Beautiful Berlin

I had a bit of a rough introduction to Berlin. My wallet was stolen in a bar on my second night, which caused no end of headaches. But I spent a week and a half in the city and while it was difficult getting by for a while, it’s such a great city that my thoughts about it quickly turned around.

First to the wallet – I got caught by a classic trap apparently. I was sitting in a bar having a drink with someone I met that day. I had my wallet on the table right in front of me and this guy came up begging for money. He had a letter which went over the wallet, and while I was politely telling him no the wallet was taken. The Berlin police (who were very pleasant to deal with) say it’s an old trick.

As it turns out Visa and Mastercard will send you cash from your account through Western Union in such circumstances, which is what got me through until I could get a replacement card. And my travel insurance should cover the cash in the wallet and expenses, so it’s mainly just inconvenient. Plus I feel stupid for falling for an old trick!

But anyway, Berlin is an amazing city. It’s arty, funky, grungy. Like Newtown but without the try-hards. And it has an amazing history from the last century which fascinates me.

This is the tower in Alexanderplatz, which is one of the major squares of the city, and the major square of East Berlin. The tower was built in the 60s as the cold war was heating up, as was the world clock in the foreground. The view from the tower is pretty good, but hard to photograph because the windows are dirty!

Only a few stretches of the Berlin Wall have been preserved, and I think the most famous stretch is the East Side Gallery, which is now covered with murals on one side and graffiti on the other. I kind of love what they have done to it and the symbolism behind that. There are also two other parts of the wall which are preserved, one of which has a very interesting memorial. Some of the stories about the impact of the wall on the people of Berlin are fascinating and tragic.

This is Checkpoint Charlie, probably the best known crossing from the east to the west. This is a recreation of the original checkpoint. There are photos of what it looked like in the late 80s – it was a multi-lane thing that looked like a motorway tollbooth by then. Nearby is a museum with a lot of information about the wall and more personal stories, including some of the attempts to escape from the east. Some of them were downright crazy, which I guess goes to show how horrible life must have been then.

I did a day trip out to Potsdam, which is the capital of the Brandenburg provence. It’s also where Churchill, Truman and Stalin met after World War II to divide the spoils. Unfortunately I got there too late to go inside the palace where the conference was held, but this is the outside.

The Reichstag is a beautiful old building, and the Wall actually ran right behind it. It’s been interestingly redone by an English chap, as it had to be expanded once the Wall came down. The glass dome on top is an amazing piece of architecture. You can walk up a spiral ramp to the top and the views over Berlin are very nice. I did it at night though, so no photos!

The Brandenburg Gate is right around the corner from the Reichstag. One of those landmarks that’s quite amazing to see in person.

So Berlin just has a really cool feel to it. I happened to stumble upon some markets on a Sunday in this big, vast, rather unappealing looking park. But there were hundreds of stalls, people selling interesting food, people drinking beer, barbequing, playing music, performing, just sitting around talking and having a good time. One of my favourite things was this guy who was putting on this huge karaoke event – it must have been in front of a few thousand people in this ampitheatre. People were getting up and singing, and as always with karoke there was a variety of quality. But when it was good it was so good and the crowd really got into (especially for an old dude wearing suspenders who belted out My Way in German).

It’s a good example of just the casual but interesting vibe that’s all over Berlin. I think I like a city when there’s a good use of public space. This usually involves people drinking beer! But it’s not in an ugly, get your shirt off and bash people up sort of way, as it probably would be if this was common place in Australia. It’s just people having a good time, getting out of their house and enjoying their city. And there’s a lot to like about that!

On another note, I have a theory that a country's economy is casually related to its public transport network. The Berlin metro doesn't have any ticket barriers! I reckon in Australia CityRail would be broke in about half an hour if they did that. I guess enough Germans are honest enough to not abuse it (just like all backpackers, of course).  

So yeh, Berlin – do it! Just don’t get your wallet stolen. I’m now in the UK and have a credit card again (woooo!). More on that later.

A fortnight in Morocco

Now that’s out of the way…

Visiting Morocco has started me thinking about what I want to do with this year of travel. My long-held plan was to travel mainly around Europe for a year. I came to Morocco because I was in the south of Spain, and it seemed like a good idea. But it’s been a completely different experience to what I’ve done in Europe so far.

