Day 26 and 27: The road to Meknes

Day 26: 'Chaouan to south of Jorf El Melha (125 km)
Weather: nice.  mostly sunny, mid 60's
Bike: rear tube still questionable.  Held most of today, but was squishy at end.
Road: not too bad most of the day, but got more congested later on.  Doesn't take much on those no-shoulder highways to make things unpleasant.

Kind of a rough day today.  I was trying to make time through this less interesting part of the country, and unless I wanted to spend 4 days picking my way through the mountains on super rough roads and sleeping in people's yards, I had to take the relatively major road.  Actually, the first part of the day wasn't bad at all- though there were still no shoulders and the pavement is kinda rough, and the dogs meaner, the traffic was lighter than I thought it would be, and the 2000 feet of elevation I gained slowly gave itself up in a mostly downhill way.  The scenery was pretty nice, with rolling mountains covered with cork oaks and olive groves being actively harvested. So I got to my sort of tentative destination around 2 pm, which was sort of one of those "campismo" like place I stayed in in Portugal and Spain a few times.  It seemed nice, but for some reason they wouldn't take tents, only RVs.  It being early, me not being particularly tired, and seeing an opportunity to turn 3 days travel into 2, I decided to go for it, and find shelter where I may down the road.

But the land got flatter, the road rougher, other traffic thicker, the dogs just as mean, and the towns I went through had no where to stay, and even if they did, I would be very hesitant to stay there, because they were super dirty and kinda scary.  Sadly, the worst part about the ride, though,was the people.  Though some were nice, most were pretty unpleasant.  This country has a huge problem with unemployment, particularly with young men, and that mixed with a culture where women are expected to do most of the work, the young men have little to do.  So they do what all bored young men do the world over- travel aimlessly about the streets (or even most country lanes) and try to look cool in front of their friends.  Enter a vulnerable, dopey-looking foreigner reeking of unimaginable privilege. The result is predictable, and honestly, considering the situation, could be worse, but as it is, going through towns is kinda horrible considering most people are jeering at me, or throwing rocks, or grabbing at the bike, or demanding cigarettes, or deliberately veering their donkey cart in the way, etc.  

Anyway, not finding anywhere to sleep and with the sun going down and with my rear tire flatting out again, I was getting pretty desperate, so I asked a nice looking older guy (older guys with jobs are usually nice) in sign language if there was somewhere I could pitch my tent, and thank God he took me behind a school and introduced me to his friends- other nice older guys, who said they would keep an eye out for me.  These other guys seemed to be important, because when they talked to the throng of kids who had gathered to watch me make camp, the kids listened.  I ate my little camp dinner (which was a little bit of a bummer, because I can't replace the rubbing alcohol fuel- they only sell rubbing alcohol here in tiny expensive spray bottles) while another rando guy stared at me and asked over and over again in French if he could have the headlamp i was currently using.  (Is "non" not "no" in French?).  I disassembled the bike, put it in the tent with me and turned in at dark, mainly so I would be boring and people would leave me alone. 

Anyway, the experience was kinda fun and adventury in retrospect, but mostly scary and unpleasant at the time.  The disparity of wealth thing is really preying on my conscience, and well, it kinda sucks regularly running a gauntlet of sneering youth and malicious kids and snarling dogs and having huge mega trucks and busses nearly hit me every few minutes.   The upshot is I am strongly considering pushing on for another day to see the apparently amazing Roman ruins of Volubilis nd hit the major town of Meknes (despite difficulties, I did make 120 km ytoday and am within very doable range) , get a comfy room, see the sights of Fez and Meknes for a few days, then pile the bike on a bus back up to Tangier, and continue the European leg back to Lisbon, accelerating with bus where needed.  It is my vacation, after all, and I want to do more than endure it.  And I guess as difficult as it is, I might have to admit I bit off a little more than I could chew with this developing world bike tour thing.   Sigh.

Day 27: (Thanksgiving) Jorf to Meknes
Weather: A thin skim of clouds most of the day.  Mid 60s.  Not as cold in the morning 50s maybe. 
Bike:  rear tire stopped holding air, replaced tube. 
Roads- not terrible traffic on sections of major road, almost no traffic on country road section.  Country road pavement was intermittent and grades steep.

Well, no turkey today, but I have a number of things to be thankful for.  First, I am not spending the night in a field of trash.   Instead, I'm  snug in a kinda antiseptic but totally fine hostel (with WiFi!) in Meknes.   Today was a whole lot better.  Starred out rough when my get up early to beat the traffic plan did indeed beat the traffic but put me square in the time where these nightmare kids are waiting by the side of the road to get picked up to go to school.  So ran the gauntlet of taunts and rocks hucked at my head again first thing, but made myself feel better by coming up with a term for my young tormentors- the "Mocking Dead." So called due to their tendency to sniff me out from a distance and swarm to pile shouted insults at me, and also due to the often dead-eyed expression, even as they call me wicked names. 

But I dwell.  Almost immediately after that I took the scenic route and got immediately free of traffic for hours, and a hugely view-packed ride to boot, though steep, rough, and hard (stop snickering- it's beneath you).  The fields stretched far away on every side, and were being tilled for a winter crop.  I was interested to see that about half of this work was being done with tractors, and the other half by donkeys and mules drawing plows. 

Then by early afternoon I was at Volubilis, a stunning archeological site of a sizable Roman town.  There was a pleasant restaurant across the street and I was starving, so I had my feast there, and felt much better. 

Anyway, this site is at least twice the size of  Bolognia in Spain, and Volubilis also has an amazing amount of nearly intact mosaic floors.  It's a bit of a mystery why they just leave these 2000 year old priceless bits of art in the open with no protection, but on the up side there are not nearly so many rules and roped-off areas, so you can get a much better view of the ruins.  They have partially rebuilt some of the more interesting structures, such as the triumphal arch and part of the basilica.  They also rebuilt on of the many ancient olive oil presses and included replica wooden works so you can get an idea how the Romans produced one of the major exports of Volubilis.  Interestingly enough, that industry hasn't changed- the area is still surrounded by working olive farms.

The end of the day was fine- a fairly busy road and some unwelcome hill climbing right at the end of the day, but get this: a shoulder!!  Such luxury.  Will sleep well tonight.