Morocco

Dan, Andrew, Sean, Patrick, and I spent Wednesday, February 11th through Wednesday, February 18th travelling to and through Morocco. The impetus for the trip was incredibly cheap airfare Pat found ($160 per person, round trip). See the Wikipedia entry here for some of the basics on Morocco, including it's currency (dirham), capital (Rabat) and cuisine.

Our trip led us from Casablanca, south to Marrakesh, east through Atlas mountains and the Sahara beyond, back to Marrakesh, north to Rabat, and back to Casablanca. We rarely slept more than 5 hours, never stayed in the same hotel (or city) for two consecutive nights, and experienced Morocco as much as we could in 6 days.

I definitely recommend Morocco for people thinking of travelling to North Africa. Keep in mind, we did it cheap. Also, we missed Tangiers and Fez, which are supposed to be two of the most impressive cities in Morocco. Well-healed travelers could enjoy fine dining, luxury accommodations, and impressive beaches (especially along Morocco's Mediterranean coast) if they were so inclined. I enjoyed roughing it.

Wednesday, February 18th, 2009: Rabat, Casablanca, and the Trip Home

Wednesday morning we left Rabat at 7 am on our way to Casa. Our plan was to catch a half-hour tour of the Hassan II Mosque at 9:30 before our flight at 12:30. We made the mosque tour after the hour-long train ride, but not all of us would end up making the flight. The tour, my first time in a mosque, was excellent. In mosques you cannot wear shoes but are given booties similar to those provide by TSA at airport security checkpoints. It took six years of work, day and night, for the building to be completed. It was made almost exclusively from Moroccan materials. For a more complete review than I could possibly provide, see the wikipedia entry here.

After we left the mosque, things got interesting. First, we couldn't find a cab large enough to take us to the airport. In Casa there are white cabs and red, "petit" cabs. The petit cabs can only operate within city limits and unfortunately for us, the large white cabs do not drive by the mosque. After waiting for several minutes, we decided to take cabs to the train station where we know white cabs look for fares. Since the five of us could not fit in one petit cab with all of our luggage, we split up.

Sean, Dan, and Andrew got in the first cab while Patrick and I got in a second cab which arrived several minutes later. When Pat and I arrived at the train station, the other three were not there. We waited for over five minutes, figured they had already left and got in a white cab. At this point it was around 10:40. On the way to the airport I checked the flight status using my blackberry, only to discover the flight was at 12:05, not 12:30.

Patrick and I arrived at 11:15, got checked in and through security. It turns out our compadres had somehow arrived at the train station after we did, had briefly waited and then departed. They arrived at the airport at 11:30 and were not allowed to check in by the Iberia air staff, despite the flight's posted delay of half an hour. They had to wait in Casablanca two days before catching another flight. The fee they had to pay, 125 euros, was more than we paid for our entire tickets. Bummer city.

Tuesday, February 17th, 2009: Rabat, Morocco

Monday was a travel day. The most eventful part of the day was waking up the morning to find six of the camels had escaped. We rode our remaining camels back to the compound, with some people doubling up and some walking. The saddles were very uncomfortable with only one person, much less two. We then drove roughly 8 hours to Marrakesh.

In Marrakesh we stayed at a riad run by some Germans. It was a little more expensive than our previous lodgings, but a hot shower (the first in a three days for most of us) was great. We got to bed early that night and left for the train station at 6 am.

At 7 we got on a train to Rabat, the capital of Morocco. Rabat is on the northern part of Morocco's Atlantic coast. The train station is roughly in the center of the city, about a mile off the coast. We ate lunch at a cafe near the station and found a hotel just down the main drag, named after Morocco's beloved former king Mohammed V. After finding the hotel we walked towards the sea. On the way we walked through the market, a much more Western version of the market in Marrakesh. All the knock-off staples were being sold: fake sunglasses, hand bags, clothing, and watches. I assume this is due to its proximity to the sea.

