Some day I will wake up and be able to think my blog entries instantaneously to you. Things that I see from the road can also be snapped and cropped in perfect resolution just by blinking my eyes…but until technology can catch up with the speed of thought, I have to apologize for the days on the road when I go MIA.
But I’m back and today we are in Meknes–some mere 60km outside of Fes and half an hour south of Volubilis–
a former capital city of Morocco (until the capital moved to Marrakech) founded by a Berber tribe. The vibe is totally different here than in Fes, more outwardly facing. But that’s just a superficial impression on my part.
One of the key sights in Meknes is the Bab Mansour, an enormous Almohad gate
flanked by marble columns taken from Volubilis:
Just across from the gate is a huge open square
with entries into other parts of town
and markets…
You could also grab a sandwich or drink at one of the many restaurants’ outdoor tables and people watch.
So after a quick lunch and mint tea, it’s time to visit the Mausoleum of Moulay Ismail, the sultan of Meknes who ruled the capital during its golden age. The gate, Bab el-Khemis, that leads to the mausoleum is lovely:
Beyond these doors to the mausoleum,
is a fountain
followed by series of arched entries into other rooms
and courtyards
until you arrive at the inner sanctum:
where some of the finest zellij mosaics can be found.
It is deathly calm in here, and I can imagine what a refuge it must be on a scorching summer day. Just across the street from this oasis is an underground prison:
where another kind of deathly calm might also be found. But I have no idea as I opt out of visiting it. I’d rather stay here just a bit longer and enjoy my private sanctuary…see you back in Fes tomorrow.
Tags: Almohad, Bab Mansour, Bal el-Khemis, Berber, Fes, Mausoleum of Moulay Ismail, Meknes, Morocco, Volubilis
Part of the fun of traveling is the unexpected detour a journey takes. No matter how well I may think I have planned my itinerary, something always comes up. Which makes packing light a bit challenging. After all, I need to have appropriate footwear for the impromptu hikes, random boat rides (for some reason I find myself on a boat on just about every trip I’ve taken), and evenings on the town on top of the business meetings if it’s a work-and-play trip. Tack on clothes, bags, and other accessories for all kinds of climates and I’m already close to my luggage weight limit before I even pick up a single souvenir.
On a long trip, I check in one large and one smallish suitcase. And by smallish I mean a chubby medium. I just can’t bear to confess that I’m not that light of a packer. My carry-on is a rolling computer case that’s roomy enough for my laptop, purse and necessities. This or the medium suitcase is particularly useful in case of spontaneous short trips in between that involve trains or commuter planes. I love the notion of trains but there’s nothing worse than maneuvering a big suitcase across the platform then on the train during rush hour. Or cramming it into a tiny cabin on an overnight train; luxurious and roomy are two words most commonly lost in translation:
Did I mention that I whimpered in my bunk cot that night while hugging my purse the whole time? I’m usually resilient but that night was not a proud moment. I’m not good with sharing sleeping quarters with strangers eyeing my bags, but I digress.
As much as the fashionista princess in me revels in the luxury world of shopping and couture, the wanderer in me more often practices less comfortable, off-road traveling. Yank me out of my element (aka the designer salon at Bergdorf), let me bring at least one luxury item, then put me in the middle of the desert with nothing but blind faith in a Berber shepherd and you might find my two worlds colliding:
I know, the blue Merzouga headwrap did nothing for the Gucci bag or Prada jacket in that look above. It just seemed right at the time to match my guide…and then not so much once I got home and downloaded the pictures. I will admit this whole look is a fashion disaster but after some dusty days in the desert, my purse was the only link to my other life back in LA. Who was going to cite me for a fashion infraction out here anyway?
But truth be told, I was exactly in my element having tajine under the stars that night, even with no prospect of a warm shower (did I already mention I HAVE to shower every night before going to sleep?). A little bit of rum passed to me from a stranger’s flask helped ease the fear of scorpions and spiders lurking in the sand around us. OK fine, I whimpered that night in my tent as well.
Getting out of my comfort zone is that unexpected detour I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. Can’t wait to see what happens on this next trip. I promise to do better in the fashion department though, now that I’m supposedly blogging about travel and fashion.
Have you ever been on a flight where even your amateur eyes tell you the rickety plane’s propellers shouldn’t look bent? But you get on anyway, trembling, because if you didn’t, you might not find a way out of the jungle for another 2 weeks?
What about hopping on a crowded dinghy manned by 8 very drunk people on open seas with no life vest when the best swimming you can do is the backstroke from one side of the pool to the other at the shallow end?
Or, I know! What about having to hitch a ride back from the Blue Mountains on an ice cream truck because you wandered off from your tour group and they decided not to wait for you?
If you’ve not had such charming experiences, it’s probably because you haven’t traveled with me. Those who have had the misfortune of traipsing around the planet with me have crowned me the unlucky charm.
Floods, rabies, frostbite, false imprisonment and other such silliness seem to dog me at least once on each trip. But the truth is, I think mishaps are part of the anecdote–my travel vernacular, as it were.
But when, after a particularly challenging trip, I wake up in my own bed with all body parts intact and a lucid mind, I tell myself those things can happen to anyone. Maybe not in one lifetime to one single person, but sure, they happen.
Besides, if I hadn’t gotten on those planes or boats or ox cart (don’t ask), I never would have had the experience of scouring for the opium pipes you see above, or the calfhair and snakeskin babouches, or carnevale masks, or Moroccan wool felt tote:
Most of all, I would have missed out on one of my treasured finds, a guitar hand made of deerskin and intricately carved wood that I bought from a very cross-eyed Berber shepherd who tried to out-math me by speaking French. In my defense, the desert sun was frying my brain, I didn’t know where I was, and I generally find it very hard to count in any language other than Vietnamese, especially while having a fierce haggling session. If my house were on fire, this would be one of the items I’d cry over losing. I bet you thought I was going to say I’d rush in to save it, but what am I crazy? I don’t even know how to play the guitar.
Musical instruments and large art are two of the primary things I collect on my travels. Yes, I’m that annoying person who now hovers around the overhead bin to make sure other travelers don’t cram their oversized bags against my yueqin or dan nhi or art tubes. Because the one time when I didn’t do that, this poorly constructed and extremely heavy cedar guitar from Sapa arrived in LA with broken strings.
Granted, it’s most likely the ugliest guitar ever made but I know somewhere, somehow, some poor soul had lovingly made it and now I was its steward.
So if you don’t mind encountering some Act of God or putting up with my paranoia over my fragile luggage on every trip, pack your bags and come on the road with me. On second thought, maybe it’s safer to virtual-travel with me from your computer.
Tags: Berber, Blue Mountains, dan nhi, Sapa, yueqin