Morocco is frantic, bizarre, hot, dusty, noisy but also beautiful, delicious, fascinating and so different to what I know. I guess I’m comparing it in my head to the south of Spain, which is where I was last in Europe. I loved that area, but I suppose after a while cathedrals start looking pretty similar and I wasn’t really doing that much different. I hadn’t realised it at the time.

I’ve visited a couple of different cities and towns here, so I thought I’d run through them separately.

Tangier

Tangier is where Tennessee Williams and the Rolling Stones went to get high, and apparently was a safe house for international spies during the cold war (and features in two James Bond films). Straight off the ferry you step into a very different world compared to Spain. Immediately you’re swarmed by people offering you taxis, drinks and drugs – not necessarily in that order. It doesn’t desist even if you brush them off and start walking. Everywhere you go people are trying to get you into their shop or to guide you somewhere – usually a restaurant or shop they have a commission arrangement with.

Old Moroccan cities have a medina, which is a walled in old area of the town. The streets are tiny, windy and impossible to navigate. I’m not sure whether it’s because Tangier was the first Moroccan city I visited or whether its medina is just harder to learn, but I kept getting severely lost. To find my hostel I had to pay someone to take me, which always leads to an awkward moment when you have to haggle over how much money to give them. They usually ask for 200 dirham, which is about 20 euro, and will usually begrudgingly walk away for 10 dirham. But you've gotta know that first.

Let me just reveal my nerdom (and yours if you understand this reference) by saying that Tangier seems to have a Mos Eisley feel to it. I’m not saying you’ll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy, but its busy, hectic, there’s people trying to rip you off every which way and you have to watch your step. Let’s make one thing clear – I never felt like I was about to be mugged or pick pocketed (though the Department of Foreign Affairs travel advice says knife point robberies in medinas at night aren’t uncommon). But pretty well everything in Morocco is negotiable and it’s impossible to know if you’re getting a good or crap deal. My philosophy is that being ripped off is mainly a state of mind, so I’d put in my best haggling performance and be prepared to walk away if I thought it was too much, which is a great tactic for getting them to lower the price!

There are dozens of unofficial ‘tour guides’ who want to show you around – for a price – and are remarkably good at not taking no for an answer. If you say no and keep walking, they’ll walk along with you, engage you in conversation, and then start giving you facts about the place and say ‘Oh just around this corner is where so and so used to live and before you know it they’re giving you a tour and demanding money at the end. I definitely became better at avoiding this, but in new cities finding places was so hard that I sometimes had to ask, and pay, for help.

The downsides to this is that after a while it closes your mind to genuine offers of (free) help and random conversations – which can be the most interesting part of travel. It’s a shame. It’s also exhausting, as you’re constantly on your guard and being shouted at. This isn’t unique to Tangier, but it’s where it was most overwhelming.

As an example, on the day I left, I went to a café the day I left, then caught a taxi to the bus station, which was on the other side of the city. Except the driver took me to the train station. It cost me 12 dirham and I was out of the cab before I realised I was in the wrong spot. I looked at the map I had on me and saw that the bus station was only a few blocks, but it was hot and I’m lazy, so I thought I’d take another taxi, which should have cost a few dirham by my logic. The driver refused to put the metre on, which is never a good sign. I asked him how much it would cost and he said 50 dirham, at which point I asked him to stop and said he was ripping me off! He then demanded to be paid for the 200 metres he’d driven me, for which I said the grand total of one dirham would be about fair. He threw it back at me amidst what I assume were not very flattering arabic words, but unfortunately for him I had a good idea of what the proper taxi rates were and I knew how far I wanted to go. It feels kind of liberating to take a stand like that!

I only spent a few days in Tangier. I went to the café where the Rolling Stones used to get high, walked around the medina and the Kasbah, which is an even more fortified bit of the medina, and where The Clash rocks. I also went to the bar which was apparently used as a real life model for Rick’s Café in the movie Casablanca. I can’t really remember what the set looked like, but it didn’t seem very familar.

As an aside, I always thought eucalyptus trees were unique to Australia. I’m not sure these are definitely eucalypts, but they look like them and the leaves smell the same. Who knew?!

Chefchouen

I decided to break up the bus trip to Fés by stopping at a smaller town called Chefchouen. I’m so glad I did. It’s Medina is one of the prettiest I saw, and for some reason is mainly painted blue.