After the market we stumbled into an expansive cemetery overlooking the sea. The graves were mostly above ground, in cement boxes. These boxes were presumably tailored to fit the size of the individual, many were small. Almost all of them doubled as flower beds, with a thin layer of soil on top.

The beach beyond the cemetery was very interesting. There were small pools with shells and occasionally fish leading up to the ocean. A gentleman with the longest on-shore fishing pole I have ever seen was trying his luck a hundred yards away from a group of boogie-boarders. As we walked up the beach it eventually turned into sand, but there were no girls in bikinis.

We then entered an old castle at the mouth of a river. Beyond the castle a mile or so was the Mausoleum of Mohammed V. In addition to the Mausoleum itself, with the tombs of Mohammed V and his sons (including Hassan II), the grounds included the tower of an unfinished mosque and the pillars that supported the building. After the Mausoleum, we split up. Patrick went for a walk around the market while the rest of us caught a cab to Chellah, an old Roman and Carthaginian necropolis on the outskirts of the city. The area was littered with storks, but was otherwise a nice break from the honking cars and exhaust of the city.

That night we drank beers, walked through the market, and eventually grabbed dinner at a Moroccan diner.

Sunday, February 15th, 2009: To the Sahara

Our first stop of the day was at a Berber village at the base of another gorge. The ground here was apparently fertile enough to grow crops, with a few hundred acre plots divided into portions just large enough for a single family. Our guide was friendly enough, showing us plots of alfalfa, pomegranates, and olives. Eventually, however, we were led into his family's rug shop and were peddled rugs at exorbitant prices for over an hour. We later learned the other group was given the exact same pitch (down to calling the tea "Berber whiskey").

PJ eventually called shenanigans on the whole event and we were returned to Rashid.

Rashid took us into a nearby gorge for lunch and to visit some more Berber roadside stands. People were selling rugs, scarves, and turbans. We all bought rugs for roughly $30 a piece. Lunch was good and at this point very similar to most other meals we had eaten.

We left gorge shortly after lunch and resumed our trip to the Sahara. Our next stop of note was at a fossil factory of sorts. Apparently Morocco is rich with fossils. Several stands hawked fossil-jewelry and geodes. This particular shop fashioned counter tops, dishes, and tables containing fossils of various shapes and sizes. This was Dan's favorite.

We then drove a short distance before leaving the road for a long, dirt trail. We drove on this trail for half an hour, passing camels and large sand dunes along the way. We eventually arrived at a large compound beside a lake. Down the hill from the compound was a small set of corrals with about 20 camels. We gathered our things, including a snowboard we rented on the spot, and climbed on top of the camels for the journey into the desert.

The camels immediately reminded me of Star Wars. They yelled deeply and loudly, just like the animal Hans and Luke cut open and used as shelter at the beginning of Episode 5. Earlier in the trip, we saw people that were undoubtedly the inspiration for Jawa costumes.

We rode the camels for roughly an hour into the Sahara as night was falling. The desert was surprisingly different from the landscape we had previously encountered. While the previous terrain reminded me of Arizona with small shrubs and brush on mostly bare ground, the Sahara was pure sand dunes. Some of the dunes rose several hundred feet and were quite massive. When we arrived at the small camp, we immediately climbed one of these large dunes. Being the only member of our group with any snow-boarding experience (though extremely limited), I was appointed to ride it down.

The board was in decent condition, certainly good enough to ride down a sand dune, but I did not have boarding-boots. My shoes were much too small for the bindings, making turning impossible. Thus, I crashed my way down the hill, tumbling whenever we I got going too fast.

That night we ate dinner with the entire group and got to know everyone a little better. We slept in Berber tents and used our saddle blankets for warmth. I suppose this is how cowboys of yore used to do it, but I had never imagined using saddle blankets as bedding material, much less camel saddle blankets. They stunk, but we were tired enough that we quickly got over it.

