Author: Naomi Stobbe

Chefchaouen

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

This morning we were free to do as we wished. We slept in a bit and decided to forgo a shower because of the brisk temperature. I layered on a couple of pants (tights underneath and travel pants on top) and dug out much of my warm upper layers to go down for breakfast.   Our host made us an omelette and I chose my usual bunch of olives, white spreadable cheese and a traditional bread called msemen. We huddled in the lobby, our ice cold plates on the low table and ate our quickly cooling breakfast.

After breakfast I set out to see the sights of the local town. Chefchaouen is known as the blue town. Almost all of the buildings are painted blue and the overall effect is incredible. I climbed the hill and stopped first at an art shop. The woman was lovely and shared many things about Moroccan culture with me. Initially I have been surprised that many people speak multiple languages here. Our tour leader mentioned yesterday that everyone learns Arabic and French from kindergarten up and that at age 10 each student is allowed to choose one more language to study. She chose English and she said that one of her brothers chose Spanish and the other one, German. The woman in the art shop spoke English very fluently. She talked about how traditionally money was never mentioned in Moroccan society and that people took care of each other. I certainly saw this later on with our afternoon guide as I saw him interact with people in his community. I later learned from him that all houses look pretty much the same from the outside (small door in a wall) but on the inside the size of the abode and the way it is built indicate the economic status of the family. This way there is not the problem of comparison between poor and rich. Only your friends and family know your economic status. (But more about Mohammed later.) After a lovely exchange about art and life with the galley owner,  I headed down into the maze of alleyways and stairs in the Medina.

Of course I was super excited about all the exploring so I headed back to the hotel to get Rudy and show him all I had discovered. By the time the two of us had made our way down into the maze of houses and shops, the day had begun for the shop owners and customers. The streets were no longer empty. At one shop we stopped, we chatted with a man who had had his shop for over 50 years. Besides the stuff on the street level he encouraged us to follow the winding stairs up all four floors to see everything.

Many of the beautiful kaftans and lamps and leather work seemed to have been there for many years. We finally made it to the top of the building and there he had instructed that we would find a key to unlock the padlock to get out onto the rooftop terrace. The whole experience was strange and lovely.  There was even a full grown lemon tree on the rooftop.

 

By this time Rudy’s ankle was in need of rest so we headed back and went for lunch at a restaurant across from our hotel. Wow. It was lovely. I sipped on sugary mint tea, munched olives and delicious hot bread and had a goat cheese, fig, avocado, tomato, radish, and orange salad. MMMmmm.  While we were eating, an Irish woman came and sat at a table next to us and started up a conversation. Probably one of the best things about traveling is the people we have met. We talked politics, music, and Ireland. Also heard about what she loves in Morocco (This is her 3rd visit to Morocco this year). Everyone has a story and we are certainly rubbing shoulders with many fascinating people.

At 3:30 pm we met our group and our guide Mohammed for a tour of the city. So far he has been the best guide. This is his city and he knows so much. He said he had been away for a while and it was apparent. People of all ages greeted him. The history of Morocco is filled with so many different peoples from various nations, coming and going. The three religions (Muslim, Jewish, Christian) have been here for centuries and French, Spanish, and Portuguese have come and gone mixing and living with the Berber people. He regaled us with stories and history. We were even invited  into a riad (house) when someone on the street spontaneously offered it. I am gaining new insight into Muslim people and their religion and many of my preconceptions are beginning to fall away.

 

 

We continued on throughout the city and made our way out of the Medina and to the water source for the city. It is a giant aquifer in the mountain and the fresh clear water that has been purified in the limestone rushes down to the city. There has been tremendous rainfall recently in Morocco after 7 years of drought and once we got to the edge of the city we could see the effects of it. Although in many places in the north the people have been displaced, they are very happy for this water.

 

The end to the walk consisted of hiking up the mountain to a lookout to the Spanish Mosque is. It was built by the Portuguese king as a gesture of goodwill to the Muslims of Morocco who were very concerned that they would be forced to convert to Christianity. The view from the top was magnificent.

 

 

Day 3 in Casablanca

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

Traveling offers up both pleasure and pain and the balance of the two can determine how satisfied I am at the end of the day. Too much pain can overwhelm me and leave me feeling low and discouraged (not to mention homesick). Too much ease and pleasure and I am not appreciative enough of the joy that came with no struggle.

