But no it was the Amazon Kindle, one of the best ideas I’ve seen in a while. This crazy little item has WiFi so that you can download all your favourite books from the Amazon store and read them at the touch of a button. Cheaper and less cumbersome than a book!

I love reading books but when you’re backpacking it’s just not always that practical. Lugging around great big heavy books doesn’t really do you any favours when you’re trying to keep the weight down on a Ryanair flight so I always end up leaving them half-read in a hostel somewhere. Not to mention the fact that it’s hard to get decent books in a book exchange (or ones in the right language for that matter)!

There are tours to Imlil but the best way to get there on your own is by grand taxi, which should cost around 500 Dirham or 50 euros to get there and back with a stop of a few hours. The taxi will take you up the windy roads into the mountains and to this tiny village with its little cafes and Moroccans selling typical handycrafts.

I thought about going to Essouira, but having been based at the beach for the last year or I was totally ‘beached out’ and couldn’t face the torture of baking in the sun for the day.

I thought it would be nice to escape the 56 degree heat and go into the cooler mountains and take-in the breathtaking scenery. The main ‘attraction’ in Imlil is the Kasbah du Toubkal, a palatial hotel perched in the mountains which was used by Martin Scorcese in one of his movies.

Now you would imagine with it being a ‘hotel’ that you would be able to take a taxi up to a nice little car park with maybe some valet parking upon arrival before having a spot of lunch. Oh no. If you ask at the reception for the Kasbah du Toubkal how you get up there they tell you it is a 15 minute walk. “Turn first right, first left and you’ll find it”. Easy.

What they and the guide books don’t tell you is that it is an exhausting trek up the mountainside, through woods and trees and up stone paths. Some hiking boots and a litre of water may just have been what I needed.

How the hell did Martin Scorcese get up there? You can’t really picture him hiking up a hill with all the film cameras can you? Turns out there’s a mule. No not a cable car, but a good old fashioned mule for 50 Dirham. I think I was  actually quite relieved I walked, as the mule looked a little unstable for my liking.

No matter how out of breath you are, the view from the Kasbah makes it all worth it. Guests can dine for lunch at low red tables with Moroccan tableware and red parasols looking right out onto the high Atlas Mountains.

Sat having a drink and looking out onto the mountain range from up high on the terrace I couldn’t help but feel a sense of clarity and freedom.  No wonder this hotel is a popular retreat for weary celebrities.

To be quite frank with you, when I got in a taxi from the airport to the Riad Sindibad where I was staying, the first thing that went through my mind was “What the hell kind of city is this?” When you think of Marrakesh you might conjure up images of fantastic vibrant fabrics, tajines, souks and mint tea, which it does really have. But Marrakech as a city, especially when driving in, looks rather dismal. Run-down streets, garbage, dust, dirt terracota buildings all built at the same level, beggars, emptiness…there was nothing characteristic or attractive about it.

But Marrakech, as I learnt, isn’t about the city itself but more about the jewels that it contains inside.

My taxi drove through Bab Yacout entrance and down another narrow run-down street, which reminded me of the back street to my university house in  a dodgy area of Leeds.  He pulled up at a non-descript doorway. “I think I’m at the wrong place”, I thought. However the sign read, Riad Sindibad and he knocked on the door.

Sure enough a little Moroccan lady dressed head-to-toe in white opened the heavy black door and it was as if I had found the Secret Garden. What I stepped into was a little luxury haven in the middle of the medina. Riads were important houses embellished with central gardens and shrubs and were inhabited by the privileged upper classes. Today many riads have been refurbished and made into guest houses, and the Riad Sindibad is definitely a peaceful hideaway from the crazy world outside. With rooms organised around a courtyard garden, a plunge pool, spa, rooftop jacuzzi, suite and cook, this was my luxury getaway after months of backpacking. It was pointed out to me that the Riad is the real Marrakesh; the opulence and the private haven behind closed doors.

