Chapter 2 - Morrocco and Local Authorities

I am sitting on the canape in the men’s salon in the fancy house of our super-nice host Mustafa who is again out for his work as a driver – even though it’s past midnight now. Madita is jumping around in the back of the room and as much as I can tell is dancing to Babaji, a punjabi non-sense song – but it is only a guess, as she is wearing her headphones and the scene is quiet besides some bubbling or giggling sounds she makes from time to time. Jano and Daniela are already sleeping inside the women’s salon while I review my last days... Our start in Morocco has been charming. Somehow our naïveté, our special language talents or the fact that we always laugh, giggle and smile when we are confused seems to work wonder on the local authorities. So far even the grimmest looking officer sooner or later had to laugh back when dealing with us. And so even our first car check is over super-fast, as the grandfatherly officer with an impressive mustache opens our trunk which is extremely stuffed, all on top a pot with left-over rice from the last dinner. Daniela sternly states “Grande catastrophe” (though I would have preferred “Grande de malheur” with original Madita-Pronounciation) and I volunteer and pull one neatly rolled-up foam mattress out of the mess – giving sight to: well, even more mess. He obediently bends down to inspect the hole I have created, nods slowly and gestures us to close the trunk: Grande de Bonheur! Today we even got the officer of the Mauritanie embassy to laugh - it took us only four trials before we could complete our visa-application (1.Do not forget your photos at home 2.Bring lots of photocopies of whatever you can or cannot think of 3.Be ready to have an address even in a total foreign country to you, if in doubt choose “Hotel Sahara” – that always works 4.Never write your application in red). At some point he disbelievingly asked me – You are all travelling together? Who is the chef of this group? Additionally I learned that the Mauritanians seem to translate “Unmarried” with “Célibataire”... poor buggers there.

Well, let’s hope that we can keep the charme up – supposedly we gonna need it ;)

Our first stop-over: Chefchaoun, a truly magical place!

Chapter 2 - The Limbo

Our last night in Spain is spent in the parking house of the ferry port - where we earlier got the tipp to return to after 10pm, as the police would be easygoing then. We spend the night drinking red-wine (I need the bottle!) and somewhat doing some silly last-minute preparations such as considering safety for our valuables...

In the morning we are well on time in line. Which only has the effect that we cant get out of it anymore after we are being told that all ferries of that particualr line were cancelled and that we should quickly run back to exchange our ticket for another one... Woooohaaa! Faaast! Of course (as we are the protagonists of this story) we win this end-fight and are ready to enter level three of this adventure game!

Last night before the ferry - quickly sewing money and bankcards into all (im)possible places...

Much to learn about how to rrreally pack stuff on our roof....

Wat? Ohne Gewehr?

Good morning star shines, the earth says hello

Thats how Africa looks from Spain

And never forget to send out a message in a bottle if travelling by ship ;)

Chapter 1 - The Finale

Algeciras! The ferry ticket in our pocket, a lot of stories about Africa in our minds and a cocktail of feelings in our hearts we are spending our last night in Europe - probably on the parking lot of the ferry port, where someone told us "after 10pm Police will let us stay there..." hmmmm. For me, hopefully, the last european night in a years time...
Looking at the map of the first stretch of our route my heart jumps - A REAL ADVENTURE AHEAD!!
I guess blogging as well will dry up in the desert, but maybe I give u an update before we leave Marocco. Lots of love and hugs to all of you. And yes, we will take a loooot of water, I promise ;)

Chapter 1 - Trockenuebungen am Atlantik and other spanish impressions...

