Misadventure Memoirs

When Col & Marilou travel, what coud possibly go wrong…right?

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  • Reinman Ripped

    Colin came home with him a few days before Christmas some years back. He’d been out running errands (Colin, not the stuffed reindeer) and wherever the contents of his list had taken him that day, it was an encounter that resulted in an impulse purchase.

    Back at the Ranch, I eagerly awaited Col’s return so that I could resume my culinary creations, temporarily paused in favour of house-cleaning. (The missing ingredient may well have been pomegranate molasses, the quest for which had taken him far and wide…and which, to this day Col delights in dining out on!).

    Hardly surprising then that I was not immediately impressed with the goofy looking Christmas geegaw that was paraded in front of me with all the pride of a major trophy hunt (but kinder to endangered species). I paid the thing scant attention. 


    On the 1st of December every year since then, ‘Reiny’ has been retrieved from the recesses (he now resides on top of the wardrobe in the Pink Room for 11months at a time) and is placed in a pivotal spot from which he reigns supreme amongst our Christmas paraphernalia for 30 days or so. Over that time, he has become a favourite of both friends and family and has a very special place in the hearts of our grandchildren. I’ve come to love him too with his dopey look, elevator legs (that take him from stubby to lanky with a tug on his bulbous feet (hooves?)

    ).

    Imagine our horror then, when last weekend we arrived home from a night in the city to find Reiny on his back in the middle of the hallway, hideously maimed with his innards strewn about the rug in front of the bathroom door! 

    Cut to the day before when we had made the decision to leave the three dogs (our Hank and Lucy and Ry’s Ziggy and Jessica Brown) alone at our house for the night, double fed (that morning and again as we were about to leave them), a nice sniff-n-walk under their belts, with plenty of buckets of water, both inside and out, and with sanctioned rooms closed off, but liberal access to their comfort spots throughout the house. We had decided to spare our lovely neighbours, Rob and Fern, by asking them (yet again) to feed our doggos. And in an act of sheer bastardry, said doggos decided to repay what they clearly construed as neglect, by taking down an innocent Christmas ornament and worrying the bejesus out of it as ‘payback’!

    Reiny’s injuries were just short of catastrophic. One foot (hoof) was completely amputated, his tail had been deleted, he had been de-antlered, his entrails had been excised through a hole in his festive jumper and practically all the fringing from his jauntily tossed winter scarf had been ripped off. I now suspect that we may have arrived home in the nick of time to prevent his utter annihilation. 

    Triage of the scope of his injuries took place quickly and efficiently in ICU and theatre staff swung into action without delay to save him. The foot (hoof) required an extensive skin graft, so the surgery team determined that the brown felt that had formerly constituted his tail be substituted to the lower extremity. The skill of the surgical staff cannot be underestimated and, after many hours under the needle, Reiny was repaired in time to take up his position for the Big Day.

    Threads of red wool from Reiny’s scarf continue to be discovered throughout our home.

  • Blimmin Backrest!

    Blimmin Backrest!

    Catching the train from Salamanca to Madrid for the last few days of our amazing holiday, we stop briefly at Avila and, as we slow to roll into the station I glance across at the medieval town with its perfect, multi-turreted walls and suffer a severe attack of ROMO (that’s ‘regret of missing out’!). You see, we never did make that tuk tuk tour. 😩

    Oh yes, all booked and paid for, but the R&D left a lot to be desired (probs should have taken care of that at the time of booking!). So, at about the moment we should have been kicking back in the tuk tuk, 🛺 gazing at amazing sights as we were whisked around the historic town, we were still an hour away from Avila, back in Segovia, doing the math on how much a taxi would cost to get there if we were able to reschedule. 😕 Damn, fifty down ze drain. Oh well.

    The way we roll, you’d think we had a tiny, portable printing press churning out Euros while we sleep at night. Drunken sailors have got nothing on us when it comes to slinging cash! 😳 Yesterday, we sent our second box of stuff back home, primarily because our suitcases would no longer zip up. To be fair, I realised I was kidding myself bringing a medium sized suitcase pretty much the minute we left home. (The expandable gusset on that baby was zipped right out early in week one!). But I had faith in my Little Friend (who brought along a mammoth sized bag) to accommodate any spillover I might accumulate during our journey…that was until I learned that he had brought along his backrest!! 