But there were plenty more jewels to be found as I explored Marrakech.

I asked Fatia, the housekeeper, how I could get to the main square so I could go and play with the snake-charmers in the souk. She took me out into the street and in French told me I could get a taxi from the end of the street. I, being a dumb tourist, was walking around with my bag still open so she quickly shut it before anyone could see and told me to be careful. I asked her if I could walk to the Jemma el Fna but she insisted I took a taxi.

I ignored her and walked, I figured there was no need to be wary of the Marrakechis. I did a little internet research about what to wear as a female in Morocco before I got on the plane, and there were mixed opinions. At the airport I eyed up girls in dresses and heels versus girls in capris and long sleeves. I’ve seen tourists walking around the souk in shorts and a T-shirt, and I’ve seen them more covered up.

I wanted to be on the safe side wandering around by myself and since I didn’t own anything below the knees, I opted for leggings underneath my shorts along with a long sleeved top and scarf. It’s not the most comfortable thing in 56 degree heat during the middle of August, but I thought it would be respectful.

Before I left Portugal my friends joked about my blonde hair and to make sure I don’t get kidnapped, but their worries were completely unfounded. In fact the Marrakechis never said a thing to me, less people stared at me than back home and souk sellers barely hassled me or asked me to buy anything. A simple “Non, merci” and they wished me a nice day and I carried on walking. Another lovely thing about the people of Marrakech is that they were very helpful and if I looked like I was going the wrong way, they pointed me in the right direction. I had to dust off my French a little bit but since it’s the only language I learnt in school, I quite enjoyed being able to actually understand the locals for the first time in Europe.

I walked past the unmissable Koutoubia Mosque towards the main square, the Jemaa el Fna, where there’s an abundance of entertainers; everything from water sellers, teeth pullers and storytellers, to snake charmers, potion makers and Berber dancers. They will come up to you and offer to take a photo of you, but be aware they are asking for money in return.

At night the square is packed with people and food stalls selling everything from tagines to snail soup. It was especially busy as I was there during Ramadan, when the Muslims fast as soon as the sun comes up and then party and feast all night after the sun goes down.

If you manage to make it past the snake charmers this is where you enter the crazy, disorinetating world that is the souk. You’ll never feel so distracted, confused, amazed, baffled and lost at the same time in the labrynthe of streets but that’s half the fun.

My advice is to let yourself get completely lost in the labryinth and don’t fight it, just go with the flow and absorb everything it has to offer. You’ll lose all sense of direction in the souk but that doesn’t matter, just keep going and sometime you will come out the other side.

As I went further and further down into the souk and the streets got smaller there were things coming at me from every direction; out-of-control donkey carts trying to manouvre, people shoving fake snakes in my face, sheeps heads hanging from a stall… it was an assault on my senses, the delicious smells of spices, figs and olives, the bright colours of the scarves and tea sets that caught my eye and the sounds of Moroccans haggling with tourists in my ears…

Then comes this great sense of urge to buy something, you become drunk on the power of the souk. Whether you need it or not you feel this sudden instinct to engage in the game of haggling and claim your prize for making it this far.  For me it was handbags. I bought one handbag playing the game of walking away and pretending I didn’t want  it, before the man ran after me and took the price I offered. But then I walked further and I saw better handbags and then,you guessed it even better handbags. After two days in the souk I became a handbag fiend and bought two more.

After all those mind-boggling distractions, the craziness starts to subside and then…calm. The stalls start to get fewer and far between, the  crowds subside and then suddenly you realise what you’ve bought, probably a pile of rubbish you’ll never use, but at least you had fun doing it.

That’s when I found my second Jewel, the Bouganvillia  Cafe. This, like the Riad was a little oasis in the sprawling madness of the souk, a cafe built around a courtyard with little pink parasols and ivy growing up the walls. There were only a couple of people in there despite the food menu looking absolutely delicious. I had a coffee and let myself unwind whilst I perused my purchases and pulled myself together.

