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It’s Okay to Eat McDonald’s Abroad, I Promise

Photo by Matheus Henrin on Pexels.com

A lot of people think that they have to stick to the local food when traveling; else they give the type of tourist vibe where you’re only in town for the cheap souvenirs and sights. These are the travelers, or rather, trip-goers, that locals hate; the ones who wear fanny packs (who doesn’t hate a person wearing a fanny pack, though?) who never try to speak the language and bulldoze their way through the country like they are the only people who matter. These are the people who eat at McDonald’s and who will only go into a Starbucks for a coffee because it’s familiar. Those of you who have eaten at either of these two establishments while abroad may be hiding your faces in embarrassment, while others who have yet to explore far and wide are recoiling in the horror that anyone would think you’re a tourist. I’m here to tell you, it’s okay.

I used to hate being seen as a tourist, and a large part of me still does (see: fanny pack and camera around your neck), but I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve been mistaken for a Parisian on more than one occasion (something that warmed my heart and made those $200 heels worth it) and yet I’ve eaten in McDonald’s numerous times while out and about exploring the world and I’ve sat down in a Starbucks, or two, with my caramel maachiato in hand reading happily in a less-than-crowded café. Sometimes, it’s not the fact that you’re afraid to try new things in new restaurants in a foreign city, but it’s because you’re just worn down and tired and can’t even think about trying to order something in another language, butchering the words as you fumble through.

I’ve high-tailed it to Subway, McDonald’s, Starbucks, all because I’ve been too tired to try to speak a foreign language I should have learned more of before my trip. Because I don’t know how to ask for a to-go cup and am confused if every establishment will actually have one. Because I’ve become embarrassed at how often my conversation will always switch back to English making my wish for just one moment that I can just say a combo number or tap a screen, pay, and only interact with someone to pick up my food, handing out the obligatory perfected ‘thank-you’ in every language. Or, it’s because I’ve just been away for too long, am missing my own western customs (does sitting down and waiting 20 minutes for a coffee, then being rushed out really need to be a normal thing?), and just want that damn Starbucks in my hand like I usually have every morning.

Walking down cobbled streets in the early morning, knowing which side streets to take because it’s quicker and seeing the same shop owners opening up for the day, makes your ‘westernized’ and ‘mundane’ scene of getting a Starbucks that much more beautiful and wonderful. Mixing the beauty of being in a new world in an intoxicating culturally rich atmosphere (as it seems nearly everywhere besides home always is – what is it about the grass being greener?) with a little western ease makes your trip, somehow, feel a little bit more real. It’s easy to get swept up in all of the intriguing customs, all of the beautiful cafés, all of the picnics in parks and hikes through mountains, knowing that your time here will have to end. There’s something surreal about being in a foreign city and time just seems to stop or glide by in a slow and tantalizing way. Grabbing a little something that is familiar to you (even if you don’t eat McDonald’s on the regular) ties your two lives together; your home life, which you live every day doing the boring things like work and chores, and your traveler life where you explore and nourish and feed your curiosity.

There’s nothing wrong with missing the normal things you can find back home; besides, grabbing a McChicken and fries in Cannes and looking out into the blue sea and mountains is a lot more grounding than you’d think.

A lot of people think that they have to stick to the local food when traveling; else they give the type of tourist vibe where you’re only in town for the cheap souvenirs and sights. These are the travelers, or rather, trip-goers, that locals hate; the ones who wear fanny packs (who doesn’t hate a person wearing a fanny pack, though?) who never try to speak the language and bulldoze their way through the country like they are the only people who matter. These are the people who eat at McDonald’s and who will only go into a Starbucks for a coffee because it’s familiar. Those of you who have eaten at either of these two establishments while abroad may be hiding your faces in embarrassment, while others who have yet to explore far and wide are recoiling in the horror that anyone would think you’re a tourist. I’m here to tell you, it’s okay.

I used to hate being seen as a tourist, and a large part of me still does (see: fanny pack and camera around your neck), but I’ve come to terms with it. I’ve been mistaken for a Parisian on more than one occasion (something that warmed my heart and made those $200 heels worth it) and yet I’ve eaten in McDonald’s numerous times while out and about exploring the world and I’ve sat down in a Starbucks, or two, with my caramel maachiato in hand reading happily in a less-than-crowded café. Sometimes, it’s not the fact that you’re afraid to try new things in new restaurants in a foreign city, but it’s because you’re just worn down and tired and can’t even think about trying to order something in another language, butchering the words as you fumble through.

