Excerpt from my diary (raw, unedited and long)
14/3/09
...I awoke late and had a long, hot shower. I then checked out and wondered into town in search of the train station. I purchased a ticket for Rabat for that evening then went in search for the grand taxi lot so I could get to Volubilis. On the way, I stopped to ask for directions from several people. I stopped by a pharmacy to ask for directions. As I was about to leave, a customer entered the pharmacy and told me I was being followed. A man with a moustache was waiting outside for me. I took a quick glance and there certainly was a shifty looking character outside.
...The guy who was following me had a dark face, with a black moustache and curly, greasy, black hair. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the 1980's. He wore dark clothes - a black shirt - and just looked dodge.
Anyway, I decided to wait inside the pharmacy for a bit. I sat down next to an elderly gentleman and we started talking. It turned out he was the brother of the pharmacist. He'd worked in China for a few years, and that's all I could understand. So I sat there for about ten minutes, then the shifty guy actually comes into the pharmacy. I look at him and he looks at me. He pretends to be waiting in the queue. I take that as my cue to leave.
Me and the elderly gentleman exit the pharmacy, and he points me in the direction of the grand taxis. I know the shifty guy is watching, so I thank the old man and walk in the opposite direction.
The shifty guy then approaches me. He asks me the usual quesitons - am I Japanese etc. I tell him I'm Australian. He then asks me if I'm going to the medina because I'm going in the wrong direction. I tell him I'm not, that I'm going back to my hotel. He keeps following me. He says he can guide me to the medina etc. I say I'm not interested. I then see a police woman and approach her. She asks me if there's a problem. By then the guy has disappeared. I tell her about how the guy is following me, but there's really not much she can do. She asks for a description of the guy but she probably doesn't understand what I'm saying. Anyway, she tells me how to get to the grand taxi lot, so I thank her and head in the direction.
By now I am confident the shifty guy got scared and ran off. But I was wrong. As soon as I'd walked a few metres he was back again. I tell him to go away, that I know he'd been following me. He then says he only wants to practice his English. I'm like whatever. I then tell him to get lost again. But he's persistent. He asks me whether I've had bad experiences with Moroccan people. I'm like yes - this is one of them. But he just says hhe still wants to practice English and take me to the medina. He's really pissing me off. I tell him that I'm not going to the medina and that I want him to go away. He can now tell that I'm catching a grand taxi because we've arrived at the lot, and he thus knows I'm going to Volubilis. I tell him I'm not really sure what I'm doing and tell him again to piss off.
By now he's got the message that he can't get any money off me so he "warns" me that a trip to Volubilis should only cost ten dirrham and I shouldn't get ripped off - whatever.
...I hop into the taxi and we drive away. I watch as the shifty looking guy watches me depart. Go scam some other tourist, you loser!
My taxi driver was nice enough. We started talking in French. He told me about his family etc. The drive up to Volubilis was really beautiful. Everything was so lush and green - the grass was almost this bright yellow-green because of the sun. I basically had three hours altogether - an hour at Volubilis, an hour at Moulay Idriss, and an hour reserved for travel. Volubilis was a set of Roman ruins in the middle of nowhere. I really had no idea about the history of it (I didn't bother hiring a guide), but all I know is that it was stunning. In a landscape of lush, green meadows, orange and yellow wild flowers, a babbling stream and a backdrop of teal green mountains, a scattering of Roman ruins was to be found. I ventured into the scene - clambered down a dirt path, tiptoed over stepping stones and hiked up a hill to the ruins. It was awesome walking amongst the crumbling columns and scattered bits of broken wall, now hidden in an overgrowth of wild flowers and grass. I took a tonne of photos.
I met an ?archeologist (I asked him if he was a tourist, he said this [the ruins] was his "dessin")... I met a guy selling cheap hats and ugly postcards, and he explained the mosaics to me - the Quatre Saisons (Four Seasons) and the leaf that was the basis for one of the designs for a column.
After an hour of exploration under the heat of the sun... I returned back to the taxi and we drove off to Moulay Idriss.
Again I don't really know much about Moulay Idriss. It is a place of significance because apparently Muslims take a pilgrimage there - the tomb of Moulay Idriss 1 lies there (according to my own poor translation). The place was a dirty, tired town. I walked through the market, past fruit and vegetable stalls and corridors lined with butchers, the floors dark and wet with blood. I arrived at an open square, went the wrong way then was directed to the Mosque. As a non-Muslim I was unable to enter, but was told I could go up to the terrace for a view. I hiked up the stairs and wondered down a maze of corridors. I finally arrived at a sort of balcony and decided it was the furthest I could go. It was a nice view of the mosque with its bright white tower and green tiled roofs, amongst the mish-mash of untidy buildings with the lush green mountains on the one side.
