On our second day hanging around the island of Efaté, Vanuatu anchored off Port Vila, I called a local surf instructor, John, to see if he could show my brother and I around the local breaks. At the end of the call, he asked if I could come skate around to the café to meet us. Eventually, I wandered upon the shop and found the instructor. He was a small 27-year-old man with dark skin and short dread locks. He looked very friendly. Trent and I introduced ourselves hoping to makes plans for the morrow. It was concluded that we would meet up around 9:30 am at the wharf to skate around with some other kids while waiting for the high tide to crawl in. And then once the tide was close to its peak, my brother and I would fetch our boards on the boat to then catch a mini bus ride to Pongo Village, where John (the instructor) lived. Once all was said and concluded, John and I skated over to ask permission from my parents. Thankfully they said yes, and with that the plan was settled.
Efate Island, Vanuatu
Anxious to go surfing, I had trouble sleeping through the night. Finally, the morning light rose and the timer on the clock began to ring. Before we were allowed to leave my dad gave us some chores. The first on the list was to take out and clean the spark plug on our little 3.3 horse engine, once that was finished we needed to start our reports, comparing the archipelago of Fiji and Samoa. We finished both chores by eight o’clock then commenced the days packing of extra clothes, water bottles and snacks. With our surfboards, board shorts, skateboards, and the bus money all ready to go, we lowered the dingy in the water and putted off with our skateboards. Trent and I waited around the wharf skating for an hour and a half, and right before heading back to the boat disappointed, John and his 8-year old student (Charlie- a girl) showed up. Together we skated around looking for a place to eat lunch. We came upon a place called Nambawun café and ordered protein with a chocolate brownie. An hour later we snatched our boards from the boat, mom motored us back to the wharf and we caught a bus to take us surfing. The four of us arrived to see 1ft waves and hardly anybody out. The tide was not quite high tide yet, so we weren’t completely depressed.
We stashed our things at John’s house and changed into our surf wear. A few minutes later we left towards the beach with hope of high tide to bring bigger waves. As we got closer we saw more and more surfers crowding what was now 2ft waves. So we hopped in the water and all paddled out together to the break. John and Charlie complained from the start that the water temperature of 80° was too cold, but us bros didn’t mind. We surfed around the beginner’s spot for a good half hour trying to figure out the waves’ weird way of breaking. Eventually the group separated and paddled to their preferred breaks, being as their were four different reef breaks all just ten minutes paddle away from each other. I scooted over to a super shallow left reef break where the waves were more my size, and my style. There I could get sets of 4ft waves to shoot down the line and give a big carve at the end of the wave before it got too shallow. The name of this particular spot was called Breakas, and it was my preferred break. The four of us stayed out until the tide once again dropped too far to be able to surf.
Breakas, Pongo, Efate, Vanuatu
Those three hours of surf made us really hungry. We dropped our stuff of at John’s house to grab some money and to head out for fries. Hanging out while waiting for the fries, we talked about the past few hours and enjoyed access to the internet. After gobbling down the French fries we paid at the register and hopped back in the car for a return ride to John’s house. Once arrived at the house we quickly gathered all our things and placed them in a pile near the door. Charlie packed to leave as well since her ride home was coming. Since her mom would be picking her up to take her back to town we asked if it would be possible to give us a lift. As the mom arrived we grabbed our things and asked if she could drop us off at the wharf. She agreed, so we placed our things in her 4×4 and hopped in the back. During the car ride, John, Charlie, Trent, and I all talked and bragged about our day’s best waves. As the car came to a stop we ended the great day thanking the mom for the ride and saying good bye to our new friends John and Charlie.
Once on the shoreline, we laid our things aside down and looked for someone to borrow a phone so I could call my dad for a dingy ride back to the boat. We waited impatiently as my dad motored across to reach the dock. The first thing I said was, “Hey dad, do you think it would be possible to do this again tomorrow morning?” but he denied my request. I already knew it wasn’t going to be possible, knowing that tomorrow morning Kandu (Our boat) was scheduled to leave Port Vila in the morning to head to Pentecost. We got back home and over dinner gave our parents a run down on what happened during our great surf day in Vanuatu.
Bryce Rigney lookin’ at you!
Here are photos and videos of some of the other cool things we did during our tour of the Vanuatu Islands.
Tanna Volcano Mount Yasur upclose!
Bryce and Trent Rigney with the Rom Dancers of Ambrym Island, Vanuatu
Land Diving on Pentecost Island, Vanuatu
After the Land Diving, I helped pound the Kava roots for the adults to drink and celebrate the last diving of the season.
Diving the SS President Coolidge wreck, Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu
Riri Blue Hol rope swinging and swimming, Espiritu Santo, Vanuatu
Yeah – our mail arrived from our mail service in Florida! We had ordered it weeks ago hoping it would beat us to Cape Verde. Oh well, we can leave Mindelo Marina of Sao Vicente, Cape Verde now after an extended visit of just over two weeks. This has been a lovely place to relax and enjoy the cruising life as Kandu had only a few maintenance projects to complete since most were completed earlier in the Canary Islands and Agadir, Morocco. We’ve met several lovely cruisers here making the Atlantic crossing and hope to see them again in the Caribbean.
We will be casting off the lines tomorrow to sail the Atlantic west to French Guiana. We are excited to get moving again. Everything is ready. Water tanks and diesel tanks are full, the boat bottom is clean as well as the deck, cockpit and the interior. All the laundry has been washed and we’re topped up in provisions.
The music scene is excellent here on the weekends. Typically there is a singer and guitar accompanied sometimes with a cajon drum box. Both weekends we went out to hear the mixed sounds of the tropics combined with Portuguese rhythms topped with a language mix of Portuguese, Creole and English. We actually bought a couple wonderful albums one from their most internationally famous singer – Cesaria Evora: Miss Perfumado. Today’s most popular singer Elida Almeida is featured on her latest album: Kebrada distributed by Sony Music.
These last two days, Bryce has been able to get out and surf the northeast side of the island in the south section of the Baia des Gatas: Praia Grande de Calhau. We met a recently arrived fellow American cruiser, Jeff Morcroft on sv Talaba who was game to join Bryce on some water adventures.
Bryce Rigney and Jeff Talaba, Sao Vicente, Cape Verde.
Modern day Morocco maintains many traits from the beginning of its 3000 year-old history. Street vendors, bargaining rituals, thieves, food stands, and tourists all have roles in the large cities. Morocco’s traditions have been through it all: the Phoenician arrival in 1100BCE, era of Roman rule in 146BCE, the Arab invasion (including Spain) in 711CE, and finally, the 21stcentury.
Phoenicians, Morocco’s first “tourists,” came by sea from Lebanon in 1100BCE. They invaded the lands of the indigenous Berber tribes and began colonization of Morocco. With the frazzled Berbers who escaped to the mountains, the coast was an easy seizure. Through prosperous coastline trading, Phoenicians jealously guarded Morocco for an additional millennial. By 700BCE, present day Tangier, Rabat, Essaouira, (in Morocco) and Carthage (another North African Phoenician major trade colony in Tunisia) had been developed. Fiercely they proclaimed the epicenter of North African trade. Glory was theirs, until 146BCE.
Marrakesh Koutoubia Minaret considered the most perfect in N. Africa. Almohad architecture.
Following the trend of Mediterranean coastlines, Morocco and most of North Africa fell under Roman rule. In 146BC Roman forces crossed the Mediterranean and sacked Carthage for her valuable trade. During this time the Berber Kingdom (an accumulation of local tribes and refugees) began to grow. By 44CE Emperor Claudius imposed direct Roman rule. First course of action was a separation of North African territory into two groups: “Mauritania Cesarensis,” (Old Numidia) and “Mauritania Tingitana,” (essentially Morocco). Oddly this was the only discernable action pursued by the Romans over their reign from 146BC-429AD. The multiple attacks and rebellions from Berber and Germanic tribes probably prevented further changes to Morocco.
