A day in Fez

This morning we left the rain of Ifrane behind.  After 10 days of training in the fresh air it was time to travel back to London.  Just a short trip to Fez, and another leg of the journey would be over.  Though I'm disappointed to be heading home, I've had a huge smile on my face all day today.  Usually when I come to the end of a trip I'm ready to go home; ready to get on with the rest of my life.  This time around, another week would have been greatly appreciated.  As hard as I wished though, it was not to be.

And so why do I have a smile on my face?  Well because I'm really enjoying my last day in Morocco I suppose.

This morning after inadvertently bargaining with a taxi driver (the jist of the story is I walked away from taxi driver because I couldn't understand what he was saying, he thought I thought the price was too high, he gave us the ride for a song), we headed down the hill towards Fez.  It was nice to see the country in daylight, even if it was through the pouring rain.  As we approached the city the rain stopped and I knew then it was going to be a great day.

We got a mini taxi from the new town to the gates of the medina in the old town and then stepped into what can only be described as a dream.  Along the narrow winding streets were tiny shops which sold everything from colourful pottery, wooden carvings and intricate silverwork to tacky plastic toys and big cotton knickers.  The smell of food from the small restaurants and stalls was divine, and the sight of a fully laden donkey trotting down steps in alleyways barely wide enough for two people to meet only added to the feeling that we were in a different world.

As we're are flying later today, both AnnMarie and myself had our small trolley suitcases with us, something which brought us a lot of attention.  We were offered all manner of accommodation for the night, and one guy even promised the luxury of an indoor shower.  Such a shame we couldn't take up on the offer.  We soon warmed to all the attention, and it was nice to hear English been spoken again - the perfect reintroduction to out everyday lives.  In fact we really got into the swing of it, and smiled as we said 'no hotel required' and made an areoplane imitation before the friendly locals could even get the word 'hotel' out of their mouths.

And it wasn't just hotels that we were offered.  One young man seemed particularly obliging.  'What is it you're looking for?' he said.  'Hotel? Food? Husband perhaps?' Alas the thousand camel I thought he was offering turned out to be just a cow and camel.  Beggars can't be choosers I suppose, but for some reason I didn't even think that offer was completely genuine, and passed on this occasion.

We seem to be getting the hang of the 'point-and-hope-for-the-best' approach to ordering food.  For 10 dirhim (about 80p) we managed to get a large selection of cookies and pastries from a small bakery where nobody spoke English.  And before we left the medina we had a delicious £6 3-course meal which will hopefully see us through to home.

And just like that our few hours in Fez was over.  Time to go to the airport and board a plane back to London.

This has been one of the most enjoyable trips so far.   Morocco may not have been how I expected, but it was definitely what I needed. I'm sad to leave, but already excited because I know that some day I'll be back. Let's just hope that it rains a little less next time round.

Back in Africa

Although it was almost dark as I touched down in Africa again, the greenness of the countryside greeted me, and surprised me yet again.  Even though all my previous preconceptions of Africa have been wrong, Morocco I was sure would be dry and barren!  Wrong again it seems!

As I take the 1 hour taxi ride between Fez and Ifrane, I can tell that there is a stark contrast between North Africa, and the sub-Saharan parts of the continent which I have previously visited.  Despite this, I can also see the similarities.  In the dark and teeming rain, the drive up the mountains to my home for the next 10 days has all the dangers of driving on the roads of Africa, but none of the excitement.  Darkly clothed people walk on the verge of the unlit road, making their way home in the downpour; the lights of the taxi silhouetting them, and saving them, at the last moment.  As the road twists and turns further up into the middle atlas, the taxi driver makes halfhearted attempts to pass laden trucks, pulling alongside them, before the lights of an oncoming car makes him think better of it.  I look forward to seeing some of the countryside in daylight.  When we eventually arrive in Ifrane, I can tell that the town is nothing like the Africa I have seen before; the light dusting of snow which has just fallen reminding me that I'm a long way from the sun-drenched plains of the rift valley.