After Tangier it seemed very quiet, though there’s still a lot of people offering to sell hash! It seems to nearby Rim Mountains are a perfect growing area. But its main square was very pretty, and it was just a lot more calm.

Fés

You know a city is old when what the locals call the ‘New Medina’ is 700 years old. Fés is an old imperial city and the streets of its medina are lined with stall selling olives, fake designer sunglasses, spices, clothes, iPods, pretty well anything you could want.

The hostel I stayed in offered a cooking class, which included being taken to the souks (markets) to buy the ingredients. It was wonderful, especially as you usually got to taste the produce first!







One of the more confronting parts was buying chicken for a tagine. When we got to the stall the chook we ended up taking was alive! It was killed in the halal way in front of us, plucked and gutted. Needless to say I had a better day than the chook.

The cooking took a fair while, but it was so worth it. We made two tajines, a meatball dish and a salad and I think it was the best meal I had in Morocco. One of my fellow students took down notes, so I will have to try to cook one of these dishes again soon!


Meknes

Only half an hour by train from Fés is Meknes, another beautiful old imperial city. The most amazing thing happened when the sun went down. The main square became packed with people gathering around different performers. Some were playing music, telling stories or charming snakes.

I learnt the hard way that to take a photo will usually cost you a few dirham, or in one case, to a guy who I guess was doing a kind of clown act, get you dragged into the middle of the circle and serenaded with his version of a ‘Moroccan Michael Jackson’. It’s kind of hard to know what to do when you’re the centre of attention of a hundred people and have absolutely no idea what is going on. Roll with seems an okay solution.

The street food here was amazing. For 12 dirham (1.20 euros) I had two bowls of Moroccan soupl with bread, a bit of corn on the cob, a fresh glass of orange juice and a little pastry for dinner! The street comes alive with people selling all sorts of food, as well as clothes, phone covers… whatever!


Casablanca

I decided to take the train through the capital city Rabat. I usually am interested to see the capital of any country, but a lot of people had told me that there really wasn’t that much of interest to see, and as I had a limited amount of time I decided to prioritise.

Of course Casablanca is probably best known for Humphry Bogart and Ingird Bergman. It’s referred to as a European style city, but for my money, that means that it’s not really Moroccan and it’s not really European. It straddles the divide kind of poorly. Its medina is run down and neglected because of its new shopping malls and hotel areas, but they’re not really very nice either!

The grand mosque is a very beautiful building though. The minaret is huge and you can see if from a long way away. Unfortunately I missed the last tour of the day so I wasn’t able to go inside.


Marrakech

The train ride from Casablanca to Marrakech is probably the most uncomfortable trip I’ve made since I left Australia, but also one of the most interesting. The train was packed and I couldn’t get a seat. Lots of people were left standing near the door to the carriage, which was left open because it was so hot and stuffy. So I spent the first three hours kind of leaning out the door to catch some air, getting out with everyone else when the train stopped at a signal, and then jumping back on once it started moving again, and talking to different people. One young girl told me if I wanted to marry her I would have to convert to Islam. I suggested perhaps we should learn each other’s names first.

There’s lots of street hawkers in Marrakech, but by this time I had gotten much better at dealing with them. A polite but firm no thanks, and just walking past usually does the trick. And then keep saying no if they persist. Also, don’t show any interest in anything! Which is hard because some shops have beautiful ceramics, leather, spices… all very interesting and hard not to look at! I would have loved to by a tajine here, as well as a lamp and heaps of spices, but it’s not really practical while I’m living out of my backpack.

If I thought the square in Meknes was interesting at night, Marrakech leaves it for dead. It’s phenomenal. There must be thousands of people who head there every night to eat at the outdoor restaurants which pop up, and watch the entertainment. The nearest measuring point I can give it is the Sydney Mardi Gras, minus the g-strings and nipple caps. But it’s that sort of density of crowd, and that sort of feeling of just having a good time.

And of course most people are stone cold sober! You can get a beer in Morocco, but it usually costs the same as cheapish dinner, which is still only like three or four euros, but it’s a lot when you compare it like that. Actually one guy in Meknes tried to sell me hash, and then in the same hushed and illicit tone asked if I was interested in beer or wine.