Bryce Rigney, Bahia Palace, Marrakesh, Morocco
As degeneration of Roman North African provinces became more apparent, Berber and Germanic tribes grew in power. Eventually in 429CE, a Germanic tribe marauded the Moroccan region and seized power until in 533CE when powerful Byzantines claimed the coastlines for their use as wealthy trading outposts. Less than 150 years later came the introduction of Islam, led by the Arab Governor “Oqba Idn Nafi,” though it was a questionable reign after their 5000-kilometer pilgrimage from Arabia to the Atlantic Ocean, Morocco’s Islamic future set anchor. Then came “Tariq Ibn Ziad,” an Arab Governor from western Morocco who took Islam further. During his reign in 711AD, he rallied the people to conquer Europe. Across the Mediterranean, the new Governor led his fleet to Spain, conquering Spain with the exception of the Spanish Mountains. The Islamic Arab conquest peaked in Spain, though due to lack of accountability, things became uncontrollable. Thus began the dispersion of the Muslim world.
Essaouira ramparts at the top of the Skala de la Ville, the great sea bastion
Morocco became a mother for many revolution refugees throughout the Middle East. Moulay Idriss was among these refugees. Morocco’s growing population soon yearned for a government. Adopted by the people as their leader, Moulay Idriss established the first sound Government and Arab court in Fez creating Morocco’s first capital city. After his assassination in 828CEthe Idriss dynasty remained firm for another century. Morocco soon began an interchanging supervision between powerful family tribes up through the mid-1800.
Saadian Tombs dating from 1554-1669, Marrakesh.
In 1492 drastic changes were made, Arabs were completely chased out of Europe by the Spanish inquisition. Forced to reconstruct their own lives in lands like Morocco, and after a bit of French & English colonialism in the 19th-20thcenturies, the people of Morocco make up a nation of two prominent peoples led by a king: Berbers in the mountains and southern regions, Arabs living on the coastlines and in the cities.
Laazama Synagogue, first Jewish Synagogue in Marrakesh, Morocco. It is still in use.Bryce Rigney at the city walls built around Marrakesh Medina
During my two months spent in Morocco, I could sense its history. Street vendors, bargaining rituals, thieves, and food stands hoard ancient sand dunes and cobblestone roads. Sadly through the glass, corrupt oligarchies still administer the land. Through all their changes and attempts at modernization through the support from Europe and America, Morocco remains cloaked 100 years behind a long sleeved smock.
My wife, teenage son, and I are circumnavigating aboard our 42-foot Tayana sailboat Kandu, currently waiting for a replacement freshwater pump for our Yanmar engine in Agadir, Morocco, in preparation for our trip to the Canary Islands. I have some time to pass on some how-to’s we’ve learned over the past 4 years of cruising. Diesel fueling is a frequent chore on our boat.
DIESEL STORAGE: In order to motor distances greater than Kandu’s 500-liter tanks would allow, like when we motored thousands of miles through the pirate zone north of Somalia, and up the Red Sea, to minimize how often we have to go to fuel docks, we’ve loaded Kandu up with 320-liters of cannisters or Gerry jugs. In a Belgian museum, we learned that the term “Gerry jug” comes from WWII US G.I. slang for fuel cannisters modeled after those used by the German military. “Gerry” was slang for a German, thus Gerry jugs.
RECYCLED or REPURPOSED JUGS: In the US, sailors buy their Gerry jugs complete with nozzles, whereas the rest of the world uses alternatives which are free and readily available sans nozzle, converting 20-25 liter heavy duty plastic motor oil, coolant, and/or vegetable oil containers into diesel jugs. In Gibraltar, smugglers loaded with jugs of fuel throw overboard their empty and sometimes full jugs. Each morning, fishermen collect the discarded jugs. That’s how we got our last five 25-liter jugs, from Pepe, a helpful man you got them from a fisherman. The jugs interiors are cleaned with soap and water and then rinsed out with diesel that is discarded to provide a container ready to top up.
Recycled or repurposed gerry jugs
GASKETS: Not designed for re-use, these types of recycled jugs often leak fuel from their caps. The standard third-world solution is to cut squares from recycled plastic bags and screw them on between the cap and the jug, a poor man’s gasket. These gaskets are good for one or two uses before they fall apart and need replacing.
Recycled jugs need plastic bag gaskets
FILTERING: Diesel engines require clean fuel to run properly, free of debris and water. We rarely take fuel directly into our tanks without filtering it through our specifically engineered water fuel filter funnel; diesel is able to pass through the filter’s fine screen but amazingly, water does not. Water molecules are too large and don’t pass through the fine mesh.
Water separator fuel filter
SYPHONING: To migrate the fuel from a Gerry jug into one of our three tanks, we set the jug such that its bottom is above the level of the deck fitting and then use a syphon hose with a chambered glass ball that when shaken gets the syphoning action going without having to suck fuel in with our mouths and risk swallowing and/or breathing it in. An alternative way to get the syphoning action to start is to place a short second hose alongside the syphoning hose with a firmly held (air tight) rag, and blow through it to cause the air pressure to initiate the syphoning action.
Bryce Rigney syphoning and filling diesel tanks from gerry jugs
And lastly, old-school, just dip the hose as far you can into the jug without losing it. Place your thumb firmly over the hose’s opening, and quickly pull the hose out, drawing with it the fuel that filled the hose, releasing your thumb.
So that’s it. That’s how we store and fill our boat’s tanks with diesel. Hope this proves helpful.
The day before our departure to the Canary Islands, I discovered an irreparable leak in our engine’s fresh water pump. It would take more than 2 weeks before our replacement would arrive in hand. Moroccan customs are notoriously painful. Thus we remained berthed in Agadir Marina for more than 4 weeks, a great place to be “stuck” and here’s why:
Eric working on the water intake pump
Finding it was not immediately obvious when we came into the marina, here’s the entrance waypoint: 30°25.2 North, 9°37.0 West.
We called two days in advance by phone from Mohammedia to insure they had space for our 12.7m monohull (+212 (0) 5 22 79 84 84). They did. Apparently, although they monitor channel 9, they don’t reply. Upon our Friday morning arrival, we hailed the marina on VHF channel 9 with no reply. As we arrived, we were waved toward our berth and assisted in tying off bow first, our preference as we have a windvane. The dock pontoons are low and short. The distance between pontoons is large enough for catamarans. When a heavy swell comes, boats sway with great force. Chafing gear and extra lines are recommended. The staff does what they can to assist.
Kandu in Marina Agadir
Water (reportedly potable – although we still filter it) and power are included in the slip rental, as well as toilets, a hot shower, and WiFi. Water requires a pipe thread to garden hose adaptor. The meager toilets and shower stalls are locked behind a single door, with the key hidden outside. The toilets (2) are sit down with toilet seats, but bring your own toilet paper. The poorly maintained single shower has enough hot water for one and half showers and is clean enough for those who aren’t particular.
Marina Agadir Shower
Morocco houses Immigration, Customs, and National Police at the marina office, 24/7. There sole role is to process pleasure craft. I think they hear us hailing, but don’t always reply. Once you’re tied up and settled in, they come immediately to your boat and process you quickly and professionally. We offered them coffee which they seemed to like. They filled their forms, we provided them copies of our ship’s documents, and they took our passports to be stamped and returned 1-2 hours later. They asked for a blue customs form from Mohammedia, which we never received. They accepted our explanation without issue.
Agadir Marina Rates 2018
Speaking French helps, but English is fine. Note: they asked if we had a drone. If we did, they would have held it in their office until our departure. There were no charges for processing.
Checking into the marina office was casual. Check out is the same. They want to see your ship’s document for measurements. Their credit card machine doesn’t usually work, so be prepared to pay cash when you plan to leave. An ATM nearby usually works, but other ATMs are not far away. Make sure your statement reads “Paid in Full” to eliminate any potential misunderstandings. Let officials know when you plan to leave, at least 12 hours ahead, or the night before if you wish to leave early. They do break for lunch and they do have shifts, so best not to wait until the last hour to check out. Note: the marina office is closed on weekends and holidays, but you can pre-pay your slip fees. They are very accommodating.
Marina Agadir office
Security is excellent, 24/7. The common gate leading to the pontoons is not locked, but closely monitored. We left our boat to travel to Essaouira and Marrakesh. The free WiFi in and around the office is adequate for basic needs, including phone and video chats. We were able to slowly upload short videos and handle all Facebook and internet needs for communication back home. For decent phone and data service, go to Telecom Maroc and buy a sim for 20 MAD. Once you have your sim, head over to a local tabac or convenient store to top up on phone and data service…50 MAD buys you 5 gigs of data.
Maroc Telecom Sim
A nearby fuel dock offers diesel, gasoline, and cooking gas at normal local gas station rates. We gravity fed our own propane tanks at the station’s boat yard using our own adaptors.