Saturday, February 14th, 2009: High Atlas Mountains

The lower Atlas Mountains

That morning we embarked on our 3 day, 2 night tour of the Moroccan countryside, Atlas Mountains and Saharan Desert. Our home was a black van with three rows of seats. Our guide was a good natured, roughly 30 year old Berber man (pronounced bear-bear) named Rashid. He we spoke some basic English (and hopefully not much more, for his sake) and was more of a driver than a guide.

We immediately ascended into the mountains. The mountains were barren and dark, with snow capped peaks (domes). People were walking the entire length of the pass through the mountains, some carrying packs, others not.

We stopped occasionally for pictures and refreshments. The stops were obviously pre-arranged, with some businesses displaying the travel company's logo on a window. Rashid was warmly greeted wherever we went. We eventually found that we (unsurprisingly) paid a higher price for most items as a result. However, most things were very cheap even after the mark-up.

The High Atlas Mountains

While we booked a private 5-person tour, we soon discovered we were accompanied by a mini-bus of fifteen or so other people. They hailed from the United States, England, France, Holland, Hong Kong, and Germany. It was initially fairly awkward interacting with them. Essentially, they were on the same tour as us only they had a larger group. They would eat at the same restaurants, only at larger tables. They would make the same stops, but would all ride around in a bus as opposed to a van.

After passing through the mountains, we drove to a secluded kasbah (description of kasbahs here, familiar song here). The kasbah was apparently the main source of income for the community. A large donkey cartel served those attempting to cross the shallow river separating the community from the kasbah itself. Children of various ages as well as their leader offered round trip rides for 20 dirham. AC was wearing sandals and forded the river both ways. Sean also waded on the way to the kasbah, but shared a donkey with me on the way back. Dan's ride on the way back from the kasbah was hilarious. Dan (6'3") was on the shortest donkey of them all, with his feet almost dragging in the river. This picture was taken by one of the "others" before we had met them (he thought it was too hilarious to pass up).

Andy

Dan, a little boy, and a donkey. Usually these ingredients lead to something different.

Sean and I atop the kasbah, overlooking the village

Dan, in front of the Kasbah

We were rushed on our visit, so Sean, Dan and I literally ran the last half of the ascent. Pat and AC did not bother rocking the kasbah all the way to the top. The top of the kasbah commanded a view of the Atlas Mountains to the North and a rocky, barren terrain in all directions. Our return down the hill, also at a gallop, emphasized the extremely modest living conditions of the kasbah's inhabitants. The rooms had dirt floors and the walls were made of clay and straw. While many of the homes were obviously uninhabited, some were not.

On the roof of a building in the kasbah

Children begged us constantly on the trip. The kasbah was no exception. When we stopped later in the day, kids begged for enough money to buy footballs. Usually under the watchful eye of a parents, at times it was difficult to sort the needy from the merely resourceful. On one occasion outside a McDonald's in Rabat, a boy asked me for some fries. When I gave him one or two he more or less laughed in my face and went to show his friends. It didn't exactly endear me to give more.

The restaurant we ate at after the kasbah was satisfactory. We had arguably the best prepared Moroccan salad of the trip, served with olive oil and bread. However, the chicken brochette (essentially chicken on a stick) tasted like chicken nuggets.

Moroccan salad

After lunch we drove the remainder of the afternoon to the Dades Gorge. The countryside between was barren and dotted with the occasional small town. People in these towns seemingly walked everywhere, often long distances, though some had motorbikes, cars, donkeys, or horses. Women here dressed much more conservatively than in any of the cities we visited, covering their entire bodies except the hands and part of the face. The poverty was overwhelming at first, but after several hours of driving through villages of varying levels of destitution, we were sadly dulled to it.

The drive into the gorge was excellent. We followed a windy river through broken earth and weathered rock formations.