As my first day indicated, Morocco is anything but dry.  In fact it rained almost all day, and only just before evening fell on Friday could I eventually venture out and investigate my new surroundings again.  After hurting my little toe earlier in the week, I decided to give it one more day to recover, so a run wasn't planned, but it was nice to finally get out of the apartment.  I had awoken earlier in the day to the sight of a stork on a nearby rooftop.  I quickly crept out of bed, grabbed my camera, and carefully opened the window to catch a shot without frightening her away.  Ten days later she doesn't seem to have moved, and I later realised that there are about 8 other storks nesting within sight of my bedroom window.  In fact the town is full of them.  On that first evening, I also discovered some monkeys playing at the edge of the forest; the closest of them within touching distance of me.  Unfortunately my camera wasn't so close this time, and I haven't spotted them since.  Just my luck.

I was very apprehensive about coming to Morocco.  As a Muslim country I was worried about running around, particularly on my own, and was very glad when AnnMarie joined me on Sunday for the remainder of the trip.  In fact, now it's difficult to see what I was so apprehensive about, and why I would ever have left a place like this out of my research, just because I might get a little bit too much attention!  Apart from our distinct lack of French, we're doing just fine.

Ifrane is a university town of approximately 10,000 people, situated at just over 1,600m in the Moylen (mid) Atlas.  In the forest just above the town sits the green-roofed royal palace, the summer residence of the Sultan of Morocco.  During the winter months, the town is a ski resort, and with it's distinctively European, rather than Moroccan, architecture, the town has a very alpine feel to it.  The town was built as a hill station during French occupation, a place where the colonials could go and feel like they were at home.  While there's not much to do on rain days (of which we've had many), Ifrane offers a plenitude of lovely walks, and of course lots of places to run.

Morocco have a great tradition in distance running, and legend Said Aouita was the first to use Ifrane as a training base.  Today numerous Moroccan and French athletes train here, and it's easy to see why.  Good food, relaxed atmosphere, cheap cost of living, smoothly surfaced roads, and miles and miles of trails make Ifrane perfect for running.  Shame about all the rain though!

Another Journey Home

Alas, another journey has ended, and again I find myself in transit. The past week in Dullstroom has been very enjoyable, mostly training, and relaxing. Rather than bore you with the details, here are some of my favourite photos of the area and the trails, and some photos from my visit to the Birds of Prey Rehabilitation Centre just down the road.

South Africa has been very different than I expected; yet again Africa throws up some surprises! The two training sites that I visited were each very different, and my brief stops in Johannesburg and Pretoria, highlighted to me just how diverse this South Africa is – and that’s without visiting the coast. I’ll definitely come back at some stage, but for me the country lacks some of the ‘soul’ of east Africa. Of course that means much less of the hustle and bustle of east Africa, which isn’t always a bad thing.

Next stop: Berlin half marathon on April 1st, followed by Morocco the following week for my penultimate altitude venue. Almost there now!

Christmas in Potchefstroom

And so I’ve spent my third Christmas in five years in Africa.  This has probably been the quietest yet, but no less enjoyable.  After the ice and snow of ’09 and ’10, it was nice to have a warm Christmas again.  Christmas morning I went for a run in the scorching heat around the North West University campus where there is a specially set out cross country course, a 400m grass track, and lots of well kept pitches to run on.  After an enjoyable run, I went back to ‘Cosy Cottages’, the very pleasant place at which I was staying.  After some lunch, I relaxed by the pool, took a walk around the town, did some bird watching, did another run, eat and slept.  I know it sounds a bit dull for Christmas, but for me, apart from my family not being here of course, I couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.  And if you’re getting a bit jealous of the heat and sunshine, it did absolutely bucket it down all day Tuesday. It’s not all sunshine, so to speak.

