SALLY ESCAPES TO NORWICH

So, with Mark and the kids preparing to head off to Berlin, then return for a day only to head off again for a week of skiing, I decided I needed to take action and get out of town myself!

When we went to Norfolk and Suffolk last year, the family dropped me off at Norwich station to make my way back to London for work while they continued on for a bit longer.  This left me with a niggling sense of not having seen or done this city, a situation I wanted to rectify.  So, I bought train tickets and set off early Saturday morning so that the family had to wave me goodbye for a change!  (Only they didn't because Aisha and William slept in!)

Colman's mustard museum and shop

After checking into a convenient B&B, I headed into the centre of town to see what I could find.   The city is a mix of meandering laneways, modern city facilities and architecture, scattered with many reminders of its heyday at the height of the medieval wool boom. Apart from all that, I very quickly found that this was a great place for shopping!  There are all the high street chains, but heaps of independent stores, including lots of vintage clothing shops, antique and old book shops, a good selection of the fabulous English charity shops I love and generally quirky places.  In the Royal Arcade I found the Colman's mustard museum and shop and learnt more about mustard than I ever knew before!  

Mustard is a summer seasonal crop grown for its potent seeds since Roman times. The fields and fenlands around Norfolk are apparently full of it because English mustard has made such a name for itself. In the early 19th century Jeremiah Colman, a flour miller, took the idea of milling mustard and turned it into an industry. He blended both brown and white mustard seeds to create a distinctive strong and distinctly English mustard. James’ son Jeremiah James Colman later took over the company. He was a visionary, and his ideas on employment and social welfare were years ahead of his time. He built a subsidised school for his employee’s children almost twenty years before parliament made any form of education compulsory and employed Philippa Flowerday, one of the very first industrial nurses, to help sick employees.

  

lost in the Norwich Lanes shopping!

In Market Square in the centre of the city is a permanent market with fun painted almost beach shed like stalls.  While these are obviously newish, the market itself is one of the oldest and largest in England and has been running since1025.  There were lots of things to look at but I didn't stay too long because I had heard the monthly flea market was on!  I found it at the beautiful old St Andrew's Halls and spent a happy hour or so rummaging around finding treasures.  From there I made a quick dash across to Norwich Cathedral for the last tour of the day.

Second longest nave in England

Norwich Cathedral is one of many churches (91 if I remember rightly) built when the city was second only to London in importance. It is another amazing English cathedral, begun in 1096, and one of the finest Anglo-Norman abbeys in the country.  The nave is the second longest in the country while the spire soars higher than any other in England apart from Salisbury Cathedral.  Unusually, most of the stone structure is still original. The most famous feature is the ribbed vaulting added in 1463 after the original wooden one was burnt down.  The unique rosettes along its length tell the story of the Creation, the only ceiling of its kind.

Norwich cathedral's unique vaulted ceiling

The precious reredos, turned upside down and into a table
to save it, but then lost for centuries.

Jesus - knobbly knees ascending

The reredos, an ornamental screen covering the wall at the back of an altar, is one of the most valuable treasures in the cathedral and has a wonderful story to go with it. Apparently when the Puritan reformers came through the church during the Civil War the inside of the cathedral was destroyed, the window glass was smashed, the wall paintings defaced, the vestments and books stolen, the tombs and monuments defaced or demolished and gunmen filled the cathedral drinking, smoking and shooting. Cromwell was asked by the Puritans of Great Yarmouth whether they could pull the cathedral down so that they could use the stone to strengthen their harbour and build new workhouses. Thankfully Cromwell refused! Fortunately in all this chaos, someone had the forethought to turn it upside down, add some legs to it and turn it into a table! It continued to be used as a table, for centuries, forgotten and undiscovered until last century when a meeting was held and someone who knew what he was looking at, dropped his pen on the floor and saw what was on the underside of the"table." What I particularly found amusing was the panel with the ascension on it - how unbecoming to be Jesus and be raised to heaven, only to have your knobbly knees the only part of you recorded!