The Sahara Desert

I met some Canadians in Spain who had been to Morocco, and said a trip to the Sahara Desert was well worth it. I looked into doing this myself, but without any real camping gear it was going to be tricky, and involve lots of waiting for connecting buses. So I signed up to a two night tour.

I’ve never been on anything like this before, and in some ways it kind of reinforced why I avoid them. Things like being dumped at a restaurant for lunch where the food is expensive and bad really don’t help. Also on the first day we were taken to this museum of Moroccan film which was hilariously lame. Now don’t get me wrong, lots of famous films have been shot in Morocco – Lawrence of Arabia, Gladiator, Troy - but this museum had some leftover sets from five Jesus-centric movies no one on the tour had ever heard of before. Also the bus was really small and cramped. I’m not the tallest bloke in the world, but I had absolutely no leg room, and that grows old after a while. The bus’s air conditioning also wasn’t working. Now, I like to think I’m not a precious GenY traveler, but it was one of the big sells of the company, and when you’re promised something that doesn’t happen it’s frustrating! And hot.

The upside to the tour is you do get to see some things that I wouldn’t have if I was on myself. We stopped at an old Berber village, which again has apparently been used for a lot of films, and were guided around and given a bit of history. The village was 700 years old and made out of mud and straw – great insulation in that environment! It was also good to be in a group of people from around the world who are roughly my age. Instant friends!

Not far out of Marrakech you start going over the Atlas Mountains. It’s a curious landscape, and the road winds forever. At some stages you can see what looks like three or four different roads around you, and then you realise it’s the road you’re on that you’ve got to wind your way up to. We were also taken to a place where traditional carpets are made, which was kind of interesting to see, and they guy who was trying to sell us all carpets was kind of hilarious.

Unfortunately I can’t remember the name of this gorge and I forgot to write it down, but again, I probably wouldn’t have found it by myself.

But the highlight was the desert itself. We arrived at this little village and were taken out the back of a hotel, where a couple of dozen camels waited for us. I had no idea why at the time, but one of the guides called me over to camel that wasn’t in a train, and just started leading me away while everyone else was in a group of six or so. It turned out the camel had been sick and it was his first day back on the job, so they didn’t want to put him in a train, but it was sort of alarming!

The Sahara is an amazing landscape. It’s pretty much what you’d expect from what you’ve seen in movies and on TV, but nothing can really prepare you for the real thing.






It was about a two hour camel ride to the campsite, and man my legs hurt by the end! The wind had also picked up which meant of course that sand was flying everywhere. I learnt the true value of having a turban in such an environment, because at least you could breath without inhaling sand. It was also great for the sun.

The photos don’t really capture how big some of these dunes are. The camp was set right at the base of a huge one, which a couple of other guys and I tried to climb. Only one fella made it to the top, the rest of us gave up because it was super hard work. With every step you took you’d slide back at least half of it. And the higher you got the stronger the wind was and the more sand you had being flung at you. So yeh, I stopped to have a quick look at the view from two thirds of the way up and then bailed.

The next morning they had us up at 5am to ride back to the bus. After a quick breakfast we hit the road. We’d done the trip out there over two days, and with stops, it was 12 hours back to Marrakech. With the aforementioned lack of legroom and aircon it was along trip.

I am super glad I came to Morocco. Right now I’m in the airport of Agadir, south of Marrakech, to fly to Berlin. I’m happy to head back to Europe for now. I’m not sure how to explain it, because it’s not like what I’ve seen in Europe is the same as Australia. It’s not. But seeing a very small part of north Africa has opened my eyes to just how different and exciting it is, and makes me want to see more. It’s harder travelling, less sanitized, but that’s why it’s fascinating too.

Not sure shorts, t-shirt and thongs outfit, which has served me so well in Spain, Portugal and Morocco, will be suitable for Germany. Paris in March was too cold, Marrakech in June was too hot, so here’s hoping Berlin will be just right.

The Iberian Peninsula

Portugal seems custom made for double pluggers. Apart from the thong tan-line on my feet, this is a very, very good thing. How I managed to avoid that in the Territory for two years and yet instantly get it in Portugal is beyond me.

