19. Olive Oil Mishap and Bad Food.

Back in France I had bought some olive oil at a vineyard because it tasted so good.  I quickly found out, however, that the bottle didn’t seal completely.  

It leaked a little so I stored it inside two ziplock bags and placed it in my cosmetic bag and then into a dry bag for good measure because I was flying from Barcelona to Casablanca.    

Despite my best efforts the oil escaped out of the ziplock bags and into my cosmetic bag, through everything in it, from my toothbrush to my hairbrush.  

It had even seeped through the so-called material of the dry bag and then into almost everything else inside my backpack.  

Everything I picked up was slippery with oil but instead of freaking out, I decided to use the oil-soaked items as a moisturiser for my skin, which had become especially dry with all the travel. 

Goodbye Marrakesh. 

I even got compliments from my group saying how shimmery my skin was looking lately.  Yes, an expensive French oil, I told them.  

   

It wasn’t perfect, however.  As we travelled through Morocco, we entered the desert and its hot, hot sun started cooking my oil-soaked skin and I soon felt like a sausage sizzling on an BBQ. 

I kept out of the sun as best as I could and was grateful the hotel there had a swimming pool.  I jumped in with the others to cool down and a huge oil slick appeared on the surface of the water and the others pointed out to it in awe! 

The oil had even coated my hairbrush and when I brushed my hair, every strand became so coated with oil, it looked wet all day.

The can of oil was moved to an outside pocket in my backpack, sealed inside a remaining ziplock bag and a few days later I discovered the can of oil had been  completely crushed.  

This must have happened when being moved from hotel to hotel by the porters.  Oil was floating inside the ziplock bag but thankfully it hadn’t leaked, but it was time to get rid of it.

Later that day I poured the last of the oil into a bowl and invited the group to dip their Moroccan bread in it.  It was gone in a jiffy.  

For days later the remnants of the split oil continued to travel inside my backpack and coat everything it came into contact with and I had to keep wiping the greasy items all over my body.  

The system was working well until one day I discovered that my laundry detergent had leaked throughout the backpack and amazingly it had soaked up all the oil. 

I had an effective ecosystem happening inside my backpack and to wash my clothes, I only needed to put them in water and suddenly soapy bubbles would appear.  

Unfortunately I had left my shampoo and conditioner in Spain so was using liquid soap on my hair.  It eventually stripped the olive oil and became rather difficult to comb.  However, the backpack and its contents became functional again and I was able to enjoy the rest of my trip without incident. 

My Hair Not Coping!

The group disbanded in Marrakesh and I took the train to Casablanca.  Because I had arrived so late when flying into the city at the beginning of the tour, I wanted to spend a day or two in it before I left. 

I booked a tour so I could see the impressive Hassan II mosque and once again I was the only one on it.  The guide said it was unusual, normally he would have a big group.  

Hassan II Mosque

I was taken around the city in a black limousine car like a Queen, and tipped the last of my dirhams to the guide and driver before taking a taxi to the airport.

Loved This One!

Before the tour started, I had lunch in a cafe that served quite possibly the worst food I ever tried to eat before giving up.  I even took back my tip before I left because the service was almost as bad as the food!  

Perhaps the waiter put a curse on me because I suffered from the most terrible and inconvenient diarrhoea for the next three days.  

Actually I was happy to leave Morocco for the better health standards, and felt instant relief as the plane touched down in Lisbon after a very quick flight.  

I arrived at about 7:30pm and was relieved to notice my Monty eSIM was working again once notifications rolled down my screen as I needed Google Maps to find my way to the hotel.

I got a 24 hour travel pass for €11 and took the metro to Cais do Sodré, before walking to Misercórdia and the street of my accommodation. It didn’t take long and the metro was very easy to use. 

The area I was in was an old part of the city with a boutique charm.  The colourful buildings were three or four stories high, many decorated with patterned tiles that reminded me of Morocco.  

The area was known for its party vibe so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that there was a street party happening right outside the building of my accommodation.

There was loud music playing, people dancing, kiosks and bars selling street food, Sangria and beers.  I wanted to join in but first I had to drop off my backpack and freshened up.

I carefully went up three sets of the steepest of stairs I had ever climbed before finding the bedroom tightly nestled into the attic.

