Moroccan Nights

Renee flew back to Australia recently for Kel & Clints wedding. As I waved her goodbye from the front door, my phone rang. James was calling.
"Gidday James, uncanny timing"
"Hey Blair, Corey and I were just wondering if we should make a dent in the keg we brought back from Luxembourg"
"I'll be there in 15 mins" I replied as I threw on clothes and headed to the bus stop. Believe me - 15 mins is fast for London.
It was only meant to be a few quite drinks of the keg, but it quickly turned hazy and all of a sudden I found myself waiting in line at Ministry of Sound. What the hell?
Groove Armada were playing but I wouldn't know.

Had a BBQ the weekend after and mourned Amy Winehouse by screaming the lyrics to 'Valerie' at 3 in the morning.

Renee returned from the wedding, all smiles, winks and head nods. She arrived on the same day as my parents, who have come over for a foray into Europe and beyond. Queue London tourist bullshit; Portobello markets (again), Camden markets (again), Buckingham Palace (again), but we did manage to get to the Lion King stage show which was ace. There was alot of drinking involved as well, and Mum kept up! So, good work Mum.

Anyway, as luck and timing would have it, the week my parents get here was also the week we had lined up a trip to Morocco. When your girlfriend is a nanny, you have to take holidays when you can. We had locked in a 5 day stay at a 5 star (apparently) hotel, because that's how we roll. No worries getting into Morocco, until we hit the cab rank and they started telling us that it costs NZ$40 to get to our hotel, which we could practically see from the airport. Some serious haggling later and I managed to get the price down a little bit.
Then he drove us to the hotel - sound effects as described.
Brooooom (engine starting), Eerrrrr (peeling out of carpark), Eeeekekkk (pulling up at hotel).
I started laughing, hysterically, not because I thought my getting ripped off was funny, this was the laughter of anguish.
"Very far" I said, "Very very far, ha ha". I was mimicking his use of words said to us only 4 minutes earlier, sarcastically or course. We gave him 200 dirrum and asked for change, which he didn't have so he pointed me to the reception and asked me to get change, to which I swiftly grabbed the money, thanked him and strolled into the hotel, with little to no intention of heading back out to see him.

And I didn't. (hands on hips, head looking up to sky in Superman gaze).

The hotel was far from a 5 star, but we had really expected that, considering it was Africa that we were travelling through. It wasn't bad though. Possibly the biggest hotel I have ever stayed at. It was huge. It had two pools, a multitude of restaurants and bars, gyms, shops, and the reception was larger than a sheep farm you would find in the back country of the Wairarapa Bush. Our room was huge too. Dirty, but huge.







It was fairly late when we arrived, yet we still went into the city centre of Marrakesh to check out the night markets, which was less pleasant than an STI exam. You couldn't move without being fondled by some snarly shopkeeper with shifty eyes. In the end, I just had to start Jackie Channing their ass.
Renee still managed to buy some shoes.

The next day, we were up at the crack of dawn, for no particular reason. We noticed that we could jump in a van and head up through the Atlas Mountains, so we did. It was a welcome shift from the busy streets of Marrakesh. We headed through Berber country and ended up high in the mountains, dining on Tagine and contemplating whether we should do a trek into the forest to see a waterfall.











The headlines for the next day nearly read;
"Small tour group gets lost in Atlas Mountains. All were dangerously unprepared."
Its a bit of dramatization, yet we did have a nervous time up there. The reasoning? Well, as we were hiking up we started to hear thunder.
"Its OK" we thought "thunder must be common in these thar hills"
Then it started to rain lightly
"Its OK" we though "light rain must be common in these thar hills"
Then, in a matter of second, it turned into a grade 5 torrential downpour. I'm talking monsoon rain. I'm talking all of Gods wrath and fury. I'm talking about a rain that would put Noah's Ark to shame. Where the hell did it come from? Who knows. Then our little trek guide, a kid of all 14 years old, decided it would be good idea to trek even higher into the mountains. We shrugged and agreed - I mean, who were we to argue, this kind of rain must be common.









It wasn't until we were deep in devil territory and we saw the look on his little face, that we knew we may be in a spot of trouble if we don't decide to head down straight away. The river we were climbing was swelling fast, and the rocks were getting perilously slippery. The rain was relentless. My camera was tucked under my one light t-shirt, craddled into my right arm as I was using my left to navigate the path....