Getting a spanking!

The beautiful Peace Globe

After the Evensong service, I had a closer look at the misericord in the choir. The misericord is sometimes named the mercy seat, because it is a small wooden shelf on the underside of a folding seat in a church, installed to provide a degree of comfort for the monks who had to stand during long periods of prayer. I was lucky enough to be nosing around while a priest was showing some others a rather amusing seat. What you have to remember is that because these seats were where monks rested their posteriors, the carvings on them could not be sacred. Instead, some distinctly secular carvings are done on them and on this particular seat you can see the monk with a young boy over his knee spanking in him. Oh dear! You will also note the heads have been removed - as so many heads on so many statues and figures in churches were. 

The font used to be used in for making chocolate in the
Norwich Cadbury's factory. When closed the equipment
 was refashioned and donated to the cathedral.

The pelican lectern is biblically significant.
In myth the pelican is said to feed
her young from the blood of her own breast. 

I came across another little reminder of the cathedral's fascinating history.  In 1272, serious riots and fighting broke out between the citizens and servants of the Priory.  Almost all the Norman monastic buildings were destroyed by fire. The violence continued for three days and there were many casualties. The Cathedral was plundered of vestments, books, gold and silver vessels and ornaments. King Henry III came to Norwich to resolve the problems and the punishments were harsh with over 30 citizens executed, the Prior imprisoned and his lands taken, while the City itself was excommunicated! Repairs to the Cathedral were completed in 1278 and it was re-consecrated on Advent Sunday in the presence of King Edward I and Queen Eleanor whose carved faces can still be seen near the arched entrance way built especially for the occasion.

King Edward I

Queen Eleanor

That evening I found a funky new restaurant run by a born and bred Norwichman who was a lovely host and gave me tips about places to go and see.  After watching Jonny Walker, a great guitar busker for a bit in the City's Forum area, I went to a choral concert of Benjamin Britten and friends at St Peter Mancroft Church.  The Keswick Hall Choir performed pieces by Britten and his fellow composers Francis Poulanc and Aaron Copland - beautiful! Again, the locals were very welcoming and I sat with mum/wife of two of the soloists, mother-in-law of the conductor and various excited spouses of choristers!

The following morning after a good "Full English" breakfast, I wandered along the Riverwalk in the fog, enjoying the snowdrops and crocuses that were coming up to show spring is on its way.

Cow Tower was built in 1399, one of the earliest purpose built artillery blockhouse built to defend a strategic point in Norwich's defences on the River Wensum.  It was able to house guns and the new cannons.

Along the river I came across Norwich's last swan pit and one of the last in the country. In medieval times swans were reserved for the table of the king and a handful of privileged nobles and clerics. St Giles’ Hospital acquired the right to herd swans soon after its foundation so established the purpose-built confined area, the swan pit. Two creeks extended into the hospital's precinct from the south bank of the River Wensum. At least one of them was navigable and small boats were able to travel within yards of the buildings in order to unload food, fuel and building supplies. One of the creeks fed fish ponds and would have attracted many swans, which in Stuart times continued to be protected (Nicholas Salter was locked up in Norwich for three months for destroying a swan’s egg in 1664!)

Every person or institution in Norwich that had the right to keep swans had to mark their swans with a distinctive sign lightly cut into its beak. In August each year a ‘swan-upping’ took place on the river when ownership of all of the cygnets was established. A chart in the Refectory shows 72 of the marks used in Norwich, some of them belonging to the Hospital.

Every year the hospital sent a swan to Sandringham Palace as a gift to the king. The pit was in use until WWII when it was forced to close due to the grain shortage. By this time the hospital had been supplying oven-ready swans for the tables of the rich all over the country and live swans too, dispatched by rail, travelling in wicker baskets.

A dovecote - beautiful now but in medieval 
times pigeons and doves were an important
source of food and possession was a privilege
only permitted for nobles

The last swan pit

No matter what the weather, Englishmen go fishing!