I’ve high-tailed it to Subway, McDonald’s, Starbucks, all because I’ve been too tired to try to speak a foreign language I should have learned more of before my trip. Because I don’t know how to ask for a to-go cup and am confused if every establishment will actually have one. Because I’ve become embarrassed at how often my conversation will always switch back to English making my wish for just one moment that I can just say a combo number or tap a screen, pay, and only interact with someone to pick up my food, handing out the obligatory perfected ‘thank-you’ in every language. Or, it’s because I’ve just been away for too long, am missing my own western customs (does sitting down and waiting 20 minutes for a coffee, then being rushed out really need to be a normal thing?), and just want that damn Starbucks in my hand like I usually have every morning.

Walking down cobbled streets in the early morning, knowing which side streets to take because it’s quicker and seeing the same shop owners opening up for the day, makes your ‘westernized’ and ‘mundane’ scene of getting a Starbucks that much more beautiful and wonderful. Mixing the beauty of being in a new world in an intoxicating culturally rich atmosphere (as it seems nearly everywhere besides home always is – what is it about the grass being greener?) with a little western ease makes your trip, somehow, feel a little bit more real. It’s easy to get swept up in all of the intriguing customs, all of the beautiful cafés, all of the picnics in parks and hikes through mountains, knowing that your time here will have to end. There’s something surreal about being in a foreign city and time just seems to stop or glide by in a slow and tantalizing way. Grabbing a little something that is familiar to you (even if you don’t eat McDonald’s on the regular) ties your two lives together; your home life, which you live every day doing the boring things like work and chores, and your traveler life where you explore and nourish and feed your curiosity.

There’s nothing wrong with missing the normal things you can find back home; besides, grabbing a McChicken and fries in Cannes and looking out into the blue sea and mountains is a lot more grounding than you’d think.

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travel

The Cannes Film Festival Pavilion: a Disappointment in Itself

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When you think of the Cannes Film Festival, you think of glitz, glamour, and all things beautiful. You have a certain expectation that when you — finally! — get to Cannes you’ll have a magical moment where you just know Ryan Gosling will walk out of a gorgeous yacht and claim his love for you. Alas, this isn’t the case. My last girl’s trip to France ended up with our schedule nearly right on top of the film festival; we tried to go for the film festival, but the timing was off and the hotel prices were exuberant. Still. Cannes is beautiful anytime you go. But, with a film buff in our crew, we just had to go out and see the film festival pavilion — they were even starting to set up when we arrived! — but…we had actually already been there the night before….

Because, it’s just a pavilion.
Legit. There’s no red carpet (obviously, not obviously), no champagne flowing 24/7, no glitz, no glamour. There were, of course, tons of beautiful yachts moored in the marina, but no Ryan Gosling. Strike 1.

You can easily miss it
Because it’s legitimately just a pavilion, it’s easy to miss the damn thing. Taking a stroll in our evening’s finest (see pretty short dresses and heels and/or converse. Our signature girls in our 20s look) after a delicious meal of the best duck I’ve ever had (ask anyone; I won’t shut up about it), we decided to check out the water and walk along the marina, pretending to ourselves that the yacht at the end is ours, dahling. So, unbeknownst to us, we walked the great Cannes Film Festival Pavilion, drunk on champagne and pure happiness, and then headed back to our hotel — excited to check out the amazing Cannes Film Festival Pavilion the next day. Strike 2.

There are no celebrities
I mean, duh. The festival wasn’t on. But, still. You just expected something exciting to happen and to have someone just strolling about — perhaps George Clooney having a cup of Nespresso on a terrace or on his yacht. Anything, really. All you get is some rocks, some yachts, a kind of ugly building, and a disappointing taste in your mouth. Strike 3.

Most monuments and pictures (the Mona Lisa, anyone?) never do what the movies and novels and general public have hyped it up to be. There are tons of disappointing things to see in the world, and it may seem like a waste of time, but at least you can say you were disappointed at the Louvre. Or, that you were at a really old building that’s falling down (Pisa). And, that’s something, I guess.

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travel

Why you Should Always Know Where you’re Staying When Travelling

Photo by Tranmautritam on Pexels.com

So, you’re getting quite happy at a pub down in Edinburgh, when the club downstairs starts hopping. Downing your whisky sour, you bop your way down the stairs and into the dark, smokey, and dancerific club. You have yourself a real good time and decide to leave. The bloke out front tells you that he will take you home on the cheap in his bicycle rig. Feeling bold from the whisky coursing through your veins at an alarming rate, you and your friend take him up on the offer.