Gravity Propane Re-Fill
Here is an instructional video we made while hanging out at the marina on the subject:
Light provisions can be found close to the marina, but a 20-minute walk there and a 20-40 MAD (Moroccan dirham) taxi ride back from Carrefour and/or Uniprix, or from the main Souk (closed Mondays) is worth the time and incidental cost. Marjane is a super modern supermarket near Mr. Bricolage (Home Depot), accessible by the #98 bus (3.5 MAD pp, one way) discussed in more detail later. Car rental agencies occupy one block near the marina (we liked Lotus), or the marina can arrange one (we did this too). We paid about $33/day for a 4-seater small diesel car. When we first took possession of the car, it had almost no fuel, so our first stop was the station to top it up. Parking on the street or in a lot where there are attendants is normally 2-5 MAD, not 10! Apparently, some insurance is automatically included within the rental rate. Good thing as we were broken into (small back passenger window) while parked at a beach. Nothing was stolen, but insurance covered half the window replacement; we paid US$70. The window was replaced in a couple hours.
Rental car with back passenger window broken
If you need any assistance buying parts, getting supplies, or with repairs, Youssef Ajewher, a kind local yacht service person and former merchant ship engineer, working privately at Marina Agadir would be glad to assist you. He helped us with many issues, including medical, getting recommendations, driving us around, bargaining and translating for us. He even knows where to dine. Having him care for us was a great relief and time saver. He accepts whatever you think his services are worth. If it were a simple errand, we paid him a little more than twice what a round trip taxi would cost because he knew where to go, who to talk to, and how much to pay. Sometimes, he spent nearly the whole day when we had a medical issue, making sure we knew what was what, and advocating for us. Obviously, we paid him more when he spent so much time, and he was grateful. I love that guy! Youssef Ajewher, +212 (0) 6 77 45 68 87, email: aj************@gm***.com
Youssef Ajewehr
Agadir is a great place to visit and an excellent base from which to visit, Paradise Valley, Essaouira, and Marrakesh. We enjoy the sights, sounds, and scents of Moroccan souks (open marketplaces). Agadir’s souk is huge. Be sure to explore the nooks and crannies. Again – note that the Agadir Souk is closed on Mondays!Spices, olives, dates, almonds, walnuts, fruits and vegetables, butchers, bakers, souvenirs, electronics, cleaning supplies, clothing, it’s all there. The freshly peeled prickly pear cactus fruits are fun and wonderfully sweet and tasty. Expect to bargain, and even then, to pay more than a local. Bargaining is not our strength. Inside Agadir’s souk are wonderful micro cafés with inexpensive and delicious Moroccan dishes. Don’t be afraid to try out a café or two. On Fridays, couscous is served with vegetables, chicken, or beef. A portion serves enough for two and chicken couscous is 20MAD ($2.20 USD) which comes with additional sauce/broth. I recommend getting the bag of sour milk, a sort of buttermilk that marries perfectly with the couscous if your stomach handles dairy. They serve the milk with a bowl of plain couscous to mix with into a paste as an additional separate treat. I tend to leave an extra 5MAD as a tip. To get to the souk from the marina, walk awhile or take a taxi for about 30 MAD, or take a bus for about 4 MAD each.
Agadir city map 2018, Morocco
Another souk a bit further away from town central, more rustic and active than Agadir’s, can be found in the town immediately south of Agadir at the end of the #98 Bus. Catch the bus just north of the marina (just north of the large round about by the fish market) and take the 98 bus to its terminus. It’s also your bus back. As you exit the bus, facing in the same direction as the bus, walk a few blocks further up and to your right. Ask around for the souk or “marche.”
Agadir Wholesale souk
Wholesale souk outside Agadir
Leslie Rigney & Moroccan spices
Moroccan olive stand
Camel meat
This part of town survived the 1960 earthquake and its souk feeds the south of Morocco, selling mostly in bulk and wholesale. Chickens, turkeys, goats, cows, and camels are slaughtered between 5-8 a.m. The whole thing is an extraordinary experience sending you back in time.
Promenade Agadir Beachfront
Our favorite Agadir promenade restaurant is Herguita (aka Hurguita), a little place located just south of the La Coupole restaurant. It’s a wonderful stroll alongside locals and tourists. The Herguita breakfast and lunch/dinner combos can’t be beat for price, taste, service, and location. Breakfast of fresh squeeze orange juice, café au lait, Moroccan pastries is 20MAD. A two-egg a la carte cheese omelet is 16MAD. One lunch/dinner menu: soup or salad, brochettes or tajine, ice cream or mint tea for 60 MAD ($6.60) serves two of us. The avocado-date-milk drink is Bryce and my favorite Moroccan smoothie type drink.
RigneysKandu at Hergita Agadir Promenade Restaurant
Take a taxi before sunset up to the Kasbah overlooking Agadir for a wonderful view. They offer camel rides up there too, but we just took in the view of twinkling lights coming to life.
Bryce Rigney atop the deteriorating Kasbah wall
Kasbah of Agadir
Agadir Kasbah view overlooking the city
Through travel agency ‘AdmireMorocco’ located on the Agadir promenade relatively close the marina, we booked a local sand dune sand boarding trip located near Tamri (north of Taghazout right on the coastline) that included a traditional tajine lunch in the home of a Berber family; the three of us loved it.
Tajine meal at a local’s home
Chicken Tajine
Leslie Rigney learning to pour mint tea
Tamri waterfront
Tamri visuals
Tamri sand dunes
Bryce Rigney at the Tamri sand dunes
Bryce Rigney Sand Boarding
Bryce Sand boarding
Bryce Rigney
Leslie Rigney sand butting
One bummer about Marina Agadir is its proximity to the sardine fish packing plant just north. The smell and occasional dead fish floating around your boat can be a bit much for some. It doesn’t bother me, but then I don’t shower enough to notice.
PARADISE VALLEY is less than an hour’s drive from the marina. We rented a car. Don’t be fooled by the first beautiful stream-side date tree orchard with a Paradise Valley sign. Continue to take the ‘highway’ (currently under construction) much further into the valley, hugging the majestic sedimentary rock wall faces, layers of rock resembling pages from an enormous geological book. Keep going until you come to a ‘parking lot’ from where you can hike up, then down into the quaint picturesque valley. Little “resto’s” are everywhere along the 2-3 km trail, ready to serve you fresh juice or even a tajine lunch.
Paradise Valley: Don’t stop here…keep going!
Paradise Valley, Morocco
Paradise Valley Cafe
Tagine in Paradise Valley
ESSAOUIRA is a picturesque well-kept old fortified seaport that can be a day visit from Agadir. Two and half-hours by car, buses are a likely option as well since the old town is small enough to tour entirely on foot. The excellent wood crafting is not to miss.
Essaouira City Map 2018
Eric Rigney and those silly Moroccan tree goats!
Bryce Rigney in Essaouira
Bryce Rigney walking thru Essaouira souk
Essaouira souk spices
Bryce & Leslie Rigney atop the Essaouira battlements
Essaouira battlements
Rue de Skala: woodcarving workshops
Thuya woodwork in Essaouira
Eric Rigney ready to get’em w/ his new antique Moroccan knife.Moroccan post office parking lot
For MARRAKESH, reserve seats on a CTM or similar bus for 200MAD round trip per person. Take a red-colored taxi from the marina for 40 MAD to the Gare Routier (bus station). I don’t know how often a bus fills up, but tickets can be purchased in advance and paid with by credit card at the Agadir station.
CTM inner city Moroccan bus
The bus is very comfortable but no onboard toilet. The bus makes one toilet stop. Note: 2MAD is the standard fee for a toilet visit. It’s about 80MAD (maybe less) by taxi from the Marrakesh Gare Routier to the center of the old town. I recommend pre-booking a Riad in old Marrakesh (bed’n breakfast type accommodation). They are inexpensive, private Moroccan/exotic guest homes designed with a garden patio in the center, centrally located within walking distance of nearly everything, and include a delicious breakfast. Some have pools; all have roof top terraces. The beds are often hard and our room’s shower didn’t have hot water (no morning coffee required!), but we only paid $40/night for three adults at Riad Chennaoui. We booked the night before through Booking.com.
Bedroom Entrance
Bedroom
Breakfast
Riad Chennaoui
Two to three nights should be adequate time to enjoy most of Marrakesh, but there’s no rush either. A guidebook like Lonely Planet is all you need. Not necessary to hire a guide.
