Moroccan Surf

After the long drive from Marrakesh we arrived on the coast just before dark. Although it was too late to surf, we had just enough time to run down to the beach to see if the forecasted swell had arrived. For any surfer who’s been away from the ocean for any amount of time, even a few days, there’s always a sense of excitement when you first catch a glimpse of the water again. Without even thinking about it, you instantly process all of the variables that can tell you how good the surf is going to be. Is it high or low tide? Is the tide rising or falling? Which way is the wind blowing? How strong is it? Is there any swell in the water? Which direction is it coming from? Is it a long or short period swell?

Even though we weren’t at a decent surf spot, we saw enough to know we would find good surf in the morning somewhere. To make a long story (full of surf lingo that wouldn’t interest, and probably confuse most of the readers of this blog) short, we spent the next four days surfing until we could hardly lift our arms. Our days revolved around nothing but surf. We ate when the tide was too high or when it was too dark to surf. When we weren’t surfing we were checking different spots, searching for surf and watching the waves.

Dustin preparing for the first paddle out at Anchor Point:

Dustin's first wave at Anchor Point, one of the smaller set waves:

Rachel...exhausted, but satisfied, after a great session:

Our first two days we had some of the best surf sessions of the trip…one day of big, powerful, slightly scary but perfect waves for Dustin and one day of fast, long, challenging right pointbreak surf for Rachel. By the fourth day the wind and tides had ruined what little was left of the swell. With the next swell not forecast to arrive for 4-5 days we figured it was our queue to move on. With our time in Europe and Northern Africa coming to its end we decided to get a few days of driving out of the way. We’re heading north with the hope of meeting up with the next swell in Portugal as it makes its way south.

A few harbor shots:

Return to Africa

The adventure began as we boarded the ferry in Algeciras, Spain. After a short, bumpy ride across the Strait of Gibraltar we arrived into the port town of Tangier, Morocco. Our first adventure would involve negotiating our way through the chaos of Moroccan customs with our van. There were endless lines of cars waiting to get through and the customs officials diligently checked every vehicle registration and did a quick search of the cars. After an hour of melting from the heat and then paying the hustlers a few dollars to get us to the front of the line, we made it through without too much hassle and began our journey into Morocco.

Our first stop was the cosmopolitan, capital city of Rabat. We were able to get out of the van and spend a few nights with Othmane, a Moroccan guy who lived in the US for ten years. (We met Othmane through Irina, a Russian girl we met living in Bangkok…long story.) Anyway, between exploring Rabat and a day trip to the town of Fes, we enjoyed many wonderful, authentic Moroccan meals prepared by Othmane’s mother.

The trip to Fes was definitely a sensory overload to say the least. As we walked the crowded streets our senses were ignited by the sights and smells before us. We weren’t in Europe anymore. The severed camel heads hanging in the markets were surprising, but the most overwhelming sense when you arrive somewhere like this, and it doesn’t matter if it’s Nepal, Cambodia, or Tanzania, is the smell. Some of the smells are good, others strange, and many down-right awful, but they are all overwhelming. Every few feet you walked down the street brought a new scent. The smell of diesel fumes, old meat sitting in the sun at the butcher shop, horse and donkey dung, rotting garbage, urine, dust, wood smoke, fresh baked bread, flowers, cheap perfumes, grilled meats, and exotic spices all lingered in the air. After all of the traveling we’ve done, we’re starting to realize most cities in non-Western countries have this same, unique combination of smells. It's starting to get kind of comforting actually...

Yes, that is a severed camel head. You can get one for less than $10:

Since we had a few days before any swell was supposed to arrive along the coast we decided to head three hours south to Marrakesh, the most popular of Morocco’s “Imperial” cities. After a surprisingly easy drive on the toll roads, we arrived at dark. Our friend from Rabat had arranged for us to stay at a house inside the walled old town with Eva, one of his good friends from France. After finding a secure place to leave the van for the night and dropping our bags at Eva’s place we set out to discover the charms of old town Marrakesh. As we wandered the streets the city was alive with fortune tellers, snake charmers, street performers, hustlers, touts with pet monkeys, and vendors selling lanterns, carpets, spices, teapots, and various kinds of exotic foods. There was even a boxing match going on in the square. Surprisingly, Marrakesh is known for their fresh squeezed orange juice so we guzzled several glasses of the best juice we’ve ever had (at $0.40 each) as we watched the spectacle before us.

Back to testing our iron stomachs with the street food:

For anyone making the trip to Morocco, Marrakesh is not to be missed. It’s been one of our favorite cities of this trip. Although the smells are the same, Marrakesh just seemed to have a great vibe and excitement that Fez lacked. The contrasts between the maze of narrow streets inside the ancient walled old town and the perfectly manicured boulevards outside the wall, along with the buzz from all the people and interesting markets definitely made for a great city.