    Now, I wouldn’t for a moment begrudge this situation except for two reasons: 

    1. That flipping backrest is the same size as the chair back of the most pimped out gamer throne you ever saw! It has its own postcode! It can be seen from Earth’s orbit in the same way as the Great Wall of China! It takes up the entire space of one side of Colin’s suitcase with its voluptuous lumbar curves and deluxe neck support!
    2. It has never left its niche spot in said suitcase.

    I’ve tried being reasonable about its presence on our journey, I really have. (And in my private moments of loathing the bastard thing, I’ve fantasised about slashing it into bite sized pieces!). 

    To my inquiries as to why it even exists, let alone is along for the ride, I’m assured that Col was positive he would need it to ensure his comfort in the bus on our tour. “But it’s never seen the light of day” I implore, with desperation in my voice (this turd of an appliance is taking up valuable suitcase space that could otherwise be dedicated to my purchases, ffs). 🤦‍♀️ 

    Him: “Well, I didn’t expect the bus seats to be so comfortable!” “I didn’t actually even need it”. (Seemingly pleased with the outcome!). 

    Me: “OK, but can we ditch it now?…It’s useless and takes up mega space”.

    Him: “Oh no, I need it and it cost over $100”.

    Logic and reason have completely left the building at this stage, so we walk the 2.5kms to the Post Office in Salamanca with a blue plastic rubbish bag each, tucked under our arms, spend 45 minutes gesticulating, speaking entry level Spanish, but relying heavily on the one staff member who speaks a little English and shell out €80 (me) to ship back a bunch of our old clothes and one of Col’s books, artfully crammed into the smallest box we could manage to stuff it all into to get the price down from the original quote of €156!! 4.2kg of dross….it hurts! 

    Backrest? Still in situ…. 🙄

  • Going backwards at 250kph

    Going backwards at 250kph

    Yup…Our chosen seats on the train trip from Segovia to Salamanca were facing the wrong way! Hence, the environs whipped by at a rate of knots in reverse, churning the tum and determining that we kept eyes down on our respective devices for the duration of the journey. 😊

    Interesting last night in Segovia. The room next door (above our pillows) was a cacophonic theatre! Hard to say whether there were overnight renos occurring or if the forensic clean up crew, post a CSI investigation, had moved in to do their thing. It was ugly! Sleep was patchy. 😳

    Newsflash! We got back on the Escalator Pony with our luggage at the railway station in Salamanca! So proud. 🥹 We took it like troopers. (Only because there wasn’t a lift!) Col went first (always the fall guy! 😂) but we negotiated it like champs and pretty sure there’s no residual PTSD! 

    Arriving at our cute and eclectic apartment in Salamanca, we discover we’re three stories up sans elevator!! Shitballs! Also, we think we’re gonna hafta do a second ship home of shite! (Slightly cheaper than buying a second suitcase and paying excess baggage!). 

    So we venture out in Salamanca for our reccy mission and find a splendid restaurant in Plaza Mayor where we order drinks and food…I had some delicious salty little nibble bits, but of course, my little friend had to explore the tripe option, which included snout and trotters! 👀 Eeewww! He invited me to partake and was disappointed when I declined. 😳 Sockets, gizzards and gelatinous shavings…I don’t f think so!

    To end a fab day, we discover ‘Doctor Cocktail’ in a gorgey little side lane off the main street. My first order was a ‘Michelada’ – Corona, clamato juice, lemon and salt. It was quenching and delicious. Col ordered a ‘Doctor Fleming’ which was imbibable penicillin apparently!  Damned if I know what was in it, but it was delivered tableside in a very elegant stainless steel flask, complete with a glass containing chunked ice. Contents of the flask: black label whiskey, sherry, lemongrass honey + ?. Hoo wee!  😄

