I stayed three nights in the port city along the Atlantic Coast, Essaouira (pronounced esa-wera). Alyssa and Andy left for Marrakech (then on to Italy) after two but I wanted to soak up a little more sun in this lovely little town. We spent our time walking the beach, eating kebabs, wandering around the markets and sitting on our hotel’s rooftop terrace soaking in the view. On the third day, after parting with my travel companions (who are greatly missed already!), I finally had grilled calamari to satisfy my seafood craving.
Afterwords I took a final stroll along the beach, where I used the “f” word for the first time while traveling. I felt a little hesistant to use it but as a solo female traveler I felt like I had no other choice. A young man fell into stride with me and after a few minutes, when it was obvious when I wasn’t going to shake him with my usual tactics, I resorted to using the word: “You know,” I said, “my fiancee would be very jealous if he knew I was talking to you.” Doubtful that this blatant lie would actually work, I was astonished to watch him peel off faster than he had approached! It was like I had discovered a secret word that enabled some sort of forcefield around me. I was untouchable. Just to check its efficacy in a new city, I used this “f” word on another young gentleman who took a liking to me today as I wandered through the fruit and spices market in Meknes. As soon as I uttered the word, he nodded and fell back, wishing me a good day. Brilliant.
Yesterday morning I left Essaouira for Marrakech, where I was catching a train up to Meknes (one of the three imperial cities of Morocco, located near the Middle Atlas mountains). The bus broke down halfway to Marrakech so we had to swap buses, making us about an hour late. I still had about an hour before my train departed for Marrakech, so I decided to brave the public transportation to visit the famous Koutoubia Mosque. I had a lot of locals helping me along the way and I made it there and back on the bus with 10 minutes to spare! The one take-away from this quick excursion is that I could use some basic French lessons to get around the next time I’m in a French-speaking country. C’est la vie.
The train ride to Meknes (about 7 hours) went smoothly until a bunch of screaming children got on my car about halfway through the ride. Then about two hours from Meknes I was awakened by two train stewards who were urgently speaking in French to me. When it was obvious I wasn’t understanding their instructions, they said “change, change” over and over. My heart fell because I thought they were telling me that I had to transfer trains at the next stop and it was already very late. Instead, they told me to gather my things and explained that since I was “alone” I was being moved to first class – what luck! The difference between first and second class was quite remarkable…I hope to stumble upon the same fortune on my return trip.
Today I have been exploring Meknes slowly. Every time I try to follow Lonely Planet’s walking tour through the souks (markets) and around the medina (the walls of the old city) I get lost. Perhaps it is time to venture out again and continue on my way. At least I have the “f” card in my back pocket now.
When I moved to Detroit earlier this year with nothing more than a few suitcases of clothes and an assortment of mismatched furniture, kitchen supplies, and favorite books, there was much uncertainty; at the time I was working a part-time job (getting barely enough hours to make rent), looking for full-time work, and volunteering with a different organization every week to network. Perhaps the one thing that was very clear, however, was that I would certainly be without a car.
I’ve already shared my views about Detroit’s bus system; while I’ve recently-dare I say, upgraded?-to my lovely, five-speed road bike with red handlebars, starting off car-free in Detroit would have been extremely difficult without Detroit’s Department of Transportation. Maybe it’s because the memories of waiting for 20 plus minutes in minus 10 degree weather has long faded but I do think the buses fill a definite need in the city. That said, there is also a need for more buses on some of the heavier utilized routes, like the Woodward (and one piece of advice if you were ever to ride buses here: Detroiters refer to buses by street name rather than number…it took me a long time to pick up on this, as I am much better with numbers and constantly referred to my bus of choice as the “53” rather than the “Woodward”). Like a fellow rider once joked: “You got a can opener?” as we boarded a packed bus one afternoon, riders are indeed crammed like sardines at rush hour; it’s during those crammed 4:00pm rides down Woodward, as the bus driver darts in and out of traffic, is the need for a light rail down this main drag most evident.
But those days are now behind me. I’m happy to report that I’ve been bus-free for well over two weeks now and couldn’t be happier. Sure, I have my criticisms about sub-par road conditions and unaware drivers, but in general I’ve enjoyed beginning to explore Detroit by bike. I also can’t help but think that there is so much potential for Detroit to become a biker-friendly city. As a colleague recently pointed out, if there’s one upside to the loss of population here, it’s the amount of under-utilized roads that can serve as unintentional bike lanes.
Now that I’ve acquired a bike and a job, it’s time for the next challenge: figuring out a way to lure Zipcar into the city.
When I tell people I want to try living car-free, they are skeptical. And then when I tell them I’m going to try it in Detroit, they all but say it’s impossible. Sure, Detroit has its challenges (and public transportation is certainly one of them) but what city doesn’t? To be fair, I have relatively easy access to a friend’s vehicle when my timely arrival is crucial (i.e.: job interviews) but for the most part I’m holding myself to bus-only travel in the Motor City.
This week I was tired of scrambling for quarters at the bottom of my purse, so I walked over to the new Rosa Parks Transit Center and purchased a weekly pass for $14.40. Considering I already used it three times today, I think it will prove to be a good investment (as a regular bus fare would run me $1.50). This new transit center is great; there are 13 docks with electronic signs listing the upcoming bus departures and times, as well as the current time and any important travel advisories. This is also the downtown drop-off point for the Megabus and SMART buses, which are shuttles that run to and from the suburbs. In addition to the arrival and departure docks, the Rosa Parks Transit Center also consists of an indoor complex with a ticket window, bus schedule brochures, and a waiting area.
The majority of my bus rides thus far have gone by without a hitch. Well, there was that one time last week when the 53 heading north on Woodward stopped abruptly about three blocks from my destination. After five minutes or so, passengers (me included) began to stir impatiently. After a lethargic game of telephone ended where I was sitting in the rear, everyone already knew that the bus had broken down. Unconvinced by the driver’s reassurance that the mechanic “would be here in a minute,” I disembarked and walked the rest of the way to work. I’d say I got $1.25 out of my $1.50 bus fare that day.
Then there was the time a few months ago when I needed to get back downtown from Café con Leche in Southwest Detroit. Detroit’s Department of Transportation website gave me a bus route and pick-up location at a nearby intersection, which I thought would be easy enough to figure out. When I got to the cross streets as directed, however, I realized that the bus signs were not marked with route numbers; I had a total of eight signs to chose from! As I narrowed it down to two possible stops (after using my questionable sense of direction and gauging the cardinal points by the positioning of the sun in a dreary, overcast November sky) I realized that Detroit’s public transportation system had some work to do. Then, to top it off, my bus pulls up, unmarked. Yep, there was no indication that the bus at the curb was in fact the eastbound 27, until such information was confirmed by the bus driver.
Like I said, there is work to be done.