You learn about his girlfriend and how he would love to invite you over for a cuppa, but she would probably be mad. You shrug and giggle, thinking you’d love to head home with this sexy scotsman for a ‘cuppa’. You had told him where you were staying, in a B&B not too far away, but he didn’t seem to know it. You described the park that is across the way, and he nodded, now sure he knew where he was going.

He pedaled, you and your friend laugh, and you wish that your rickshaw ride would never stop. Alas, he pulls up to a dark park, and feeling horrible for letting him bike around with no fucking idea as to where your B&B is on either side, you jump off, promising him that you’ll be fine. His look of concern and clear indication that he’s wrestling with making sure we’re 100% safe and getting the fuck home has you waving his worries off. You’re just on the other side of the park, you see? You and your friend jump off and wave, happy for the ridiculous travel moment.

You walk through the dark park, wondering that maybe you actually made a mistake. It’s 3:00am and spooky as fuck. You don’t really know this neighbourhood, could there be hoodlums? Or the scariest people of all? Youths? You walk a little faster and come to the street across the park. Your B&B doesn’t show up. You walk down the road, thinking ‘yeah, it’s just up there a bit’ and try not to show the worries that are now neck-and-neck with that whisky in your veins.

You walk and walk, and still no B&B. Finally, stressed, scared, and feeling like a damn fool, you and your friend stop under a street lamp. You turn on your blackberry (yes, a blackberry), not caring that it will probably cost you $30 a minute just to look on a map and find your blasted B&B. You find it and follow the directions back. You weren’t that far away, but far enough. The park your new friend dropped you at wasn’t the park you had told him about, but one a few blocks before your accommodations. Funny how parks look the same in an alcohol haze in the middle of the night.

You arrive home, exhausted, relieved, and still a little giddy from the night before. You both collapse on the bed in a fit of giggles, feeling that invincible feeling you only have when you’re 21.

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travel

Why you Shouldn’t Believe the Internet About Morocco

Photo by Taryn Elliott on Pexels.com

I’m writing this post on a sleepy morning in Chefchaouen; the call to prayer long ago waking me up and my stubborn body deciding that it really is time to awaken. A rooster is yelling his good mornings off in the distance and my husband is snoring softly beside me. Everything is quiet except my brain. I can’t help but think about all of the blogs, articles, trip advisor posting and comments about Morocco and how far off they were from the truth. There are so many horrible things you are going to read about Morocco. Honestly, unless they all happened in Marrakech, I’m not sure how they happened at all. I’ve still a couple more days here in Morocco, and all of the stressful and crazy stuff mentored in other blog posts can still happen, but my journey thus far has been a good one…definitely not as relaxing as Europe or a resort, but pure relaxation wasn’t expected.

Being a Woman In a Muslim Country

Okay, so this one problem people talk about (usually in regards to your clothing) is one that started to get on my nerves near the end. BUT, it was never as bad as it was made out to be. No one called to me, no one leered at me, no one made me feel unsafe. If I were traveling alone, or with some other women, the problem may have exacerbated itself. I did see three women get cat-called from a couple of teenage boys in Chefchaouen…but this happens in the streets of Winnipeg, Toronto, everywhere.

The men will address my husband only, even at restaurants when they told us the specials or asked about something. They’d only take his suitcase to help out, which is so hilariously far from the ‘women need help with everything’ mentality in North America. Which, after a long bus ride, I very much appreciate! If we aren’t going to have equal rights, then might as well have the ones that lend us a small helping hand, I suppose.

The Dress Code

Guys, there isn’t really one. Walking around in shorts, rompers or shorter dresses? Probably not the best idea (unless you’re in Casablanca where I saw many locals in shorter skirts and tank tops and no head scarves!). Just remember that you’re in a Muslim country and to dress appropriately. Which doesn’t mean full coverage. Ask yourself if your grandma would approve of your outfit and go from there.

The Aggression

If you haven’t read about aggressive sales people in the souks, then you haven’t been reading about Morocco. But, you can relax. They’re not that bad (again, Marrakech may hold all of these issues…but there are so many other places to go — just skip the circus!), and they will only hassle you for a second. The Fes shop owners would let me look at my leisure, asking me if I was interested in something every so often, but generally being very nice.

I’ve had more annoying sales associates in a mall in North America. People will call out to you to come see their shop, and will always yell out ‘bonjour!’ and ‘welcome!’ To you as you pass. A simple ‘non, merci’ will suffice if you’re not interested in their shop and saying hello back will not get you suckered into buying anything. A quick smile and a ‘bonjour!’ is something everyone can do.