New Year’s Eve was even more low-key.  I did my long run in the morning, got a little bit dehydrated, and was pretty much whacked out for the rest of the day.  I went to bed about 10pm, and as is starting to be tradition for me, I managed to just about stay conscious until midnight, acknowledged that another year had arrived, rolled over, and slept soundly for the rest of the night.

I spoke to Dad before I left Heathrow at the beginning of this trip, and we chatted about how another year had nearly finished, and how we were going to make 2012 the year of living in the present.  The past is finished, and not worth living again, and the future is not yet ready for us, so best to live in the here-and-now.

And so, to the here and now.  I arrived in Dullstroom via Johannesburg yesterday.  Again there were thunder showers yesterday evening so I didn’t get to explore very much. I was pleasantly surprised to see how beautiful the place was when I went for a run this morning.  Dullstroom is a lot more rural than Potch, and the countryside around the small town is as beautiful as I’ve seen anywhere on my trips so far.  The town itself has an interesting selection of shops including an antique shop, no less than two chocolatiers, a clock shop which boasts the largest selection of shops in the southern hemisphere, a small brewery, a shop selling locally produced cheese, and a whiskey bar which reportedly has the second largest selection of whiskeys in the world.  Add to that a small supermarket and a few restaurants, and what more could you ask for?

Despite the modern shops and the reputation of Dullstroom for flyfishing, mountain biking and other Western pursuits, there is a small township close by, and the town feels far more like the Africa that I know and love than Potch, or even Johannesburg.

And now?  Well I guess it’s time to go and do some living in the here-and-now.  I might even go check out some of those clocks.

Have a very special 2012, and I hope that this year is the year that most of your dreams come true.  Not all of them mind, because as someone once said, ‘if today were perfect, what would be the point of tomorrow?’

It doesn't rain but it pours

In yesterday’s blog I opened by saying how distinctive Africa is, and how you are on the continent as soon as you land at the airport. Well scratch that. Flying into Johannesburg is just like flying into any other airport around the world. It doesn’t smell of Africa, it isn’t dusty, there are no crowds of people, and we didn’t even have to queue at emigration. Did I board the correct plane? Being white doesn’t make me stand out as a tourist, though I’m yet to decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. One thing that’s the same though is that nobody knows when the buses leave, or in fact any are travelling today.

It turns out that the last bus from the airport to Potchefstroom (Potch) left at 1pm, and I need to take a taxi to the main station in Johannesburg and hopefully catch a bus from there. It turns out that I get the last available seat for 3 days! I joke that it’s the luck of the Irish – something that maybe I should learn to be less reliant on.

The trip to the bus station was something of a disappointment. Again, there is nothing of the sort of chaos that I would have associated with a major African city, especially not one as notorious as this. In fact, it seems quite a safe and inviting city. But perhaps there in lies the danger.

I can’t tell you much of my trip to Potch; I slept the whole way. And I arrived in a massive thunder storm. As with the rest of Africa; when it rains here, it sure knows how to rain. Familiarity at last!

Back in Africa

Just before 7am this morning (local time), I landed in Ethiopia. It’s strange how distinctive landing in Africa is. Airports the world over tend to have a similar feel and look to them, but somehow airports in this part of the world are different. Maybe it’s the mayhem, maybe it’s the people, but whatever it is you know that you have arrived on the Dark Continent.

It’s been just over a year since I was last in Addis, and I’d forgotten how beautiful it is. The sun rises early in Africa and even at that time in the morning the sun has already risen over the horizon, lighting the beautiful plateau to the south of the city, the hills on which the city is build, and the Mountain peaks which surround it. Although I’m curious to see if it has changed at all, and to see how much of what was countryside last time I was here has been developed. No time for that though, as I am on my way to Johannesburg.