We made it. Hows that for cutting out an intense part of story! You didn't want to sit through it, trust me.

As we reached the bottom, the skies cleared up and glorious sunshine pelted on us. Typical.

We had drinks with Nick and Sam later on, a couple we met that day, and discussed the excitement of the trek.

The next morning, we headed back to the souks (markets) for a spot of daytime shopping. It was much friendlier by day. There was some crazy things to be found in those markets. It is Africa, mind you. We saw falcons and tortoises, chameleons and lizards, vulture carcases and baby alligators, as well as the standard plethora of scarfs, shoes, rugs, spices, and ceramics. We got some pretty good deals on a few items, and some not so good deals on some other items (like my handpainted bowls - god dammit, I just want to smash them now)

























The rest of Friday was spent just chilling in the sun. I was looking forward to giving my white ass a touch of Vitamin D. By 5 O'clock I discovered that there is a limit to how much vitamin D you want to give yourself. My skin was aching; red and raw. The sun cut through me like last nights curry.

The Saturday saw us whimper away from the sun (and a good thing too - it got to 49 degrees!!!) and head out to the seaside town of Essaouira. It was a cool town, with more vowels in the name than you can shake a stick at. We strolled the less touristy streets and were amazed at the state of the produce industry. We finished the day off at the beach, with Renee giving in to the henna craze. That night, we had farewell drinks with Nick and Sam, before returning to our room for one last time.



















So that's that. Morocco was cool, but definitely check out places like Egypt and Jordan if you want to get your fill of African / Arabic life. It was just too expensive (due mainly to do with all the European and British tourists and their strong (ahem) currencies.
This coming weekend we are off to Paris, for some baguettes and croissants. One last time to see the parents as well.
Stay posted. Blog posted that is.

Hahahaha

Admin Stuff

Hey guys.

Seeing as that last post was relatively easy to do. I will be going through all my old posts and adding photos and videos where I see fit. This should make for a much more enjoyable experience, and allow you to read through some of my stuff that you may not have got to read.

So. Enjoy.
Any comments are more than welcome

Bilbao: The Spanish Summer Festival Bumper Issue Extravanganza

Tis the season of the festival, unlike "The Season of the Witch" - Nicholas Cage movie. Terrible! Not that I've seen it or anything. You can just tell. I dont know why people keep going to terrible movies - like Transformers. Its a huge pile of dung, why does it do so well at the box office?

.......Anyway......

Tis the season of the festival, and the amount of festivals offered in the Northern hemisphere are abundant. The quality of them; second to none. Glastonbury was on a few weeks back, and although I was unfortunate enough to miss out on a ticket, I did manage to secure tickets to another festival of slightly less quality. Only slightly.
Bilbao BBK festival - a 4day / 3night festival located at the Northern tip of Spain featuring artists to the likes of Coldplay, Kasabian, Kaiser Cheifs, Black Crowes, Amy Winehouse (although she was so drugged up she had to cancel), Jack Johnson, Chemical Brothers, Blondie, and 30 Seconds to Mars. Phew. Not a bad lineup I thought as I parted with roughly £100 for the tickets (not a bad price either).

Now, I must throw in a quick disclaimer - I did not take my beautiful Pentax 1stDS camera with me through fear of having it nicked. Despite locking a tent all it takes is a sharp knife, or in the case or our tent, a sharp fingernail to gain access. I decided against risking it, and as such the photos were taken on Renee's cheapo camera.

Attempting to get to Spain from London via Germany wasnt ideal but that was the limited run off flights on offer to get to this festival. We arrived in Bilbao very late on Wednesday night and attempted to find our prebooked hostel in the barren streets of Bilbao. It was a mission in itself. We ended up getting a taxi and he drove about 200m down the road before stopping at the hostel. Nice

We awoke early on Thursday, had a quick peek around the old city of Bilbao, and met up with Ryan and Christina, our flatties that had also decided to get amongst the action. The festival was located atop on overlooking hill, which isnt ideal for a campground, or gaining access to it. Upon arrival the whole thing seemed pretty disorganized. "Where do we set up our tents?" we asked some chick who couldn't speak English. We attempted Spanish to a massive fail. She just pointed around the place and we eventually understood that we can pitch our tents absolutely anywhere.
"Here looks good" we decided as the ground seemed relatively flat. Some people obviously weren't as experienced as us, as you noticed tents pitched against hills so steep they were literally fixing them in with climbing pegs.
"Chumps" I said quietly under my breath.

