Travel Flashback: Skiing in Morocco (1996)

(Kingston, Ontario, Canada)

I’m going way back for this one!  Until now, I haven’t shared any flashbacks that predate my acquisition of a digital camera in 2008.  However, I’ve decided to take the plunge and scan some old-fashioned prints to go along with this post.

I was invited to visit Morocco by friends who had recently taken up teaching positions in the resort town of Ifrane.  However, before we went to Ifrane, they took me on a unique road trip through El-Jadida, Safi and Marrakech.  Knowing that I loved to ski, they then took me to the Moroccan ski resort of Oukaïmeden.  It is Africa’s highest ski resort and is located about 80 km south of Marrakech in the Atlas Mountains.

Bracing myself against the fierce winds at the top of the Oukaimeden ski resort in Morocco's Atlas Mountains
Bracing myself against the fierce winds at the top of the Oukaimeden ski resort in Morocco’s Atlas Mountains

The drive from Marrakech to Oukaïmeden on December 30, 1996, was unforgettable.  We passed camels shortly after leaving the big city; we then wound our way up the valley and eventually to the resort’s base elevation of about 2600m.   Here, it was definitely winter.   We checked in excitedly to Chez Juju, our home for the next two nights.

While we went to the top of the ski area on the 30th for some photographs on the windswept summit, we only went skiing on the 31st.  It was like stepping back into the earliest days of alpine skiing.  Donkeys (see photo at the top of this post) transported skiers to and from the village.  Our rental skis probably qualified as antiques.  The lifts were all old, slow, decommissioned lifts from France that had little in the way of safety features.   There was no trail grooming and little trail signage; the fierce Atlas Mountain winds quickly dispersed any powder that managed to accumulate.

Pausing for a photo of my ski poles, as I approach the end of one of the Oukaimeden pistes
Pausing for a photo of my ski poles, as I approach the end of one of the Oukaimeden pistes

Despite this, the snow cover was adequate and skiing here brought with it a tremendous sense of accomplishment.  Some of the slopes were rather difficult and we felt like pioneers of a sort.  By now, we had become used to the fact that it can get cold in Africa (as I’m sure many people initially find it hard to believe that it can get hot in Canada) but it was still exhilarating to think that we were actually skiing on a continent rarely associated with winter sports.

An old village, directly across from the Oukaimeden ski area
An old village, directly across from the Oukaimeden ski area

While spending more than one day on these slopes might have been overkill, we were still quite exhausted by the end of the day.  We returned to Chez Juju for dinner and, eventually, some relatively muted New Year’s Eve celebrations.

While our room was exceptionally cold and I had to sleep with my ski jacket on, it was necessarily one of those experiences where you just had to laugh and accept the situation.   We were heading back to lower altitudes the next day, so there would be plenty of opportunities to warm up.

Village in the Ourika valley, on our return from Oukaimeden (January 1, 1997)
Village in the Ourika valley, on our return from Oukaimeden (January 1, 1997)

Here is a British article from 2008 that more or less reflects my experience in Oukaïmeden: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/snowandski/3446834/Oukaimeden-In-Morocco-the-skis-the-limit.html.  It looks like not much had changed over the intervening 12 years!  If anybody has been skiing there in the past few years, I’d love to hear if the planned upgrading has taken place.

Coming soon – more adventures from my pre-digital travel archives!

Travel Flashback: Прачечная в Эстонии (2012)

(Kingston, Ontario, Canada)

Strange as it may seem, doing laundry in Tallinn, Estonia was one of the reasons that we still consider Tallinn to be our favourite urban travel experience.

We always try to pack as little as possible; there is nothing worse than slugging heavy luggage through the rain, heat or snow.  Fashion takes a bit of a hit but we figure that travelers are allowed some leeway in that regard.

This movie theatre outside our hotel was built during the Soviet era (Tallinn, Estonia)
This movie theatre outside our hotel was built during the Soviet era (Tallinn, Estonia)

The only downside to packing light is that it is necessary to wash your clothes when you are traveling. Some people bring detergent and do their own laundry in their hotel rooms, others are willing to pay the extortionate fees charged by hotels, but we take the middle ground and seek out local laundromats.

This is easy to do in English-speaking countries and countries where the local language is close enough to English that communication isn’t a problem. As a result, Iceland was a breeze (albeit an expensive one) and Norway was not much more difficult.   While Estonian is a very difficult language for English-speakers, our advance research suggested that English was fairly widely spoken in Tallinn.  We planned accordingly.