    We stayed for their bar snacks which were the most delicious combo of salty, smokey paprika corn nibblets and various other (unknown) deliciousness and tiny bowls of lollies including raspberry/vanilla jubes. I swear if we were here any longer we would develop Ricketts and scurvy…who needs to eat real meals when drinks and snacks are this good?!? 😊 

  • The Pendulum Swingeth

    The Pendulum Swingeth

    Well, here we are in stunning Segovia and the pendulum has swung. We’re both now bunged up to Billy-o!! 😄 The dried fruit regime has recommenced (although Col is a late adopter…he’s not keen to venture back to Bumwee, Idaho anytime soon!) 😂

    We’ve had an active day covering 12k steps, drinking heaps of water (and other more interesting beverages) and had a delish lunch in the main plaza. And yet…there’s still no movement at the station! So now, we are both hoeing into handfuls of dried fruit like Hansel & Gretel abandoned in the woods! So far, just musical fruit and, trust me, after 72 hours of dysentery, it’s a brave, brave soul who allows a squeak to escape the cheeks! 😳

    Anyway, we’ve unwound the umbilical cord from our tour group and leader and are now free as birds to follow our own adventures. We (cleverly) booked train tickets, found our way to the station and caught the train from Madrid to Segovia this morning and we’re already so happy that we have four days in this delightful place. Our first impressions were just, wow! 🤩  For a city of 51k population, it’s the pocket rocket that really delivers! 

    We know from our tour through other parts of Spain and Morocco over the last three weeks that what we’re seeing is a mixture of Moorish, Roman and Christian architecture. The standout feature that dominates the landscape is a double tiered Roman aqueduct that runs through the valley and up to the old town. It was originally 15 kms long, stands over 28 metres high, has 165 arches and dates from the 1st century AD. It’s remarkably well preserved and also very photogenic…you just cannot take a bad snap of it! We’ve been under, around and above it today and photographed it from every angle.

    Day 2 we explored the Segovia Cathedral and the Alcazar, both outstanding. We climbed to the top of the bell tower at the Cathedral…every one of its 190 stone stairs. There was a fair amount of wheezin’, puffin’ and cussin’ (and then I told Colin to belt up and behave himself! 😄) but the spectacular view compensated for the effort. 

    There were just four of us on the guided tour of the bell tower, so it came as somewhat of a shock for the two of us to be sandwiched between two tour groups at the Alcazar. Every time I had my photo perfectly framed, some mofo would wander across my field of vision 😖 (that’s when Col started swearing again!)😂

    We are so enjoying being able to eat and drink normally again that we’ve gone a bit cray-cray! Mega litres of sangria have passed our lips. We’ve also discovered Kaspirinhas (no, not a Caipirinha). These are made with white rum, a dash of passionfruit syrup, fresh lemon juice and soda. Just delicious!! At €15 per round, we try to limit ourselves to just one each a day. We’ve enjoyed Patatas Bravas, omelettes, salads, croquettes, local cake delicacies, almond nougat and a swag of other deliciousness, including my body weight in olives (but they’re just soooo good) and mojito icypols (complete with alcohol)! We need to be protected from ourselves lest we roll off the plane on our return! 

    Also, now that we are not restricted by a timed itinerary, the plastic has taken a pounding! 😂😳

  • Gaudeamus v Giardiasis

    Gaudeamus v Giardiasis

    At high school, I studied Latin for a year in the 3rd Form. At the time I thought it was daggy as, and I couldn’t wait to dump it as an elective the following year. (Oh the folly of youth!) I’ve wished pretty much ever since that I’d kept it up for at least another year, if not two!

    Gaudeamus Igitur was our school anthem and the cool (read, naughty) kids did one of two things each time we sang it. Either: 

    a). Move lips to the words without making a sound. OR

    b). Shout every word at the top of your lungs.

    My preferred modus operandi was the latter. I would belt out the lyrics like my actual life depended on it, most often complete with opera diva head lifts and tilts and the occasional body tic for extra emphasis. After all, we were encouraged to sing Gaudeamus with gusto, particularly at sporting events and at prize giving. I can remember practically all the lyrics to this day, but I admit I misinterpreted the title to mean “greatness forever” rather than its real meaning, “let us rejoice”. 

    Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I’ve been researching the affliction from which I believe I am suffering. I suspect it’s a norovirus, as the majority of our tour group has reported similar symptoms at varying degrees of severity over the last week. Daily convos revolve around who’s gone done overnight. Gruesome comparisons of experience occur in hotel lobbies as we speculate on our chances of making it on the bus to our first comfort stop of the day unscathed. 

    Although I’ve pretty much ruled out Giardiasis as the cause, for some bizarre reason, each time I rush for the toilet (which is far too frequently for a normal human!) I hear the rousing refrain of Gaudeamus playing in my head… however the words have changed to “Giardiasis Igitur”, that in my mind translates to ‘giardia forever’, which seems pretty much like how long I’ve had this damn thing! 😄 I’m now into day 5 with Col following up a day or so behind me. Consequently, instead of enjoying the delights of Lisbon in beautiful weather yesterday afternoon, we caught the bus back to our hotel and went back to bed! (Well, there was also the fact that I upended the contents of my tiny espresso cup onto my top, forgetting I was holding it as I took a snap out the bus window).

    Light is at the end of the tunnel however, as last night I had a Telehealth consultation with a lovely young Spanish doctor who has prescribed me some meds. We picked them up at lunchtime today and have taken first doses. Fingers crossed. 🤞 

  • Sahara Sand in my Slides

    Sahara Sand in my Slides

    We had so much fun tonight…in fact, our whole day was amazing, but 4 wheel driving and riding camels in the Sahara Desert to catch the sunset was the highlight for sure. Such an awesome experience.

    I made the mistake of wearing my slides. Yes, it’s still those little slippy bastards…🙄 I haven’t had a chance to replace them yet (although there’s a chance I will at the market in Fez, which we’re visiting on Tuesday). 

    Instead of operating like snowshoes, (as I had imagined they would) the turds sank right into the sand, so I took them off and went barefooted. Felt fabulous. When we got back, I whacked them together before putting them in my suitcase…a couple of kilos of sand sifted out onto our hotel room floor! I can’t wait to frisbee the useless effers into oblivion!!

    Artfully tossing handfuls of sand for photos, I got heaps in my hair and, next morning, my ears were still full of it. We didn’t get back to our hotel from the desert until late and had dinner at 9.15pm, so I was too tired to wash my hair last night. Consequently, my head has felt itchy and gritty all day today. There’s a micro sand storm each time I scratch my scalp. 😂

    I’m also suffering from Camel-rider-groin. Like a number of the others, I take the opportunity to do adductor stretches at our rest stops. Unlike all the others, I have camel snot on the my shirt collar from Col’s camel giving me an earlobe snuffle.

    I have to take an opportunity to describe the antics of the annoying dickheads in our tour group… There’s Jangling Janice, who wears every silver bracelet she’s bought in her entire lifetime every day. This is somewhat of a bonus in disguise as it gives me the chance to exit, stage left, when I hear the jingle jangle! JJ just seems to be along on this trip to smoke and drink! 😳 she doesn’t participate in any trip activities and stays in the bus at most breaks…. Except if there are more super-cheap ciggies required to keep her going! Also, I can’t figure if she’s deaf or just super rude…She never responds to greetings or my convo prompts, rather looks right through me as if nothing just happened. Oxygen deprivation maybe?

    Then there’s no margin for speculation, Rhonda Right! Whatever the subject, Rhonda won’t rest until the unequivocal truth is made known to all. I made the mistake of ordering the same juice as her at lunch today. Rhonda:. “What juice do you have?” Me: “apple”. Rhonda: “it’s not apple”.  Later in the restrooms “it was apple and orange”! Yeah, rightio Rhonda, suck the joy outta life why dontcha.