Corey and Bec (our traveling buddies through Belgium) came a little while later with a few other people - Daniel and Simone - and we went about completing the campsite setup. It was a pretty good setup in the end.

The Thursday night was offering a jittery Blondie first up. Who are Blondie, some of you may be asking? They had a string of hits in the late 70's / early 80's including: 'Tide is High', 'Heart of Glass', 'One Way or Another' etc etc. Debbie Harry belted out the hits as if they were from a record but her ancient dance moves left little impression on Corey, who was crying with laughter. Coldplay followed them with a sublime show. Really well done. It was amazing. They played all their hits plus a few new songs as well. They finished up around 2am (oh yeah - this is Spain - all the major acts didnt start till at least midnight) and we went to bed happy. The music didnt stop though and that didnt help with sleeping. The concerts each night didnt finish till 7am, which was tough.













Anyway, that didnt bother us, because 2 hrs sleep later and we were in Coreys van, motoring down route ....umm....... lets say 248, towards Pamplona for, you guessed it, the 'Running of the Bulls.'
We arrived late and Daniel was disappointed that he couldnt get into the running itself. I was hesitant. Have you seen the size of these bulls? They sharpen their horns as well. I could just imagine the headlines. We rushed into the stadium and watched the massacre that ensued. Our best video for your viewing pleasure below.

The rules:
- If you try and ride the bull, you get the shit kicked out of you.
- If you try and touch the bulls horns, you get the shit kicked out of you.
- If you try and taunt the bull, the bull kicks the shit out of you.

Basically, you're screwed.

It was amazing though. Cost all of 6 Euro to get in and watch an hours worth of glorious carnage. What other sporting event on earth is that good of a deal? None I tell ya. None.



We hooned back to Bilbao, getting stopped by the cops on the way who questioned 8 people in a van with no seatbelts. They let it slide.

We got back, and Renee and I checked out the Guggenheim museum - basically the building that put Bilbao on the map. It is a dramatic statement but one that hasnt been maintained properly. Bits of silver electrical tap looked like it was holding steel sections together, the skylight glass was unclean and the internal plasterboard lining was cracking due to the curves. Still, Im glad I've seen it.







The Friday night hosted Kasabian, and Kaiser Chiefs, among others. Kasabian were amazing. Absolutely incredible. Kaiser Chiefs sounded good too, but they were on super late and I was starting to get crook so I called it early.
The mojitos and beers didnt help either.

The Saturday had us on the road again, to the beachside city of San Sebastian. It was awesome - a few white pointers out there.....
Ahhh, what am I saying? Every second chick had their boobs out.
Corey later summarised;
"San Sebastian is the kind of place that I bet chicks go down to the beach during their lunch break just to get their tits out"
The truth has never been stated so elegantly.
We had authentic tapas at a restaurant in the old town and I went for a swim in the ocean, which was refreshing after being away from it for nearly 2 years. When I got home a day and a half later, I finally had a shower and found all this rancid seaweed in my jocks. Rough times.

We got back to the city late and discovered the line to get back up to the concert grounds was longer than the line we had at Wimbledon (refer previous blog post - not joking). Some hasty decision making saw us catch an unknown bus that only 100 people knew about. How do I know 100 people knew about it? They were all on the bus with us. It was tight! - one of the greatest understatements in history. The driver was an absolute champion. There got to a point where there were so many people on the bus that it would move and a few had to get out. Ha.

We made it back in time to see Jack Johnson - who was actually really good. Then watched a bit of the Black Crowes before deciding that staying up till 4am was just too much to see out the Chemical Brothers. It took 12 hours for us to get back home on the Sunday, which was not ideal once again.

All up, the trip was incredible; action packed and bottled into 4 days of extreme drinking, partying, driving, exploring, and mingling. We all got around 8 -10 hours sleep in total for the four days, and didnt really have showers at all. The only food we really ate either came in a chip packet, or was saturated in cooking oil from a nearby cafe. A detox is on the cards.

So there it is. I hope you enjoyed the new setout. If you guys did like all the photos and videos, then let me know and I will look to do more of it in the future.
Parents come in a couple of weeks, have a Morocco trip booked in three weeks time, and Paris Returns in 4 weeks. Phew - time for a much needed rest.