Marrakesh Jewish quarters
Marrakesh donkey cart
Streets of Marrakesh
Bahia Palace, Marrakesh, Morocco
Bahia Palace
Bahia Palace
Bryce Rigney, Bahia Palace, Marrakesh, Morocco
Bahia Palace
Bahia Palace, Marrakesh
Saadian Tombs
Leslie & Bryce Rigney at the Saadian Tombs, Marrakesh
Bryce Rigney, Marrakesh
Marrakesh Museum – renovated palace
Koutoubia Mosque & Minaret
Majorelle Gardens, Marrakesh
Relaxing at Majorelle Gardens
Eric Rigney at Majorelle Gardens, Marrakesh
Leslie & Eric Rigney at Majorelle Gardens
Moroccan dancer
Marrakesh streets
Dyer’s Souk
Handmade Moroccan leather shoes
Moroccan pottery
JAMAA EL-FNA – In Marrakesh’s main square called Jemaa el-fna, we found a food tent, #31, serving only Moroccans. We ate there twice. The Café Glacier rooftop is the best way to experience the square as the sun sets; great photo ops, day and night. From there, you can enjoy the street performers (snake charmers, African drummers, acrobats) without their aggressive demands for money. Some sailors found Marrakesh to be an aggressive, overly populated, tourist trap. We avoided traveling there on the weekend and found it to be a treasure worthy of its worldly acclaim.
SURFING: And the main reason why we came to Agadir was for the local Atlantic surfing scene. There are several spots north and south of Agadir that are good. A 20-minute bus ride (just 7 MAD) north from Agadir on either L31, L32, or L33 is a favorite spot due to the nice accommodations at Richie’s Cafe located at K11 on the beach front route just south of Aourir and Banana Beach. It’s generally a beginner wave, but fun when Anchor’s Point, further north off Taghazout is not pumping. Taghazout is a surfer hangout surrounded by up-and-coming tourist resorts. Even more north just south of Tamri village is Boiler’s Spot where a big ship’s boiler can be found rusting in the wave break. It is a more intermediate to advanced break where Bryce had a great time when the swell was strong. Wetsuits starting in October are generally used.
Richie’s Cafe from the front, street side
Richie’s Cafe: Surf haven just South of Aourir road marker K11.
Bryce preparing to surf Anchor’s Point
Bryce Rigney at Anchor’s Point, Taghazout, Morocco
Bryce Rigney surfing Morocco
Bryce Rigney, Anchor’s Point, Taghazout
Bryce Rigney heading out from Richie’s Cafe, Aourir, Morocco
Bryce Rigney geared up to surf of Richie’s Cafe, Aourir, Morocco
Richie’s cafe surf site, Aourir, Morocco
Bryce Rigney at Anchor’s Point
Taghazout along the beachfront
Some things we didn’t do that sounded like fun:
1) Fez, just too far for us even from Mohammedia.
2) Book a camel trip to a desert Bedouin tent adventure. Sounds great, but we did camels in Egypt, and everything we were finding here was a bit too expensive for us. Those who did it, loved it.
3) There’s also a renowned film studio, but it’s a bit of drive from Agadir. Ouarzazate is the most famous where Lawrence of Araba was filmed and more recently: The Sheltering Sky, Last Temptation of Christ, Alexander, Gladiator, Black Hawk Down, Kingdom of Heaven and Prometheus to name a few.
Whether planned or not, an extended stay in Agadir proved of great value to us. Hope our insights help you get more out of this friendly corner of Morocco.
At home in California, I constantly tried to be frugal. I was taught to save money. I didn’t go out to buy coffee and treats at Starbucks. If there were leftovers from the previous night’s dinner, I would eat that for lunch the next day. I packed the boys’ lunch. I bought the grocery store brand that was $0.10 cheaper. And I used coupons.
Then I would get a parking or a speeding ticket.
In my mind, I would think all that saving was for nil. Privately, by myself, I would rant and rave, throw an adult “tantrum” – absolutely pissed off at myself for being so stupid to get the ticket or to have wasted so frivolously, wondering what was the point of saving if the universe or fate was going to take away my penny here penny there savings anyway. After a while, I would calm down and follow my mother’s advice. Immediately, I would pay the ticket and put it in the mail – try to forget about it.
At a certain point early on, I learned that maintenance of ‘possessions’ was much more expensive than the original purchase price. I tried not to buy unnecessary or repeat items.
Once I became a homeowner, the motto “Less is More” rang true in my head…small house, small cars…. Instead of getting pulled into a ‘sale’ item just because it’s ‘on sale,’ I would talk myself out of the purchase nurturing the concept, “if I don’t buy the ‘sale’ item, then I saved even more!”
Like refurbishing a house where we were warned to budget 30% above and beyond the original foreseen/planned budget, traveling on a ‘houseboat’ is similar. However, I’ve come to figure that expenditures on maintaining Kandu account for 3/5 of our annual budget. So, Eric and I and the boys continue to save and make decisions accordingly. Perhaps we eat out too often. Living on the boat, I’ve never cooked so much in my life. But in other aspects, we work to save. In fact, we planned extensive stays in countries where the dollar is strong and prices are cheaper for us: Marquesas, Samoa, Fiji, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, Egypt, Morocco.
Having learned that in non-Western, generally Islamic countries, bargaining from vendors is expected and among locals it’s a skill. We Western tourists are prime targets for milking and paying double or even triple the ‘local’ price which often ends up making the items as expensive as what would be paid in a technologically advanced country.
Yesterday, I wanted to have our laundry done because washing 3-weeks’ worth of clothes and linens by hand is an all-day painstaking job. I had previously researched the Internet to find there were no coin operated laundromats in Agadir. I asked the marina manager for a recommendation. She highlighted an area on the map indicating there was an establishment across from ‘a restaurant’ that some other yachties have used and the prices were reasonable.
Having been heavily ripped off and burned in Egypt over laundry, I was equipped with courage and determination to barter for the price. I was not going to pay US$100 dollars for two bags of un-ironed laundry. In Egypt, with use of a derelict washing machine (2.5 hours per load), I spent 2 days washing, hanging, and folding 5 loads of laundry. Port Suez Yacht Club then unexpectedly charged me US$10 a load. I had spent hours doing all of my own laundry and they charged me $50 in a country where things are supposed to be cheaper? I was beside myself frustrated.
Now in Agadir, armed with a map, Eric and I took off with two bags (3 loads) of laundry filled with 4 sheets, pillow cases, worn but decent boat clothes and underclothes that can all be washed together – no separating necessary. After a bit of searching we found the recommended laundry place (pressing or blanchisserie): Pressing Alwafa located across from ‘SouIaymane Restaurant’ on Rue d’Essaouira just north of the taxi cab hangout.
Pressing Alwafa, Agadir, Rue d’Essaouira opposite Soulaymane Restaurant
I approached a middle-aged man at the counter and started bargaining in my imperfect French right away. My mistake may have been that I should not have been as assertive. Many Muslim men don’t appreciate strong women, especially those not wearing long non-descript smocks, gloves, and head coverings. He wanted to charge for each item, so I took out all the large pieces and said: “I will hand wash the small pieces myself.” Then he counted the large items as I watched, dropping them in a basket behind the counter, announced it was 35 items and it would be 350 dirhams which amounted to US$38…already expensive! I then asked if I could double count the items – he was annoyed and turns out he was off by five…there were only 30. At that point, he said fine, for another 10 dirhams, he would do all the laundry – a total of 400 dirhams or US$45. I agreed. Then we negotiated when I would pick-up the laundry. The next day was Sunday, so he wanted to give it to me on Monday, but I needed it back the same day since we would be leaving on Monday – we agreed the pick-up would be at 7:00 pm. I mentioned that he didn’t need to wrap the clothes in plastic. Instead, to simply refill my laundry bags directly to on save plastic. He was put-out. Then I asked for a receipt which must have completely tipped him over.