There was a single window forced open by a rock and I didn’t try to close it as I discovered it was my only airflow.  I looked outside, beyond the many orange-coloured ceramic roof tops, to see a cute looking steeple beyond. 

The floor sunk heavily on one side and my arm would brace the wall as I walked past between it and the nearby bed.  The floorboards creaked as I walked and I wondered exactly how old this building was.  Hundreds of years old, surely!

The bathroom was so tiny but I had a decent shower, and liked that I could brush my teeth and rinse the toothbrush all while sitting on the loo.  I had to go out of the bathroom to put the towel around my head.  (Not enough room to swing a cat, as my father used to say).  Regardless, it was full of charm and I loved it.  

Once ready, I carefully navigated the steep stairs down and joined the party outside the front door.  

All the streets were on a very steep slant and I saw a few young women in heels trying to walk over the cobbled streets.  Not me anymore, I only wore sensible shoes these days. 

Street Party

I listened to the singer as he pumped out some traditional dance tunes and watched as the crowd sang along with him.  I found a bar selling some cheap Sangria and food and settled in for the long night.  I had a great time.  

The following morning I was up early and took the metro back into the city and found the hotel of the G-Adventures Portugal Tour.   

Once I dropped off my pack, I found my way to Belém using my travel pass.  

It was an especially hot day and queues were annoying long for the main tourist attractions there.  I was booked in to see the medieval Belém Tower on the sea and a huge building with cloistered and vaulted ceilings called the Jerónimos Monastery. 

As with most places in Europe, I had to book and pay for my tickets online and then wait outside under the scorching sun and slowly wither away as the queue slowly inched towards the entrance.

Too Hot!

A man selling water walked past but the price was excessive and despite my tongue swelling out of my mouth with dehydration, I wasn’t going to pay his price.

Once inside these busy attractions, we had to walk around in one direction following the signs and before I knew it, I was back outside thinking what did I just see and it’s not worth it!

Belém Tower

So many of the visitors weren’t even present to witness what was before them - they were only there to get the perfect Instagram shot of themselves.

I didn’t think the tower was worth the two hour wait under the sun but the monastery and its incredible architecture was, especially the cloistered ceilings.  

Monastery. 

I managed to get lost on my way back to the city centre because the security guy told me to take the wrong bus.  

Despite that, I found Lisbon easy to navigate, I liked how things weren’t too expensive, how colourful it was, its architecture, and its history.  I liked the people and I even liked their Fado folk music with the Portuguese classic guitar (which we later listened to that night and I clapped the loudest).

Once at the hotel I met my twin-share roommate, Sonya from Utah.  I thought she was 30-something, but she was closer to my age! 

We met the tour leader and the rest of the group; we were 14 in total.  There were no couples, everyone was joking and laughing, and I could tell it was going to be a fun trip.

Five of us had booked a food tour for the following day and we spent the afternoon eating many local foods, drinking too much wine and beer, and laughing so much, my stomach hurt.

After a while I realised the tummy pains wasn’t the laughter but probably that inedible Moroccan seafood meal I had a day or so earlier!  

Regardless, I kept eating and drinking.  We had gone to a dinner later that evening and when listening to Fado music, my stomach cramped and squeezed so hard I couldn’t ignore it and it all went rather bad after that.  

I hurried back to the hotel and proceeded to have the worst night on the loo, no doubt keeping my roommate up wondering if I was going to make it out alive.  

As soon as it opened the following morning, I was at the nearby pharmacy and asking for something for BAD diarrhoea.  

I was given a box containing sachets and I worried it wouldn’t work because that day we were taking the bus to Coimbra, our next destination.   

I held on until we got to Òbidos, a beautiful medieval city with the cutest boutique stores.  I walked along the wall between toilet stops, still too sick to eat or drink.  

We travelled further up the country and stopped at another amazing monastery with cloistered ceilings before finally arriving at the very pretty town of Coimbra. 

Òbidos

As I went to bed that evening, I hoped the medication was working and my body would soon recover. 

The group was all onboard by this stage and providing me with various medications which helped a lot, especially the butt ointment. 

In fact by the next day, I was almost back to my old self and enjoyed one of my favourite days of the trip!

I was starting to wonder if I’d ever have a week without incident or illness but I was persevering and still enjoying my adventures.  

Just keep going, Kris.  One day this will all be behind you!  I told myself.  

Travelling is not easy!