الجزائر : eerhT keeW
30 Jun
الجزائر : owT keeW
22 Jun
الجزائر, al-Jazā’ir, week two
I left Oran late, after meeting new friends and really new friends in town. One random Christian Berber student taught me the phrase “asabi3 alyad mokhtalifa” – “each finger of the hand is different.” Allah loves wondrous variety!
“You sure you want to leave today? It’s five pm already….” Yes, I have to leave – my psyche is already out there pedalling.
“Aren’t you worried that you don’t know anyone down the road?” No. That is comletely normal. Adventure!
enO keeW : الجزائر
14 Jun
الجزائر, al-Jazā’ir, week one
June 7. The visa begins, but I am still in Spain, pedaling more kms than ever before, under a hotter-than-ever sun.
I reach Almeria with plenty of time to spare, and give my rig a tune-up on the rambla, amidst an angry protest against Israeli terrorism and Spanish arms manufacturing.
The ferry terminal has a little makeshift mosque. Huge groups of Arabs and a few Europeans; ninety percent take the ten o’clock for Morocco, leaving me feeling quite hard-core alone with the Algerians. The midnight boat boards at one and leaves at one thirty.
I reach Almeria with plenty of time to spare, and give my rig a tune-up on the rambla, amidst an angry protest against Israeli terrorism and Spanish arms manufacturing.
The ferry terminal has a little makeshift mosque. Huge groups of Arabs and a few Europeans; ninety percent take the ten o’clock for Morocco, leaving me feeling quite hard-core alone with the Algerians. The midnight boat boards at one and leaves at one thirty.
Never Fear: The Algerian Visa Process
6 Jun
It’s hard to say when it began, exactly; but at some point after leaving the States for Europe, I started imagining in what manner I would include Africa in this world bike tour. As a tentative “plan” – or let’s call it the most likely to happen of all the various possibilities – I decided on Northern Africa. I didn’t feel the need to ride Cairo to Capetown, or cycle the entire continent or anything(which would take forever), but I knew I wanted to do Africa better justice than a simple tourist dip into Morocco, and I’ve known, ever since that breakfast with my cousin Katie in Crystal Lake back on week one, that I wanted to see Egypt. Most importantly, though, I also felt somehow more intrigued by Arab Africa than by Black Africa.
Photos Cats
20 Apr
Meow! Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
To be updated now and then, as I continue to meet more kitty cats.
Photos : Gear
12 Apr
A small photo sample of the gear I carry everywhere I go.
Someday I’ll add a list, and more photos.
Being a Tourist in Morocco
5 Apr
There are people everywhere in Morocco. They have an “outdoor culture”; there is always someone around. If you take a piss on the side of the road, someone is probably watching you. If you are talking to yourself as you pedal down the road, there is probably someone listening. Even before lunchtime, dozens of people look at you as if you were an alien, too shocked to return an “o-aleikum salam.” Sheperds in Adidas gear pause their conversations as you pass; farmers in jilabas twist on their donkey-seats to stare; women in hijabs quickly avert their gaze – but only after you notice them looking at you. And that’s in the rural areas. In a place more frequented by foreigners, like a city, or the Rif mountain roads, the tourist hustle is just a part of life. You can’t take a break without an obtrusive offer of a hotel at a great price, or a flashy guy in a car trying to discover which language you speak, or a cute little kid yelling “Stop!” so he can beg for a stylo or un petit pièce, or a bold restauranteur shoving a menu in your face, or a dumb mute villager approaching you with open palms because, to him, your foreign face means money. (more…)
Being a guest in Morocco
1 Apr
The hospitality of rural Morocco continued to impress as I slowly cycled south. So much so, I began to wonder if I would need my tent(or my cooking pots, or my spice kit, or my campstove, or my sleeping mat, or any of the self-sufficient gear I schlepp everywhere) at all in this country – or would it be like this in all Islamic countries? Is this a Moroccan thing, or a Muslim thing? I was welcomed to the country numerous times with “American? Ah, then this is your country!”
Random Photos
Recent Photos