Which brings me to my third jewel which I went to the following day, the stylish but expensive Kosybar. I previously mentioned I was there during Ramadan, and as a result alcohol is very scarce. But to prove I was drinking alcohol in the Kosybar at Ramadan, here’s a photo of my Heineken bottle.

The final jewel in the city of Marrakech was the Majorelle Garden desgined by 20th century painter Jacques Majorelle. The garden has the most beautiful bright blue Art Deco pavilion along with cacti, bamboo groves, shrubs and lily ponds along with a memorial to the great fashion desginer Yves Saint Lauren. Yves Saint Lauren had a second home in Morocco and often went to the garden, where his ashes are now scattered. This was a truly relaxing way to spend the afternoon out of the sun under the shade of palm trees.

I made several visits to the main square and the souk, and each time I saw something completely bizarre. Forget your western supermarkets, in the souk you can buy bags, belts, scarves, daggers, old camera lenses, tea sets, wooden boxes, carpets, lanterns, mosque alarm clocks,  food, trotters, sheeps heads, bunny rabbits, kaftans and even kitchen sinks!!!

Can you imagine a 40 kilo can of tuna moving at 70km/hr with razor sharp teeth? The tuna move with lightning speed and when you hold a little sardine above the water they pretty much bite your fingers if you’re not careful. It’s just a little scratch but if you’re a bit of a wuss maybe use the tongs.

Trent wasn’t too overjoyed to be in the water with them initially; it’s like being in a massive goldfish tank at dinner time except you’re floating around with fish that have a cutlery set in their mouths.

Whilst Trent was being a chicken I got straight in there and snorkelled with them, when you’re swimming with tuna they don’t really touch you, they move really quickly and come within centimetres of you but you don’t feel them. It’s a bit freaky though as the tuna are MASSIVE and people were having fun and games throwing the sardines next to me in the water.

It’s an interesting process that goes into farming tuna; they’re wild tuna caught then brought into a bay where they can be fattened up to be exported mainly to Japan. Over there they’re fetching at the prime market price around $250,000 a tonne.

After swimming and reboarding the boat to head back they had a taster on the boat of tsashimi. I love tsashimi but it’s not to everyone’s taste, and Trent’s face was a picture! This pricey Japanese delicacy wasn’t up there for Trent, but some raw tuna dipped in Wasabi was delicious!

It seems that there’s only two places to swim with the scariest thing in the ocean without dying, one of them being South Africa, and the other being Port Lincoln in Australia.  I had the opportunity to go swimming with the ultimate predator of the ocean, the Great White Shark on my road trip around South Australia.

It seems that not everyone is so keen to swim with this creature but I certainly wanted to see Jaws up close for myself. duh duh, duh duh….

We arrived into the Harbour at 6am to board the Calypso Star boat with a couple of Kilkennys and a few tablets to prevent sleeping sickness. One of our friends who did it the day before said there was a beautiful buffet but that unfortunately he has been vomiting the entire time… I was not going to follow suit. An incident on a boat in Portugal for my friend’s 21st birthday means I will now always carry travel sickness tablets with me despite the fact that they knock me out like a horse tranquilizer. Better that than being sick on the high-seas!

We were joined on board by Australian boxing champion Danny Green- I had no idea who he was but the reporter from the local news with the big TV camera sort of gave it away! Danny was the first person to turn Green (like my pun?) and was vomiting over the side of the boat. Not long after a few other people started throwing up but I sat there smugly on TravelCalm! The ocean seriously was rough, at one point I thought the boat would actually turn on its side but that’s me being a little over dramatic. The crew played a video about the Great White and it was quite fascinating to learn that people don’t really know very much about this creature. One thing I did know is that the crew had seen many of them out at the Neptune Islands, which is where we were heading.