Our hotel in the gorge reminded me of Volcano House of the Big Island of Hawai'i. It was heated only with portable propane units. None of the rooms had any of these, only the hallways. The view, however, was impressive. It overlooked the river and looming rock walls on either side. We of course decided to go climbing. The climb was difficult in places due to loose rock and prickly plants, but was overall not terribly difficult. That being said, three of us (not to be named) quit after fifteen minutes of climbing and crawled back down. The other two surely would have continued longer were it not for the impending sunset.

At dinner we finally ate with the other group. We sat next to a Londoner and his two children of roughly 8 and 10. The kids were entertaining and intelligent. We were on our best behavior for the first time in the trip, slipping only one "that's what she said" into the conversation. Dinner consisted of tagine, oranges, couscous, and bread. Not overly filling.

That evening we met the two Americans in the big group and shared houkah with them while listening to some of the Berbers play drums. They were both teaching English in France and were on one of their many mandatory vacations.

In the morning we drove out of the gorge and continued north and east towards the Sahara.

Friday, February 13th, 2009: Marrakesh, Morocco

At 5:30 a.m. Friday morning most of us were woken by the first Muslim call to prayer. Just in case you don't feel like going to the mosque, they bring the mosque to you. Every pause prompted a sigh of relief ... which was immediately followed by a muffled groan of disgust when the next prayer song began. This lasted roughly an hour.

Breakfast was provided by the hotel and consisted of warm eggy-bready crepes, bread, jam, butter, and mint tea or coffee. Mint tea is the national beverage of sorts of Morocco. We took a cab to the Voyageur train station, thought we were 15 minutes late catching the train to Marrakesh and ended up being half an hour early.

Andrew, Sean and Dan at the Casablanca train station

First class tickets for the three and one half hour train ride were 125 dirham ($15). The first hour was foggy, but the fog eventually lifted, revealing sparsely vegetated green hills and pastures. Western South Dakota is ubiquitous. Shepherds tended to flocks of sheep and the occasional several head of Holstein-looking cattle. Large cactus, a rather ingenious combination of hedgerow and barbed wire, were used as fences.

We arrived in Marrakesh shortly after noon and rode in another old Mercedes cab to the "Heart of the Medina Hostel." Marrakesh is home to just over 1 million people and is best known for it's large square, Djemaa el Fna.

Our hostel was located in the medina just to the east of the main square. After drinking some complimentary mint tea, we walked a short distance to our room. The room consisted of five narrow beds, extremely firm, with one blanket per bed. There were two toilets: one sitter, one squatter. The shower was pretty standard.

The medina consisted of windy, narrow paths between shops crowded with sundry worthless trinkets, Berber slippers, clothing, rugs, scarves, all being sold by overly aggressive hawkers. Street-meat venders offered hard boiled eggs, grilled kabobs, and frites.

We lunched at a cafe overlooking the square. We shared couscous (which originated in Morocco), tagine, frites, tomato based Moroccan salad, olives, and bread. The tagine, couscous, and salad were delicious. I saw a guy with a Twins cap in the restaurant, meant to approach him to compliment his good taste, and forgot. Compared to the part of Casablanca we visited, Marrakesh had far more Westerners.

Above is tagine served in it's traditional ceramic pot. It is actually baked/steamed in the pot, in this case the tagine consists of chicken, frites and olives. Next to it are brochettes of lamb, baked chicken, and in the distance vegetable couscous.

Fresh orange juice is served in many locations for between 3 and 5 dirham. We each grabbed one from a vender outside the restaurant and began to explore the square. Almost immediately we were harassed by snake and monkey handlers. Sean had a snake put on his neck without warning. When we returned later, the same thing happened to me.

Dan drinking OJ at one of the ubiquitous stands

The Snake with a snake around his neck (his neck is in my hand). 

We left the square and headed for the city's largest mosque, the Koutoubia mosque. When you start with the second largest mosque in the world, subsequent mosques naturally seem less impressive. The trash strewn about the garden area didn't help. The fountains and small canals were empty and similarly littered (it is winter, after all).