In 1404 Henry IV introduced a 'Charter of Incorporation' to Norwich, granting special privileges to the city and raising its importance to a new level. The charter allowed burgesses to elect a mayor, collect taxes and hold their own courts of law and with the removal of the popular assembly, was a chance for the government to become more locally representative. Crucially, the charter gave Norwich city status. Norwich was one of the first towns in England to earn the rights granted by the charter of 1404 that stimulated the need for the Guildhall. The Guildhall was built in the early 15th century and was the largest and most elaborate medieval City Hall outside London, reflecting Norwich's status as one of England's wealthiest provincial cities.

For the rest of Sunday I wandered more, found some great shops to look around in, bought some clothes and a pair of shoes (don't tell Mark!).  The names of the streets and alleys were quite different and often amusing - Upper and Lower Goat Alley, Pottergate, Back of the Inns, Gentlemen's Walk, Cattlemarket Street - telling the story of times past.

After a wander around the Norwich castle I hopped back on the train for an easy 2 hour trip back to London.


So, a very good weekend!

And now I have done my first blog.  Thank goodness for Mark - if it had been left up to me, this would be the only record of our more than 2 years in the UK!

As I write, he and the children have made it to Tignes Ski Resort in France where they will be happily skiing until next weekend.  Stay tuned for another blog soon!!

MOROCCO

With a week or so to go before Mark & the kids headed off to Malaga on 16th December, and then to Morocco via Gibraltar, London started to get some of its infamous cold, foggy and frosty days with the temperature staying below zero for days on end. 

The same time last year saw flights being cancelled as icy weather shut down airports, so we were pleased when the forecast for the weekend of 16th was for much milder days rocketing up to 10 degrees. Mark, Aisha & William headed off early on the first Sunday of the Christmas holidays, rugged up for London 

East Finchley Station.

but ready to strip down for the sunshine and outdoor tapas bars of .....









................................................................Malaga
                                             

The street flower beds were filled with poinsettias which are normally indoor plants here. At the tapas bars William was very brave and ate a mushroom,  a prawn, some eggplant and even a WHOLE fried anchovy - head, eyes and all ! What a hero !

With a history of almost 3,000 years spanning Phoenician, Roman, Arabic and Christian eras, Malaga claims to be one of the world's oldest cities. Founded by the Phoenicians as Malaka in about 770 BC, it was under the control of Ancient Carthage from the 6th century BC. After the various Punic wars between Rome and Carthage it then came under Roman rule from 218 BC. After the fall of the empire it eventually came under Islamic domination as Mālaqah for 800 years. In 1487 it returned to Christian rule following the Reconquista (when, in medieval times, Muslim control of Spain was overthrown).

Will ! Stop it !!!

We had the Malaga Cathedral as the view from our hotel window. Also known as the Church of the Enunciation, the cathedral is a renaissance church built from 1528 on the site of a mosque and within the limits of the old Moorish walls. The cathedral was partly destroyed by an earthquake in 1680 and was finally completed in 1782.

The view from the hotel window.

The interior was spectacular with soaring chunky columns leading to impressive moulded ceilings. The choirs stalls were amazing, intricately and beautifully carved from dark tropical hardwoods. Amongst all the usual gilded Spanish chapel statuary was an intricate nativity scene. In Malaga & Gibraltar we saw many similar nativity scenes, some with moving parts - see the video below. There was also an.....'interesting' likeness of the baby Jesus in one of the side chapels. 

The choir stalls.

Now this is a nativity scene !

Jesus..... ? Looks like he is waiting for a beer.

Not far away was the Malaga bullring.

La Malagueta was built in 1874. The first fight took place two years later and they continue today. In 1976 the site was declared an Historic Artistic Monument and in 1981, it was declared an Official Site of Cultural Interest. We did not expect to come across any bull fights while we were in Malaga but to our surprise we did. We could not help but be drawn in by the hypnotic intricacy of the matador's dance like moves. Below is a shortened version of the fight. For the squeamish, stop the video as you hear the crowd calling out 'Bruto'.