Our way across Spain had pretty much everything - nude bathing at the hot and deserted beach in crystal clear water in Capo de Gata, a lot of desert-like landscape fitting into any wild-west movie (including horses and donkeys), hilly areas with frosty poplar tree forests, which left us frozen stiff after camping in them, picturesque Spanish towns with narrow alleys, whole landscapes covered by gigantic plantations of which we have heard only the worst (e.g. slave like working conditions for illegal immigrants) and finally a sunny but stormy atlantic coast, where we spend a leisure day swimming and collecting shells. The atlantic coast was also the scene of our wonderful first training of digging the car out of sand - after we unintentionally had taken a wrong turn right into the beach :P Good that after such a sweat demanding excercise the sea was right there to be jumped into;) Our group is slowly but steadily growing together and the things we used to need are constantly decreasing - such as apropriate dressing style, change of underwear, sleeping in particualrly nice surroundings, space for privacy or sand-free food. Sometimes it seems that our main action during a day is packing, unpacking, repacking and - mostlty searching single items out of the colorful mess in, on, under or next to our wonderful white limousine. This morning was a special highlight. We had slept in a so called "nature park" - a filthy parking lot with a lot of cows and pigs next to it, which were wearing huge bells and constantly made me believe I was on some sort of alpine farm. After hanging out around our cemetery candles after a good dinner of Reis-mit-Scheiss the fourth day in a row we saw something rather huge moving about. I took out my camera to see in the flash of taking a pic what it was. I turned out to be a biiiig black, surreal and plastic-like looking spider... Despite the clear sky this made us pull out our moskito nets for the night;) Around six in the morning we woke up - with the sudden start of rain and a heavy storm which nearly blew Madita out of her hammock. We just managed to run into the car with all we had - sleeping bags, matresses, tents and plunge semi-wet into the seats. Thats how we spend a looong time, being dug under the massive amount ofb stuff, dozing and waiting the storm would cease - which it didn´t - instead it grew worse and worse. We finally considered leaving the country straight away - if someone wants to check the car - feel MOST welcome, oh yes, and if you see my book, or the bag of my sleeping bag just pass it on - I can´t move on my seat :P It´s one of these days when you feel deep gratitude towards giant supermarkets with wonderful sanitary service, to wash dishes or to take a relaxed dump, which doesnst require you to crouch into some shrubs. Finally now, as I am writing the rain has stopped the first time this day and a ticket for the 7am ferryboat is in our pocket. The others spend a long time at the post office to send a huge pile of stuff towards home - such as warm clothes. Only I keep on carrying my 4 weather season pack with me, as I have absolutely no idea where all I might end up in the next year..,. How exciting!

Breakfast, as it should be:)

Spanish small-town-romance

A small step for mankind, a huge step for me - Driiiiving! (Ok, I lasted only 45 minutes)

Frosty poplar forest sheltering us

And made us freeze for many hours afterwards...

Sleeping in a magic Nationalpark

Meeting Alma´s (our Mercedes) sister - inhabiting a maroccian family

The Atlantic Crime-Scene

Nightly visitors - thanks for moskito tents...

Rrrrrrain, brrrrrrr, supermarkets with roofed parking lots - you shall be blessed, deeply and grateful by La Chelena!

Mit Sonne im Gesicht und Wind im Rücken – down down down the Spanish Coast!

With the Mediterrenean landscape is becoming hotter and hotter also our supply of field fruits changes from pomegranates and prickly pears to oranges, oranges, oranges!

Nachtlager - Night Camp

Sunny mornings

.......But for people who do NOT speak a syllable of Spanish the following sign can be quite irritating if found right next to your sleeping bag in the morning...

Chapter 1 - L’Espagna

Spanish Lessons

Lesson 1: Barcelona – City of Thieves

We were warned many times before getting there – Barcelona is a city full of thieves. Even while sitting in a park to eat some lunch a stranger approached us to warn us from potential thieves lingering around and already watching us....

Finally we got the chance to film first class thievery in action, please scroll down rapidly to see the animation:

Actually the only thing that was stolen from us in Barcelona was the opportunity to join the VoKü (a community dinner) at la Papa (a famous squat) – we reached there with German punctualtiy to find that the building has been demolished, so has happened to another house project in the city :(

Lesson 2: Barcelona – city of Machos: Always be aware of these strange spanish muchachos everywhere!

Lesson 3: Barcelona – City of objects that create big happy smiles in Madita’s face (challenge – find the object):

La France – Haute Coture/Autre Culture

Grenoble’s alternative scene has different way of squatting houses –mostly it is only a small group of people who quickly move in into an empty building and never expect to really stay as much as half a year. We got the chance to stay with Alice’s group in Grenoble in a newly squatted old french house with a magic garden, illegal electricity supply and water which had to be collected from the nearby park.
Staying only shortly doesn’t really motivate anyone to set up the place particularly nicely, but then – nothing can beat the wall papers;)

Our next aim was a feminist/lesbian/trans/intergender project on the last mountain of the french alps. We arrived unannounced through a contact and caught the whole community in the midst of cutting gigantic amounts of wood. We were invited to stay and so I got to spend a day cutting and carrying tons of wood myself, walking in the foggy autumn forest or to linger in front of the wood-oven together with the dog, the cat and a glass of red wine. Long live Kraken! I will never forget the wonderful people, the hot shower and the soft mattress ;)

Beautiful Kraken

Wood, wood, wood – the winter is coming in heavy boots

Strange worlds and magic creatures are waiting in the deep forests...