We spent a few days getting lost in the maze of the streets and exploring the bazaars before the surf forecast told us it was time to hit the road and head southwest to the coast. A storm had been brewing in the north Atlantic for the past few days and after traveling thousands of miles its energy was due to arrive soon in the form of perfectly sculpted waves along Morocco’s legendary right points.

With only about 150 miles to Agadir it shouldn’t have taken very long to get there. However, our four lane road quickly changed to two and we averaged about 40 miles an hour the rest of the way. If that wasn’t bad enough, Dustin got our first traffic ticket of the trip as he passed one of the overloaded trucks going 20 mph through a small village. The cop demanded a 400 dirham (about $50) fine on the spot. Since he had an “official” form and we didn’t feel like arguing, we paid it and continued on our way. We figured we were probably overdue anyway.

As we bumped along the road trying to avoid potholes and oncoming traffic veering way too far over the line, it brought back memories of our yearly pilgrimage from California down into the heart of Baja Mexico to search for surf. Even the landscape looked the same…dry, harsh desert only occasionally interrupted by a cluster of crumbling concrete buildings that passes itself off as a town.

Needless to say, we’re back on surfari!!! More to come on the surf in our next post…

The Best of Italy

Here’s our last post on Italy to highlight a few of our favorite places in the country that we haven't wrote about yet:

After saying goodbye to the farm we took a short detour to the Chianti region of central Tuscany. We weren’t planning on stopping here but are glad we did. Besides the delicious food at Dario’s butcher shop (see our previous post) we enjoyed some good wine and even better scenery. Since it’s the off season we practically had the place to ourselves-the vast majority of the tourists are usually gone by mid-October. We had one day of rain, but otherwise great weather. Most of our time was spent sampling all of the fine food and wine Tuscany is famous for. In between meals we just explored the villages and enjoyed the scenery.

Chianti is full of picturesque views:

After leaving Chianti we headed north to Cinque Terre, a series of five small villages nestled between mountains and the Mediterranean Sea in northwestern Italy. We spent a few days exploring the area, walking the six miles of trails connecting the five villages. (Only locals are allowed to drive in the villages.) Each village was straight out of a travel brochure…pastel buildings hugging the cliffs between mountain and sea, small harbors full of brightly painted boats, narrow streets lined with cafes, old Italian ladies hanging laundry to dry from their windows, old salty fishermen working on their nets, you could go on and on. Pick your adjectives to describe the place…beautiful, breathtaking, quaint, spectacular, amazing, stunning…any one will do.

Manarola, in Cinque Terre:

Vernazza, our favorite of the Cinque Terre villages:

To top things off, Dustin even added another destination to the list of random European countries he’s surfed in. He spent an afternoon in Italy battling the large, messy wind swell pounding the coast north of Cinque Terre. Who knew there was surf in the Mediterranean?

After being less than impressed with a few “must-see” sights we’ve visited recently (The Leaning Tower of Pisa among others) we were wondering if we were starting to become jaded from all of our travels. Well, the Chianti area and Cinque Terre were just what we needed. Both places were stunning…no getting jaded there.

Lastly, we wanted to quickly write about an area we spent a few days exploring before working on the farm…the Nera River Valley. It’s right up there with the Chianti region as one of our favorite areas in Italy. Roughly halfway between Rome and Florence sits this quiet valley that’s far enough from the major roads that few tourists visit.

We spent a few days walking the trails through the rolling hills and exploring the quiet villages. For some reason this area had more hardwood trees than other areas we visited, making for some spectacular fall colors. Dustin even got a day of great fly fishing in on the Nera River, catching a bunch of medium-sized brown trout while Rachel hiked to a nearby village and soaked in the scenery. For the first time since New Zealand we were able to eat fresh trout for dinner.

The vistas of the Nera River valley:

Dustin hard at work putting dinner on the table:

Rachel's hiking trail:

Current update:
We’ve reluctantly left Italy for the one thing that could tear us away from the great food and charming villages of the country…great right-pointbreak surf. Besides a couple of sessions in Ireland that did nothing to satisfy our urge to surf (if anything, it just made us miss it more) we haven’t surfed proper waves in 5 months. Back in California we rarely went more than 4 or 5 days without surf…Dustin even surfed 100 times during our last 11 months in CA. Needless to say we’re anxious to get in the water, which is why we’re driving relatively quickly through France and Spain to get to Morocco’s legendary surf. We're not sure how long we'll stay in Morocco, but as long as there is good surf we don't plan on leaving.