The Christmas lights on the main streets of Malaga were nicely done and it was great to promenade along what is reported to be one of the loveliest streets in all of Spain, looking at the various performers, having ice creams and catching glimpses of the Cathedral.

The kids also had their names done, very quickly, in amazing stylised Chinese calligraphy.

Yummmm, dark Chocolate ice cream !

BRUTO !

After two nights in Malaga we caught the bus to La linea de la Concepcion, the Spanish town on the border with Gibraltar. We had the afternoon in Gibraltar and, after booking into our hotel - again with a great view, we walked into British territory just 10 minutes away. Look at the photo below on the right and follow the slope of the rock down to the right to behind the buildings. The small bump further on are the Atlas mountains in Morocco !

The view from our hotel.

The view on top of the rock looking back into Spain, while Morocco beckons just 14 kms  across the water.

The Atlas Mountains of Morocco just 14 kms away.

The Barbary apes.











Gibraltar was a bit strange. The border was one of the oddest that Mark has ever crossed - and he has crossed a few. The security and immigration checks both leaving Spain and entering British territory might be described as cursory at best. Just 20 metres inside the border gates, lines of Spaniards pushed and shoved to get duty free cigarettes to then take back over the border to sell. The main street of Gibraltar had a feel of the 'wild west' about it. British pubs, a Marks & Spencer's, shops selling very cheap alcohol (duty free + no VAT) along with boy racers in revved up cars. A strange place indeed.

On the way back through town we found a small but very well kept graveyard for sailors killed in the battle of Trafalgar. Yet another occasion of history jumping up and staring us in the face.

The runway for the international airport in Gibraltar cuts straight across the main road. The kids took the opportunity for a rest on the runway.

After a night in La linea de la Concepcion we caught a bus to Algeciras for the ferry across the straits. In the summer months it is possible to sail to Morocco from Gibraltar but not at this time of the year. It was all very straight forward however and we spent a few hours sitting around at the port waiting for the ferry to load. Then, with just a handful of foot and car passengers, we 'set sail' for the north African coast and Tangier, just 1 hour or so so away.

Morocco.

Way back in the early 90s, before he met Sally, Mark regularly heard how much of a hassle Morocco was with the self appointed 'guides' who simply would not leave tourists alone until they were paid off. Partly because of these persistent stories and the positive experience he was having at the time in the Middle East Mark decided back then not to go to Morocco (he went to Iraq instead and was put in jail for his efforts! see this post for the whole shocking story). Given how much they had enjoyed their time in Syria back in 1991-1993 (heaven help that poor country and its people now) Mark & Sally were both hoping that the kids' first introduction to a Muslim country would be positive. It was.

Tangier.

Tangier had a reputation as being pretty rough and a bit seedy. We found that while it did have a bit of the edgy feel we loved about Naples, it was no problem. We got to our hotel by about 2 pm then headed out to have a look around. We couldn't avoid a 'helpful' young man who did a pretty good job of showing us around. We found that Tangier has some snazzy new parts and some run down old parts. We found  some WWII graves, that the Range Rover Evoque had made its way there and that William really liked the old style radios in our hotel room.

Sing along with Bill.

We were eventually able to disengage ourselves from our guide and make our own way around the old city of Tangier later that evening. In doing so we found a very good kebab place. We sat on a low wall eating to the sounds of Cheb Khaled, our favourite Arabic singer, and watching the passing parade. We liked the kebabs so much Aisha & Mark decided to send William back for more. To appropriately mournful music, he braved the traffic, crossed the road (seemed to be almost hit by a car) and ordered the kebabs. On the way back he decided to cross with the locals rather than on his own. Well done Will! Have a look at the video below of his daring bravery.

Chefchaouen.