    A few minutes later I reprimanded myself…Show some compassion you fool! Imagine the childhood that’s produced a person for whom being right is their complete raison d’être! 😳

    Oh, and The Rhino’s lunch was “disgusting”! Burnt and dry apparently. Could hardly eat a mouthful. Left it. Now, if you saw The Rhino 🦏 you might draw the same conclusion that I have. The Rhino could eat underwater! (And would also have a go at anything that didn’t try to eat her first!). 😄

    Ted the ex publican is a total tool. When we all arrived at our hotel in Erfoud, hot and dusty in the late afternoon, many of us donned our cozzies for a swim in the pool. Swimming and drinking are seldom a winning combination, but when Ted picked up a smallish, round mosaic topped table to move it into the shade for our drinks, thinking the top was attached to the wrought iron frame shit got real! That sucker was 8cm thick solid concrete and weighed a ton! It glanced across the back of his heel as it fell leaving a gash that bled profusely for some time. Luckily, it did not sever his Achilles tendon! 😳

    We visited Todra Gorge on Sunday where there were hundreds of local people out enjoying the late summer sunshine and paddling in the water. Lots were camped out in shady areas and looked as though they may have been there all weekend…in fact, some encampments look semi-permanent. Curiously, there were men sound asleep on gravel banks in the middle of the river, covered with blankets. The water was crystal clear, clear enough for Col to dip the tin cup hanging from a string into a small pool and take several sips. However, upstream a flock of goats, a few donkeys and a couple of dogs were sipping, swimming etc! Yum.

  • Russian Roulette at the Buffet

    Russian Roulette at the Buffet

    I made it to Seville unscathed, woo hoo…I truly thought I had dodged the bullet that took down so many of my compatriot travellers, but no….my gizzards have now also suffered the horrendous fate wrought by some plotting, microscopic pathogen. 😖😄

    Here I was, sharing cautionary advice about salads and cut fruit during the preceding days, before common sense escaped me and I let my own handbrake off! 😏 I can’t pinpoint whether it was the washed grapes at lunch in the Fez market (which I assiduously wiped clean and dry with a serviette) or the rather ‘gamey’ tasting baked eggs at the brekky buffet in the hotel (which I only swallowed one mouthful of before deciding they were horrid).  Either way, havoc is occurring in my alimentary canal!

    In my fevered dreams I imagine them, Cryppy and Pylo, having conversations about the success of their relative missions as they lurk in small puddles of excess oil in the breakfast scrambled eggs. Longing for a host of their own, they’ve witnessed the pool of their kind thin out over the last 24 hrs as scores of them have been scooped up by unsuspecting humans:

    C: “I’ve got a good feeling about tonight mate. I’ve set up camp with some other families in the green peppercorn sauce to accompany the lamb chops and I reckon I’m onto a winner!”

    P: “Good for you buddy! You’ve always been an adventurous spirit and I wish you all the luck in the world!” I’m staying in the scrambos, hoping for an indiscriminate fatty at brekky. I play the averages, as you know, and I think my best chance is this monster that I’ve spotted for a couple of mornings running, peering down at me with distrust. Today i’ll reel her in for sure!”

    And he got me good!

    I don’t think I’ve ever been so sick for so long! This is the third day and the pains in my  gurgling stomach with resulting bum wees don’t seem to be abating at all! 😳 Every organ in my body is in strife. It feels like I’ve been set upon by a gang of thugs and received a severe kicking. My kidneys ache and my stomach is wrenched and twisted.

    Yesterday afternoon at 2pm, Col and I had tickets to visit the Real Alcazar, so, with me in firm denial about my gastrointestinal affliction, and following a delicious lunch of gazpacho accompanied by a glass of rioja, we queued for entry about 15 minutes early. By the time we got to the front of the queue, I knew I couldn’t do it. 

    I stayed in the shady entry area sitting on a marble bench while I insisted that Col at least whip around and see it. Mistake! Nearly passed out a couple of times, gripping stomach pains, severe nausea…so desperate to get an Uber back to our hotel we tried to go out the ‘In’ and got shouted at! In bed by 3pm, not to move (except for frequent trips to the toilet 😳) until 8am today! And, despite being 38 degrees yesterday, I shivered so much during the afternoon/evening that I needed to drag a doona down out of the wardrobe and wrap myself up in it. 

    Shit eh! (Literally).