Buongiorna, je suis une baguette – yey ab nach Spanien, Adios la France, du warst schön, aber kalt:)



Chapter 1 - La France

La France

Ach, wie schoen waer doch so'n Teilchen....

La Café

Madita und ich ziehen durch Grenobles Straßen. Unser Gepäck liegt noch im besetzten Haus, in dem wir heute Nacht geschlafen haben und in ein paar Stunden treffen wir uns mit den anderen und wollen weiter zu einem Frauenkollektiv in den Bergen. Meinen Laptop hab ich mir unter den Arm geklemmt und sehe mich in Gedanken in einem charmanten kleinen französischen Café, wo ich bei Café Crème und W-Lan das beschauliche Kleinstadtleben à la Jouer-au-boules und La-fabulous-destin-d’Amélie Poulin an mir vorüber ziehen lassen kann, während ich über das Erlebte nachsinniere. So schlendern wir aus den grauen Wohnblöcken der Rue des Eaux Claires in die warme Altstadt, plaudern über Gruppendynamik und kaufen die kitschigsten Postkarten, die wir finden können. Endlich sind alle kleinen Erledigungen getan und es ist Zeit für unseren Café à la France! Viele kleine Cafés mit hübsch gedeckten Tischen säumen die pittoresquen Altstadtgässchen. Ach, wenn da doch nur nicht die Preise wären! Madita schielt schon auf die verglasten Preistafeln, während ich sie ungeduldig am Arm weiterziehe: „Komm schon, ist doch viel zu touristisch hier, ein paar Blocks weiter und wir kriegen nen Kaffee zum Normalpreis!“ So ziehen wir ein paar Blocks weiter, aber der Preis bleibt überhöht. Das containerte Essen in meinem Magen grummelt – für das Geld könnten wir `ne tolle Mahlzeit für 5 Personen kochen! Maditas Blick wird immer sehnsüchtiger, während wir eines nach dem anderen der schönen französichen Cafés hinter uns lassen und die Straßen langsam immer weniger charmant werden. „Ach, irgendwo müssen die Leute aus den Wohnbaracaken der Rue des Eaux Claires ja auch ihren Café trinken und zahlen bestimmt nicht 2.80€ dafür!“ Die kleine Flamme der Hoffnung in Maditas Augen auf ihren stilechten französischen Kaffee beginnt zu flackern „naja, sonst können wir ja auch schonmal zum besetzten Haus zurück und uns so einen Instantcoffi machen...“ „Ach Quatsch, ich will doch auch einen Kaffee und sowieso – das W-Lan!“ Wir biegen ab – endlich sind wir wieder in einer richtig hässlichen Hauptverkehrsstraße. „Da! Siehste! Dönerbude – das ist bestimmt billiger!“ Die Dönerbude hat aber keinen Kaffee, genauso wenig der kleine Inder kurz danach. „Ach weißte, sonst könnten wir ja doch einen Kaffee zu Hause machen...“ Wir schauen auf die Karte an der Bushaltestelle, wie wir am besten zurück in die Rue des Eaux Claires kommen – es ist auch schon gar nicht mehr so weit! Als wir über die Straße gehen wollen, sehen wir sie – die Brasserie an der Ecke. Noch die gleichen Möbel und Tapete wie vor 50 Jahren zur Eröffnung ist sie grau und rauchig. Drei Männer mit roten Köpfen trinken ihren Schnaps an der Theke. Eine Frau mit Kinderwagen stillt ihr Kind und ließt Zeitung. Ein uralter Mann ist alleine zum Mittagessen gekommen. Eine alternde Frau mit kratziger Stimme ist die alleinige Bedienung. Für 1.20 gibt’s nen Espresso und für 1.40 nen Espresso mit nem Schuss Milch – Noisette! Und W-Lan ist gratuit! Ich strahle „Siehst du, genau sowas hatte ich gesucht! Hier gehören wir hin!“ Madita guckt sich einen kurzen Moment um. Die Flamme erlischt und wird durch eine andere ersetzt. Sie strahlt zurück und bestellt Noisette.