I caught a bus from Salamanca in Spain to Porto, or Oporto, depending on which sign you read. It's the second largest city in Portugal, and, unknown to me when I arrived, the place where port wine was invented! I can't say I had spent a lot of time theorising about where this nectar of the gods originated, but I wouldn't have said Portugal. So I was able to do a tour of one of the massive cellar in the town. There are quite a few companies, most of them British, which have been exporting port for hundreds of years from the town.

This is the view from the major bridge crossing the river which runs next to Porto. The wine cellars are on the left hand side, which is technically another city. As you can see, the weather wasn't half bad.

I only had a few days to spend in Porto, but it's a beautiful city and I'm so glad I went there. I spent my time with some other travellers eating tapas, drinking port and just walking around the city. The old part of the city dates back centuries, and it's a fascinating labyrinth of tiny little alleys. It's also bloody hilly! Lugging my pack up the main hill in town to get to my hostel was a bit of a challenge, especially when it was so warm. But the city is great, the food is great (Portuguese chicken is just called chicken) and the port cheap.

After Porto I caught a train south to Lisbon. It's also a seriously beautiful city with lots of hills! It is covered in a network of old style rattling trams and funiculars (I forgot to take a photo, so this is pillaged from another blog).

It has beautiful old streets which are titled and cobblestoned, lovely squares and an amazing old fort on a hill which was built by the Moors before being captured by the Christians in the Second Crusade. It's kind of amazing to visit a place that was part of a campaign in the Crusades! The Christian conquerers, with their customary tolerance, built a church on the mosque in the middle of the fortress. Not much remains of the palace now, and the fortress has been majorly added to and 'restored' by Salazar in the 30s, so it doesn't look too much like what it once might have.

I had been trying Portuguese tarts in Porto and Lisbon, but someone told me about this one place about twenty minutes by tram from the middle of the city. It's apparently well known for having the best Portuguese tarts in the world. I found it, and the line was out the door! I originally was just going to order one, but as the line was so long I ordered two - purely in the name of efficiency. Oh my goodness, I can't describe how delicious they are. The pastry is amazing, it's sort of crunchy but flexible in the middle and the custardy bit is creamy but not too sweet. I actually made a complete pig of myself and went back later in the day to line up for more. I had those two for afternoon tea with some other local produce.

Again, I could have spent longer in Lisbon, but at that stage I was moderately pressed for time, so I had to move on after a few days. I went to Lagos, which is right on the south Atlantic coast. My mate Damo from Katherine has a mate Lars who lives there. I just kind of showed up and he took me in for a few nights! He had a house overlooking the Atlantic ocean, a few dogs to play with, and he makes a pretty sweet lasagne. Happy days. He also took me to play some touch footy with his mates on the beach, which embarrassingly revealed that three months of doing exercise no more strenuous than walking up a Portuguese hill with a backpack does horrible things to one's cardio fitness. Ho hum.

Lagos is a beautiful little seaside town, and the water is amazing. It was quite a hot sunny day, and I did stick my toe in but man, that water was bloody cold! I wanted to take a dip but I was too much of a wuss, so I just admired the view.

One of the weird things about Lisbon and Lagos was how often I was asked if I wanted to buy drugs! I dunno, maybe I look particularly dodgy, but in Lisbon in particular, it seemed like every street corner I walked past there was some seedy character trying to flog me something. I'm not sure what the law is in Portugal, but they weren't being at all subtle about it!

After Lagos I headed back into Spain to check out Seville, Cordoba and Granada. All three were again conquered by the Moors, then taken back by the Christians in the Second Crusade. The cathedrals in Seville and Granada are kind of fascinating in that they're so obviously mosques. They're big, square buildings with a bit of a cathedral stuck in the middle. This is the tower in Seville, which used to be the minaret for the mosque.

This is one of the main plazas in Seville, which is very impressive and pretty, and also apparently used as a location shoot for the last Star Wars trilogy!

I also went to a flamenco bar in Seville, which was very interesting. It was packed to the rafters, and not a touristy show, just a kind of full bar where these guys were singing, and then after a while this lady started dancing. No mics, no PA, you had to be quiet to listen to them. The music itself is kind of repetitive after a while, but the dancing is fascinating to watch. The sangria was also very strong.

Here's the courtyard of Cordoba's cathedral, which has a beautiful orange grove in it with this nifty irrigation system. To my mind, very Moorish.