    Footnote: The daily regime of compulsory dried fruit is temporarily suspended for obvious reasons. 😳

  • Octopus Pants, Head Bags & Slippy Slides

    Octopus Pants, Head Bags & Slippy Slides

    We’re part of the ‘Back of the Bus’ crew… the cool kids who are a bit naughty and march to the beat of their own drum! We’ve had some running gags over the last few days down the back there, the most hilarious one (damned if I know how it started) is about me pimping out Col so I can buy more shoes and jewellery! 😂  Col, playing along, has intimated that it’s not only the ladies that he’s up for entertaining in return for cash, so you can possibly imagine the ripples of intrigue that were generated this morning when he turned up wearing his octopus pants! Only a very brave man who’s up for anything would wear pants such as these! 

    You see, today we visited the Mosque of Hassan ll in Casablanca and we were advised in advance that we should dress appropriately, ie no shorts, women with shoulders covered etc, so Col bought himself some lightweight pants, faux linen with a drawstring waistband, and he just happened to fancy a nautical cephalopod design. 😄

    The pants were a major hit with the team and drew many admiring comments.

    After our morning activities in Rabat, including a walk through a beautiful Medina and garden, we reboarded our bus for the drive to Casablanca. Col and I were first on the bus after our wander around. I was already seated as he passed me his tube of Voltaren, lowered his waistband of the occy strides and requested that I rub some of the anti-inflammatory cream into his aching buttock – a recurring issue that he’s been managing for many months (Gluteal Tendonitis).

    As Lester and Leanne (from Mooroolbark) moved down back towards their favourite seats (the row in front of us) I couldn’t resist glancing up at Lester and murmuring “he’s nearly ready”.  (Brought the house down). 😂

    The Mosque in Casablanca was incredible! As we entered, a chap intercepted us by handing out small crumpled cloth parcels. Leanne, Melanie and I all glanced down at the offerings in our hands, wondering what to do with them as no explanation was given. I believe it may have been my suggestion that they were head coverings at which stage, the other two duly pulled theirs on. I dropped mine back into the hopper as I had (cleverly I thought) worn a garment with a hood, which I pulled on. It was at that moment, with the three of us demurely covered with bags and hoods atop our heads, that the interceptor chap advised us to take off our shoes, put them in the bags provided and carry them with us for the duration of our visit! F moi! The ensuing laughter gave me a stitch! 😂😂

    My choice of footwear today was far from appropriate. I bought myself some slides from Temu to take away travelling. They are super lightweight, look adorable and are comfortable, taking up zero room in the suitcase…tick, tick, tick right? I also spun that wheel like a demon and got them down to $7.86 so how much better could these babies get? Nuh uh! They are assassin boots! 

    By the time I’d committed to these lethal little bastards, my other options were stowed away in my suitcase, three deep and six back under the bus, so there was no revising my choice option! 

    The first sign of trouble was walking the 500m across a marble courtyard to get to the Mosque of Hassan ll in Casablanca. Imagine wearing glass slippers on an ice skating rink…😳 That’s the level of purchase I had with terra firma. Several time throughout the day, I fought to remain upright, looking like one of those characters in cartoons, straight out arms flailing backwards in windmill circles fighting for balance while feet lurch and slip! Throughout the days I attempted various strategies including multiple tiny ‘lotus’ steps, a flat footed stance that must have looked positively Neanderthal and finally, a winning tactic of slightly higher than normal knee lift, pitch marginally forward from the waist and slow deliberate foot placement.

    I expect our tour group think I have heinous haemorrhoids!! 🤣

  • Freeway Frolics in Morocco

    Freeway Frolics in Morocco

    We’re currently on our tour coach headed from Granada to Algeciras to catch the ferry across to Tangiers. Excited!! 

    I still have a bit of the Black Lung, but getting incrementally better each day, largely thanks to the most evil tasting cough mixture ever formulated which, three times per day, I have to block off the back of my nose, toss back the measuring cup and perform a rapid follow up with a flavoured beverage or a tasty lolly to prevent spasms of revulsion regurgitating the foul brew! 😣 And then there’s the nasal catastrophe to contend with as well! I swear I’ve got close to exploding my left eardrum with the severity of force and the frequency of my nose-blowing, attempting to expel swags of snot, the volume of which being a constant surprise! 😳 Please make it stop!?!

