Ibn Ibn Battuta

On the Highways of Abyssinia

One of a few final posts looking back on last month's visit to Ethiopia.

Amid the office towers of downtown Addis Ababa is a massive expanse of macadam - Meskel Square. The square, formed by the intersection of 12 boulevards, resembles a colossal mall parking lot, and is the heart of Ethiopia's highway network. From this hub, the country's roads extends outward in all directions, deteriorating gradually as they grow further from the capital. Paved roads peter out and dissolve - first to gravel, then to rutted dirt tracks.

Outside of Addis, many of these roads were too bumpy to allow for reading,

The Final Countdown: Southern Comforts in Essaouira

Morocco map

For my birthday weekend, Jacqueline and I planned to celebrate by escaping Rabat. But we were only two blocks from home, the clock still showing an hour until dawn, when the shit hit the fan.

Bound for Essaouira, Jacqueline and I had just left our apartment, blurry-eyed but with coffees in hand. At the first traffic light, Jacqueline's stick-shifting prowess gave out. We stalled once, twice, three times. Each time the rental car bucked like a rodeo steer, sloshing more hot coffee on us and the vehicle's interior. Soon Jacqueline and I mutually decided that I should drive the trip's first leg.

From al-Andalus to al-Maghreb, and Beyond

Spain map

Before returning to Morocco, Jacqueline and I spent the last days of our Iberian roadtrip kicking around Andalucia.

In Zafra, we discovered secreto ibérico. At a café in the old town's main square, both of us ordered the mysterious "Iberian secret", left unexplained by the menu, on the waitress' recommendation. It turned out to be a tender pork fillet, seared to juicy perfection - perhaps our best meal of the entire trip.

Ronda was a picturesque stone-and-mortar town split by a deep chasm, its sandstone cliffs housing the swallows that swooped through the evening skies.

Sipping Porto in the Douro

Portugal map

The next stop in our Portuguese road trip was the Douro Valley, famed home of Portugal's most celebrated export - vinho do porto, or port wine. Made at first like traditional wines, port is infused with brandy partway through the fermentation process, increasing both the alcohol and sugar content of the wine and adding yet more layers of complexity to its flavor.

The Douro River runs from the mountains of northeastern Portugal westward to the Atlantic, where the city of Porto is located. Some 150 km upriver, near the

Aveiro: the 'Portuguese Venice' Proves a Good Catch

All on its own, the town of Aveiro might have justified our entire road trip through Portugal and southern Spain.

On the Atlantic coast halfway between Lisbon and Porto, a wide expanse of salt marshes surrounds Aveiro. They begin at the town's edge, and stretch to the horizon in a geometric array of shallow ponds and grassy dikes. This patchwork, and the occasional ramshackle pump house, are the relics of Aveiro's once famous but now fading saltworks.

The town itself - perfectly quaint like every other settlement in Portugal - straddles a series of canals plied by brightly painted gondolas. In this

Though the Meter Man Lurks, Lisbon Still Delights

Lisbon map

Why, oh why, did we decide to drive?

I first began to ask myself this question on the highway just outside Lisbon, as we sat in full horizon-to-horizon gridlock, creeping imperceptibly toward the Portuguese capital.

Strangely, when we finally reached the center of the city it looked almost deserted. Late on a Sunday afternoon, most shops were closed and the pedestrians were few.

So too were the parking spaces. Thus, while Jacqueline and I walked around downtown searching for a suitable place to stay, our rental car sat in a garage, racking up a substantial bill. We finally opted to stay in the brand new Shiado Hostel, on

On the Algarve Coast, Discovering Portugal's Charms

Portugal map

Saturday morning we accompanied Jacqueline’s family to the Málaga airport to say our goodbyes. Afterward, there was no master plan; we just needed to be back eight days later for our flight back to Morocco.

In a snap decision, we scrapped our plans of public transport and rented a small Opel four-seater. At a gas station on the road to Sevilla, we picked up a road map of the Iberian peninsula, adding to our minimal library of knowledge on Spain and Portugal (which until this point consisted only of our as-yet-untouched Let's Go! Spain and Portugal guidebook). 

Our Iberian road trip had begun.

One More Seedy Port City, and the Road Home

Map of route

After breaking camp, Saturday morning Jacqueline and I drove to Al Hoceima (الحسيمة), the largest city along this stretch of coast. After treating ourselves to a delicious breakfast of eggs, toast, and rich cafés au lait (all luxuries compared to our recent staples of stale bread and Vache Qui Rit) we explored the beaches along the coast south of the city. The guidebook again misled us with talk of “pristine, white sandy beaches” but the Cala Bonita beach just south of town was nice enough to warrant a visit.

Following the Forgotten Coast: Al Jebha to Kala Iris

Map of route

We continued the treacherous drive along the coast Friday morning, passing through neglected little seaside communities as we headed eastward. Large domed grain stores clung to the cliffs along our route. At one point, Jacqueline and I pulled over and gaped in amazement as a tour bus loaded to the brim with locals careened past. Many of the passengers must have had a deeply religious experience on that drive.

By mid-morning we reached the fishing village of Al Jebha, the last sizeable

Beautiful Views on ‘the Edge of Death’

Map of route

Returning from our hike in mid- afternoon on Thursday, Jacqueline and I quickly set off on the next stage of our trip – the drive to the coast.

From Chefchaouen, the road twisted downhill at absurdly tight angles. Mercedes taxis roared up around the curves, nearly tossing our flimsy Kia off the road several times. We cruised downward into a wide valley, where the road began to follow the Oued Laou (the Arabic word oued/واد means river, stream, creek, or creek bed) toward the coastal town of the same name, where we planned to spend the night.

North to Chefchaouen, Diamond in the Rif

Map of route

Before Jacqueline and I hit the road early Wednesday morning, I had hoped for an epic beginning – two travelers embarking on an unknown road, giddy with anticipation. But stalling the car at every traffic light on the way out of town hardly lends itself to such romantic visions.

Nonetheless, our pint-sized Kia, loaded with gear, chugged forth into the rolling brown hills northwest of Fes. The road was largely empty. Every few kilometers, an inter-city taxi might roar past, or I would push the little Kia around a lumbering farm truck.

Sefrou's Second Generation

Morocco map

On Sunday, Jacqueline and I, along with Elena, another Fulbrighter, visited the little village of Sefrou (صفرو), a 30 minute drive from Fes along a highway flanked by rows of olive trees. There is little to do in Sefrou, we found, particularly during Ramadan, when the town's cafes are closed during the day. We walked a mile or so up the road to a series of small waterfalls, then spent an hour or two exploring the small walled village. About 8,000 members of Morocco's once sizable Jewish population built and inhabited the town, straddling a small river in the hills south of Fes.

Today, however, there are no Jews in the village and the synagogue is shuttered and abandoned.  Its small Hebrew plaque was the only indication I saw of the town's original heritage.