When we finally anchored up the crew threw the tuna bait in the water, lowered the shark cage and it was game on! The crew demonstrated how we should get in the cage, you put a wetsuit on because the waters pretty chilly, attach some weights and then put a regulator in your mouth which is attached to the top of the cage so there’s no heavy tank on your back. The cage itself has a viewing gap but there is no way the shark can open its mouth if it stuck its head in.

Everyone relaxed a bit, stopped hurling off the side of the boat, got the fishing rods out and did a spot of fishing. We caught plenty of fish but there were no white pointers to be seen!

We waited…and waited.

Trent got into the shark cage for a swim with no wetsuit on so many times that he was starting to look blue! It was rather disappointing but as the crew pointed out, they are wild animals and it is not 100% guaranteed that you will see them. At the hefty price tag I think it depends how desperate you are to see them. One couple had gone on three seperate occasions at different times of the year and hadn’t seen a thing. But of course other people have, it’s just luck of the draw.

There weren’t any sharks but there was a proposal of marriage! Now to me that’s a rather bizarre choice to conduct a proposal, amongst scary Great Whites, but he held up a sign whilst they were underwater saying “Will you marry me” and she said yes.

We all took turns to swim in the cage- the cage itself is creepy without the sharks being in the water as you look out at the bait with all the fish swimming around it. I’m not sure how I would feel about a man-eating shark swimming towards me!

The crew prepared us an amazing lunch of oysters, mussels, prawns, chicken, salad…we were fed really well on the boat and on the way back there was free beers!!! The engagement was an excuse for a little party on the top deck with everyone drinking a few West End Draughts and having a good time.

So there were no great whites but everyone had an awesome experience- great food, great day out on the water, great people, a proposal and a boxer.

Back in the marina everyone including Danny Green and his crew stopped for a few drinks and pizzas and bonded over the events of the day! One of the highlights of our trip despite being let down by those Great Whites.

Lisa shucked some oysters in front of us and we had the opportunity to eat them natural with a bit of lemon. We had a quick tour of the oyster farm where we were shown how they sort through the oysters to get the right size.

It was then onto Elliston and over to Coodlie Park just before Venus Bay and Port Kenny. It’s incredible when you drive along this stretch of South Australia how you can travel for miles and miles of scrub and bush without seeing a single vehicle.

We had a great time at Coodlie Park- as someone rightly said, “It’s like Hotel California, you can check in anytime you like but you can never leave!” There were many nights spent drinking around a camp fire, chatting to other travellers and eating feasts cooked up by the friendly staff who operate the Nullarbor Traveller tour. The facilities there include camping facilities and hostel accommmodation, plus computers with internet access.

If you’re looking to have a bit of an adventure across the Nullarbor, do the Nullarbor Traveller tour to go swimming with sea lions in Baird Bay, as well as shark cage diving and swimming with tuna, something well worth doing!

The sea lions are really playful and will come right up to you. We were all given wetsuits to help keep us warm in the cold water and hopped aboard the boat to go in search of the sea lions. We anchored up in a pool off Baird Bay where the sea lions were chilling out on rocks and playing in the water. Snorkelling with sea lions is amazing- they look you right in the eyes and will copy your movements. If you roll over or dive they’ll mimic you and try to play. Some will even touch you on the nose and cuddle you!

We would recommend swimming with the sea lions in the wild to anyone! After the sea lions we swam with a school of dolphins, a great day! The difference with this is they are wild and you don’t feel like you’re swimming with something in captivity that’s beeing forced to entertain you. These animals are wild but still naturally curious and very approachable.

I’m writing this as I curse my laptop in yet another airport lounge, this time at Lisbon Airport. The supposed public wifi is being stubborn as hell. It knows I have a deadline and the portal is doing its utmost to block me from the worldwide web. Welcome to the joys of travelling and working online…

Airports

Lets talk airports. For those of you who have a short battery life on your computer (yes that’s me) sometimes the problem is not the internet connection but the location of a plug socket. You can have the best WiFi access in the world but if your laptop has no juice and the worst battery life in the world then it can be frustrating to try to find a plug socket. Even if you do find one you’re likely to find yourself crouched in a hallway on a floor somewhere being stepped over by passengers. Why oh why can’t airports have a nice comfy seat located conveniently next to a plug socket? I’m reminded of a time in Kuala Lumpur when I found a socket after an hour of searching in Starbucks. 5 minutes into my session and the lady says I have to move tables for cleaning….