We then walked for roughly two hours, picking up pastries and glass bottle cokes made with real sugar on the way. We ended up at a rooftop bar/cafe and had a round of San Miguels. Morocco was an expectedly difficult place to find alcohol (at least where we went). We welcomed the beers and the view. This part of town, to the south of the square, was home to a large population of white storks. They nested on the walls of El Badi Palace and were thought to be good luck.

Stork on the castle walls

We returned to the main square around sundown and decided to sup at one of the square's food stands. Roughly fifty full service small restaurants, complete with waiters, benches and chefs had been erected side-by-side in the center of the square. The waiters were typically aggressive and many spoke English very well. We eventually chose the stall with the most locals and the least aggressive waiters on the logic that a) locals know what is good and b) you don't have to be as aggressive if the food speaks for itself.

Me after giving the kids some hand sanitizer (but before they lifted my bill?)

As soon as we sat down small children began begging us for food, money, and sips of our cokes. As we had mixed rum in our cokes and were generally tired of being harassed, I ended up giving them only a few dollops of hand sanitizer, which they could not figure out what to do with. They ran and asked their mothers, now revealed to be standing nearby, who were similarly confused. It turned out, they repaid my generosity by lifting roughly 200 dirham from my pocket. I offer sanitation and this is what I get in return.

Restaurant stall

Andrew and Sean eating snails

After our dinner of grilled meats and frites, we visited a snail stand. I didn't care for them, but Sean and Andy did. At this point, no doubt hearing we were easy marks and urged on by Dan feeding them snails, we were surrounded by little boys and girls.

We eventually made it to one of the couple dozen dried fruit and nut stands. Pistachios were 80 dirham/kilo and dried apricots were 60 dirham/kilo. We bought some of each. Afterwards, we got milkshakes at a cafe with an elevated view of the square before heading out in search of tobacco shisha. We ended up learning no one in the medina had shisha on hand, so we began to return to our rooms for the night.

Dried Fruit Stand

Restaurant stalls in the square from the rooftop ice-cream parlor

On the way home, Patrick decided to enter an arcade filled with local teenage and twenty-year-old Moroccan men. He was immediately propositioned for hashish and other drugs and quickly left. Several of the young men followed and Patrick asked if they could find us shisha. Of course they said they could and began leading us down a street.

Upon reaching our hostel lobby, we tried told them we did not want to walk any farther and thanks anyways. They pursued, eventually demanding payment from us. When we refused one of them got quite belligerent, shoving Patrick and saying rather unpleasant things about what he would like to do to our mothers. Our hostel manager came out and convinced him to leave, but not before the young gentleman told us to "watch out." Nothing else happened, although a very loud, very drunk person tried to get in the hostel in the middle of the night.

Thursday, February 12, 2009: Casablanca, Morocco

Our trip began slowly. We were originally to depart from Ronald Reagan National Airport at 3:40 p.m. on Wednesday heading to Boston. Instead, the plane was delayed getting into DC and we were shuttled to Dulles for an 8:30 p.m. non-stop Iberia Air flight to Madrid. The flight was half full. The business and first class seats were completely empty.

The economy, man. What a bummer for the airlines.

Iberia jet in Casablanca

We got into Madrid just before 10 a.m. local time, 4 a.m. EST. Our connection at 10:30 a.m. to Casablanca was delayed, leaving us enough time to pick up three liters of duty-free hooch.

Our flight from Madrid to Casablanca was pleasant enough. I discussed, or more accurately, was told the meaning of life by a jovial Nigerian man sitting beside me. Mostly speaking in Beatles lyrics, he pontificated on the characteristics of money (wealth); namely, its coming and going and inability to buy happiness (and presumably love).

After arriving in Casablanca, we stocked up on the Moroccan currency, the dihram. The exchange rate is roughly 8.65 dirhams per dollar. We all took out about 1500 dirhams ($175). I enjoy carrying foreign currency as they are almost universally more interesting than American dollars in design and size. The dirham is no exception. Andrew, keeper of random trivia, told us that the the export of the dirham is prohibited by law. This is confirmed by Wikipedia here.

