All Kinds Of Eruptions!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The week was passing by very pleasantly I have to say. Of course I succumbed to the inevitable impulse buys in the Souks - red leather rucksack, tea glasses, "proper" silver jewellery, "proper" being the technical term for a metal that ain't tin apparently - and even tho the constant hassle from the men was tedious I'd found one or two that I could have a laugh with.
I've developed a theory that the less access men have to women's bodies, the hornier they are. In Bangkok where punani is on almost every street corner (and to be fair, punani in far better condition than mine!) I have never had any sexual harrassment, despite wearing nothing but shorts and a vest top. Here in Marrakech, in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt I am considered "easy". I guess because the majority of the women here are showing very little more than their eyes, anyone who has the audacity to display their full face is a slut! Whatever the reason, its incredibly tiresome, and at times quite threatening.
Before I'd booked my trip I read up on Morocco and the general consensus was that it was safe for solo female travellers, I'm not so sure about that at all. I certainly wouldn't go back there alone! Well not unless I suddenly developed a taste for Moroccan cock anyway!
You'd be amazed at the things they used to try and persuade to you go with them too! One guy offered me one of these for a bunk-up!
Another guy was trying to tempt me to make "Fiesta" with the promise of a free glass of mint tea! I have to admit he did make me laugh cos all I could picture was him trying to shag me in time to the Pogues' tune Fiesta!
Despite the hassle and the hotel's attempts to rip me off at every turn, I actually felt really rested as the end of my break approached. I had a tan, the sinusitis I'd arrived with had finally gone, even my belly button wound seemed to be healing. I decided to celebrate with one last trip to Djemaa el Fna on Monday night.
Now I know there is a rule here about never having fish in a restaurant on a Monday. The thinking being that the fishermen don't work on a Sunday so the fish isn't fresh, but I figured that didn't apply to Marrakech, so for my last supper I had more calamari, along with some delicious aubergine which might just be my new favourite vegetable.
Everything was wonderful, until I got back to the hotel and started packing. This is always a stressful thing for me anyway, and especially when I've bought half the souk! But it wasn't the stress of packing that was causing the rumbling in my tummy, was it? Nor was it the stress making me shiver so much that I had to put the heating on full in my room and get two extra blankets to wrap myself up in! Needless to say sleep was non-existant!
I was glad to see the sun come up and after a very hot shower I was feeling a bit better. There wasn't anything left in my stomach to come out - of either end! - and I decided to keep it that way by avoiding breakfast. I got my case closed and locked - hurrah! - and checked out.
I was early for my flight but decided to head to the airport anyway, mindful of the way the flight was moved forward on my return from Bangkok, no way did I wanna stick around here any longer. I wanted to get home to the land of Immodium! Plus, I'd had several emails telling me the flight time had changed cos the the clocks changing here, and didn't wanna risk one of those emails being wrong.
Marrakech Airport looks fabulous from the outside, and its lovely and airy inside, but there aint a whole lot going on in the way of facilities. I went to the Royal Air Maroc check-in desk and was told it wasn't open until 10am. Only two hours to kill then.
The flight was on the board and there were plenty of others being boarded, until about 9am when I noticed that the EasyJet flight to Gatwick had been cancelled. Now I was aware that the pesky Icelandic volcano had been spewing ash clouds around southern Europe, but there was no news on CNN about it affecting Morocco as I left the hotel. Turns out CNN weren't that on the ball. At 8am - the time I'd arrived at the airport - all airports in Morocco apart from this one had been shut!
By 9.30 nobody was going anywhere as one by one, cancelled showed up against all the flights on the board. Panic ensued, and inbetween my frequent trips to the loo, I soon learned that none of the airline staff were of any use at all. Their sales desk was unmanned and a phone number posted. Of course there was no answer on that number! Someone told me to head into town to their main office and rebook on a later flight. The EasyJet people were being told to queue up and rebook for later in the week. I know this cos one of my fellow Twitterers was in that queue!
Chatting to her delayed my cab ride and did me a favour as I was then informed that if I was a bit clever and pushed in I could get on the 2pm flight to Paris Orly. I did just that and was even given a business class seat, but I was confused as to how a plane could fly as far as Paris but not the extra few miles to London - there was no ash cloud there!
Oh well, it was 1pm by this time so I made a mad dash through security, and along with several other London-bound passengers took a seat in the departure lounge. Our flight wasn't on the board and by 4pm when there was still no news of it, we all began to suspect it didn't really exist! At 5pm they gave us a free cheese sarnie and a drink and finally about 6pm we boarded.
I had a vague plan of getting the Eurostar the rest of the way home, but the late flight meant that wasn't gonna happen till tomorrow, so I figured I'd find a hotel in Paris. I surprised myself at just how calm I was about the whole thing. In the past I'd have been getting angry and impatient and freaking out, but I was kinda blase about the whole experience. I guess still having the shits put everything else into perspective!
With the time difference it was about 10.30 when we landed in Paris and I was fortunate to find the kindest woman in France on the information desk. I asked about hotels and she found me one in the Opera district of Paris, at a relatively reasonable rate and booked it for me! I'll always remember her for going way beyond the call of duty! I found a cashpoint and got some Euro - of course I had plenty at home but I hadn't planned on needing any on this trip - then joined the huge queue for a cab.
Nearly €70 later I was checking into my garret and rushing to book a ticket on Wednesday's Eurostar. Blimey, they know how to charge don't they? It was £223 for a flexible ticket and £220 for an inflexible on, I decided to splurge the extra £3 and have the choice.