Well today we had a bit of both. We started off with breakfast at the restaurant just 20 steps from our lodging. Yesterday I ordered blindly off the menu and hit gold. Today I was not going to make any changes. A Moroccan breakfast often consists of cheese, olives, bread and amlou. But let me describe this further. The bread in Morocco is amazing. The French (colonial) influence is very apparent.  The buns are chewy and crunchy just like a baguette. The pastries are soft and rich. There is also a type of bread that is very grainy and nutty tasting. My breakfast consisted of the nutty tasting bread, a pot of spreadable cheese, some oily black olives and amlou. Amlou is a spread made with crushed almonds, argan oil and honey. The flavour is amazing. Add to that meal, freshly squeezed orange juice and cafe au lait. The result: complete satisfaction.

Our outings today consisted of visiting Rick’s Cafe (of the movie Casablanca fame) and a trip to the Hassan II Mosque. Rick’s Cafe is a romantic reconstruction of the 1942 film and is every nook and cranny has intricate carved chairs and buffets, beaded and metal lamps, a piano bar, marble fireplaces, and more. I felt that I needed to have a classy drink to celebrate the occasion and also, perhaps, to pretend I was as sophisticated as Ingrid Bergman, so I order a martini. I only needed a few sips before I felt like I might slip from “oh so elegant” to “oh so unable to walk down the curving staircase without falling” and so Rudy finished it off.

With our fancy drinks finished we headed down the avenue to attend to more serious endeavours (the mosque).  The Hassan II Mosque is the only mosque in Casablanca that non muslims can enter. It is a palatial affair with  space inside to accommodate 25,000 worshippers and a surrounding courtyard that can hold 80,000 more.  The minaret is 210 metres tall. The roof is retractable and can open to the heavens and the building was built out into the ocean. The marble pillars, walls of mosaics, carved wooden balconies and grates and the painted cedar ceiling were only some of the wonders. It was almost too much.  I do hope that the King (who completed the build in 1983) invested as much in helping the people of Morocco as he did on constructing this edifice.

But it was not all beauty and pleasure. Oh no. There was some pain involved. Well, perhaps not for me. Rudy was the one who had to suffer today. While we were being ushered into the lower hall where the 350 huge marble washing stations were, Rudy neglected to read the signage. Danger was lurking just inside. Marble curbs surrounded the washing fountains and Rudy, so engrossed by the glory and splendour, slipped on the edge of the curb and twisted his ankle and fell flat on the marble floor. Luckily his noggin missed the enormous marble basin or it might have been much more than a sprained and swollen ankle that would have resulted.

While that was the most serious incident of the day, our pain did not end there. The wind whipping off the ocean was joined by rain from the heavens and we had trouble getting transportation home. We called an “Indrive” taxi but were met with hostilities from the regular taxi drivers. One glared, spoke harshly to us, and lurked around so he could get the license plate of the “illegal” taxi. In the end the Indrive taxi woman couldn’t risk picking us up and we were too mad to take the offer of a ride from the irate regular taxi guy. And so we continued on foot. Rudy limping. MaryLou very cold because she didn’t have her rain jacket and Dave and I just generally grouchy. We tried for a long time to get another taxi on another cold windy corner but everyone was desperate for a ride and we did not manage to secure one. On we tramped. Another opportunity. Another disappointment. The taxi driver asked to much and we dug in our heels. He followed us around the corner and berated us. Is this story getting too long? Too much of the same? Okay. I will just say that we did finally make it back to the hotel in two separate tiny taxis with a couple of rally drivers swerving in and out of traffic. We were just in time for our tour group meeting.

The tour group is a varied group . Some of us are pretty run-of-the-mill and some maybe not so much. There is an unhealthy number of teachers in the group (too many know-it-alls) but we shall have to get along for the next 15 days. After our meeting we headed out for a supper together to a nice place where most of us had tajine, a traditional Moroccan meal cooked slowly in a clay pot. I had a vegetable tajine but others had chicken, veal or lamb.

Well, it is time for bed. Tomorrow we are up early and off to Tangiers.

Jet Lag, Coffee, and a Smoke

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

Well, we made it! We are sitting in our hotel room in downtown Casablanca and Humphrey Bogart is nowhere to be found. I realize that the movie, Casablanca, was a Hollywood construct and in no way reflected the actual place even then. However, the words “sultry and sexy” had taken root in a back corner of my mind and so far, I cannot say I have seen either of them.