Andrew and Dan at a cafe in Marrakesh. The bills on the table range from a 50 to 1,000 dirham bills.

After unsuccessfully talking any cabbie down from 300 dirham, we left Mohammed V airport the airport crammed into an old Mercedes-Benz complete with bungee cords to keep the trunk closed. The road into town was initially empty and then crowded with cars of all sorts. We saw a lone donkey grazing by the road, a few flocks of sheep and their shepherds (warning: some bad language), and several fairly rundown buildings. As we approached the city, the air became increasingly polluted and the sky more hazy.

We passed a bus with its transmission below and people sitting along the road. Traffic was chaotic. Cars drifted in and out of lanes. Everyone reminded everyone else their Peugeot 205 came fully equipped with a standard horn. There were few traffic lights and while we saw police responding to several fender benders, very few seemed to be attempting to prevent them.

Crammed in a cab from Mohammed V Airport into Casablanca

Our hotel, the Central Hotel, was on the edge of an old crowded part of town by the sea called the medina. From our window we could see the harbor and ocean, warships, tankers, and cranes. The staff was friendly and they provided towels (something we weren't sure about).

View from our hotel-room balcony

Casablanca (Dar-el-Beida on a Moroccan map) is perhaps unsurprisingly a city of white buildings. Over 3 million of Morocco's 34 million people live in Casa (pronounced kah-zah), making it the largest city in Morocco.

View from our hotel's rooftop

We ate lunch at a French seafood restaurant a few blocks from our hotel. The menu was in French and the waiter spoke very little English. We were lucky to only have one mix up when ordering. In retrospect, it was pretty clear what went wrong:

Dan: I'll have the scallops.
Waiter: Scallops, Ok. Steak?
Dan: What?
Waiter: Steak?
Dan: Scallops, yeah.
Waiter: Ok, yes. Steak?
Dan: Yeah?
Waiter: Ok.

Waiter: Sir?
Sean: I'll have the same.
Waiter: The steak?
Sean: Yeah, the scallops.
Waiter: Ok.

This was the result.


The rest of the food was similar to some of the seaside food we had on the Mediterranean coast of Spain this summer. Small fried fishes (three kinds), fried whole shrimp and calamari were served as appetizers. The local beer, simply "Casablanca beer," was a decent lager. The main course for the reste of us was an earthy (as in, it tasted of dirt) white fish, perhaps monk fish. It was served with ratatouille and a baked tomato.

Seafood platter

Following dinner we walked to the Hassan II mosque, named after the King Hassan II, father of now reigning Muhammed VI. It is the second or third largest mosque in the world and was completed in 1993 after only six years of construction. As with all buildings of this nature, pictures do not do it justice.

Hassan II Mosque

After visiting the mosque we walked through the medina back to the hotel. We sat on the roof of the hotel and had drinks.

Drinks on the rooftop

We then did what American tourists in this city must do: head to Rick's Cafe by the sea. Rick's, based on the bar in the movie Casablanca (trailer here), is actually only six or seven years old. It was built in the style of the movie and in different parts of the bar/restaurant the movie is on constant repeat. We watched most of the movie while sipping the most expensive beers we would have in Morocco.

Sean in Rick's

On the way home we had our first encounter with Moroccan street food: a mystery meat sandwich that cost us 7 dirham. Dan complained for two days after, but the rest of us were too manly to follow suit. It was cheap, not too bad, and didn't make us sick. Success.

General (Random) Observations of Hong Kong

Hong Kong rain. The constant drips from air conditioners are disgusting. For some reason, the public housing people do not like central air. As such, window air conditioners are everywhere.

No napkins. In any native restaurant, you are not given napkins. In one of the particularly authentic Chinese joints, they actually made us pay for "menthol" napkins. There was no TP either.


No clear right of way. Pedestrians are not yielded to by cars or other pedestrians.