The inside is kind of fascinating. There are big long rows of columns, and again, only a kind of 'cathedraly' bit in the middle. Looks very mosquesque to me.

The streets of Cordoba are all whitewashed, with colourful splashes on doorways and architraves, or maybe a plant on a wall somewhere. It's sort of beautiful, in a white kind of way.

After Cordoba it was on to Granada and its amazing Alhambra. It's kind of hard to describe, but it's a series of palaces and other, built within walls and with a massive fortress at the top of a hill looking over Granada. Again, it was built by the Moors and conquered by the Christians. Here's an outside view, I'd recommend clicking on it to see it full size - note the snow capped mountains in the background. Not sure how that works in 35 degree heat!

One of the main buildings is the Nasrid Palace, which was where the Moorish rulers lived. It's an amazing assortment of courtyards and ornate rooms.





The use of water in particular is very interesting. In the first photo of the courtyard, it's supposed to mirror the tower above, to create an even more imposing impression.

This photo is taken in the grounds of another building outside the walls. It was where the court went to relax, and the gardens are beautiful.

And then of course when the Christians conquered it they had to build their own palace too. It's interesting, but nowhere near as pretty!

The other thing about Granada is that it's one of the last places in Spain which does free tapas with drinks. I'm not just talking a bowl of olives here. You can have bagels, stews, paella, hamburgers, salads... the list goes on. For the price of two beers you can basically have a full meal for free. Plus two beers. It's amazing.

My last stop on the Iberian Peninsula was Gibraltar. This is a UK territory, and it's really, really weird. You cross the border and the first thing you see is a bright red British phone box. The bobbies wear their funny hats and you have to pay for things in Gibraltar pounds.

Basically it's a super strategic location because it's right on the Gibraltar Straight (unsurprisingly) which is where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic. The British won in in a war in the 1700s and have held onto it ever since. It became even more important to them when the Suez Canal opened, and during World War II.

After the red phone box, the next thing you come across is the runway! The territory is so small that I guess the only place they could squeeze in a runway was running across the only access road! So you're stopped at a gate while British Airways does its thing. You can see in the background the rock of Gibraltar, which helps explain why the place is so strategic, and also why it might be hard to find a spot to put in an airport. It's an amazing rock, I think about 400 metres high, with forts dating from Moorish times to British WWII pill boxes.

This is the view up on the rock looking back towards Spain. The Mediterranean is to the right and the Atlantic to the left.

And this is the view looking to the south. Yep, that's Africa. Freaking Africa. When I stop and think about it, to be able to look out across a body of water and see an entirely different continent amazes me.

The rock is also well known for its colony of Apes, apparently the only colony in Europe. They're everywhere, obviously very used to people, and kind of stink.

I had planned to explore the different parts of the rock, but I was a little bit sick on this day. I've been travelling for three months now, eaten at places across France, Switzerland, Andorra, Spain and Portugal, but they bloody English pub food in Gibraltar made me very sick. Not quite sick enough to stay in my room all day, but sick enough to make doing anything further than 50 metres from the nearest toilet hard. So I had to make do with a few snaps of the view and then retreat back down the hill.

While I was in Gibraltar I saw an ad for an exhibition of Julian Lennon's memorabilia about his father. I went along and am so glad I did! Here are some highlights...

The Beatles' grammy for Hard Days Night.

John's cape from Help!


Paul McCartney's hand written recording notes for Hey Jude.

John's Afghan jacket from the Seargent Peppers era.


The four track tape recorder John used at home to prepare for recording Sergeant Peppers.

So that's the Iberian Peninsula! I've loved Spain and Portugal, and the sun and warmth have been divine. I have to say that I have developed and inkling as to why the Spanish and Portuguese economies are buggered. I'm no economist, but, as an example, having two people working on a ticket sales counter at the main train station in Madrid while the line is about a hundred metres long probably has a few knock on effects. There's definitely no urgency in these parts in any sort of transaction you make, which is kind of nice as a lifestyle, but kind of frustrating too.

So right now I'm in Morocco! I didn't catch a ferry straight from Gibraltar, but it was only a short bus ride to a little town called Tarifa. I've spent a few nights in Tangier, which is beautiful but crazy. I like it but it is very, very different! But as always, that's a story for another day.