who just don’t give up and follow you for hours on end, shoving items in your face and shouting every-decreasing prices. One can barely hold a conversation or hear the guide speaking. The guide, obviously paid off by certain businesses, then proceeds to take us to these places. First, the local carpet maker, and it’s up 3 flights of stairs to a big room with small Moroccan stools, where we are a captive audience as they give us a presentation (turns out, a rather interesting one), on the history of carpets in Morocco. After that, we are not let out of the store for about a 1/2 hour, until they’ve done all they can to convince us to buy a carpet.

Then again, it’s back through the winding streets for 20 minutes until the next stop, the local pharmacy, and again, up the stairs, sit on a stool, watch a presentation. This time, the pharmacist is selling more affordable items, this herb to stop snoring, this herb for digestion, this cream for exhema… His show is convincing enough, we’re all tired and we all decide these are items we could buy, so everyone walks away with around 4-5 items. Interestingly, the only thing i bought turned out the be rip off, he promised me the same delicious mint tea as we had tasted in the restaurant, makes me smell it from his jar, it smells great, then gives me packaged boxes he promises me contain the same stuff. Neither of us check the box, and, of course, it turns out to be green tea from China, and not mint tea, but by the time we found out, we were long gone.

And it’s out of the pharmacy and into the streets with it’s aggressive and now frustrated vendors. By the end, we were all ready to move on. So we leave the Medina, and the guide walks us to an old dilapidated hotel with an attractive large terrace, so that we can sit down, rest and pay for an overpriced cup of mint tea.

And we’re off again, this time walking towards to old wall fortification of Tangiers, cameras ready, expecting something old and pretty. But we’re disappointed, it’s just a pile of rocks next to an old wall, at the top of a cliff… and apparently the local drug spot, with teenagers shooting up in open view of the tourists. By then, i was very frustrated. This was the oldest spot of the town, and it was being reduced to a pile of rubble topped with syringes!!

I think at that point, my brain switched off. I kept snapping away, hopping my camera would spot something i had missed, we walked a couple more streets, and then dragged our tired little legs down to the port, where we all thanked our guide profusely (he was, in fact, rather entertaining, telling us stories and speaking in 3 languages at all times, English, Spanish and German, and had a jolly sense of humor that somehow seemed out of place in this glum city). We got on the boat, slumped down on the seats, and either fell asleep or deconstructed our visit with comments of disappointment and sadness.

I slept reeeeally soundly that night, cosy in my European bed.

So today was the big excursion day, a trip to Tangiers, Morocco. Distance wise, not very far, in fact, in the past 2 very clear days, we’ve been able to clearly see both the Rock of Gibraltar (on the Spanish side) and the coast of Morocco across the Mediterranean Sea, highlighting how close the 2 countries really are.

When you walk/drive along the coast of Andalusia (South of Spain), you can’t help but reflect on the history of these 2 countries, and you understand why the Arabic influence is so strong in the South of Spain: when the Arabs were in North Africa, being able to see the land across the sea, the invasion of Andalusia must have seemed like the logical next step.

Anyway, so it was back to Tarifa we went, to get our tickets from the travel agent. It was Sunday, but he had promised us he was open every day. Of course, when we got there, he was closed. After a momentary panic, we drove right down to the port itself, where the huge boat was already docked, and there, we saw signs for ticket purchase. The boat was due to leave at 11am. Once we got to the other side, we were told a guide would meet us there, and we would be taken on a full day tour of Tangiers in an air conditioned bus, and that we would stop for lunch in a Moroccan restaurant. This seemed like a harmless cushy way to see a city that we knew nothing about, and wouldn’t have known what to see where.

Sidenote: this is actually the next day, and I’m writing this as I sit on the plane leaving Spain, and as i look up at the mini screens that have dropped down from the plane ceiling, there’s a documentary on Morocco, and on the city of Fez in particular, which, i found out on our tour, is the 4th largest city, Tangiers being the 5th. So, I’m gonna stop writing and watch it for a while, it will allow me to compare it to what i saw (which i will describe shortly), and see if it changes my impression in anyway.

ok, done watching the documentary, it was interesting.

Back to yesterday. So boarding the ferry is interesting, because, as a pedestrian, you go in from the huge car bridge at the same time as those who chose to take their cars across. But then, you walk up the steps to the upper deck, and waow! it’s like you’re in a first class lounge, with wide cushy seats, some of them even arranged around tables, very luxurious. By then, our group of 7 was very excited. Before we can depart though, we all have to present our passports to the Moroccan immigration desk located within the ferry itself. Having a french passport, it was a breeze for me, especially on a day trip, no questions asked. The French influence in Morocco, as i will later learn, is still very present, and any Moroccan, from any walk of life, speaks some French.

35 minutes later, we are docking in Tangiers, and, as we wait for the carbridge to drop, we can look at the city of Tangiers from afar. The layout of the city seems pretty obvious, it is spread over 3-4 hills, with the old city clearly visible on the steepest hill, with a minaret visible at the top, and ending in an old fort wall before the steep drop down to the sea. The beach is mainly in front of what seems to be the new city (from the documentary i just saw on Fez, there also seems to be an old city and a new city). The busiest construction is that of all the skyscrapers being built on the beachfront. Tangiers seems to be an interesting mix of old and new, with most buildings painted in some shade of “dirty” white or yellow.