But really we have not seen that much. After deplaning we walked way too far through the airport to try to find “just the right phone company” to get SIM cards. We are traveling with MaryLou and Dave Driedger and in compliance with the request by our tour company we have come with backpacks. (Rudy didn’t get the memo and has his wheeled carry-on suitcase and it may turn out that he is the smart one.) By the time we had traversed a section of the airport us backpackers were struggling. Dave’s hip was giving him trouble, MaryLou was sweating in her raincoat, and I was remembering the South American backpacking trip with Ana, Miriam, and Paul. (My hips were aching, my pants were being pushed down off my butt by the hip belt to expose my plumber’s crack, and I was leaning dangerously backwards because of the weight of the pack.) Rudy, however, was walking briskly and happily at least 25 metres ahead of the three of us, merrily pulling his suitcase. Grrrr!

We eventually did get the phone cards, obtained tickets for the train and hopped on board for a 40-minute commute to our hotel. Well, not quite to our hotel. We ordered an Uber at the last train station as we didn’t want to (or couldn’t, because of the baggage load) walk to our hotel. As it was, it seemed an eternity before the Uber car pulled up and we probably could have crawled to the hotel by that time anyway.

Check-in at our hotel wasn’t until 3:00PM and so we had an hour to kill. We parked our luggage at the hotel desk and went for a walk to get some refreshments. It seemed as though every restaurant we passed had a row of chairs lined up along the sidewalk where men sat wiling away the afternoon sipping their little coffees and teas and smoking cigarettes. No women. Only men. And so we too sat ourselves down at a couple of empty tables, despite the fact that MaryLou and I felt quite out of place at the male-dominated cafe. It was moderately satisfying (Dave and I each had a delicious cafe-au-lait with multiple sugar cubes. MaryLou’s sugary mint tea was also good. But Rudy’s Americano, which was more like a small glass of strong Nescafe — was a bust.) However, things looked up for Rudy with the second-hand smoke. He TOTALLY enjoyed it. (Rudy would concur with John Prine’s sang, “When I get to heaven….I’m gonna smoke a cigarette that’s nine miles long.”) As for the rest of us, we could have passed on the experience. To top it all off and to add insult to injury, I had a bird poop on my head. It was time to head back to the hotel and check in.

After a bit of a rest in our rooms, we ventured out to get supper. We passed up on some delicious-looking street food (hope to be back tomorrow to check it out). Instead, we opted to sit down at an outdoor cafe. With the help of the waiter and our handy Google Translate app, we ordered a Moroccan salad (tomatoes, onions, and olives), French fries, baguette sandwiches with chicken skewers, tomatoes, and olives and a plate of kofta (meatballs) and sides. Yum. It was a good first meal.

Tonight we are off to bed early due to lack of sleep and a very long day. We are seven hours ahead of Manitoba time.

A Golf Lesson to Start The Day

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

Rudy has done some research about golf lessons and this morning he strongly encourages me to go. Despite some misgivings I hop on my bicycle and head off down Monterey to Magnesium falls and follow the bike path along the wash until I get to the driving range and golf lesson course. I meet my instructors Mary and Greg. In the initial conversation with Greg  I learn that he is originally from Winnipeg, although he left a long time ago (1978). He is about my vintage and as we make small talk it comes around to weather in Wpg (bad) and government (equally bad according to him). He is a bit of a conspiracy theorist and says he is so glad he was not living in Canada during Covid. He said he watched the news and it all seemed like it was a bit of a shit show in Canada. He is sure that Trudeau Junior is a nut case. (“You remember his father don’t you?” he says to me, raising his eyebrows knowingly.) He quickly moves on to government control and manipulation. I dance and sidestep the conversation. Thankfully soon all the others arrive and we move on to the golf lesson. Today we are learning how to hit a golf ball out of a sand trap. I am the least experienced in a crowd of aging seniors. In fact I feel like quite the spring chicken. And although I may have an advantage of mobility and dexterity I am easily the most clued out. Thankfully Greg takes pity on me and give s me some pointers on grip and swing. I actually do quite well. I am able to climb in and out of the sand trap without any trouble. Margy has hip trouble and it is more difficult for her. Brad has more mobility but very thick coke bottle glasses. But despite all our infirmities and other strikes against us we do fairly well. Mary, the other instructor with a bit of a superiority complex, regals us with her professional golfing life. It is interesting but these stories leave me feeling just a little bit inept and does not add to the value of the lesson. Soon the hour is up and we all head back to our exciting seniors life away from the golf course.