    Eventually, we spotted the Rock, swung into the Algeciras port car park and boarded the humongous boat – it’s large enough to house fully laden container trucks on the upper  vehicle deck!  We didn’t get to see much during the hour long crossing of the Strait of Gibraltar though, as we spent most of the journey waiting in a queue to complete passport checks. But, we did share a delicious crispy hot roll filled with chicken and each had a cup of tea. 😋

    Arriving in Tangiers, Mikael, our Spanish tour leader, handed us over to Ismail our Moroccan leader, as he left us to meet with his next group who are walking the Camino. It’s quite amazing how bonded it’s possible to become to this person with whom you’ve spent a week, laughing, chatting, sharing stories and getting to know a little, and we were all sorry to see Mikael leave. We gave him huge cheers, claps and whistles in farewell.

    So now we have a smaller, less luxurious bus and a new person to learn to trust. Perfect recipe for the demons of discontent to rear their ugly heads…and they did. 🙄

    On our way to Rabat for the night, we stopped at the seaside town of Asilah for lunch. One of our party, who shall remain nameless, but who I have dubbed the Cantankerous Rhino (on account her being chunky, squat and thorny!) launched into a tirade about having to exchange euros for dirhum (being ripped off with the exchange rate, not receiving specific enough instructions etc) announcing loudly enough for all to hear: “he’s hopeless!” then circling the group to garner agreement. When CR began to whinge about the menu, the prices, the seating arrangements…. That was about it for me so I walked away to find somewhere else to eat, with Col and two others from our group following.

    We found a place further down the esplanade that served pizza (sorta) where the four of us were able to relax and enjoy our lunch. While we may have missed out on a genuine Moroccan meal, at least we dined without a barrage of fetid opinions! 😄 While we were eating, a little kid selling small packets of tissues (for the equivalent of 30c each) asked if he could have our last piece of leftover pizza. He rapturously gobbled it down sitting on the edge of the kerb.

    Back on the road heading to Rabat, I was amazed to note two things:

    The first was the huge amount of land dedicated to food crop production! Both sides of the road as far as the eye could see for nearly 150km was growing crops like tomatoes, avocados, bananas, watermelons, alfalfa…some in the open as well as countless hectares of hothouses. Ismail told us that around 40% of Morocco’s economy is centred on agriculture.

    The second thing is the very different behaviour practiced on freeways in our two countries. As with freeways in most parts of the world, here we’re talking 2-3 lanes each side, divided by a median strip – usually planted (mostly oleanders), low metal barriers along the edges…but unlike freeways elsewhere, it seems that pedestrians are a fairly common feature in Morocco!! 😳 I damn near choked on my Coke when I spotted an old man hobbling along the side of the freeway with his walking stick, k’s from anywhere, seemingly on his way home from a rendezvous.  15 minutes later, I watched a dude emerge from the median strip and stroll across the three opposite lanes, in no hurry at all, despite the fact that most of the traffic travels in excess of 120 kph!! Further along, a couple looked to be having a date night…backs to the freeway in the emergency lane, they chatted casually, gazing out over the fields, admiring the sunset (no vehicles in sight). Not long later, there was a dude sitting hopefully with his suitcase on the barrier…he must have been imagining a truck driver being able to spot him from 1km away in order to be able to slow in time to stop and collect him! 😄 But the best was a shepherd with a flock of goats grazing on the side of the ‘slow lane’ where there was no barrier, occasionally touching one of his animals with his long crook to prevent it lurching into the traffic.  Freeway/schmeeway…meh! 

  • Man Down in Valencia

    Man Down in Valencia

    The Compulsory Fruit Regime works a treat, only thing is, not really ideal when you’re 20 minutes into a 1.5 hour bus trip! 👀

    We’re starting to get to know our fellow touristas. There’s Helena and Nino from Dubbo, Peter and Sue-Ann from Sydney and Chalky and Rose (dunno where they’re from, but best names ever!). 😄 Everyone seems really nice but they’re all old folks! What the hey?! It’s so weird when you only feel 35 on the inside to realise that these ancient fogeys are your tribe now!