Chapter 1 - Switzerland

Switzerland – Money money money

Switzerland stinks – of money. Our strange vehicle – a white, corny mercedes, slightly run down and full of unwashed and shorthaired women and with a roof full of plastic bags and plastic canisters tied clumsily to our self-built metal construction rises the eyebrows in the posh and shiny streets of Switzerlands polished small-town streets. A random stranger threatens to call the police, if we dare to stop our car again at the spot where we have left Madita out and had planned to pick her up in a few moments. We have decided to take the Switzerland detour because of a special moneymaking opportunity, which is related to Madita’s companionship and therefore veeery very secret, and which seems to be more lucrative here. It’s our last day of money-making so we are patient and move slowly. Finally we just get down the motorway and ask a farmer’s family if we can pitch our tents under their plum trees. They eye us very suspiciously. The woman asks – how many nights? It surprises me, that she assumes we might plan to move in under their plum trees for anything longer than the night... but I have to admit – we DO look like a gipsy family (I say this in friendship, so please don’t mind the political incorrectness of it). Finally I sweet talk them with my clumsy french into letting us stay (how am I supposed to know, that “nous travaillons” doesn’t mean “we are travelling”???). We are nearly becoming close friends, when granny brings us an extra big jar full of mint tea and cookies out on the lawn. It’s a good night besides the realisation that a one-person tent is not made for 2 and a two-person tent is not made for 3. So we wake up wooden and wet and spend elaborate time at petrol pump on the motorway having a brunch and drying ourselves.

Die dicksten Rathaeuser haben die kleinsten Kassen ;)

Good morning

Ach wat is dat schoen!

Pfannkuchen und Kaiserschmarrn is doch datselbe!

Chapter 1 - The Last Night

The Last Night

We spend our last night in Germany at a organic farm in the South, close to Switzerland, where we can replace the tons of vegan breadspread that Madita has cooked for us and then forgot in Karlsruhe, with organic red-peach jam. In the fields Daniela has a rebuild circus wagon in which we can sleep after a night drinking Champaign at the campfire with the befriended shepherd living there as well. The moon shines brightly, the clouds are moving fast in this magic autumn night. I take a deep breath full of this rich, fruity and mossy autumn air and with a heart full of adventure kiss the colourful forest goodnight and goodbye.

The farmhouse

Flower Power!

And even more Flower Power!

Kochen im Bauwagen bei Kerzenlicht;)

Chapter 1 - Farewell

Farewell

When finally the tent, sleeping bag, mat, moskito net, pan pots, food and clothes are somehow in or outside attached to my bag and thus to me for the year to come, it is already 3pm and about to rain when I take the metro to the strategically best petrol pump in Berlin. I arrive and already a couple of other hitchhikers are lingering around. 2 minutes later me and two other fellow hitchers sit in the old mercedes of Patrick, an architect who sometimes sets up villas for newly acquired russian millionaires. Then Julia, a petite blonde with an australian boyfriend who has helped emptying out the shitreservoirs of a hotel ship on the great barrier reef, drives like a mad through the heavy rain. She usually accelerates, when she feels she can’t see enough and even the stories I start narrating unobtrusively - of young people dying unexpectedly in sudden car crashes doesn’t bring our average speed down.

Angelika is on her way to pick up her 38 year old son who is too lazy to take the train despites his mother taking fulltime care of her own mother and working for BASF  from home at same time. She drops me in Stuttgart, where Southern Germany is greeting me from its sparkling side with the train full of vomiting, folkloristic songs howling, and dumb-shit-talking horny red-cheeked males and the Dirndl-clad, mindlessly giggling female counterparts. I immediately start feeling a slight impatience towards leaving the country ASAP!

Only 2.5 hours later I reach a former American military compound which now has been rebuild into posh family homes – and into a few outsider and hippie communities. When I finally push me and my oversized bag through the door I stumble into the full blast of the queer farewell party where gender is being diluted by wild clothing styles. The theme for tonite is “An unentschiedenen Tagen kann ich auch mal beides tragen”. 30 minutes later, luckily me too, am wearing a male jacket over my dress, a feather hat, thick glasses and a magic ward and finally feel less underdressed. Good-bye, Karlsruhe!

Intro

Finally – the first real Blog from Towanda Tales goes online!

4 Women, a white Mercedes limousine, a few pages ripped out of the ADAC Autoatlas – Africa, we are coming!

I have to admit – a Travel-Blog is a paradox per se... finding the time between all the travel to blog is a true challenge! But I am truly happy for everyone who enjoys sharing this adventure a bit with us and I will try to stay in touch as well as possible:)

To keep it international I will divide the Tales into

BLACK – English

BLUE – German

not really with the same contents, but that doesn’t matter. I hope you will enjoy, comment, ask... whatever – feel invited;)

Unsere schicke Limousine....

Towanda Tales

 Every journey has a beginning....

....and is accompanied by a farewell....

..... Vite-Vite Bon voyage!!!!!!