The next day, 20th December, was the first of several long bus trips. Again it was all very easy but involved a fair bit of waiting around and then lots of sitting on a fairly comfortable bus for the 3 hour journey to Chefchaouen (shefshawoon) a village at the foot of the Rif mountain range. It was one of the main concentrations of Moriscos (Spanish Muslims who converted to Christianity in order to stay in Spain or Portugal) and Jews who sought refuge in this mountainous city after the Spanish Reconquista. In modern times Chefchaouen is known for its cool climate, use of blue on its buildings and still being relatively authentic and not overly commercialised. We wondered if we would have snow and were expecting weather similar to London. In fact we had very mild weather with stunning blue skies. Sally would have loved it but was due to join us in Fez three days later. Chef is such a photogenic place that we could easily fill this post with pictures of nowhere else.

The view from our rooftop terrace.

Looking down on the main square.

Not only were the surroundings beautiful but the village itself was amazing.

Moroccan restaurants can be highly decorated.  We had an excellent lamb tagine at this one.













Our hotel was small but was located in a good position high on the hill giving good views across the valley.

The narrow alleyways of the old town constantly threw up  endless 'photo opportunities'.

Aisha had her first of several henna tattoos here.

After two nights in Chefchaouen we caught a bus to Fez where we were hoping to meet up with Sally at the railway station. She had flown in to Casablanca at midnight the night before. By the time we all met up on the afternoon of the 22nd, Sally had successfully taxied her way from the airport in Casablanca to the pre-booked hotel then toured Casablanca the next day as Mark & the kids were winding their way down the hills out of Chefchaouen. 

Casablanca.

Sally reports...Casablanca is the economic hub of Morocco; a big city with lots of building going on and all the signs of a place that is on the move.  My Arabic language came back to me sufficiently to be able to successfully negotiate my way to the hotel around 1am in the morning and to not get fleeced by the local taxis!  The next morning I took a cab to the Hassan II Mosque, one of few in the country that permits non-Muslims to enter.  It is the largest in the country and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres, or 60 stories high and is topped by a laser, the light from which points towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean and the sea bed is visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and even though the roof is incredibly large and ornately decorated, it can retract, making it open air for when there are big crowds there. Indeed the mosque can hold a total of 105,000 people, 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the grounds outside.

feeling short below such a tall minaret!

The retractable ceiling

Atlantic coast and sunshine

A city that is growing fast

I had thought of trying to get to see Rick's Cafe, a recreation of the mythical one in Bogart and Bergman's film "Casablanca", but time ran out. I reassured myself that it had only been in a film and that indeed the film was shot at Warner Bros Studos in Burbank! So, after making my way to the railway station, I caught the train to Fez - a straightforward 4 hour trip which gave me a good opportunity to take in the scenery as the train wound its way up the Middle Atlas mountains.

Fez

Fez is Morocco's second largest city. It has been called the Mecca of the west and the Athens of Africa. Here we checked into our first fancy Riad. Over the last 15 years or so, hundreds of these traditional open courtyard style Moroccan houses have been converted into hotels. Very similar to old Damascene houses, their high ceilings are best suited to the heat of summer. We found our room impressive, but chilly. Similarly the open courtyard where meals were served would have been great to hang out in during summer but in December .....

The main Fez medina is a UNESCO World Heritage site as well as possibly being the world's largest contiguous car-free urban area. The city has been called the "Mecca of the West" and the "Athens of Africa".  The Medina is very extensive with narrow alleyways that twist and turn back on themselves. Mostly covered and with a myriad of narrow alleyways, we did a good job of getting ourselves lost many times. Walking through them, Sally and Mark were reminded very much of the Souq Al-Hamidiyah in Damascus. In fact there were many shops selling the in-laid boxes and ornaments from Damascus. When they were leaving Chefchaouen, Mark got talking with a young American at the bus station who said he found Fez to be a real hassle with rude shopkeepers and endless 'guides' and that Marrakech was much better. Perhaps it was because we were so obviously a family group, we found Fez no problem at all. Whenever we became lost we asked the shopkeepers who were happy to help.