At 7:15 pm Bryce and I returned to pick-up the laundry. Everything was cordial enough. Back at the boat, I started to sort through the laundry and discovered one of my good and hard to find ‘no underwire’ bras was melted/destroyed. Continuing to sort, half the laundry smelled burnt or dirty and felt hard, as if it hadn’t been washed and then I found 4 more pieces melted, burned and/or ruined and three others scorched. Now it was my turn to be pissed. The badly ruined and scorched items with the exception of one of Bryce’s old shirts and a hole in his best Hurley shorts, were mine. Was the damage orchestrated intentionally to punish me specifically because I had ‘aggressively’ tried to bargain? Or since I mentioned I was leaving the country Monday, maybe he didn’t care? On passing us the bags of laundry, the man certainly knew that several items had been ruined and/or damaged and didn’t mention it because half of the clothes were folded and some even ironed! He accepted the full amount of money with a smile. Also, the clothes in one bag were extremely hard wrinkled having been left sitting in a hot dryer – and then not folded. The wrinkles won’t come out even after hand washing unless I iron the items. It was the worst paid laundry job I have ever experienced. I guess I’ll be hand-washing my clothes in the future if I cannot find a coin operated laundromat where I can wash the items myself.
Expensive ExOfficio Specialty capris for sun protection
Recently gifted sweatshirt from Aunt Meg
My immediate reaction to the destroyed laundry was to retaliate. I know it’s sounds foolish and well I felt foolish, but I couldn’t sleep that night for all the possible methods of malice I kept devising in my head. Of course, much of this anger in me is pent up frustration in response to the overall Islamic culture’s treatment of women. It feels like to me that within conservative Islam, women are good only for breeding, cooking, and cleaning. Women should say little and have no opinions. Oddly, only mothers are revered. Not other people’s mothers, just yours. Certainly, a man cannot be friends with a woman…friendliness is interpreted as the woman being open to have sex with the man.
Typically dressed Muslim women in Agadir, Morocco
Eric tells a story about a male public restroom attendant working in the Middle East, filling pitchers of water for patrons to use (they clean themselves with their left hand using the water, no toilet paper). As a business man descends into the attendant’s domain, he grabs the pitcher at the end. The attendant orders the man to set it back down and take the third pitcher from the end. “Why? They’re all the same,” the patron declares. To which the attendant replies, “When I’m up there, I have to do what you say. But when you’re down here, you have to do what I say,” exercising what little power he can. Was this that case? Was the laundry man just exercising his power, because he thought he could? Because I was leaving and had no recourse?
So, my experiment with saving in Morocco was a joke. I tried to save on laundry or to at least get a fair price and I was kicked in the butt. The universe is laughing at me. However, what is the best thing to do? It is to WALK AWAY and let him think he defeated me – that he stole from me, beat me down, won. To me, he’s a middle-aged man surrounded by ugliness and dirty buildings, usurping his little bit of power over a foreign, modern woman.
What do we truly own in life but our attitude? Everything else can be taken away. I want my attitude to be positive, so I work to reject that man’s actions. Happiness is my preference. I want to be happy, and I will keep trying to save because it’s what I do, but maybe a little less vigilantly. Still, hard as I might, I remain a bit hurt, feeling attacked. I guess he won today since I chose to stay inside the boat, hide away and write this article instead. I also didn’t want to spread any residual bad mojo to those around me. Eric and Bryce went to visit the Moroccan souk without me, which I really wanted to experience, . . . but, well, I didn’t buy anything, so I guess I saved.
Leslie Rigney
Epilogue – Eric and I returned to the pressing/laundry with the worst damaged 4 pieces that I was unable to fix and a pillowcase that was unmistakably browned – the other items I rewashed, pressed and/or mended myself. The shop owner seemed dismayed at the news, as his worker, the man I dealt with, looked on. The owner asked us to leave the items with him to see if he could have them repaired, and for us to return in a couple days. Without me, Eric returned and spoke with the jerk clerk. He said, “We were unable to repair the clothes, but we did clean the pillowcase. We are sorry.” The man didn’t make any special offers until Eric pressed him. Compelled, the man offered to do another load of laundry on the house. Burned twice having laundry done in Muslim countries, I couldn’t bare the possibility of getting burned thrice. I have since washed the laundry two times myself with a plunger, buckets, cold water and elbow grease. It all turned out perfectly clean, sun-wind ironed and smelling like fresh air. Not only did I save myself cab money and consternation, I got some exercise too!
Dear Jeff (Jeff Jordan is a high school friend whose second job is traveling the world and may be joining us as a line handler in the Panama Canal),
Actually, we don’t know if Rick’s Cafe in Casablanca is still owned by an American…we never looked. We enjoyed very much our experience there. It maintains an international flavor. We went upstairs to watch the ‘Casablanca‘ film for 15 minutes. I had never seen it. BTW – did you know that the Casablanca movie was never filmed in Morocco? Eric believes it was filmed entirely in Southern California.
The exterior of the restaurant was nondescript same as most buildings we have seen in French Polynesia, Indonesia, Malaysia, India, Eritrea, Egypt, Sudan, and now Morocco. We have discussed that matter with locals and their feeling is this: they don’t want to draw attention to their dwelling on the outside because they don’t want others to know their actual wealth and to steal from them or to expect unearned generosity. Today, a Moroccan gentleman explained to us: “If your neighbor needs something, you are compelled to give it to them over your own needs; your neighbor takes precedence over yourself and your own family.” Yet in my mind, we are all human, aren’t we? Such generosity is difficult to conjure even in myself. Sigh!
Marina Agadir promenade entrance
We’re finding Agadir great. Now that we are forced to remain here to await special bolts and a new water intake pump for the engine, we are finding Morocco more and more charming – desert dust and all. Sadly, the more time we’re spending inside the city (out of the resort areas) we’re experiencing a lot more beggars and homeless. Such an interesting human/global problem since forever, I think. My parents related during their five weeks with us that San Francisco is becoming quite the pit of filth, drug addicts and rampant homelessness. Not good for attracting international tourism!!!
Richie’s Cafe: Surf haven just South of Aourir road marker K11.
We have meet wonderful people and not so wonderful people as we travel. At a local surf hangout called Richie’s located at highway marker K11 on the beach just south of Aourir (30 min busride north from Agadir), we met a wonderful young woman serving tables. For not ever having lived outside her country, her English and accent is excellent!!! I was so impressed with her and her artistry that we invited her to our boat and then she invited us to her home to share couscous. Hadjar’s generosity was so great that she insisted on giving us one of her paintings. Wow! We gave her a couple things too, but her favorite was a California flag!
Hadjar Elmajid’s gift: Saharan womenHadjar: a California fan!
Freelancing at Marina Agadir, we met a wonderful Muslim gentleman, Youssef Ajewher, a retired military ship engineer who provides yacht services. Along with many boat maintenance issues, he has also provided us many personal services too.
He helped me locate and visit a woman’s health/dermatologist (Clinique IBN SINA Avicenne) for some black spots that I was nervous about on my chest thinking they might be the beginnings of cancer – which the kindly middle-aged female dermatologist declared were deep seated blackheads and removed with a bit a trouble having to use her scalpel to cut open the skin. She did a good job and now, most importantly, I am no longer worried. We spend so much time in the sun, that I want to make sure to catch things early on. I was nervous about waiting 8 months to return home before addressing the issue.
On the other hand, we had a little issue with our laundry. I was so upset, I wrote a story about it in the raw the day the day I got back the laundry…couldn’t bear to go out for 24 hours as I felt personally attacked. Waiting a few days, yesterday, with Youssef, we took 5 ruined pieces back to the cleaner and presented them to the owner. He was apologetic. The man who had enacted the damage was there too, shamefacedly. The owner said he would try to mend them wanting us to come back in a couple days. I forgive the naughty man now, but at the time I was thoroughly put-out.
Since we are waiting around, we have made arrangements to take a bus to Marrakesh, the capital city of Morocco, on Monday with a reservation through www.booking.comat an inexpensive yet decent centrally located Riad (old private home turned into a Bed’n Breakfast: ma******@ho*****.com">Riad Chennaoui) – for two nights. Our 2 new water intake pumps (2ndone is a spare), ordered from the Netherlands, will arrive sometime on Wednesday. Eric will get busy replacing the pump (he’s become quite the mechanic!) while I get to work cleaning, laundry in a bucket, etc. Bryce has some chores too to keep Kandu looking ship-shape. If all goes efficiently with shipping and customs, the plan is that we depart in a week or so for the Canary Islands.
Kandu in Marina Agadir
Truly, moving from one culture to the next is always exciting yet a little daunting. I was nervous coming back to a Muslim country after our difficult experience in Egypt…which we haven’t really wrote about yet…I’m still too raw and I don’t want to sound mean nor like a spoiled brat, which sometimes I see myself as when wandering around poorer countries. Sigh….again!
Unable to reach the Yacht Club du Maroc, a private enterprise, prior to departure, we set sail from Gibraltar in hopes a space would be available. A forecasted large NW swell had us forego the shallow entrance of Rabat, and Casablanca has no facilities for receiving yachts. Upon our morning approach, Port Control Mohammedia responded to our VHF call on 16. We were instructed to enter the port and head directly to the marina where someone would point us to a berth. Warned in reports of underwater obstructions near the marina, we arrived at high tide. The private marina resides tucked away in the corner of the commercial and fishing port. Seeing no one of authority, we stayed just off the marina’s two large pontoons, toward the commercial portion of the port rather than the likely shallower small fishing port.
Kandu waiting to be welcomed to Yacht Club du Maroc in Mohammedia
Within 10 minutes, an official looking person with collared shirt and long pants, holding a handheld VHF guided us to raft up alongside one of two possible boats, the choice was ours. They have limited space for visiting yachts. Looking at our depth sounder during our maneuvering into place, the depths were more than adequate, never below 18 feet. The official, who we never saw again, asked us to drop an anchor which I said I would do later, but intending only to stay for 2 nights, with no bad weather forecast, we did not.
All officials came to us within an hour or so, boarded our boat, and processed us politely and professionally in English and French, . . . no “gifts” asked, none given. Leslie offered coffee, which they gratefully received. No charge for clearance. They took our passports for an hour to process, stamp, and return them to us with shore passes (as we were in a commercial port with high security), and held on to the ship’s original documentation to insure we checked out properly. Check out was as simple and painless after 9 a.m., presenting our passports. Taking only 15 minutes, we had our exit stamped passports and original ship’s document. Agadir officials said we should have received a blue paper from Customs, but did not belabor the point with us.
The YC charges two fees, theirs and the port’s. Warned of the high price and that they charge per day, not per night, I was mentally prepared to see a high bill. Accepting only cash, up front, the YC manager was pleased I had made the effort to have Moroccan dirham on hand, having exchanged in Gibraltar before our arrival. He charged us for two nights, not three days. Perhaps because we planned to leave at the same time that we’d had arrived. The two-night YC charge was slightly higher than the port charge, but for a 12.7m monohull, the charges were about 500 dirham each, 1000 total, or $55/night. Price includes 220 power and potable (we don’t trust) water, separate men and women’s toilets and hot showers (clean and adequate), excellent security, trash, access to their restaurant across the port, and weak to non-existing WiFi. Our pontoon was for larger boats and was shared by mostly sports-fishing boats. While there are smaller local cafés nearby, to get to the center of town, a 10-dirham taxi ride makes it easy. ATM’s are common. We used the ATAM at the train station and purchased via cash our tickets through the ticketing vending machine. We hopped aboard the frequent (±every 30-minutes) half-hour train to Casablanca (showing up at least 15 minutes late), costing 32-dirham R/T, and walked 20-minutes to the Hassan II mosque, taking the 100 dirham English-speaking tour, by far the best and most worthy experience we had in our short stay in Casablanca.
Hassan II Mosque, Casablanca, Morocco with Bryce Rigney
Mosque Hassan II Casablanca Morocco
Mosque Hassan II Minaret
One of many entrances
Titanium doors
Mosque Hassan II Interior, Bryce Rigney silhouette
Italian Murano glass chandelier
Magnificent Interior Hassan II Mosque
Intricate plaster carving
Mosque Hassan II Ablutions Chamber
Local Moroccan marble
Exit corridor
Moroccan art at it’s very best: Hassan II Mosque of Casablanca with Eric Rigney
Rick’s Café Americain was charming and elegant, although more expensive than we’re use to paying (4x the cost of the normal hole-in-the-wall places we frequent), very delicious, and the portions are large enough to share between two (wished we had known earlier). As with most all less technologically developed cultures, non-written prices must be negotiated before you engage in buying open market food items, but especially with taxis, where you might pay as much as 3 times the going rate. In perspective, sometimes that means paying $3 instead of $1, but it can also mean paying $50 instead of $20.
SIM cards are an excellent deal in Morocco, 20 dirham ($2.25) for the Maroc Telecom SIM which allows you some limited calling then you add separately a top-up at a tobacco/convenience store to acquire data or more phone. 10 dirham per 1 GB data. Valid for 30 days. We bought 50 dirham worth (about $5.50). SIMs are purchased at a Maroc Telecom or other brand store.
Maroc Telecom Sim
In summary, Mohammedia is a friendly, efficient, and secure place to berth if Casablanca is on your must-see list. Reportedly, the most populous Moroccan city, except for the Hassan II Mosque and the train station, we found this historic city to be unattractive. The old colonial architecture described in tour guides is not maintained and disappointing to behold. To be fair, we did not pay for a guided tour, nor did we have a local showing us the charm of what may otherwise be a very lovely place. Bryce did get to surf at Florida Beach, but even that experience was just okay. Eric Rigney
Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach, Morocco, Sept 2018
Arrive Dar Bouazza, Morocco
Bryce Rigney at Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach Sept 2018
Bryce Rigney waxing his board at Dar Bouazza
Bryce Rigney heading to surf Dar Bouazza, Morocco
Dar Bouazza, Morocco
Leslie Rigney at Dar Bouazza Beach, Morocco
Bryce Rigney, Dar Bouazza, Morocco
Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach Morocco Sept 2018
Leslie’s brief Facebook excerpt:
Casa Blanca on the ocean claims to be the largest city in Morocco. But not having a yacht marina directly in Casa Blanca, we headed instead to port Mohammedia 10 kilometers north from the city. From Gibraltar we left with perfect wind and tide circumstances hopping the Gibraltar straights shipping lanes to the south like a rabbit to avoid the big tanker traffic. With Kandu docked in Mohammedia, we took advantage of the inexpensive train and taxis to see the sights in Casa Blanca. We visited Dar Bouazza Beach for some long overdue surf and the renowned Rick’s Cafe for excellent 1920’s art deco ambience and delicious Moroccan couscous.
Bryce & Leslie Rigney at Rick’s Cafe, Casablanca Morocco
Rick’s Cafe Interior, Casablanca, Morocco
We were spellbound by the most impressive architecture found in the large and beautiful Hassan II Mosque (inside and out as they allow non-muslim visitors to tour the interior for US$11/person). We also walked the city to visit the acclaimed business city center, local souk and the famous Rialto Cinema…all of which were underwhelming. Not a beautiful or romantic resort town, two days was plenty. Sadly, most of the city was run-down and dirty…with hopeful construction everywhere especially on the beachfront which was completely torn up and off-limits except on the outskirts like Dar Bouazza / Florida Beach.
One reason I travel is to learn more about us, the people who inhabit this planet. Recently, here in Gibraltar, an understanding hit me . . . epiphany?
Geographically, Gibraltar is a small place with a population of 32,000. An overseas protectorate of the United Kingdom since 1967, the culture is very mixed; Maltese, Moroccan, Spanish, English, Christian, Jewish, Muslim, something like 61 different cultures in total. Additionally, a labor force of 12,000 Spanish cross the border each day to work in Gibraltar and 1,000 to 6,000 cruise ship passengers make their way through the streets and sights of the famous “Rock,” returning to their ship each evening. During our stay, Gibraltar held its week-long annual end-of-summer family fair; Ferris wheel, bumper cars, ice cream, churros, beer garden, loud music; you get the picture. At the fair, our son Bryce was doing his thing, trying to meet pretty girls and cool dudes. Just as with other European countries, Bryce thought he’d have no problem meeting young people, especially with English being their primary language. Much to his disappointment he discovered the youth were socially closed off, disinterested in making new associations. “Why?” we wondered.
Gibraltar City with Spain in the background
Surrounded by, but cut off politically from Spain and Morocco, far from Britain, under such unique circumstances, Gibraltar seems to have cultivated a particular breed of isolationist village-type mentality, manifested and simmered over a thousand years of various occupations and waves of immigration. They’ve their own language, Llanito a type of ‘Spanglish,’ Spanish with sprinkles of English. The unusual circumstance of the community thus makes it hyper-confined. Anything a member of the community says or does travels through the gossip channels as fast or faster than any technical version of social media. What is said among fellow villagers matters. When for instance, a young girl was seen talking with Bryce, her phone rang constantly. “Why are you with that guy?” It’s made clear: “He’s not one of us.” To be seen spending time with Bryce, a visitor, places the young lady’s reputation in possible question. Guys are equally as brief and dismissive of Bryce’s attempts to connect. This is an unusual circumstance for us. Visiting country after country, an average of two countries per month for the past year, we’ve learned that lifetime friendships can sometimes be forged within days. People who don’t travel much may not appreciate just how quickly and frequently this occurs. At the same time, we’ve learned that, when it comes to preferences as to which people most people wish to associate, people are simple: they prefer to engage with people just like themselves.