Well, I’m gonna end the post here, and will write the rest tomorrow, apparently, I’m not able to stay awake for the entire flight.

Well, vast improvement today, we aimed to leave the house at 9.30, and, in actual fact, by the time we were on the road it was 10.45am, given our record the previous days, this was progress. So, as planned, it’s off to Seville we went. Lots of happy chatting on the way, some sleeping and iPod listening.

Seville is easy to spot quite a while away, thanks to its impressive huge modern drawbridge, unfortunately, it was hard to get a clean shot due to speed and the trucks on the road. Seville purposely does not have a parking lot close to the old town, i think it’s to avoid pollution and encourage tourists to walk. Which we did, we parked on the south side of the river, and, finally making good use of my SLR, we crossed a gorgeous bridge taking pictures of the very picturesque banks and old towers. As we were deciding what to see first (this was going to be an express visit as we aimed to be back early evening), we quickly realized it was passed lunchtime and we were all hungry.

As we’re deciding we to go, I’m taking shots of this impressive Spanish style big building, and specifically, a very interesting, shiny sparkling bar entrance, when we spot that they have a set menu and decide to give it a shot. Turns out, as we walk in, that it’s a Cuban restaurant, although the entrance made me think of something straight out of New Orleans for a second, with the figuring of a Jazz player, and the write rod iron door and lamps. As we walk in, we realize this is something of a find, the interior is impeccably decorated in a Cajun / Cuban mix, with huge ceiling2floor black and white photos of Cuban street salsa dancers and Cuban apartment buildings. There’s a bar, with all the Caribbean liqueurs you can think of. The owner (and only staff member) comes and greets us, chats to us, and tells us about the set menu, dishes we had never heard of before, with ingredients that we couldn’t, for the life of us, imagine eating together. The starter was a cold soup, à la gazpacho, but with added cream, a slice of bell pepper, olive oil drizzled over, and finished with finely chopped pieces of hard boiled egg. It was so smooth and delicious, it took the gazpacho to a whole new level, i had never tasted anything like that before. The portions were huge, so i had to leave 1/2, otherwise i would have never been able to eat the main course. The main course was an equally new experience, it was a fish i had never tasted before, somehow similar in consistency to calamari, sliced in pieces in the shape of large french fries, served together with potatoes, the whole in a very exotic sauce made of Caribbean spices, onions, and a slight tomatoey tangey-ness… that’s the only way i can describe it, it was so unusual, but soooo tasty. The dish seemed small, at first, but we were all finding it impossible to finish, it was so filling. The desert, which only one of us had enough space left to try, was papaya confit, extremely sweet, served with cream cheese that we all mistook for ice cream at first. Again, such a strange combination, it takes your pallet the first bite to decide if you like it or not…

Well, after all that, it was time for a good walk, which we happily did. We took a pedestrian street (well, entirely pedestrian except for the tram), it was a rather long street that led to the cathedral, and each of us were stopping at every single building to take pictures. Each building had it’s own look, but in the general Spanish / Sevillian style, with the beautifully decorated walls, the impressive balconies… The fountain added to the grandeur, and the Spanish fortune teller who wanted to read my palm and told me (from what i understood) how much luck i was going to have in my life, made the experience all the more authentic.

The Cathedral
We finally reached the Cathedral, and just from the entrance, i could tell this was going to be impressive. We’ve all seen cathedral entrances before, but this one takes Cathedral entrances to a whole new level. Every inch of the stone was richly decorated with carvings and statues. As we entered and paid the fee to visit, we picked up a booklet that gave us the history. As is the story with many religious buildings in Spain, it started off as a Mosque, and then, when the Catholics invaded Spain in the 13th century, they built their churches over the mosques, sometimes leaving reminisces, ranging from a few bricks, to foundations, to entire walls. In this case, all that was left was the minaret and the courtyard.

But first, we entered the Cathedral. I have NEVER seen anything so impressive. For one, the sizes: 23,500 square meters, length: 126 meters, width: 83 meters and the maximum height: 56m! The minaret bell tower is 98m high. This is officially the world’s most extensive gothic cathedral, and truly, it’s awe-inspiring, your first steps into the cathedral left me breathless. But it’s not only the size, it’s the richness and taste. It’s soooo ornate, and yet, nothing is in bad taste (trust me, I’ve seen baroque cathedrals, the age were excess was in fashion), nothing is excessive.

The cathedral is structured similarly as all cathedrals with little (little, HA! little by Seville cathedral standards) chapels on each side, each decorated at different periods. The main part of the cathedral is composed of the huge (well, everything is huge, but this is just…) choir and organ that reaches all the way to the trop. The area were the choir stands is so ornate with gold and wood carvings. Opposite the choir is High Altar, which is basically a 37 meter high 20 meter wide solid block of gold carved with statues of saints and religious scenes. the statues at the bottom are about 8cm high while the ones at the very top are about 2 meters high, thus giving the effect to the bystander that the statues at the top (since they are so far up) are the same size as the ones at the bottom, and therefore can all easily be seen.