I, as I write this, have conveniently found a socket at Gate 25 in Lisbon airport, but today it’s the wifi that’s being a bitch. I access the payment portal, only to find that it won’t take my address, apparently my UK postcode is invalid. Now it sends me nasty messages of “Network Timeout” and won’t even take me to the portal. In this day and age it would be nice if free wifi were supplied in every airport so that one doesn’t have to spend a fortune biding their time on an overnighter in the airport.

Let’s talk WiFi

WiFi or ‘weefee’ is a life saver. What did we do without it? But its surprising how many countries have poor internet connections and wifi hotspots.

Living in Bali, just as I would have an important Skype conference or email to send, the internet would cut-out or there would be a power cut and I would have to make a middle-of-the-night trip into town drinking coffee in the diner ungodly hours of the morning. Trying to get a house with internet in Bali was an absolute nightmare with set-up costs and much larger monthly fees than back in the UK.

Time-Zones

If you’re a freelancer you’re most likely to be working for someone in a different time-zone, which as a result means you can be up and random o’clock on your laptop for a Skype session.

Laptop and Equipment Deaths

Repeat after me. Back up. Back Up. Back Up. Everything you have that’s important to you on your computer, make sure you have a copy of it on a hard drive. It’ll save you the tears when your computer dies and you have to mourn the loss of your thousands of photos and documents. Another good way to do it is to email things to yourself so you have a copy of it in your email. Another obvious tip is to carry spares, spare batteries for your camera and spare memory cards are a must.

Carrying the stuff

Cords, cables, lenses, computers…my backpack is a maze of tangled-up leads entwined with each other. Carrying your equipment on the road can be a burden, especially when it comes to baggage restrictions and the occasional breakage.

Distractions

The most difficult thing about travelling and working is the distractions you face- people inviting you to go out partying or out for dinner, the desire to be out on the beach all day instead of stuck inside on a laptop. Time management and self restraint are essential. Whilst there are temptations everywhere to go and have fun you have to remember that your laptop is your office and that you have to allocate time to work.

Those of you who are location independents will know what I mean, but at the end of the day, these are small sacrifices when you think of the alternative.

]]> http://www.pommietravels.com/2010/08/the-greek-islands-in-photos/feed/ 0 http://www.pommietravels.com/2010/08/a-solo-female-travellers-thoughts-on-solo-female-travel/ http://www.pommietravels.com/2010/08/a-solo-female-travellers-thoughts-on-solo-female-travel/#comments Wed, 25 Aug 2010 15:12:25 +0000 victoria http://www.pommietravels.com/?p=1384 People are always asking me what it’s like to travel as a solo female.

I’m often taken aback by this question because I always forget that not only am I a girl but I’m travelling by myself, it doesn’t really cross my mind. I’ve never really written about this topic before because, well, I don’t see myself as any different to any other traveller, whether they’re male or female, travelling alone or in groups. But I suppose as one of these creatures I should maybe take the time to impart some advice…

I started travelling by myself back in July 2008 and since then I’ve not really stopped moving around. Sometimes I’ve been joined by boyfriends or friends, but right now it’s just me and my backpack drifting around the world, sometimes living and working and sometimes moving around. One thing I can say is I’ve met some really cool independent minded girls travelling by themselves.

When I decided to finally talk about this topic, I thought I’d do a bit of internet research about ‘solo female travel’, which, as a phrase, I’m not too keen on.  The advice I found included “book hostels in advance”, “warn the front desk of where you are going” and “dress conservatively”.  I don’t think I follow any of these rules.  If I want to rock up in a country at a moment’s notice I will and if I want to wear itsy bitsy shorts I’ll do it (as long as I’m dressed appropriately for the country’s customs of course).