My exciting life involves biking back to our place and planning what we will have for supper. This may seem mundane but I am positively enjoying my cooking life. I decide to make refined beans, Mexican rice with tomato, spices, lime, and cilantro and chorizo tacos. This involves a quick bike to the grocery store for a few supplies. My trip ends up being longer than it needs to be as I am waylaid at the baby clothes section of the store and I look for deals in the sale racks. Bingo, I find a sunsuit for a sweet little grand girl and something peachy for a blond blue eyed child that is coming later in April. It’s dark before I get home. I quickly make the food and we enjoy it. Afterwards I take my phone flashlight and make my way to the hot tub and pool and enjoy some evening air with a swim and a sit in the spa. I arrive back at the house to find Rudy deep in a documentary. I leave him to this and I retire to bed.

A Grey Day

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

Miracle of miracles. Today we are expecting rain in Palm Desert. We wake up to grey skies and it feels like a day that we should stay in. We spend the morning doing computer work (Rudy) and crafts (me). By noon we get our rain. All 5 drops of it. Actually there is a bit more but the pavement does not stay wet for very long. I do go out a bit but it ends up being a very relaxing day.

Contrary to what I usually find relaxing but have developed a love for here in Palm Desert, I decide to cook. I search the internet for ideas for supper and decide on a comfort food evening meal. I have all of the ingredients I need in the fridge and cupboard and settle in to an afternoon of cooking. I peel potatoes, chop broccoli and fry bacon for a broccoli salad, and insert cheese and ham into chicken breasts. Because we are going gluten free I research an alternative to bread crumbs and end up browning almond flour to dredge the chicken breasts. After puttering in the kitchen I set out our meal of Chicken Cordon Bleu, mashed potatoes, dijon garlic sauce, and broccoli salad. Yum. All in all it is a great day of relaxation. After supper the storm that was promised actually materializes. There are huge bursts of thunder that blast loudly outside. We are content and cosy inside and we settle in for the rest of the evening.

 

 

Turning 64!

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

It’s my birthday and I am turning 64. Rudy is off golfing this morning with Robert and Arlene and I have a full morning planned for myself. I forgo the morning walk on the streets around our house and hop on my bicycle and head to the Bump and Grind Trail at the edge of town. I’ve got my hiking shoes on, my water bottle with ice, my sunglasses and my hat. I lock my bike to a railing at the trailhead and head up the slope. It is very hot and dry and I should have left earlier in the morning to avoid this heat but here I am. I hike for about an hour. I could take more trails or a longer one but I am satisfied. I hop back on my bike, make a few stops for a couple of crafting supplies and head home. Once at home I am on to my next activity: swimming. Oh, the water is so refreshing after a hot sweaty climb.

Rudy arrives home in time to shower before we head out for some birthday celebrations. There isn’t much chance for me to dress up here so I take this opportunity to put on a dress (and tights for warmth) and we head to an air-conditioned theatre to watch, Holdover. Both of us have no idea what the movie is about. Rudy has read something in the New York Times about how this movie is set in the 1970s and that it is made to look like it was shot during that time as well. It’s true, they do manage to make it look that way: a little grainy, the colour not quite up to today’s standards and maybe even the sound a little different than nowadays.The movie hits the spot for me. It is nostalgic, sentimental (with a good message), and predictable. A very nice choice for someone who hates too much suspense, can’t watch if there is too much violence, and really wants to relax instead of sitting on the edge of my seat all the time. I even shed a few tears.  A win all around for me. Needless to say it is not Rudy’s favourite movie although he claims he enjoys it. But then again, it is my birthday so I guess it is fitting that I enjoy it. For those of you who think the movie is shlack by my description, you are wrong. There is lots of great acting, some good ideas to ruminate on, and some great cinematography. After the movie, we walk down the riverwalk (an artificial landscape with rocks, shrubbery, water, etc.) to the restaurant I have requested. We order lettuce wraps, spicy chicken, and a Singapore noodle dish. Yum! So good!

Luxe Punch: Zacapa No. 23 Rum, Angostura bitters, lemon, pineapple, Chinese five-spice, honey

The whole day has been a win for me. I love being a year older!

Triathalon

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

On one of my conversations with my daughter Miriam she asks me what I do each day. Scrambling for something new to say I falter. I really don’t do much new each day. I should have loads of adventures to talk about. I feel I need to validate my existence here. And then suddenly it comes to me. Something really stupendous and impressive that makes me feel like I am accomplishing something.

“Each day I complete a triathlon,” I say.

She chuckles. Well, it is not a continuous event. But I do swim and cycle and run (well maybe a few steps but mostly it is walking) each day. Yes there are a lot of breaks. And no, most of it is not very strenuous. But really isn’t participation good enough. Today when I went for my walk I spent some time smelling the flowers. Well at least taking pictures of them and enjoying them. Most triathletes  work so hard that they don’t necessarily notice the beauty around them. I mean, it is hard to focus in on the flowers when sweat is streaming off your forehead into your eyes. So I prefer a less strenuous workout and as a result I really get to enjoy my surroundings.