The cab drivers were honestly the worst, always hovering and asking you if you want a taxi, never giving you a minute to collect your thoughts in this new city you just arrived in. Keep telling them ‘one minute’ while you give your brain time to adjust to where you’re going. You WILL get sick of them asking, and if you’re tired and over it, you may tell out ‘UGH WE’RE FINE!!!’ when someone has asked you 10 times if you need a taxi or hotel. I’m not going lie, I did yell this out at a taxi driver who followed us even after we politely said we do not need a taxi (we could almost see our hotel from where we stood) about 20 times.

Be polite, but be firm, and remember NOT to swear at them. Who knows how hard this is enforced, but I’ve read so many places that it’s illegal to swear at a man if you are a woman. Also, swearing at a complete stranger is rude. We got to witness an Aussie bloke have just enough of the taxi men and give it to them about how Morocco always asks for your money. From what I heard him yell about, I guarantee he came from Marrakech as I didn’t find this to be much of the case elsewhere.

Remember that this is their livelihood, that they don’t bring home much. That when you convert MAD to CAD (or USD, GBP or whatever), you’ve sometimes only paid your driver a dollar or 20 bucks. In the end, will 20 bucks make or beak you? Probably not. And if it will, you shouldn’t be on a trip.

Scams

I didn’t have a henna lady grab my arm, I didn’t have anyone be overly aggressive, I didn’t have anyone offer me tea (but I did witness someone doing so to another woman who gave him hell), and only once did we pay someone who ended up as our accidental ‘guide’. This bit happened in the airport when we were stressed, confused, and fine enough with paying. At that point, we just wanted to board the damn plane and little bit of money was worth it.

But, did we get ripped off from our cab drivers or in the souks? Absolutely. There are tons of cab drivers that will constantly rip you off, no matter the country you’re in, and especially if you’re coming or going to an airport. Guys, I once paid 60 bucks to drive for 3 minutes in Toronto. It happens. Budget for it.

Mindful Tip: before being annoyed at anyone for asking for more from you, convert that money back to dollars! That 200 dirham you may only have is only 20 bucks. That 100 dirham charge instead of 50 dirhams is the difference of five bucks in your life, but could mean so much more in theirs. I get it; paying more than you should is annoying, but you shouldn’t let it ruin your trip. Pay it and move on.

It’s not as Beautiful as it Seems*

*in some places

Those beautiful pictures of the beach in Casablanca? The winding streets in the medina in Fes? The desert and nature views? Guys, it’s all filled with garbage. The photo has either been expertly and painstakingly taken at the right angle to get none, or very limited, amounts of garbage. Or, it’s been edited out of every photo. It’s everywhere. You can’t escape it. It’s disgusting and ruins the landscape.

It can’t all be from Moroccans, so be mindful of your garbage when you’re travelling. We don’t need to ruin everything we come across simply because we paid to get there.

Animal Abuse

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to touch base on this or not because it’s something that definitely still happens in Morocco. Hell, it happens in Canada, too. After reading about all the horrific things that happens to animals in Morocco, I nearly wanted to cancel our trip, but I’m glad I didn’t.

Because it’s not as rampant as everyone makes it seem. At least, not out in public.

Spana Charity has done great work and there have been, no doubt, vast improvements. Working animals are a way of life. The only way for some people to get their products to market, to go anywhere.

There are thousands of cats in the streets and spay and neutering will help this problem, but they’re fed well by locals and tourists alike. Water, leftovers, and even kibble is left out for the adorable creatures who spend days lazing in the sun or in baskets found on sale in the market.

There are many stray dogs, and it hurts your heart to see so many stray animals, but they look content with a lot of the cats snuggling up with shop owners and getting scritches. I’m not a vet so I’ve no idea if they’re sick or not (nearly all look fine to my general eyes), but rest assured, animal abuse won’t accost you.

Moroccans are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. We’ve had some great experiences with cab drivers helping us out (like driving through a field to get out of a traffic jam or calling our hotel at 430 in the morning and making sure there was someone there and that we got to where we’re going) and amazing experiences altogether.

A lot of blog posts on the Internet like to paint them in a bad light, making them seem greedy and rude. Which can be true with some, as it always is everywhere. But, a lot of the issues we encountered were not unlike the ones we encounter on a daily basis at home. Perhaps the most annoying part of any issue while on vacation is that it found you on vacation. Any problem, even a little insignificant one, becomes 10x bigger because you’re here to relax and explore and the world should bend in your favour. But, you’re in Morocco, in friggin’ Africa! Things are not going to be easy because life here isn’t easy.

Take a moment to collect yourself and just get on with it. Your trip will be sunnier when you stop worrying about every little thing that could go wrong, or how you spent more than the cab than a local. That’s travelling, is it not?