Afterwards, I went back down to the taxi and met the driver. We had lunch together - brouchettes with salad, olives and bread...
...He then drove me back to Meknes. I farewelled him and walked down to the Medina. I first saw the famous Bab Mansour then went inside the walls to visit the Mausoleum.
I then did some more wondering and met a German backpacker called Stephen. He had red hair and a fuzzy beard of sorts and we got to talking. We went back to the main square and had a chat over mint tea.
...After out mint tea, Stephen and I ventured into Meknes' medina. It was late afternoon and several shops were closed. A guy sitting outside a shop asked us to enter the "house of an ancient Qu'ranic teacher". He was going to charge us 10 dirrham a piece. We got it down to five because we were both "students", and then entered. It was, of course, a scam. It was just a carpet shop and he was trying to sell us a carpet. We took some photos. I asked him the significance of the building and what he could tell me about it. All he said was what he said before - that it was the house of a Quaran teacher. Big whoop.
We left then wondered around the medina. We passed a school and mosque and several shops. We got lost. The more we tried to find our way out, the more we got lost. We came across an open-air market and the place was buzzing with lights, sounds and people. It was getting late and I desperately needed to catch my train. We asked for directions from several shopkeepers but kept being led the wrong way. The place was now absolutely packed and we marched slowly through the crowd.
We finally somehow managed to exit the Medina and get to the main square. I then farewelled Stephen and went over to the Bab Mansour to catch a taxi. I had to wait ages but a nice policewoman helped me out.
I caught a taxi with a cranky Moroccan woman who was screaming her lungs out in Arabic about something. I finally arrived at my hotel, grabbed my luggage and hurried to the train station. I met the three Moroccan guys I'd met earlier that afternoon. They were heading to Fez...My train was 25 minutes late anyway so I rushed for nothing.
Some photos. Enjoy!
14/3/09
...I awoke late and had a long, hot shower. I then checked out and wondered into town in search of the train station. I purchased a ticket for Rabat for that evening then went in search for the grand taxi lot so I could get to Volubilis. On the way, I stopped to ask for directions from several people. I stopped by a pharmacy to ask for directions. As I was about to leave, a customer entered the pharmacy and told me I was being followed. A man with a moustache was waiting outside for me. I took a quick glance and there certainly was a shifty looking character outside.
...The guy who was following me had a dark face, with a black moustache and curly, greasy, black hair. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the 1980's. He wore dark clothes - a black shirt - and just looked dodge.
Anyway, I decided to wait inside the pharmacy for a bit. I sat down next to an elderly gentleman and we started talking. It turned out he was the brother of the pharmacist. He'd worked in China for a few years, and that's all I could understand. So I sat there for about ten minutes, then the shifty guy actually comes into the pharmacy. I look at him and he looks at me. He pretends to be waiting in the queue. I take that as my cue to leave.
Me and the elderly gentleman exit the pharmacy, and he points me in the direction of the grand taxis. I know the shifty guy is watching, so I thank the old man and walk in the opposite direction.
The shifty guy then approaches me. He asks me the usual quesitons - am I Japanese etc. I tell him I'm Australian. He then asks me if I'm going to the medina because I'm going in the wrong direction. I tell him I'm not, that I'm going back to my hotel. He keeps following me. He says he can guide me to the medina etc. I say I'm not interested. I then see a police woman and approach her. She asks me if there's a problem. By then the guy has disappeared. I tell her about how the guy is following me, but there's really not much she can do. She asks for a description of the guy but she probably doesn't understand what I'm saying. Anyway, she tells me how to get to the grand taxi lot, so I thank her and head in the direction.
By now I am confident the shifty guy got scared and ran off. But I was wrong. As soon as I'd walked a few metres he was back again. I tell him to go away, that I know he'd been following me. He then says he only wants to practice his English. I'm like whatever. I then tell him to get lost again. But he's persistent. He asks me whether I've had bad experiences with Moroccan people. I'm like yes - this is one of them. But he just says hhe still wants to practice English and take me to the medina. He's really pissing me off. I tell him that I'm not going to the medina and that I want him to go away. He can now tell that I'm catching a grand taxi because we've arrived at the lot, and he thus knows I'm going to Volubilis. I tell him I'm not really sure what I'm doing and tell him again to piss off.