Digesting a Good Book and a Good Meal

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

It’s Sunday and depending on how you are marking your week it is either the end of the week or the beginning. Really, for us, it makes no difference. I no longer suffer from those Sunday night feelings of sadness that the weekend is done and a slight sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I will have to be on top of things as far as lessons, and energy for students goes come Monday morning. It is funny how once you leave that behind you hardly can remember the end of the weekend feeling. But I do remember it a bit and I am grateful for this great relaxing time I am having.

Today the big plan is having Robert and Arlene over for supper. We have the whole day to prep for that. But knowing how doing nothing eats up the time we start on the lasagna making right away in the morning. The supper menu is Rudy’s idea so I say that I will be his sous chef. Rudy says he already had a Sue chef but that I can be his Naomi chef. (I write this only to give an indication of what kind of low level humour I have to put up with.) Anyway, we continue on some about 10 minutes until I get a phone call from one of my offspring and Rudy is left to finish the lasagna by himself.

After this I dig into the new David Bergen book, Away From The Dead. I really do not surface at all the whole afternoon. I basically lie on the bed with my kindle propped in front of me. At first the book seems slow, but as I continue I am drawn in by the characters. The book has lots to say but a person needs to let it sit for a while and ruminate about the times and the people caught in them. Each character tries to find a path within their given culture (both individual family and community), beliefs (religious and political), and unique personal ways of viewing the world. If there are fingers pointed by Bergen, it is not specifically at any one group or individual. Of course there is the fact that Mennonites play a central role in the book and so much of the lens is focused on that group. But, of course, there are individual decisions made and lives lived within any given cultural group. In the end I was struck by how the time that we live in and the issues and our understanding of them affect our understanding of the present and also of the past. Not a new thought but one worth unpacking. How does a person find their way amidst so many conflicting ideas and values in a given situation?

Well after I reemerge late afternoon I have only a couple of choices to make about my life and none of them earth shattering. Should I make the garlic bread or the caesar salad first? There is no wrong choice! Thank goodness!

Dinner with Robert and Arlene is great. We talk about how we don’t get together at all in Steinbach. Each of us is busy with the daily expectations of family mostly, work for some, and close friends. But here in Palm Desert the four of us have time to sit and ask each other questions and develop our friendship. It is lovely to do.

My Golf Career Continues

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

Well my golf career continues. And I am having some success. After an early morning walk (part 1 of the daily triathlon) Rudy suggests a game at the local par 3 learning course down the road. I am in. We (by we I mean he) packs the clubs in the van and we head down to the course.
We share a bag of clubs which is carried mostly by Rudy. That is the job of the caddy and I have not put a fight up about that. The caddy also suggests which club to use for each shot and he often lets me know. By the end of the round I am making my own choices as I begin to get the feel of things. I am happy to say that I had so much fun on the first nine holes that we decide to another nine. I can’t say how great it feels to know what it is that I have done right if I get a great shot. Up until now it has seemed mostly random but I am beginning to have some control on my shots.

I won’t bore you with the rest of my day which consists of more of the same that I do every day.

A Little Exercise for the Mind and the Body

Posted on | by Naomi Stobbe

Callum and Augusta wake me up early for a video chat. Callum is silly and chatty and worried about the firetruck he sees in his book. Not much disturbs that boy but a fire siren is one of those things that is distressing to him. Video chats are pretty incredible for grandparents who are far away. Rudy has breakfast and leaves for golf. I get my walking shoes on head out the door. But not before I have downloaded a podcast on my phone. I need a little something to get me mulling over some new ideas. This podcast is by This American Life and is called Is That What I Look Like? It explores the ideas that even if we think we know ourselves really well we are often surprised by other’s observations. It can be superficial (our physical looks) but perhaps more jolting is when how we perceive ourselves (character and actions) is completely different when viewed by someone else. Certainly this is food for thought and worth mulling over. But also frustrating as I think about the number of people I know and how they might each be able to make an observation about something about me that I am totally in the dark about. Do I need to start quizzing people? Is there any purpose to that? I guess that these observations might help me make changes but to be at the whim of everyone’s observations seems tiring and might knock the ground out from under me. I am tired even thinking about this. Perhaps I will go to the pool for a swim or maybe ride my bike. The observations needed when doing these activities involve watching for cars (biking) and taking note of the concrete edge of the pool when swimming. Yup. That’s what I’ll do.