Bumper cars at the Gibraltar fairground
Bryce’s Gibraltar experience sparked broader impressions within me. Obviously the more someone is like us, the easier it is for us to receive them. The more unique a group, the more narrowly it is defined, thus allowing for fewer options for developing associations and/or friendships and the possibility of changing their minds, something they don’t really wish to have happen anyway. On the other hand, any possible differentiation that can be discerned naturally gives us pause, a cause to guard and nurture what is ‘us.’ The distinction can be obvious, like skin color, age, sex, sexual orientation, style of dress, weight, the way a person walks, shakes hands, a visible handicap, the vehicle a person drives. It can be less obvious: religion, geographic coordinates, socio-economic class, occupation, food, culture, language, education, etc. Within each of these categories, there are subcategories, for example: education. We differentiate whether one is a high school grad, the school attended, public or private, foreign or domestic? Did they attend college? Which degree? Degree level? Which college? Ivy league? Which one? Fraternity/sorority? Sports? Scholarships? It goes on and on. And to what end do we differentiate others? What greater good is served by cultural confinement? Survival of our offspring? Of our clan? Could it be simply a case of “I want ‘my’ people to thrive, let the others worry about ‘their’ people?” Is this why humans migrated from Africa, into Europe, Asia, South Pacific, and North and South Americas, to get away from the ‘others’ that prevent ‘us’ from thriving? “To heck with you, I’ll find my own hunting grounds!” . . . I wonder.
While I was in college (American, west coast, California, Southern California, San Fernando Valley, public, Cal State University, not UC, no fraternity, graduate degree, mass communication (not law, MBA, medicine, etc.)), a professor described a study that had participants estimating the number of dots flashed from a projector on a wall. The participants were then isolated into two groups, over-estimators and under-estimators. Unbeknownst to the participants, the purpose of the study was to observe how people would compare their group to the other group, solely on the basis of how many dots they thought they saw. Guess what? Each group could be heard extolling the virtues of being like them and the drawbacks of being like the others. Dots . . . something as simple and benign as estimating dots is enough to create an ‘us’ and a ‘them.’
Sailing around the world, except for the occasional trip to McDonalds, we intentionally cast aside our natural tendencies to seek cultural experiences similar to our own and instead actively pursue immersion within other groups. The less something is to what we’re accustomed to, the more excitedly we pursue it. This approach allows us to meet many wonderful people, briefly experience their way of life, their perceptions; thus, opening-up our perception of the world and/or re-enforcing that which we held. More often than not, we find kind, generous, hospitable people. Mutual respect and admiration (love) seem to melt away otherwise persistent barriers. Likely, those individuals with whom we come to form friendships share a similar type of curiosity and willingness to stretch beyond their comfort zones as well. This exchange can sometimes be made easier among the youth who, through music, movies, and attire trends, share a global ‘teenage’ culture. That’s in part why the experience in Gibraltar was unusual. As with most kids across oceans, and especially Europe, the Gibraltarian youth listen to the same music, dress the same way, speak mostly the same language, do the same things, but yet would not readily open themselves to conversing with a foreigner. Not all “Gibs,” as they call themselves, behave in this manner. As disappointing as the youth experience was for Bryce, I met mostly kind, helpful, and generous middle-aged Gibraltarians. So maybe in Gibraltar it’s a generational thing? Difficult to know. Maybe Bryce for the first time stumbled into a group of teenagers representative of the average Western teenager: “yeah,” “maybe,” “sure,” “I don’t know.”
As much as closed-societies are disappointing, more troubling are cultures whose mission, in part or in whole, entail the termination of the “other,” non-identical culture. The multitude and quality of positive cultural interactions personally afforded us these past 4 years make the knowledge – that groups exists to destroy the “other” – more intolerable. Take the category of religion for example: history depicts many examples of one religious group trying to exterminate another. To the extreme, Islam requires Muslim societies to force non-Muslims (kaffirs) to either convert to Islam, be enslaved to serve Islam, or be killed. Furthermore, as with other religions, Islam splits into different versions of the faith. Within the different Islamic versions, the difference leads to death and destruction between them. These are just religious examples. Similar lines can be drawn economically, politically, and obviously between races.
In the USA, as with any nation, we find many opportunities to discriminate against “others.” Skin color is an easy one, pick a color, any color, it’s all the same if they’re not your color, your exact color to be precise. Within color groups there’s discrimination (differentiation). Yellow: Among the different ethnic Chinese groups, they might discriminate based on pale versus darker skin tones, freckles vs. clear complexion, eye shape, nose shape, etc. White: How white, red-headed freckled white, Anglo-white, blond blue-eyed, Mediterranean bronze, brunette brown eyed? What’s white? Black: Within their group, African-Americans distinguish how black or less black an African-American is. Traveling around the world, we’ve had the opportunity to observe that dark colored skin isn’t exclusively African and that not all “Africans” are black-skinned. Arabs and Berbers inhabit nearly all of North Africa. Pacific Islander Melanesians share the same features as peoples from central and south Africa; skin color, wooly black hair, broad noses, etc. Should geographic ancestry play a role in establishing skin color, another layer, another dividing line? Besides, genetically speaking, aren’t we all from Tanzania . . . Adli and Eidi, not Adam and Eve?
Skin color and religion aside, globally today no other groups are belittled or marginalized more than women and homosexuals. By limiting half of one’s population, does society not limit half its potential? While women are typically relegated to a lesser societal position at best, or subjugated and/or murdered at worst, homosexuality is treated as an incurable contagion/psychological or genetic defect. In Sudan as in much of Africa, parts of the Middle East, India and Southeast Asia, we read that many to most young women have been circumcised and some received clitorectomies, a mostly Islamic practice that Judeo-Christian nations deem as reprehensible female genital mutilation. In New Delhi, India, Hindus are known to set brides ablaze for not satisfying the dowry demands of her husband; contrasted by the Baha’i Lotus Temple’s prominently displayed poster of a large man seated at one side of a balancing-scale in perfect alignment with a small woman seated on the opposite side of the scale, indicating that in the Baha’i faith, women are regarded as equal to men, possibly the only international religion to hold such a perspective. Yet, when asked about their view on homosexuality, the young Baha’i volunteer explained that they have much compassion for people afflicted with this “illness” and hope for a cure someday soon, a view shared by many cultures around the world. “Nothing wrong with being a homosexual. It’s only a sin to engage in a homosexual act,” Christian friends explain. In Sumatra, Indonesia, they cane homosexuals, as if to beat it out of them. Learning how women and homosexuals are treated around the world, it makes visible how far Western cultures have come, and are coming, to accept and protect “them.”
The list of us-vs-them categories is extensive. But I find myself in a dilemma. Is it hypocritical to hate haters? To be intolerant of intolerance? Does that make me just like “them,” because I “know” “my” side is right . . . truly right . . . right?
Ok, so what have I learned. People make us a “them” for any and all reasons, large and small. I have learned that if I want to get beyond these natural tendencies, theirs and mine; if I want to navigate more freely within “their” culture, it’s easier if I honestly modify what I can to match their cultural tastes: dress like them, talk like them, love their children, make some of their problems mine, watch their sports, listen to their music, eat their food, visit their places of worship, go to their schools, participate in their charities, hang at their clubs, visit often their neighborhoods, in general, show genuine interest in their culture. I can’t change my age, sex, height or skin color, but I can otherwise respectfully play the role of [insert cultural group here] to the best of my ability, without lying or betraying my core self. It’s not perfect, but it’s the best I can do if I want to move more freely in their village and gain the benefit of their different perspectives, their “spice” on life, thus opening further my horizons. Experience teaches that often the better flavors are generated where cultural fusion occurs. I’m told the most nutritious part of an entire carrot is the small purplish line that borders between the flesh of the orange root and the base of the green stems. Likewise, I think where two cultures honestly and respectfully meet is where the healthiest humanitarian perspectives develop. Or, we can continue to be “us,” unadulterated, full strength, “what you see is what you get, take it or leave it (or die?).” And guess what? “Our” people will love us for it, cheer us on. But before we get too proud, we might wish to ponder one simple question: Are we over-estimators or under-estimators?