I took so many photos in that cathedral, i couldn’t stop Thank goodness for my SLR (again, i realize, i am repeating myself), but seeing you can’t use flash and you’re in a cathedral, the SLR did real good. I became an expert at finding places to lean against so that i could take shots at 2-4 second shutter speeds (very slow shutter speed, you can’t afford to move even slightly or the picture will be blurred).

Finally, we walked around the other rooms located on the side sections, such as the Main Sacristy and the oval Chapter House. Both had impressive stone ceilings, with every inch carved so delicately.

Well, i left my personal favorite part of the cathedral for the end. The cathedral contains the tomb of Christopher Columbus. And it’s an impressive one. Over his tomb stand four beautiful statues carrying a coffin, the statues are probably 3-4 meters high and sculptured in the finest detail.

Finally, one of us decided to climb the minaret tower, which took him about 15 minutes to climb (about 40 “ramps”/circles up). Meanwhile, the rest of us visited the Mosque courtyard, entirely built in bricks of the time. It was still intact and is now filled with Orange trees. The doors and small carvings on the wall show us the somber style of Islamic decor, which contrasts so intensely with the heavy ornate Gothic style. One shot I’m especially proud of is one of the Catholic cathedral door and top on one side and the Islamic Minaret on the other, standing side by side in stark contrast. I realize an image is worth a 1000 words, so i really hope to post my shots here soon, probably when the Internet connection is faster.

Honestly, I’ve never been so reluctant to leave a cathedral in my life, maybe it’s with age that I’m appreciating culture, and that, coupled with wanting to take amazing pictures with my camera, made me so exhilarated, but this will definitely be something i remember for a long, long time.

Again, not necessarily the earliest-rising family, we were out the house by 12.45pm!! Granted we took in the sun on the balcony, some of us had a walk on the beach, others a walk around the village. Then, we drove to Marbella, for some strolling and shopping. We ended up at the local home furnishing store which had a super elegant cafeteria. We checked out all the model kitchens and bathrooms the store had to offer, then it was off to find a place for lunch. We found an awesome restaurant by the beach, with all the tapas and Spanish dishes we could wish for, specializing in fish. The anchovies in vinegar were a big hit, but everything was amazing, the seafood salad, the fried fish, even the meat for the kids. Courses were separated by fun on the beach, running away from waves, getting our shoes and pants wet, and then rolling in the sand, you’d think we’d never seen a beach before.

After lunch, we drove to Malaga by the scenic route, driving through each village on the way, each village had its own character. Some were atrocious, with developers building ugly high rises from the top of the hills all the way to the beachfront, with no respect for the local scenery. Other villages were a lot more elegant, with the new developments trying to adopt the typical Spanish style of the region, so that, at least the houses would blend. We saw the “rich” communities, with the yachts, sushi restaurants, cosmetic surgery clinics and pilates studios, as well the more modest and more authentic communities with cheap and tasty tapas at every corner.

We reached Malaga in the evening, 6pm, with one goal, to see the Picasso museum (Picasso was born in Malaga). But first, we had to find parking. Easily done, we opted for the paid parking garage, but once we got in, well, we kept on climbing and climbing and climbing, and each parking level was full… We reached the 12th floor, i had never gone so high to find parking in my life (ok, granted, they were 1/2 floors, so technically, we were only on the 6th floor, but still), it’s a good thing there was an elevator. Also first parking lot i see that has a snack machine and toilets on the ground floor, maybe it’s always so hard to find parking and people need to rest afterwards? Luckily, Spaniards stay up late, so all businesses, including museums are open until 8pm. The children of the artist, Pablo Picasso, picked the place where their father’s art would be showcased, it’s an old gorgeous palace, now dedicated entirely to the artist, so there are lots and lots of rooms to walk through to discover paintings, sculptures and more… Impressive also was the amount of security around the palace, obviously privately requested again by the children.

We then needed to find a place for dinner, and this time, we found the local barbecue place, beautifully decorated with a huge mosaic mural of a bull fighting scene and with slabs of fake meat as decoration all over the restaurant, legs here, ribs there, it was, hmm.. not for the faint hearted… Surprisingly, my 6-yr old niece didn’t bat an eyelid. The food was amazing, so fresh, though my lamb cutlets were a little burnt in places. The wine was not very successful, but, for the price, really, who could complain?

We then found our parking garage, and drove back down our 12 floors, i swear i heard my ears pop We took a quick drive around the old city of Malaga, others had seen it already before, but i wished we had stayed longer. I took some night shots on my nephews camera (I didn’t have my SLR that day and my point&shoot’s battery had died), the cathedral, the mansions, the old streets, everything was so beautiful and old… At one point, a few hours earlier, we had walked through a very old, narrow street, and i looked up at the typical Spanish balconies and old style houses and i just exhaled a huge sigh of satisfaction, apparently, walking through old European cities full of culture makes me extatically happy

Very excited about tomorrow, we’re going to Seville.