People walk slowly. They rarely walk up or down the escalator. They walk slowly on moving walkways. Maybe I was just used to DC, but for a metropolitan area it was a little annoying.

Stinky fruit is overwhelming. Someone ate a durian on our floor, which is against hotel policy, and our entire floor stunk. We actually called the front desk and complained about a gas leak. They were somewhat amused when they arrived and told us it was a fruit. Click on the link above (the underlined word durian) and read some of the descriptions of the smell.

Bloomberg is the best TV show here for english speakers. We all agreed on this, so it's not just Mom and Dad's influence on me.

Can tops are pull-tabs. Is this the British influence? We only had one pull-tab mishap.

In official walking areas, you are forced to walk on the left. Almost everywhere else they walk on the right.

British influence is very noticable in the city. From buildings to restaurants to widely spoken English, you can tell the Brits were here for 100 years.

Hideous public housing everywhere. And since 50% of the people live in public housing, you are constantly looking at public-skyscrapers.

Nearly constant 95% humidity. It makes DC seem like a desert.

Public transport is fast, clean, efficient, and air-conditioned. Their metro is far superior to DC's. We never had to wait more than 2 minutes for a train, and the service area was pretty extensive.

Overwhelming odors. Hong Kong is a very smelly city. This is probably just a typical Western response to Asian odors.

There are dozens of hookers in every expatriate bar at night. Is that cute girl really dancing with you? Yep. And those flashy red pumps she's wearing aren't as good for dancing as you'd think.

No open container laws. The more I think about it, the more open container laws (while walking) don't make any sense.

Ubiquitous 7-elevens.

American sailors are seemingly everywhere when U.S. gunboats and carriers are docked. Who do you think the hookers were following around?

Beers are cheap at gas stations, but expensive at bars. And by expensive I mean generally more expensive than bars in DC, while beers are less than a dollar per beer at gas stations and grocers.


Night markets. Thriving cheap and illegal goods sales. Fake watches and pirated DVDs abound. Though, they are cracking down on designers shoes and handbags.

Monday thru Thursday

On Monday, Sean Flynn and I went to a Buddhist nunnery and garden before out second suit-fitting that afternoon. The garden and nunnery are in the middle of the city, surrounded by skyscrapers and honking cars. It is no doubt a welcomed escape from the city for many Hong Kongers.

We went to our suit-fitting that afternoon, before grabbing some lunch and heading back to the hotel. We ate (for the second time) at a "local" Chinese restaurant. We had to point at the pictures and our servers new no English. Once again, we left hungry. The chicken was definitely undercooked and the pork was nearly all fat. The noodles we ordered were of lesser quality than ramen noodles. We did manage to eat all of the fried rice.


That night we hiked Victoria Peak. It is about a 1.5 mile hike, with the first half much steeper than the second. With the humidity, we were soon bathed in sweat. At the top, we grabbed a bite to eat and watched Hong Kong's signature light show. It was very cool. We later found out that virtually nobody walks it as most take the tram or a taxi.

On Tuesday we went to Lantau island to the world's largest outdoor seated bronze Bhudda (could there be any more qualifiers?). According to custom, we ate at the vegetarian restaurant below the Bhuda which is presumably run by the monks. After lunch we got to watch several monks praying and did our best to appease Bhudda by lighting some incense. The Buddhists are big on incense. The Bhudda is on the top of a very high peak in Lantau, and it was foggy all day. As such, we only caught glimpses of him until we got up close. It was fairly impressive, but less so once we found out it was built less than 15 years ago.

On Wednesday we met with an official from the US consulate. He gave us a very interesting presentation on the commercial prospects for both Hong Kong and China. More importantly, he gave us some bar and restaurant recommendations. That evening we went to Soho and grabbed dinner at an Italian restaurant (you can only eat so much Asian food before you need some real food) and grabbed some beers at a Cuban restaurant complete with pictures of Che and Fidel. That night some of us went out in Lon Qui Fong, a bar and restaurant district. It was actually inundated with American sailors from the USS Nimitz.