I’ve just boarded the plane, and it would appear that after all these years of flying, I have finally got my first upgrade. Not that business class is any different to economy on Ethiopian Airlines, apart from the fact that both classes are separated by a set of toilets. It’s essentially the same as getting an upgrade on an AirLingus flight. You get to sit closer to the front of the plan, and can see into first class, and ‘what you could have won’. I won’t complain though, and either way there is more room than there was on the sardine tin in which we travelled from London.

The trip so far has been reasonably uneventful, though as usual I left most things until the last minute. I was almost at the station in Stratford when I realised I had left my passport in the office, and when I did get to Heathrow and make my way through security, it took me a while to work out that I was in fact sitting at the wrong gate. Apart from that, there’s been no major problems.

Actually, the longer I sit on this plane, the more I realise that this isn’t even business class – it’s economy class seats in the area of the plane where the business class seats would normally be. Maybe the flight upgrade gods will finally recognise my face and give me a seat with a bit more leg room for the flight from Ethiopia back to Heathrow.

But that’s a few weeks away still, and now I must put away the laptop so that we can fly to Johannesburg. South Africa here I come.

Brunei Stopover

Today, a very long stopover has allowed me to explore a small piece of Asia for the first time. Brunei is a small country which shares the island of Borneo with Malaysia and Indonesia. In fact it previously owned the whole island, but gave away part of the land to its neighbours.

Today Brunei, or Negara Brunei Darassalam to give it its full name, is the last Malay Sultanate, and one of three monarchies ruled by dynasties claiming descent from Prophet Mohammad. Unsurprisingly, the country is 80% Muslim, though claims tolerance of other faiths. English is the second language and widely spoken. Its proud history is evident in some of the most beautiful mosques in South-East Asia. The country has rich sources of oil and natural gas, the residents pay no income tax, the crime rate is very low, and money collected for the poor went undistributed for years because they simply couldn’t find any poor to give it to.

Having it's own oil supply and no taxes, means that fuel prices in Brunei are low (1$ is worth less than 1€!)

The literal translation of the country’s name means Abode of Peace, and the residents definitely seem happy and proud of their country. The government is stable, residence have one of the world’s highest per capita incomes, and a life expectancy of 75 years. Despite its location, Brunei is free from tropical diseases, lies outside the typhoon belt, is not prone to earthquakes and does not have volcanoes, but best of all it is not at all crowded. The 5,765-square kilometre kingdom, three-quarters of which is virgin rainforest, is home to less than a half a million people, and many of them live in the largest water village in the world in the country’s capital, Bandar Seri Begawan.

It is the capital and its surrounds, rather than the rainforest, which I had the opportunity to explore today, and here are some of the photos from my tour.

His Majesty Sultan Haji Hassanal Bolkiah is the 29th ruler of the world’s oldest continuously reigning dynasty. His official residence is the largest residential palace in the world. At 2000,000 square metres (compared with the 77,000 square metres of Buckingham Palace), it has 1,788 rooms, a 110-car garage, and a lot of gold!

Despite its size, however, it’s difficult to get a good view of the palace. This is the best shot that I managed.

The Royal Regalia Building is basically a museum to the Sultan and his Kingdom. There were numerous royal relics on display, presents he has received from foreign leaders, and chariots used in royal processions, including this one from the Coronation in 1968.

The Jame ‘Asr Hassanil Bolkiah Mosque is the largest in Brunei, and has 29 golden domes, one to represent each of the kingdom’s sultans. It is just one of a number of fine mosques in the small city.

It is obvious from the mosques and that palaces that this is a very wealthy country, and that they are not afraid to spend a few bob on a bit of gold here and there. The best demonstration of the country’s wealth, however, I feel is the fact that Queen Elizabeth II has her own house here. The large villa was built especially for her visit here in 1972, and today is unoccupied apart from the maid, chef, cleaner and gardener who maintain the property in wait for when she may decide to make a return visit.

