Asolo

Hotel Villa Cipriani. This is located in the small Italian town of Asolo.

Getting there was less of a problem than I thought it would be.  Just the usual puzzles with the Italian Railway system.  From previous experience we knew you have to validate your tickets, as there are no conductors to punch them. You just stick them in little boxes in the train station, taking care to put them in and move them to the left, a point not that obvious to non-Italians.

The plan was to go from Mestre to a small town called Castelfranco, then get a taxi from there. The ticket office lady initially never seemed to have heard of Castelfranco, but after about three repeats, she gave me tickets, cheap at 3.50 Euros each. Anxious watching of stations later, we got off and staggered up an down the usual stairs with heavy suitcases.

We were concerned that the taxi drive would be long and expensive, like 100 Euros.  It turned out to be 50, so that was pleasing.

Throwing economic caution to the winds, we had lunch at the hotel. A delight it was too, with views over the country hills.

 This pic is of a road South of Asolo, where we headed in the wrong direction.

The next day was dedicated to a Lavenda or Laundromat expedition to a place about 3km away. A beautiful walk down a wooded hill road, disturbed only by the odd car and lots of cyclists, who all looked retired. 

Unfortunately I did not study the map too closely, and paid the price of over shooting the town and walking 2extra ks  in the hot sun. Eventually corrected by a friendly person who gave us a lift. We got the mini bus back thank god. See the pic above!

Ever tried to use a laundromat in a foreign language? A bit of a puzzle, but we got there in the end.  Day off tomorrow.

Off the ship

This is the Al Vivito Hotel in Mestre (hidden behind the umbrella).

 

Al Vivito Hotel.  That is where we are now.  We were not allowed on the ship because I had a cold.  A bit of a worry this, because I have had a cold for about the last three weeks, the perfect accompaniment for a holiday. Driving poor Rose nuts with a continual dry cough.  Must  be the Moroccan air. Maybe.

This hotel is in Mestre, which is a small town near Venice. 

A miracle happened in Barcelona, they found our missing bag!

So, as someone said, how did we find the Sagrada Familia?  Turned left at Barcelona that's how. By the time the bag fun was done, we had about two hours to see Barcelona, so got a taxi to see Gaudi's masterpiece.

Sorry, but I seem to be an architectural grinch.  Sure it was large, and it had towers, just like in the photos, but I felt strangely unimpressed.  Maybe if it was painted, because right now the yuck brown finish does nothing for it.

There was a queue to get inside, so flagged that one away.

We walked back to the hotel, via La Rambla, quite nice.

The hotel advises us not to carry cameras or handbags, as there is a 100percent chance you will get robbed exiting the hotel. I hope NZ never gets this bad. Ripped off by the taxi going to the airport, and my impression of Spain is "don't want to come back here!"  Maybe it is my imagination but they seem to have an attitude problem. Maybe they just don't like foreigners.

What's next?  Six days in Asolo, an old village not far from here. Then back to Venice to this hotel for another two nights so we can see Venice.

We are now sitting drinking coffee in the square in Mestre, and it is most relaxing.  The Italians seem to have a better attitude and things here seem very relaxed and civilised. Apart from the odd beggar.

What a silly thing to do......

Marrakech to Casablanca was a pretty flat trip, and not spectacular compared to previous legs of the trip. I'm afraid I complained about Casablanca on a previous post, so I have to backtrack and say that coming in from a different direction poses a different picture. Or is it just the rich part of town, by the seaside?  Anyway, they have a very nice beach frontage, and we could not resist going to Macdonalds for lunch.  Delicious.

This is outside one of the largest mosques in the world, in Casablanca.

Our flight back was at 12.10 pm so we  thought the best option was to take the 6.15 am shuttle to the airport as the guide said it would be crowded. 

Much long winded waiting later, we finally arrived at the check out counter, just then a two men seemed to arrive from the queue to the left, and he said would it be ok if he got in front of us. As we were not in a hurry, and he somehow gave the impression that he had been in the wrong queue and needed to go urgently, we said ok, go ahead.  I thought queuing was a peculiarly English thing. 

Turns out the Moroccan French have strict expectations on this.

The woman with a husband and baby behind us went insane at this, with a lot of shouting and screaming.  The security guy right there, just looked on and did nothing. In the end the guy was not processed, and I went forward to the desk.

There was a commotion behind me, but I concentrated on checking our bags in. Rose told me that the woman chased after the queue jumper and gave him a good slap on the face. A fisticuffs ensued, only stopped by the security guards. The rest of the queue seemed to be on the woman's side big time.

Rose reckoned it made her day.  If only she knew what was to come.