 

The shops were grouped together in streets - the fabric street, the bead street, chickens and eggs. Shoes were very common. 

Aisha got talking, in a mixture of English, French and some Spanish, to a young girl running a small jewellery shop for her mother and later found an impressive wedding throne. William tried his hand at buying himself some local slippers, while Sally went mad in a bead shop!

We found a nod to Christmas and a man in a lock and key shop little bigger than a cupboard.

During one of our forays into the souq we were gently assisted by a very amiable older gentlman who took us to a carpet shop...... While we knew full well what was likely to happen later (the hard sell) we decided nonetheless to go with him. Having a house full of carpets after two years living in Syria in the 90s we didn't really see anything that we felt we wanted to buy. It was great though to get to re-live the carpet shop experience and take in those wonderful carpet smells. As part of the guiding we saw some carpet weaving which the kids were able to have a go at. In the end there was only a fairly gentle attempt at selling, which we were able to resist.

 

We followed our noses to find the tanneries. 

While we were't allowed into any of the mosques, the old madressas or Koran schools were not off limits. The Al-Qarawiyyin madrassa was founded in AD 859 by Fatima al-Fihri. It is the oldest continuously functioning  madrassa in the world and one of several that lay claim to being the world's oldest university.

The calligraphic carved walls were stunning.

Aisha tried to do a new cool facebook profile photo...... but failed.

We had a meal at one end of the Souq near the impressive blue Bab Bou Jeloud and watched the world go by.

Tucked away off one of the small streets Sally guided us to the Clock Cafe that was written up in our guide book as having good vegetarian food. 

Camel burger ! Really.

Sally was happy !

A Fezmas tree.

Aisha, Sally & William.

The view from the roof of the cafe.

After we finished our very late lunch/early dinner Sally spotted a notice for a Moroccan music concert to be held at the cafe that night. We decided to stay to see it and were very glad we did. Click on the video to have a look at some of the fantastic traditional music and dancing from locals, the ex-pat British owner as well as Aisha and William. 

While we were unable to go into any mosques in Morocco (except Sally in Casablanca), we were able to visit some Jewish cemeteries and synagogues in Fez that are still open and functioning. Large numbers of Jews have been in Morocco after fleeing Spain and Portugal during the Spanish Reconquista (from the 700s to around 1492). At its peak in the 1940s, Morocco's Jewish population exceeded 250,000. Today, around 5,000 Jews remain in Morocco, while in Israel they constitute the second-largest Jewish community, after the Russian Jews.

The Jewish community, though small now, has left an enduring mark on the style of houses in the areas they lived. The typical Muslim/Arab style house has an inner courtyard, while the Jewish style houses have a verandah on the front. These houses still remain in the old Jewish districts of Fez.

While we were in the Mellah district we saw some shops adorned with what looked almost like Christmas decorations, but were told they were for the big New Years celebrations coming up.

We enjoyed mild, sunny and dry weather for all of our trip to Morocco - except for Christmas day. We had booked a Christmas day trip out to Volubilis, a partly excavated Roman city about 1.5 hours drive from Fez. Driving out to Volubilis it was obvious how fertile the land was. We passed one dam which reminded us very much of Lake Jindabyne in southern New South Wales. Our guide told us that until 10 years ago the lake had been drying out and, as with Jindabyne, the old town which had been abandoned as the dam levels rose, started to re-emerge. The last 10 years have seen a return to above average rainfall and the town has again disappeared beneath the waters.

Just like Jindabyne in NSW, Australia.

Volubilis was developed as a Phoenician / Carthaginian settlement from the 3rd century BC. From the 1st century AD, under Roman rule, it grew rapidly and became prosperous from olive production. At its height in the 2nd century it had many fine public buildings, including a basilica, temple and triumphal arch as well as many fine town-houses with large mosaic floors, all protected by a 2.6 km circuit of walls.