Our basement laundromat in Tallinn
Our basement laundromat in Tallinn

Having done the necessary research in advance, I had located a laundromat within walking distance of our hotel.  We arrived with two backpacks full of laundry and were wearing our last clean set of clothes.  We were encouraged by a few English words on the outside of the building.  We entered the laundromat and tried to figure out what was going on.  It was not a “self-serve” laundromat, but neither was there much in the way of information about its services.  We approached the clerk and asked (in basically the only Estonian words we knew) if she spoke English.  She answered, but it definitely wasn’t English and it also wasn’t Estonian.

Blue skies in Tallinn
Blue skies in Tallinn

Due to the legacy of the Soviet Union and Estonia’s proximity to Russia, about 25% of Estonians are ethnically Russian.  In Tallinn, the number is closer to 40%.   Many of them, particularly the older ones who had no reason to speak anything other than Russian, never learned Estonian.   As a result, we should not have been too surprised that we had stumbled upon a laundromat with a Russian-speaking clerk.   While I know the phonetic equivalents of letters in the Cyrillic alphabet, I know little more than Да (da, or “yes”,) нет (nyet, or “No”) and спасибо (spasibo, or “thank you”).  This makes it difficult to communicate sophisticated instructions and settle on prices for laundry.

Our Tallinn hotel used to be reserved for Soviet navy officers, so even the stairways were posh
Our Tallinn hotel used to be reserved for Soviet navy officers, so even the (marble) stairways were posh

After a brief panic, we realized that our options were limited.  We took a giant leap of faith and simply assumed that leaving our clothes here would result in them being washed.  Why else would people bring clothes to a laundromat?  We had no idea what we would be charged but assumed that we would not be the naive victims of extortion.  We also hoped that the clothes would be ready by the end of the day, as we had already bought our tickets for the next day’s ferry to Helsinki.

We communicated with smiles, gestures…and copious amounts of “спасибо“.   We figured that, even if we weren’t understood, the clerk at least thought that we were fairly amusing.   Somehow, with a lot of pointing at a clock on the wall, we concluded that we should return by 5:00 p.m. and that there was no need to hang around the laundromat.

Exterior of our hotel in Tallinn
Exterior of our hotel in Tallinn (note Soviet navy insignia at the top)

We greatly enjoyed our final full day in Tallinn.  Finally, it was time to return to the laundromat and see what had happened.  To our immense relief, we were immediately recognized by the same clerk and presented with two bags full of clean, folded and meticulously organized laundry.  Success!  The cost was actually less than what we had anticipated and was a mere fraction of what we had paid in Iceland 4 years before.  I think we might have set some kind of record for saying “спасибо” in a single day; we left with more fond memories of Estonia and a renewed determination to continue our world laundromat tour in the future.

How to Make Travel Last Forever

(Kingston, Ontario, Canada)

I recently spent an evening looking back at my blog posts from my self-guided music tour of England in November of 2014.  As I read the posts, two related thoughts came to mind. The first one: What a cool trip!  The second one:  I’m so glad I wrote it all down!

Mount Washington Hotel in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire
Mount Washington Hotel in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire

That, in a nutshell, is how to make travel last forever. It goes without saying that you should enjoy your travels and do things that interest you.  However, writing down my thoughts as I went along helped me to later relive those moments with more than just a vague feeling of “that was fun”.

Thayers Inn in Littleton, New Hampshire. We stayed in this very historic (and rustic) hotel.
Thayers Inn in Littleton, New Hampshire. We stayed in this very historic (and rustic) hotel.

It’s easy to take lots of pictures; in fact, I have more pictures (prints and electronic) than I know what to do with.  Taking that little bit of extra time to record your impressions while they are still fresh in your mind will give the photos context and will make the memories yours alone…rather than just another snapshot that you could find in a million places on the Internet.

Downtown St. Johnsbury, Vermont, U.S.A.
Downtown St. Johnsbury, Vermont, U.S.A.

In 2014, I did most of my writing during travel “down times”: on bus and train rides, in airports, in restaurants (I was mostly traveling solo and it made waiting for food a lot easier), and when attractions were closed.   On busy days, it was often in the form of point-form notes.  If I at least wrote down a few key words, it would be a lot easier to fill in the gaps later when I had more time.

Inexplicably lopsided view of the state Capitol building in Montpelier, Vermont, U.S.A.
Not every photograph is brilliant:  witness this Inexplicably lopsided view of the state Capitol building in Montpelier, Vermont, U.S.A.

Of course, you don’t need to record your thoughts in the form of a blog.  I kept written journals during many of my pre-2014 trips and then used the journals to prepare captions after I made prints of my photos and put them into photo albums.   I also kept a journal during my 2014 travels, although not on every trip.  I was busier on the group tours and I simply didn’t have the time to both blog and write a journal.