Despite no longer being a fishing people, many of the city’s population still choose to live in the water village. On the city side of the river there is a large parking area full of cars. This is where the water village people park the cars which they use to travel to and from work. They live in the stilted houses out of choice rather than necessity. From the outside the water village looks something of a shanty town, but that is far from the case. The tour gave me the opportunity to see inside one of the houses, and inside it is very comfortable indeed. All houses have running water and electricity, and many have satellite dishes too. This is far from a shanty town.

From what I’ve seen Brunei is a beautiful country; probably one of Asia’s best kept secrets. Next time I’ll hopefully get to do some monkey spotting. I hear they’ve got some orangutans around here!

Melbourne and more

Knowing that I had a day in Melbourne before I set out on my journey back to London, I had hoped to be able to bring you a photo-tour of Australia’s second city. Alas, it rained all day, and apart from a few grey photos, I have little photographic evidence of the city.  In fact, apart from fuzzy hair, a great Mexican meal, and some cheap and tacky souviners, I have little to show at all.

At least I made it this far though. When I got to the train station in Albury yesterday neither of my debit cards would work. I didn’t have enough cash to pay for the ticket, but when I phoned the bank they had no explanation other than that they though there was a link problem between the UK and Australia, something that only time would fix. Luckily I had got to the station early, and I had time to wait, but when, after 3 hours it still didn’t work, I wasn’t sure what to do. Luckily, when I explained the problem, the lovely people at the ticket office sold me a child’s fair. I didn’t mind pretending I was 14 for the day.

The weather was nice when we left Albury, but the skies were becoming greyer and greyer as we approached Melbourne. As we were steadily making our way towards the outskirts of the city, the heavens opened, and we could see quite a sever electrical storm in the distance. Unfortunately, soon after the lightening caused the signals ahead to fail and the train was stopped in the middle of nowhere. The train manager announced that there was a problem, and that they had no idea when it would be fixed; nothing to do but wait. All-in-all we were about two hours late arriving in Melbourne, and nobody died, but why did I get the crazy woman to sit beside?

Speaking of crazy, what is it with Australians walking around in public with no shoes on? On my first evening here, I noticed a girl in a shop in her bare-feet, and though I thought it was a bit odd, thought that there was a sensible reason behind it. The next week while I was staying at the AIS, I saw some teenagers walking from the pool with no shoes on; I guess after swimming and with not far to walk, there was little point in putting shoes on. But yesterday, in the heavy rainfall, I walked about a half a mile behind a guy, probably in his early twenties, with no shoes on his feet. Later I saw another man walking down the street with nothing on his feet. I guess when the alternative is a pair of flip-flops, what’s the point?

And, so like all other good things, the Australian leg of my travels has come to an end. I fell while running, had the obligatory airport hiccup, had money issues and spotted a native animal, none of which a trip would be complete without. There was excitement, relaxation, solitude, joy and a lot of training, and finally the itchy feet to be integrated back into society. And best of all there were no snakes. A good trip all round!

There never were any more kangaroo sightings for me to get a photo of. The moral of the story may be to ALWAYS have your camera with you, but I’d rather think that it is that it is greater to have appreciated for just one second the wonder of nature, than to have missed it just to get a photo to remind you for a lifetime that you didn’t fully acknowledge the moment. Of course, if you can have both it’s even better!

Some things you may not have known about Australia

Australia is a strange country. In many ways it is very American, so much so that it’s difficult sometimes to remember its distinctly British past, and continued (yet complicated) connection with the Monarchy and Commonwealth. Indeed, British and American ‘cultures’ collide in a seemingly bazaar way. The money has the queen’s head on it, and looks very British, but yet is called dollars. Everyone drives an SUV or four-wheel drive, the trucks look American, and the streets and avenues are distinctly American. The traffic lights and street signs are just like what you’d expect to find in America, but they drive on the left. The TV channels show infomercials to outrival the Americans themselves, but they also seems to have a distinct affinity with British programmes. The country is a mishmash of cultures all rolled into one, but their pronunciation of vowel sounds is distinctly their own. Nobody can take blame for that.