In 285 AD the town fell to local tribesmen and, owing to its remoteness as one of the farthest outposts of the Empire, was never retaken by the Romans. Over the next 700 years it became a Christian community, then Islamic. By the 11th century Volubilis had been abandoned in favour of the nearby new town of Moulay Idriss Zerhoun.

On our only organised trip, we woke to an overcast cool Christmas day which, by the time we arrived at Volubilis, saw drizzle turn eventually to significant rain. While we had an umbrella, the rain became heavier and heavier, the dirt paths of the ruins soon turned to small rivers and the mosaics that Volubilis is known for slowly disappeared beneath great puddles.

After only 30 minutes were were all totally sodden and very cold. We cut the Volubilis visit short and continued on the pre-determined tour route to Moulay Idris where we were supposed to see the very important shrine, but the valley view was fogged in and the roads gushing.  We then went on to see the granaries and royal stables built by Moulay Ismail at Meknes in late 1600s to hold 12,000 horses and enough grain to feed them for up to 20 years. The granaries were built on a reservoir which supplied water that ran through a canal ran fresh water through the stables constantly. There was impressive technology behind the storage of such large amounts of grain which needed to be kept cool to keep from rotting. Apart from having thick walls,  the roof of the granaries apparentlyhad a living green roof - perhaps a bit like the grass covering of Australia's Parliament house. As well water from the reservoir below was forced through ducts in the floor to act as under floor cooling. An earthquake during the eighteenth century left most of the stables in ruins.

In the end though we cut short the day trip and headed back to Fez to dry out in our hotel room. As we drove back to town, we discovered that the biodata pages on Mark and Willian's passports had been ruined and that the camera was not working.....We put the kids into hot showers and bed and Mark spent the rest of the afternoon ironing clothes dry while our shoes ended up stacked on top of one of the tall wardrobes to dry. Later in the afternoon (when blue sky had reappeared :-(, Sally and Aisha, who only had one pair of shoes each, went down to the souq hoping to find a cheap pair of shoes each to make do. They ended up finding a Moroccan shop that sold (presumably) new but end of line brand name shoes from Europe. They joined the locals digging through great mounds of shoes and emerged a while later with a pair of black leather fluffy lined ankle boots and a pair of Camper summer shoes for Aisha, while Sally found a pair of Ecco black leather ankle boots. All for 25 Euro - a great Christmas present which went some way to making up for the drenched morning and made our shoe mad girls very happy!

We were scheduled to leave for Marrakesh the next day. Fortunately, thanks to Mark's efforts, almost everything was dry and the weather returned to sunny and clear. The van we took to the train station didn't quite fit all the passengers so Will sat in the back with the luggage. Amazing how your usual safety concerns tend to evaporate overseas. 

The train journey was 7.5 hours long but comfortable enough. We passed endless eucalyptus plantations which at times looked exactly like swathes of Australian bush. While it wasn't quite the Marrakesh Express from the song, (that goes from Tangier), it was pretty cool to be on a Moroccan train! 

All aboard!

...take us to Marrakech....

Eucalyptus plantations.

Marrakech.

We arrived at Marrakech in the early evening and were collected by our Riad. This time we had two separate rooms on the top floor of the building. Like the Fez riad they were fancy with perhaps more style than substance.

Aisha's 'special Ted' claimed his spot early.

Unlike Fez, the Marrakech souks are much wider and less twisting. Again the anticipated hassle did not materialise as we found ourselves wandering the alleyways without any offers of 'guides'.

Will buys sugar cane juice.

We headed straight for the main square, Jemma al Fna, and found the variety of snake charmers, musicians and street entertainers eager to catch our attention. It has to be said that the treatment of the animals was not good and we resisted engaging with the handlers until the last day when we felt we had to have the obligatory snake photos. We would come back to the square many times over the next three days. We found that early evening was the best time to be there when the food stalls started setting up and the crowds moved in to be entertained.