The truth is we’re in the 21^st century. Travelling to other countries is often no more dangerous than being in your home town. Obviously if you travel to a war-torn country things might be a little more hairy. But most of the time I feel far safer on the road than I did back home in England. I’m not saying the world is all roses and that you don’t need to be careful but I think it’s important for all travellers to travel responsibly no matter who you are or who you’re travelling with.

Why Travel as a Solo Female?

I personally love travelling by myself. I love the feeling of being able to pick and choose where I want to go, what I want to do and who I want to hang out with. Travelling alone means you are much more open to meeting new people and less blinkered into hanging out with your friends from home. There haven’t been too many times where I’ve felt alone when travelling because there are always people to meet and hang out with. I’m quite comfortable with sitting in a café or restaurant by myself, I know that most strangers won’t even notice me and if they do they probably won’t really give it a second thought. If it makes you feel a little nervous sitting there by yourself, take a newspaper, a book, a laptop or a pen and paper with you.

The only time I ever felt quite alone was when I had my scooter accident in October last year. With no-one to really look after you, you have to suck it up and take care of yourself. Sometimes you want to sit there and feel sorry for yourself, but there’s nothing better than feeling you got through something on your own.

What about packing?

Boys travel with tiny backpacks filled with a couple of t-shirts and clean underwear at a push. For girls it’s a little more complicated. We’ve got jewellery, belts, make-up, dressy shoes, not-so-dressy shoes, tampons and everything in between. I have a reasonably big bag and my thoughts are that as long as you carry it and it’s not over the weight limit for airlines, it doesn’t matter how big it is and how much stuff you’ve got. That doesn’t mean to say I travel with lots of clothes and accessories, most of my stuff is actually cameras, laptops, equipment and medicines.

Backpacking and lipstick

One thing I’d like to remind girls is that no-one really cares what people look like on the road. Obviously everyone likes to look nice, but there’s no need for hair straighteners and looking like you’ve applied your make-up with a trowel. There’s no need for a million outfit changes and high-heels.

I get ready for a night out in about fifteen minutes and when I leave my hair to dry naturally because I don’t carry a hairdryer, people ask me if I’ve just been for a swim at the beach.  I don’t own a pair of hair straighteners or carry a pair of heels and whilst I’m still a girly girl with dresses and make-up, I like to get stuck in with any activity going.

Remember it’s not about what you look like but whether you look like you’re having fun! Everyone likes a girl who’ll take part and have fun.

Staying Safe

I don’t walk around carrying pepper spray or notify everyone of where I’m going every minute of every day.

The rules for saying safe should apply to everyone whether you’re travelling or not. When it comes to my valuable belongings I don’t leave them lying around everywhere in hostels, I make sure they’re tucked in a safe place. I always carry a handbag that goes across my body so that it’s less easy to take, and I make sure I’m always aware, even when drunk. If men shout things in the street I don’t respond or engage in conversation, I just simply keep on walking. If I spot a fight in the street or someone dodgy, I cross over and walk a little faster.

Generally though when travelling I always feel pretty safe, and the most ironic thing is, the countries that people have warned me against or have had government warnings, have had the friendliest people and have felt the safest.

A little piece of advice if you’re going to become a “Solo Female Traveller”

It’s not scary I promise. Admittedly I was a little nervous the first time I went away by myself, but in two minutes I was playing drinking games in a hostel with a box of wine. People won’t pelt you with tomatoes and wonder where your friends are. You won’t be sat in a corner eating a pot-noodle alone or spend hours traipsing around European cities by yourself. You really will wonder what all the fuss was about.

Breaking news:  Being a girl and travelling on your own is all the rage. Everyone’s doing it.

P.S Stick- “Here I go Again” by Whitesnake on your ipod.

Preparing food on the beach, Koh Samui

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