For some reason, God saw fit to let us land safely in Barcelona, but then decided we needed to lose a bag.  In my obviously faulty wisdom I had chosen to keep the boat and train tickets in that bag.  Not a good plan as it turned out, because it had the hotel voucher for Barcelona in there too.

Step one, go to lost luggage department. Boarding passes, etc given over, ok, what hotel are you staying at?  Don't know, it is in the lost bag. The upshot is we got a piece of paper to say we were coming back at 1 pm the following day and were able to get out of the arrivals area, to decide our next move.  Having a bit more time now, I got onto a computer in the business centre, and booked us in for a night at the Tryp Airport Hotel.  I thought that should be a cheap taxi, and the meter read about 7euros, then he says all trips from the airport minimum 20 euros. Hmff. This hotel is a minimalist delight, very clean.

As a person now needing clean laundry each night, I was delighted to find that hotels provide a nice little sink next to the toilet, for doing your laundry in. Only thing is that could have been mounted a little higher. For drying, they have one mounted on the wall for drying things, although they usually do not have a lot of horsepower.

With a bit of luck we might be able to see the Sagrada Familia after all.

Marrakech Day 2

Not a big day, just a quick tour of the city, and a visit to the souk, a local market.  A crowded and vaguely interesting place. Rose bought a hat, and some bits of bling. Some snake charmers who drove me to give them a wide berth due to their loud pipe music. Lunch at an Italian restaurant, a visit to a silver shop then back home to the hotel, for a rest.

Farewell dinner at the hotel. We travel on back to Casablanca on the 6th, not a place I am looking forward to seeing again, then fly out early on the 7th to Barcelona.

Ouarzazate to Marrakech

Leaving Ouarzazate, we wound our way up into the high Atlas Mountains. Wonderful if you do not suffer from car sickness-or bus sickness, which it seems I do.

After grabbing incoming wasps against the window with tissue paper, it was necessary to put the squashed wasps in the bin at the back of the bus. Which for some reason made me feel even more queasy, so I did not really appreciate the wonderful mountain scenery.  

At one point we were 6500 ft above sea level,  with spectacular views of barren mountains.

A shortish trip luckily, and we are now ensconced at the beautiful Le Meridien N'tfis  Marrakech Hotel.

The gardens are beautiful, with fountains in the 30-35 degree heat.

We chose not to do the optional tours, so it is nice just to relax and do nothing for a change. 

In a previous post, I was reminded by someone that it is St Pancras, not St Pancreas.  Probably my hypochondriac side kicking in.

Also it is K'sar, not K'sir.

Erfoud to Ouarzazate

A rough day this one.  Rose still loves the scenery, but these little Moroccan villages we drive through all seem pretty much alike to me.  The landscape is even more barren and  mars like.  A long day travelling, up early and on the way by 8.30am, arriving at Ouarzazate at 6.30pm. 

Along the way our first stop was at a Ksir, a walled community of houses, a bit like the Medina, but with a lot less people.  This is a dying community as all the young ones

are moving to the cities. Each family has a plot of land nearby, where they grow palm trees for dates and other crops as well.

Next, we turned off the main road and went up a long and winding road to a place called the gorges.  Very scenic with a shallow river running through it, with big rocky cliffs high in either side.  Lots of families paddling in the river.

We are sitting near the front of the bus today , so we get a good view of the road we are travelling down. A few frights along the way as the bus is wide and the road is narrow. 

Our hotel is magnificent, The Berbere Palace. I would love to stay here 2 days,  but this us not to be.

Fes to Erfoud

The Berber village turned out to be on a hillside, and there did not seem to be any cave like houses.  We were on a visit to a family that had a cave, but an ordinary house on top as well. Our host was called Muhammad, and took us into the cave part, and gave us all a cup of mint tea.  This is very tasty stuff.

He explained how many generations of his family had lived in the cave part, but this probably will not continue.  The usual kids running around on the way out,the girls ok, boys being boys.

This is Muhammad

This is Ifrane

The next day, off to Erfoud.  Leaving Fes, we climbed over the low Atlas Mountains to a small town called Ifrane, which is a French ski town. As it is summer there is no snow, so pretty quiet.

This next photo was I believe one of the best I have ever taken.  Not through any artistic prowess on my part though.  I happened to be just standing up in the bus and snapped off what ever I saw.
To my amazement a wonderfully composed picture was captured: Here it is, some small town in Morocco:

  Then came the amazing scenery. A bit like the desert road or the desert in Arizona. Then over the high Atlas Mountains. Now we are in the Kasbah Hotel in Erfoud.  So far this tour has exceeded my expectations, the highlights are so far being the trip  into the medina in Fes, and going over the high Atlas Mountains.