Below is a video compilation of some of the events at the square.We ate there twice, watched the snake men and various musicians, listened to the story tellers, danced with the musicians and had fresh juice at 10 pm on the way back to the Riad.

Eating out,  Jemaa el Fna style.

Aicha & Aisha.

The square has been listed a a world heritage site of cultural significance. The souks and the square haven't changed a lot since the 1920s when these photos were taken.

Having arrived in Marrakech in 1919, the French artist Jaques Majorelle bought land on what was then the outskirts of the city. He designed and built a garden which was then opened to the public in 1947 as Jardin Majorelle. His use of cobalt blue throughout the garden, inspired by the blues used in Moroccan tiles and in the costumes of the Berber people, led to the colour being named Majorelle Blue after him. The garden is largely cacti and bamboo and is quite amazing. The land and gardens were bought by Yves Saint Laurent and Pierre Berge in 1980. Laurent died in 2008 and his ashes are scattered in the garden. In 2011 a Berber Museum was opened showcasing his collections of Berber costumes and, in particular, a stunningly presented display of beautiful Berber jewellery.

As with Fez, we were unable to go into any Mosques but the old Koranic schools were open to us.

A bit too much ???

The Souq had lots of little back streets to explore.

Will goes Berber in the Dyers' Market

Tinky Winky or DumbleDad?

The El Badi Palace. El Badi means the incomparable and it must have been. Financed by a ransom paid by Portugal after the Battle of Three Kings it was commissioned by the Saadian Sultan Ahmad al-Mansur in 1578.

The original building is thought to have consisted of 360 rooms, a courtyard of 135 m by 110 m and a pool of 90 m by 20 m, richly decorated with Italian marble and large amounts of gold imported from Sudan. It also has a small, underground, tunnel-like jail with about four cells where the king kept his prisoners.

The last afternoon in the souq turned out to be eventful. While we had been fairly careful with what we ate we were not paranoid. Before leaving for the trip, Mark had told the kids he expected that somewhere along the way some of us might get sick. Well......

As we were walking through the souq, slowly on our way back to the hotel, Aisha announced she felt a bit sick. Minutes later and with very little warning she deposited the lunch we had not long finished onto the middle of the cobbled road. Spectacularly. Several times. The local shopkeepers moved in quickly with offers of somewhere to sit, a bottle of water and concern. As we were dealing with Aisha, someone else was cleaning up the street. No-one made a fuss. We were able to express our gratitude and started to make our way back to the hotel. Aisha was able to contain herself but William started to complain of a sore stomach and a need to go to the toilet. Quickly !

We made it back to the hotel in just time. To cut a long story short (as we like to do...) that last evening in Morocco was spent with William in with Mark and Sally in with Aisha. William was very good humoured about his new best friend - the toilet. Aisha was in more pain and spent a lot of time vomiting. 

Needless to say Mark & Sally were concerned about the amount of fluids being ejected form the kids' bodies. We were also relieved this was the last night rather than the first and that no long bus or train trips were looming, We were a little concerned though about how we would get the kids to the airport mid the next morning and then how the flight would go. Thankfully, by the morning, both kids were somewhat better. Nothing left inside either of them we thought. The trip to the airport was short and the flight was uneventful. As mentioned in the New Year's post, we got back to East Finchley to find Santa had been ! click here. The kids were fine after a good night's sleep. Mark however later came down with a combination of both William's and Aisha's lurgy just in time for the fireworks at Parliament Hill on New Year's eve. Sally remained unscathed. 

Well done for getting to the end of this very long post. We had a great time in Morocco and were very happy with the kids' first exposure to African/ Arabic inspired Muslim culture.

As this post is published, on 16th February, Mark & the kids are heading off to Berlin for week before returning to London for a day before heading off on the school's ski trip to France for a week. 

Sally will be making the most of the weekends without them by going to Norwich on the first weekend then somewhere else the next. Thanks for the email comments on the blog, it is nice to know it is read. 

take care all of you !!