    I found me some chocolate popcorn at our mid morning roadside stop. Too full from brekky to tuck into it right away, but I’m excited for it later in the day! 👏 Our next stop is a town called (hilariously! Bridget, I’m looking at you…) Peniscola!! Miguel, our tour guide pronounces it “pen-IS-cola” with the emphasis on the iss…but we all know we are visualising dicks and brown fizzy drink in a shapely bottle! 😂

    Miguel tells us that Valencia is the paella capital of Spain so we will hunt down a goody tonight. There’s also a local cocktail found nowhere else but Valencia, called Agua De Valencia which consists of gin, vodka, sparkling wine and freshly squeezed orange juice. More about this later. 

    Meanwhile, back to our 2 hours in Peniscola where we stopped for lunch. So it’s the middle of the day and 38 degrees, but we needed some stuff from the pharmacy and supermarket, so we walked a couple of k’s back down the road to attend to our personal admin. On our way back towards the beachfront, who should we meet but Chalky & Rose, the latter sporting her new €8 hat which I admired. By now, both Col and I were sweltering, so we each bought a hat and then wandered to a bar on the beach for mojitos and a rando bag of chippies which constituted our lunch. 

    Our coach had been parked in the blazing sun all of this time so as we reboarded, (and I’ve noted the saturated back of Col’s tshirt) I made a rough estimate that the temperature inside the bus was probs 10 degrees higher than outside. Despite the aircon wheezing and huffing for our remaining journey to Valencia, it made no tangible difference. My €10 personal fan with usb charger purchased from Ale Hop during our lunch break started looking like a true stroke of genius about now! 😁

    Later last evening, after we were rested and refreshed, we caught a taxi to the old part of Valencia and got dropped at Torre Serrano – the ancient gates to the city. It was a beautiful evening to wander around admiring the large open squares, packed with families enjoying a relaxed Sunday meal (although, seeing little kids roaring about at 10pm when there’s school the next day was weird). We delighted in absorbing the atmosphere while admiring the stunning architecture until we were finally ready to have some drinks and find a good restaurant to have paella (apparently a decent paella is not available before 8pm!). It was still in the region of 30 degrees and we had 45 mins to kill so we decided it was time for some good ol’ Agua De Valencia. We downed our whole pitcher in less than 20 minutes and then ordered a bottle of Albariño to have with our seafood paella. 

    Not long after we started eating our scrumptious paella, I felt the Freight Train ‘o Booze swing into my station as our evening moved up a notch. I seem to remember us having a couple of misses finding a taxi home and having to walk a ways to the main gate again. The next bit was a blur, but when we got back to our hotel I paid the taxi driver and exited the vehicle while it seemed Col was dawdling. I doubled back to check out the hold up and was alarmed to see Col’s little leggies flailing about trying to make firm purchase with the ground. I took his arm to shepherd him towards the revolving door of the hotel just as the aforementioned legs went all Thunderbirdy and he subsequently faceplanted into the marble facade of the building! He just went full splat! The full sack of spuds! 😳

    Within seconds, there were various people there to help. Someone fetched a small bag of ice to help stop the bleeding from the bump on his head and the end of his nose (which fortunately wasn’t bent or broken). Some members of our tour group assisted me to help Col up and usher him inside to sit down. Reception staff called an ambulance in case his fall had been the result of a heart or brain malfunction, but within 10 mins it was clear that he was recovering and we cancelled the ambulance call out. 

    By this time, we had a reasonable group of our fellow travellers gathered in Reception to minister to poor Col who was still a bit pale, but just wanted to go to bed with no further fuss. 

    Curiosity amongst the group about the cause of the incident was still at an all time high this morning in the lobby at meet-up…speculation running rife. 😄 Some folks (correctly?) picked it for overindulgence in alcohol. However, we’d had overnight to workshop it and I sold it solidly this morning as the evil effects of dehydration! After all, there was evidence! The saturated t-shirt, the heat, the lack of adequate water consumption during the day, the inappropriate lunchtime nutrition…

    Maybe half of the group swallowed that version. 😂