On Thursday the group split. My half of the group - Luke, Sean, and I - went into the hinterlands. We started out the day at a walled city museum before heading out to some actual walled cities. Before heading further into the New Territories, we tried another native Chinese restaurant. Suffice to say we do not need to try that again. The spicy beef was mainly fat and the spring rolls were much too greasy. The noodles were OK until Sean added too much spicy stuff. The staff laughed at us and tried to give us forks, which Sean and I refused, but Luke accepted.

The actual walled city we visited was more or less a ghetto. The trail we walked along, described by Frommers as "wonderful", was better described as seedy. There was raw sewage running in grates along the streets and some of the residents were living in what were more or less tin shacks. It stunk everywhere. The temples and halls we saw were interesting and old (many more than 600 years old) if only because they were in the middle of such destitute poverty. We all agreed it was good to see this side of China.

When we returned, we quickly ran to the night market when we returned before coming back and getting some Pizza Hut and drinking some beers. We called it an early night as Friday will be a big day.

Macau

On Sunday we went to Macau, the second of China's two Special Administrative Regions. A Portuguese colony for around 400 years, it is now the gambling hub of Asia. Last year, its gambling revenue surpassed the Las Vegas strip and it continues to grow at a fast pace. The gambling revenue statistic is misleading, however, as Macau's has around 13,000 hotel rooms compared to Las Vegas's 130,000. Furthermore, gambling revenue only accounts for 40% of Vegas's revenue while it makes up virtually all of Macau's.

We took a 45 minute "Star Ferry" from Hong Kong at around eleven on Sunday. After getting through customs, we were in the Sands Macao by about 1:30. We ate at their buffet, which was amazing. I had been craving the tasty deserts in the windows of bakeries in Hong Kong. I finally got a chance to sample them en masse. The pork, sushi, oysters, shrimp, and other seafood was good. I have avoided poultry while here, not because of a risk of catching one of the many avian flus, but because it tastes and looks disgusting. It usually has a yellowish skin attached with a bone and some blood vessels underneath. I usually can't even tell what part of the chicken it's from (maybe the goiter).

After losing $10 at the Sands and buying/drinking some cocktails (they do not serve free drinks to gamblers), we started hitting up some of the tourist sites including the ruins of a cathedral, an old Portuguese fort, and the Macau tower. It was ungodly hot. In addition to the constant 95% humidity (that is not an exaggeration), it was sunny and still. The most interesting part of the day (and the vacation thus far) came at the Macau Tower. Here is an excerpt on the tower from Wikipedia:

The tower measures 338 m (1,109 ft) in height from ground level to the highest point. An observation deck with panoramic views, restaurants, theaters, shopping malls and the Skywalk X, a thrilling walking tour around the outer rim. It offers the best view of Macau and in recent years has been used for a variety of adventurous activities. At 233 meters, the Macau Tower's tethered "skyjump" and Bungy Jump by world renowned AJ Hackett. [1] from the tower's outer rim is the highest in the world.

With Sean Flynn pushing us to do it, five of us decided to do the highest bungee jump in the world. At $888 Macanese Potacas (Asians, or at least Hong Kongers, believe 8 to be good luck), around $100 American, it was something we had to do. It was pretty amazing. The first 50 meters is a pure free fall, which means for just over 5 seconds you feel like you have just jumped headfirst off of a 233 meter tower in China. The worst part was after it was over and you were hanging by your feet. It took them a while to lower you to the inflated pad below.

From left to right: Me, Drew Peterson, Trip Leader Andrew Christianson, Luke Sharpe, and Sean Flynn. Most of us were wearing sandals, so they gave us some very stylish shoes to wear for the jump.

After the tower we had what has been one of the best meals of the trip at Fernandos, a Portuguese restaurant. We had clams, suckling pig, and roasted chicken with tomato salad, french fries, and bread. We also enjoyed some sangria and vino verde. After dinner, we returned to Hong Kong.