York: The Grand old Duke

The grand old walled city of York played host to the von Yarralls as we sought a long weekend of R&R, and it certainly delivered.

The train ride there was fantastic in itself,  a very fast service from London Kings Cross direct, taking in the changing scenery and the hundreds of middle-aged trainspotters along the way. Lou was fascinated with them as we slowed for each station, keeping count and remarking on the uniform of anorak, backpack, and notepad. Whoever knew trainspotting was so popular? We do now!

Arriving into York, we were almost immediately greeted with a friendly local who stopped his car when he spotted us looking at our map, and gave us very thorough directions to our B&B on the other side of town. Foss Bank B&B played host to us for three nights and was just the ticket – quiet, warm, and a giant bed perfect for afternoon naps; essential for a late-January winter getaway.

Once we’d settled in, we went off to explore York Minster, a must-do for any visit. We joined an excellent free tour (admission though was £14) and were expertly guided by a volunteer, seeing all the nooks, crannies and quirks of the 800-year-old Minster. Highlights included the semaphore statues (a recent addition, you use cards with the semaphore alphabet to figure out what they say); the quirky and often humorous carvings in the chapter house, and the choir screen with statues of various Kings. One of our areas of focus was the astronomical clock, a memorial to airmen operating from bases in Yorkshire, Durham, and Northumberland who were killed in action during WW2 (of which Lou's great uncle Michael was one). In fact, there was so much to do at the Minster that we stopped by for another visit on our way back to London on Sunday - free with our ticket.

 Memorial book at the astronomical clock

The following day we joined a free walking tour – always a highlight and something we try to do wherever we go. Some of the highlights included seeing parts of the 4th century Roman walls, King's Manor (Henry VIII's Council of the North, and Holy Trinity Goodramgate, complete with 15th century stained glass and Jocobean boxed pews - something we haven't seen in any church before.

After a spot of lunch, we headed to the Jorvik centre, built on the site of 100-year-old houses and shops from Viking times. It was a bit of a ho-hum experience, even the short 'ride' through the old streets was a wee bit disappointing. Perhaps we've now seen our fair share of old coins and tools and things - oh how spoilt we are!

That night we sampled the local kai at Melton’s Too, where we enjoyed excellent food, beer and service, at super affordable Northern prices.

 Not what we ate at Melton's Too

Dean’s old boss lives in Harrogate, a 30 minute train ride away, so we popped there to visit him and the picturesque town on Saturday. The sun was shining, which made for excellent conditions for a long stroll through Valley Gardens, even happening across a New Zealand garden along the way. While in Harrogate we had afternoon tea at Betty’s, a Yorkshire institution. Saturday night back in York saw us at the Punch Bowl pub, one of the oldest in town, enjoying a pie and a pint, and a few games of cards in front of the fire.

 The kiwi garden, Harrogate

We were heading back to London on Sunday, but managed to squeeze in another visit to the Minister as well as an hour at the Railway museum – once there, we really wished we’d left longer for it, it’s very well laid out and interesting, even for the girls!

Another train journey back to London and we were refreshed, revitalised, and recommending York to anyone who'd listen for a break away.

 Dean on his street, Deangate

Marrakesh: finding the silver lining

Scene 1: The souks
Little boy: Hello, are you lost?
Us (we were, and knew the financial consequences of saying yes): yes please, can you show us to Ben Youssef Medersa?
Little boy: Sure, follow me. Welcome to Marrakesh, first time here? You are very welcome.
3 minutes later, as we arrive at our destination around one corner.
Little boy: Now you give me money
Us: Of course, here you go (offering 10 dirhams – roughly the cost of that morning’s breakfast)
Little boy: Pah. That is nothing to me. You give me 50
Us: Uh no, we’ll give you 10
Little boy (practically spitting): Pah. 50
Us: 10
Little boy: 20
Us: 10
Little boy: That is nothing to me
Us: Then nothing you shall have. Toodle pip.

Scene 2: The desert
Man who’d walked us 20 minutes on a camel: Now you give me a tip
Us: Sorry, we don’t have much money on us
Man who’d walked us 20 minutes on a camel: You give me 150 dirhams (a third of what we’d paid for a two day, one night trip)
Us: Nope, don’t think so, sorry pal. Ciao.

And that just about sums up our experience of Marrakesh (and the overnight trip to the Zagora sand dunes which we wouldn’t recommend). Keeping in mind we’ve done a fair bit of travel to places like this, including Egypt and Turkey, we were surprised at the generally pretty unfriendly welcome we received. We’ll spare you the details of being sworn at, physically grabbed at, and saving a very shaken French tourist from being swiftly relieved of his wallet, and instead try to focus on the positive side of our wee post-Christmas piece of sunshine.

1: It was sunny.
2: Our very cheap, basic, but clean Riad – Hotel Imouzzer – was handily located very close to the main square in the old town, and had a fantastic rooftop from which we soaked up the afternoon sun over endless games of cards with friends Kyle and Melissa each afternoon.
3: The food – when we weren’t blatantly charged double the going rate – was pretty good, although the best was the tagine we had on the aforementioned rooftop. As well as tagine, we had kebabs, fabulous egg rolls, lamb’s head, couscous, fresh oj and plenty of tea and café au lait to wash it down.

4: We spent a day outside of Marrakesh in Essouira, on the coast. We negotiated this through a grand taxi driver (at a rate of 700 dirhams) who then passed us on to his mate in a big, clean people mover, for the rate of 1000 dirhams. To be honest, we didn’t really fancy the 5-hour round trip in a rattly, cigarette-smelling Mercades, so were happy to do the switch. Essouira is a small town on the coast, and we enjoyed a relaxing day wandering the streets and markets with far less aggressive behaviour than we experienced in Marrakesh. We also treated ourselves to a delicious lunch and a bottle of wine at Chalet de la Plage, right on the beach.
5: The New Town was much less insane, with drinks and meals far cheaper than we’d expected. We enjoyed a slightly boozy New Year’s Eve with drinks at a hotel followed by an excellent meal of pizzas and wine at Cantanzaro – the cost for four of us was about £50.
6: We happened across the clean, cheap, but tourist-friendly Hammam Ziani down the road, and enjoyed two vigorous scrub downs and a massage each.
7: Dean’s French was pretty darn good!
8: We picked up some nice souvenirs, including a couple of glass lanterns and the obligatory tagine, at bargain prices (perhaps we could have tipped more?)

9: We know we already mentioned the food, but the roti-style ‘crepes’, cooked fresh and filled with cheese, or eaten plain, have to get a mention of their own. We pretty much lived on these.
10. Despite experiencing a number of aggressive encounters and tense moments, the atmosphere in the main square each night was pretty magic – so long as you didn’t watch anything for too long as you’d get very firmly hit up for money - and what you were prepared to pay would never be enough. Wandering around, stealing glances at the storytellers, transvestite dancers, snake charmers, dancing monkeys and trying to decide what to eat was certainly unique and enjoyable – so long as you kept a strong grip on your bag and friends!

 Would we go back? Probably not. Was it an experience? Certainly. Did we learn something? Yep - not every single trip can be perfect from start to finish, can it?