Lake Champlain, Vermont, U.S.A.
Lake Champlain, Vermont, U.S.A.

If you don’t keep a contemporaneous record, you end up facing the situation I have with our 2009 drive home from Nova Scotia through the Northeastern United States:  there are lots of interesting pictures from places we’d never seen before (and may never see again), but the passage of time has dimmed their significance and some of them can no longer be associated with a particular place.  I know the photo at the top of this post is somewhere in northeastern Vermont…but that’s all.

Paul Bunyan statue in Rumford, Maine, U.S.A. Apparently, there is now a small statue of Babe the Blue Ox here too!
Paul Bunyan statue in Rumford, Maine, U.S.A. Apparently, there is now a small statue of Babe the Blue Ox here too!

All of the pictures in today’s post are from that trip.  I wish I could prepare a meaningful narrative about them but my specific recollections are very few.  For example,  I still remember that Bangor, Maine is Stephen King’s hometown and that Littleton, New Hampshire is a very quaint place for an overnight stopover.  We stayed in a positively ancient hotel there and visited what had to be one of the world’s largest candy stores.  I also suspect that there were not a whole lot of specific sights in east-central Maine…but maybe that’s just because we did a lot of driving that day and accordingly we had stopped “seeing”?  It would be a lot easier to say, if I had kept a journal.

Stay tuned for more flashbacks from unique northern destinations!

Small Town Ontario, Part 2

(Marlbank, Ontario, Canada)

On our trip to Cobourg, we took the scenic route to get home. What normally takes about 95 minutes of driving ended up taking the better part of the day. However, it was first time for us on most of the roads…and we even visited some communities that we had never seen before.

I’ve called this article “Part 2” because I wrote another post about small towns back in the spring of this year.  While nearly 6 months have passed since then, I’m pleased to report that our travel philosophy appears to be more or less the same:  the best parts were when we found something truly unique to the area.  We ate local food, went to local stores, and didn’t set foot in a single mall.

Former municipal building (now an art gallery) in Warkworth
Former municipal building (now an art gallery) in Warkworth

The drive on Highway 45 northeast from Cobourg was very scenic.  It seemed like the combination of rolling hills and autumn colours got better with each turn, so we drove by a couple of conservation areas without stopping.  We figured there would soon be an even better place to get out and explore in the crisp fall air.  Alas, we waited too long.   The terrain suddenly became more agricultural and lacked the scenic “oomph” we saw between Baltimore and Fenella.   I have no pictures of this segment…only memories.

After a quick stop in Hastings, we ended up in Warkworth.  To Kingstonians, this small village is known primarily as the home of another penitentiary.  However, much to our surprise, it has also attracted a significant number of artists and specialty shops.

Downtown Warkworth, Ontario
Downtown Warkworth, Ontario

We stumbled upon a true cottage industry:  a shortbread cookie bakery where we found an enthusiastic staff stuffing cookies into bags and parcels.  We picked up a couple of bags for later consumption and headed towards our intended lunch destination of Campbellford.  First, however, we passed a ramshackle barn in the hamlet of Meyersburg that hosted a bustling flea market.   Who would have expected an Eastern European deli to be set up in there and selling their own extremely spicy pepperoni sticks?

View across the Trent-Severn Waterway in Campbellford, Ontario
View across the Trent-Severn Waterway in Campbellford, Ontario

Campbellford, like Hastings, is a busy village located on the Trent-Severn Waterway.  We seriously underestimated the size of our meals at the Riverview Restaurant:  after such a massive pulled pork sandwich for lunch, I didn’t really need to eat dinner.  They offered typical diner food, with a daily special of liver and onions and old-fashioned desserts such as rice pudding and jello.

From Campbellford, we drove across sparsely settled countryside to the village of Tweed.  Linked over the years to some post-1977 sightings of Elvis Presley, it seemed to shut down on this Sunday afternoon.   After a brief stop, during which we neither saw nor heard anyone remotely resembling Elvis, we drove down a worryingly isolated and increasingly rough road that finally brought us to the village of Marlbank.

The Moira River at Tweed, Ontario
The Moira River at Tweed, Ontario

Marlbank was at one point a bustling place, but it was bypassed by the provincial highway system and now it appears to have been frozen in the early 20th century.   Non-threatening dogs wandered the narrow streets and vehicles were few and far between.   There were some riveting houses (see photo at the top of this post- it’s for sale!), however, and we did eventually come to a street lined with cars.  The local tavern was holding square dancing lessons and it looked like the place was full.  Maybe this was why Tweed shut down on Sunday afternoon!

As I mentioned in my previous post, we expect to return to the Cobourg area next fall.  In addition to the vintage film festival and perhaps a concert, we will also have some autumn walking to do!