Sailing around the world from port to port in our little sailboat Kandu, it’s obvious: one race, one planet, one time.
Eric Rigney on Easter IslandEric Rigney in Bali, IndonesiaEric Rigney in EgyptEric Rigney in Gibraltar
After Sudan, we were on a whirlwind tour of Egypt, Israel, and Europe. Not much has been posted on the blog site since then. The three of us – myself, Eric and Bryce – plan to rectify that, posting articles recounting more detail than revealed in our postings on Facebook about the many extraordinary adventures of the last 5 months. BTW – if you don’t know, Kandu is down to 3 as Trent returned to California to attend high school. He is living with Uncle Nick Rigney in Calabasas.
Trent Rigney in Alsace, France
August 29, 2018
Dear Sara and family,
I have been thinking of you since we were in Spain wishing I had become more fluent in Spanish like you. Unfortunately, we didn’t spend any time in Spain outside Barcelona, darn it! Just had 90 days to visit the Schengen countries (The Schengen agreement among most of the European Union countries grants visitors a 90 day tourist visa…if not European, then you only qualify for a 90 day visitor’s visa out of 180…3 months within a 6-month period. Turkey, Croatia, Cyprus, England, Gibraltar are not part of Schengen.) It’s just as well, because our bank book is quite depleted. It’s been very expensive traveling and docking the boat in Europe west of Greece. We sailed past the lower boot of Italy bee-lining it to Pompeii – one of my bucket list sights.
Cyprus Roman amphitheater dating 100 AD
RigneysKandu floating in Dead Sea of Israel
Santorini, Greece
Acropolis, Athens
Pompeiians asphyxiated
Walking the boardwalk of Ancient Pompeii
Eric and I had never been to Rome or Venice. Having the boys with us, it was a must to make efforts to hit the bigger sites. Maybe another day, we’ll get a chance to explore more of Italy as I really fell in love with that country, full of ancient wealth and history.
Florence’s Duomo: carved marble exterior
Roman Colliseum
Michaelangelo’s David
Gondola ride in Venice
Interior St Peter’s Basilica
Actually Paris this time for us was not as mesmerizing as it has usually been in previous visits and stays. Perhaps it’s because we were generously put up by a friend in the suburbs of Paris and it took almost 90 minutes to get into the city, making early morning and late night strolls a little more challenging. Oh well. Not to mention the hoards and hoards of summer tourists swarming the big sites, and the heat. I don’t remember previously visiting Paris in the summer.
Bryce Rigney at Le Louvre
RigneysKandu Men in Paris
I haven’t had a chance to write on our blog much since making Egypt. Now that we have a bit of time to breath having exited out of the Schengen territories, we can enact repairs on the boat and record more details of our explorations.
In Bruge, Belgium with Ron and Rosie Dennis and Sian, Lara and Elena Demande.Thierry and Clara Robert, Ron and Rosie and RigneysKandu touring around Huy, Belgium.
Most recently, we had a wonderful 6 weeks with my parents. Via extended invitations from our dear Belgium and French friends, we were able to introduce the boys and my folks to European living in many forms and to visit extraordinary sights and places like the picturesque & unforgettably charming wine villages along the Rhine in the Alsatian province. Eric and I had been to Alsace a couple times before, visiting with friends, but we had never explored the region: Colmar, Strasbourg, nor the wine trail villages. It’s no wonder why this region bordering Germany has been under contention for 100’s of years between France and Germany…it’s rich in valuable resources: hard working “Protestant type work-ethic” people and rich land for agriculture. The Strasbourg Cathedral housed the most incredible astronomical working clock we’d ever seen.
Baden Baden, Germany ancient fortress
Alsatian ladies dress in traditional costumes
Strasbourg Cathedral Astrological Clock
Alsatian style building, Strasbourg
Together, we also had time to visit some bordering areas/towns of Alsace including Baden Baden on the frontier of Germany – extremely wealthy boasting a lovely old fort that we hiked during the rain, and Luxembourg – which is clean clean clean, with a picturesque old town, fort, huge city walls and gorgeous Catholic churches. Of course, all through Cyprus, Greece, Italy, Belgium, France, Monaco and Barcelona, we visited churches, Basilicas, and Cathedrals ad nauseum. I loved it all….the boys were definitely done with the typical city offerings except the most spectacular ones such as St Peter’s Basilica in Rome, The Duomo in Florence, Versaille in France, and The Sagrada Familia by Gaudi in Barcelona. In Chartres Cathedral, France, the inside has recently been painted white to enhance the otherwise dire interior, but most specially the organist played for about 20 minutes, which for me, was magical.
Sagrada Familia Exterior, Barcelona
Sagrada Familia Interior, Barcelona
We’ve enjoyed so many other incredible country spectaculars: art museums, Napoleon history, war memorials and museums about WWI and WWII, plus many ancient sites, valuable and palatable history lessons for us all.
Ron n Rosie climbing Waterloo lookout, Belgium
WWII Memorial for US soldiers, Bastogne Belgium
Truly truly spectacular traveling which I hope to write about more fully on our blog now that we are moving at a more leisurely pace.
We and Kandu are now in Gibraltar harbored in Queensway Quay Marina. Trent, our youngest at 14 returned to California from Barcelona to live with Uncle Nick and started school August 23rd in Calabasas. Happily, he made the volleyball team. He is thrilled to be back home and excited to get academically serious. He’s extremely motivated. Bryce (16) flew solo to London last Friday night, visiting a good friend that he met in Athens.
Gibraltar – The ROCK!
Queensway Quai Gibraltar
Queensway Quay Marina, Gibraltar
Eric Rigney walking over Gibraltar Airport landing strip
Bryce is staying the 6 days with a dear friend of ours who is working on the next Spiderman movie currently filming in London. Bryce is exploring the city historical sites, skateboarding along the way.
Gibraltar airstrip in distance
Bryce Rigney off to London by himself
Leslie welcoming B back to Kandu!
Once Bryce returns, we’ll finish the remaining maintenance and repairs and sail off to Morocco, a two day sail, leaving Sept 3 to Mohammedia to visit Casablanca, Morocco. Then we’ll sail further south to Agadir to work on the boat a bit more and hopefully find some good surf for Bryce after almost a year of circumstantial abstinence. We plan to depart Agadir on Oct 1st for a two day sail to the Canary Islands (7-day stop, Columbus’s last before setting off to our New World), the Cape Verde Islands to restock (8-day sail), find a bit more surfing for Bryce – and then when the weather is good sometime around October 31st we plan to take off to sail the 18 days across the Atlantic .
After that – things are still undecided. If all goes well we’ll head straight to French Guiana, then Surinam, Guyana and north to visit a couple of the French Caribbean Islands, then west to the A, B, C’s of Dutch Antilles and Columbia to get ready to transit the Panama Canal around my birthday in February 2019. In the Eastern Pacific, we make our way north through Costa Rica and Mexico, skipping the less secure countries in between. It’s reported that there are pirates along the Central American coastline from Nicaragua through to Guatemala. Our plan is to return to Ventura end of May, early June 2019. Our McCool house has re-rented under a two-year lease. We are not beholden to any specific place to live in Southern California until we both land employment.
We’re getting close to the bottom of our cruising funds. From here on out, we’ve gotta be careful. Hopefully we won’t have big expenditures with the boat. We’ve already replaced so much!!!
Sending you big virtual hugs my dear girlfriend!
Leslie
We stashed our things at John’s house and changed into our surf wear. A few minutes later we left towards the beach with hope of high tide to bring bigger waves. As we got closer we saw more and more surfers crowding what was now 2ft waves. So we hopped in the water and all paddled out together to the break. John and Charlie complained from the start that the water temperature of 80° was too cold, but us bros didn’t mind. We surfed around the beginner’s spot for a good half hour trying to figure out the waves’ weird way of breaking. Eventually the group separated and paddled to their preferred breaks, being as their were four different reef breaks all just ten minutes paddle away from each other. I scooted over to a super shallow left reef break where the waves were more my size, and my style. There I could get sets of 4ft waves to shoot down the line and give a big carve at the end of the wave before it got too shallow. The name of this particular spot was called Breakas, and it was my preferred break. The four of us stayed out until the tide once again dropped too far to be able to surf.