Being here has made me realise how little I know about this country/island/continent. Here I put forward some interesting facts about Australia that you probably didn’t know, or at least that I didn’t know, or at least fully comprehend, before I arrived here.

1. It is very, very, very big! I have often heard people say that Australia is a very big place and that the cities are very far apart. It’s only since I came here that I realise just how big it is. On the map Melbourne, Canberra and Sydney look very close together, just like Liverpool, Chester and Manchester. The reality is a whole lot different. If you had an afternoon to spare, cycling between these three English cities wouldn’t be completely out of the question. It would take more like a week just to cycle from Melbourne to Canberra. At over seven and a half million square kilometres, Australia is the 6th biggest country in the world (behind Russia, Canada, China, United States and Brazil). It is the largest borderless country in the world, and the largest country wholly in the Southern Hemisphere.

2. There are very few people here! Well, 22.8 million may not sound like very few, but that’s only about 3 people per square kilometre, and given the disproportionate number of people who live in the main cities in the south and east, there are large parts of the country with nobody at all…and beautiful towns like Falls Creek, which in November is practically isolated from civilisation.

3. It is the flattest continent. Only six percent of the Australian land mass rises above 600m. The highest point is Mt Kosciuszko in New South Wales at 2,228m. By contrast the average altitude of the whole of the North West of Kenya is more than 2,000m. Makes me wonder why I’ve bothered coming here for altitude training – oh yes, the beautiful, quite isolated town of Falls Creek perhaps!

4. Australians are very good at sport. Relative to their population, Australians are among the most successful sportspeople in sport. At the 1996 Olympics, for example, Australians won 3.78 medals per million of population, two and a half times better than Germany, the next best performer, and despite being only the 52nd largest country by population, finished 5th on the medals table. What makes this even more impressive is the fact that their top sports are listed as Footy (Australian Rules), Cricket, Rugby league, Horse Racing and Surfing, none of which are Olympic sports. They excel in almost every sport. There are even three dozen Australians playing baseball in the United States.

5. It’s a dangerous place. Three Quarters of the world’s most venomous snakes can be found in Australia. However, only a small number of people live in prime snake habitats, and India experience thousands more snake-related fatalities each year (remind me to scratch India off my list of places to visit). Australia is also home to many more of the world’s deadliest creatures, including crocodiles, at least two types of spider with potentially fatal bites, and the highly venomous box jellyfish which can paralyse heart muscle in an instant. On the upside (I think), however, you are apparently more likely to be killed by a bee sting, or drown while surfing, than be killed by shark attack in Australia. Still, take care out there boys and girls.

Barefoot Runner

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a bit of a bookaholic. Unfortunately, however, I seem to buy far more books than I ever get a chance to read. Travelling allows me the time to catch up. And so, after completing Bill Bryson’s Down Under, I tackled Barefoot Runner, the life of double Olympic Marathon Champion Abebe Bikila as told by Paul Rambali.

I like my book choice to reflect my travels, and when they’re not about travelling itself, they are usually about runners from some of the countries I’ve been to. In truth I had meant to read this book when I was in Ethiopia twelve months ago, but get round to it - better late than never.

Bikila was the first of the great African runners, and his efforts in winning the Rome marathon while running barefoot heralded the start of the golden age of African distance runners. The book is an interesting insight, not only to the life and times of Bikila and his coach, but also gives the reader some idea of the history and life of Ethiopia at that time. How Bikila came to be competing at an Olympic Games in the first place involves more than a couple of cases of good luck and being in the right place at the right time. Getting to a second Olympics was even more fortunate.

Bikila had more than a small part to play in changing the face of African distance running, and putting Ethiopia on the map. The story is highly recommended to anyone interested in the success of East Africa athletes. I just wish I’d read it before I visited Addis 12 months ago.