I think I managed about four hours' sleep and so my extravagance paid off as I boarded a much earlier train than planned. At midday I walked into my flat, 30 hours after I'd begun my journey home. Somehow all that R 'n' R had been wiped out by the stress of travelling home. Well that and the food poisoning!
I've developed a theory that the less access men have to women's bodies, the hornier they are. In Bangkok where punani is on almost every street corner (and to be fair, punani in far better condition than mine!) I have never had any sexual harrassment, despite wearing nothing but shorts and a vest top. Here in Marrakech, in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt I am considered "easy". I guess because the majority of the women here are showing very little more than their eyes, anyone who has the audacity to display their full face is a slut! Whatever the reason, its incredibly tiresome, and at times quite threatening.
Before I'd booked my trip I read up on Morocco and the general consensus was that it was safe for solo female travellers, I'm not so sure about that at all. I certainly wouldn't go back there alone! Well not unless I suddenly developed a taste for Moroccan cock anyway!
You'd be amazed at the things they used to try and persuade to you go with them too! One guy offered me one of these for a bunk-up!
Another guy was trying to tempt me to make "Fiesta" with the promise of a free glass of mint tea! I have to admit he did make me laugh cos all I could picture was him trying to shag me in time to the Pogues' tune Fiesta!
Despite the hassle and the hotel's attempts to rip me off at every turn, I actually felt really rested as the end of my break approached. I had a tan, the sinusitis I'd arrived with had finally gone, even my belly button wound seemed to be healing. I decided to celebrate with one last trip to Djemaa el Fna on Monday night.
Now I know there is a rule here about never having fish in a restaurant on a Monday. The thinking being that the fishermen don't work on a Sunday so the fish isn't fresh, but I figured that didn't apply to Marrakech, so for my last supper I had more calamari, along with some delicious aubergine which might just be my new favourite vegetable.
Everything was wonderful, until I got back to the hotel and started packing. This is always a stressful thing for me anyway, and especially when I've bought half the souk! But it wasn't the stress of packing that was causing the rumbling in my tummy, was it? Nor was it the stress making me shiver so much that I had to put the heating on full in my room and get two extra blankets to wrap myself up in! Needless to say sleep was non-existant!
I was glad to see the sun come up and after a very hot shower I was feeling a bit better. There wasn't anything left in my stomach to come out - of either end! - and I decided to keep it that way by avoiding breakfast. I got my case closed and locked - hurrah! - and checked out.
I was early for my flight but decided to head to the airport anyway, mindful of the way the flight was moved forward on my return from Bangkok, no way did I wanna stick around here any longer. I wanted to get home to the land of Immodium! Plus, I'd had several emails telling me the flight time had changed cos the the clocks changing here, and didn't wanna risk one of those emails being wrong.
Marrakech Airport looks fabulous from the outside, and its lovely and airy inside, but there aint a whole lot going on in the way of facilities. I went to the Royal Air Maroc check-in desk and was told it wasn't open until 10am. Only two hours to kill then.
The flight was on the board and there were plenty of others being boarded, until about 9am when I noticed that the EasyJet flight to Gatwick had been cancelled. Now I was aware that the pesky Icelandic volcano had been spewing ash clouds around southern Europe, but there was no news on CNN about it affecting Morocco as I left the hotel. Turns out CNN weren't that on the ball. At 8am - the time I'd arrived at the airport - all airports in Morocco apart from this one had been shut!
By 9.30 nobody was going anywhere as one by one, cancelled showed up against all the flights on the board. Panic ensued, and inbetween my frequent trips to the loo, I soon learned that none of the airline staff were of any use at all. Their sales desk was unmanned and a phone number posted. Of course there was no answer on that number! Someone told me to head into town to their main office and rebook on a later flight. The EasyJet people were being told to queue up and rebook for later in the week. I know this cos one of my fellow Twitterers was in that queue!
Chatting to her delayed my cab ride and did me a favour as I was then informed that if I was a bit clever and pushed in I could get on the 2pm flight to Paris Orly. I did just that and was even given a business class seat, but I was confused as to how a plane could fly as far as Paris but not the extra few miles to London - there was no ash cloud there!
Oh well, it was 1pm by this time so I made a mad dash through security, and along with several other London-bound passengers took a seat in the departure lounge. Our flight wasn't on the board and by 4pm when there was still no news of it, we all began to suspect it didn't really exist! At 5pm they gave us a free cheese sarnie and a drink and finally about 6pm we boarded.
I had a vague plan of getting the Eurostar the rest of the way home, but the late flight meant that wasn't gonna happen till tomorrow, so I figured I'd find a hotel in Paris. I surprised myself at just how calm I was about the whole thing. In the past I'd have been getting angry and impatient and freaking out, but I was kinda blase about the whole experience. I guess still having the shits put everything else into perspective!
With the time difference it was about 10.30 when we landed in Paris and I was fortunate to find the kindest woman in France on the information desk. I asked about hotels and she found me one in the Opera district of Paris, at a relatively reasonable rate and booked it for me! I'll always remember her for going way beyond the call of duty! I found a cashpoint and got some Euro - of course I had plenty at home but I hadn't planned on needing any on this trip - then joined the huge queue for a cab.
Nearly €70 later I was checking into my garret and rushing to book a ticket on Wednesday's Eurostar. Blimey, they know how to charge don't they? It was £223 for a flexible ticket and £220 for an inflexible on, I decided to splurge the extra £3 and have the choice.
I think I managed about four hours' sleep and so my extravagance paid off as I boarded a much earlier train than planned. At midday I walked into my flat, 30 hours after I'd begun my journey home. Somehow all that R 'n' R had been wiped out by the stress of travelling home. Well that and the food poisoning!
Labels: Travel
posted by JoJo Smith at Saturday, May 15, 2010
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