By now he's got the message that he can't get any money off me so he "warns" me that a trip to Volubilis should only cost ten dirrham and I shouldn't get ripped off - whatever.
...I hop into the taxi and we drive away. I watch as the shifty looking guy watches me depart. Go scam some other tourist, you loser!
My taxi driver was nice enough. We started talking in French. He told me about his family etc. The drive up to Volubilis was really beautiful. Everything was so lush and green - the grass was almost this bright yellow-green because of the sun. I basically had three hours altogether - an hour at Volubilis, an hour at Moulay Idriss, and an hour reserved for travel. Volubilis was a set of Roman ruins in the middle of nowhere. I really had no idea about the history of it (I didn't bother hiring a guide), but all I know is that it was stunning. In a landscape of lush, green meadows, orange and yellow wild flowers, a babbling stream and a backdrop of teal green mountains, a scattering of Roman ruins was to be found. I ventured into the scene - clambered down a dirt path, tiptoed over stepping stones and hiked up a hill to the ruins. It was awesome walking amongst the crumbling columns and scattered bits of broken wall, now hidden in an overgrowth of wild flowers and grass. I took a tonne of photos.
I met an ?archeologist (I asked him if he was a tourist, he said this [the ruins] was his "dessin")... I met a guy selling cheap hats and ugly postcards, and he explained the mosaics to me - the Quatre Saisons (Four Seasons) and the leaf that was the basis for one of the designs for a column.
After an hour of exploration under the heat of the sun... I returned back to the taxi and we drove off to Moulay Idriss.
Again I don't really know much about Moulay Idriss. It is a place of significance because apparently Muslims take a pilgrimage there - the tomb of Moulay Idriss 1 lies there (according to my own poor translation). The place was a dirty, tired town. I walked through the market, past fruit and vegetable stalls and corridors lined with butchers, the floors dark and wet with blood. I arrived at an open square, went the wrong way then was directed to the Mosque. As a non-Muslim I was unable to enter, but was told I could go up to the terrace for a view. I hiked up the stairs and wondered down a maze of corridors. I finally arrived at a sort of balcony and decided it was the furthest I could go. It was a nice view of the mosque with its bright white tower and green tiled roofs, amongst the mish-mash of untidy buildings with the lush green mountains on the one side.
Afterwards, I went back down to the taxi and met the driver. We had lunch together - brouchettes with salad, olives and bread...
...He then drove me back to Meknes. I farewelled him and walked down to the Medina. I first saw the famous Bab Mansour then went inside the walls to visit the Mausoleum.
I then did some more wondering and met a German backpacker called Stephen. He had red hair and a fuzzy beard of sorts and we got to talking. We went back to the main square and had a chat over mint tea.
...After out mint tea, Stephen and I ventured into Meknes' medina. It was late afternoon and several shops were closed. A guy sitting outside a shop asked us to enter the "house of an ancient Qu'ranic teacher". He was going to charge us 10 dirrham a piece. We got it down to five because we were both "students", and then entered. It was, of course, a scam. It was just a carpet shop and he was trying to sell us a carpet. We took some photos. I asked him the significance of the building and what he could tell me about it. All he said was what he said before - that it was the house of a Quaran teacher. Big whoop.
We left then wondered around the medina. We passed a school and mosque and several shops. We got lost. The more we tried to find our way out, the more we got lost. We came across an open-air market and the place was buzzing with lights, sounds and people. It was getting late and I desperately needed to catch my train. We asked for directions from several shopkeepers but kept being led the wrong way. The place was now absolutely packed and we marched slowly through the crowd.
We finally somehow managed to exit the Medina and get to the main square. I then farewelled Stephen and went over to the Bab Mansour to catch a taxi. I had to wait ages but a nice policewoman helped me out.
I caught a taxi with a cranky Moroccan woman who was screaming her lungs out in Arabic about something. I finally arrived at my hotel, grabbed my luggage and hurried to the train station. I met the three Moroccan guys I'd met earlier that afternoon. They were heading to Fez...My train was 25 minutes late anyway so I rushed for nothing.
Some photos. Enjoy!
Volubilis
Moulay Idriss
MeknesBab Mansour
Mausoleum of Moulay Ismail
Bab Mansour
El-Hdim Square
Entering the Medina
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