The Ode to Meat

As you can see from our “Top Foods” list on the right, there isn’t a vegetarian bone in our body…we thoroughly enjoy all kinds of meat. Here in Italy we enjoyed one of the best meals of this trip, one that revolved strictly around meat…thus it was blog worthy.

Taking a break from our quest to sample some of the wines of the Chianti region, we came across a butcher shop/restaurant in Panzano devoted to serving the highest quality meat in a relaxed, communal setting. Apparently the owner of the place, Dario Cecchini, is a “world-famous” butcher, or at least the most famous butcher in Italy….something like the Bobby Flay of Europe. He takes great pride in using all cuts of the animal and the herbs, olive oils, and wines come from nearby estates just a few kilometers from the restaurant.

The legendary Dario Cecchini:

I have always enjoyed sampling different varieties of meat, but meat preparation and eating are clearly my husband’s forte. Upon viewing the restaurant’s set menu I knew Dustin would have to eat there. As you enter Antica Macelleria Cecchini you must first proceed through the butcher shop…past all the hanging carcasses and racks of meat. Here you can buy beef, pork, and lamb, along with other specialty items.

We were there to enjoy some of Dario’s already-prepared meat so we proceeded to the back of the shop and headed upstairs to join a communal table. Luckily, there were a couple of seats open so we snatched them up quickly.

(Quick side story: We ended up sitting across the table from a couple who was from New York. As the conversation went on it turned out we both knew one of my co-workers from Patagonia. As we’ve been traveling we are discovering how truly small the world really is.)

Back to the meal…As our food arrived we couldn’t believe the sight before us. We literally had a smorgasbord of meat. Piece by tantalizing piece we proceeded to devour every morsel. We had “Chianti sushi” (steak tartare), “Chianti tuna” (a shredded pork dish), pork roasted with herbs and garlic, meatloaf with sweet bell pepper sauce, a half pound burger in a crisp crumb crust, roasted potatoes, garden vegetables, bread, olive oil, wine, coffee, and cake.

The delicious steak tartare:

Dario has clearly perfected the art of serving superb cuisine. We left feeling elated and utterly satisfied (not to mention totally stuffed). This was definitely worthy of an “ode to meat”.


Happily eating our way around the world....

Life on the Farm

Tucked away in the hills north of the quiet village of Subbiano is where you would have found us this past week. We decided that getting our hands dirty on a small farm would be a great way to experience rural Italian culture. Only an hour and a half away from Florence, this was the “real” Italy we had always pictured…green rolling hillsides, olive trees covering the landscape, regional vineyards, and charming villages. With no neighbors in sight of the farm, the only noises came from hungry pigs, curious goats, and chickens diligently singing their morning wake-up call.

The landscape around the farm in western Tuscany:

Our private villa...we had the whole place to ourselves:

From first glance, this place appeared to be a “fairy-tale farm”…rows of perfectly pruned hedges, happy animals grazing in the fields, and the picturesque farm villa situated atop the hill overlooking the valley below. But, as the week went on, we (mostly Rachel) realized that living on a farm meant there would actually be lots of real work that needed to be done. Among other things, the “real” work consisted of feeding the chickens, goats, horses, ducks, pigs, dogs, cats, and Dustin.

Did I mention Dustin’s favorite farm activity was eating? Somehow we lucked out and selected a farm that had hired an older Italian woman to cook the family’s meals. We have literally been stuffing our bellies with homemade ravioli, pasta, goat cheese, bread, wine, and sausages. But more on that later…

Besides feeding all of the animals, we’ve also been sanding, painting, gardening, fixing fences, landscaping, and helping with various other tasks, such as babysitting their 1 ½ year old son Luca. We even have a few calluses and bruises to show for our hard work. So, needless to say, we have been earning our keep.

Rachel keeping the pigs happy:

Falling into a work routine turned out to be easier than we thought. (It has been almost a year since either of us had a job.) Doing physical labor, working outside, and not being chained to a desk in front of a computer has been very rewarding.

Assimilating into the Italian farm lifestyle was easy too. They showed us it really was okay to eat cake for breakfast. Lunch and dinner always come in courses which can last for several hours. Since the farm’s main function is milking goats, we haven’t had a single meal in the last week that hasn’t featured goat milk in one form or another…goat yogurt for breakfast, goat milk in our coffee, and countless varieties of goat cheese for lunch and dinner.

Rachel was literally in heaven. It is probably a good thing we only stayed a week otherwise we would have easily gained all the weight back that we lost while trekking in Nepal. The never ending homemade pastas, lasagnas, steaks, cheeses, wine, and cake will undoubtedly be missed.

So, maybe it wasn’t a fairy-tale farm, but it did get us out of the van and allowed us to “play house” for a week. We even enjoyed the work almost as much as we enjoyed the food.

Us with the Bellucci family: