Thursday, March 29, 2012

Owning your own memories

"Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things – air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky – all things tending towards the eternal or what we imagine of it." – Cesare Pavese

This is so true and so lovely! You have to develop your own memories and experiences and paint pictures in your head that you can cling onto :)

Happy Thursday everyone :) This little giraffe is coming to brighten your day!


Sunday, March 25, 2012

Spring has finally sprung!


I have been waiting ALL semester for this. A huge deciding factor in my decision to study in Menton was the beach, the Med. Sea, and the sunshine. Unfortunately, the weather the past 2 months has been iffy at best and definitely NOT beach weather. But those days are behind us-it is OFFICIALLY bathing suit season in the south of France-HURRAY!
The past week has been stressful because I had two exposes to prepare and perform. But now that those are over I feel great!
Friday evening we had our Arabic tutorial at Chez Younnes (the house of our tutor). He gave us the recipe (in arabic) of how to make a Tagine. He got out all of the ingredients and tools we would need and then sat back and watched as all 10 of us tried to read and understand the directions and work together to make the Tagine. It turned out delicious! It was fun and we felt super accomplished because we only messed up one time-and it wasn’t even a big deal (just added the basil too early)! And we got to watch the muppits in arabic after!
Yesterday (Saturday) we were supposed to be at the school at 9:45am to film our lip-sync video. There is a big competition at the end of the year between all of the sciences-po campuses and one of the categories is lip sync. The thing is that you have to film the whole thing in one take and we were doing 3 songs and there were over 60 people there participating. Me and four other girls were assigned the role of crayons. I was the green one. It was funny. We all wore our colors and made little paper pointy hats. We rested in the garden with everyone for like 2 hours before we even started the rehearsals. This is when I realized that the weather is finally starting to get nice. We were SWEATING. It was sooo hot in the garden and our pants and long sleeves were not doing the trick.
Finally we started to film and it only took about 4 takes (with like 20 minutes in between each though)! I hope it turns out well-I’ll post it on here as soon as they get it all edited and done.
After that we were so grumpy and thirsty and hungry and hot so we came back to the Villa rather quickly. After eating we started to feel better and we decided to head down to the beach to hang out with everyone. We got our bathing suits on, put on sunscreen, and picked up some beer on our way over.
There were so many students there and everyone was just lounging on the beach, talking, reading and some were swimming (I’m unsure if it’s warm enough for this yet). It was quite lovely until the sun went down-then it was just cold.
I have to say-I really do miss the sandy beaches of California though, the rocks, although very lovely, are a little uncomfortable to lie on.
It was a calm weekend in Menton. Lots of sun, food, laughter and relaxation. AKA perfect J
PS. Barcelona in two weeks!

Monday, March 12, 2012

Marrakech round two, end of spring break, HAVE to return to the south of France :)


We started our beautiful spring break in Marrakech. I fell in love with the colors, the sounds, the motion and the language. I learned so much this spring break that I would/will never learn in a classroom. It solidified my previous hypothesis that traveling is the best way to become educated about the issues, the celebrations and the people on our planet. 
In addition to traveling, my definition and appreciation for backpacking has increased tremendously. I now truly understand the feeling (even if it was just for a week) of backpacking around a foreign country. It gives you a whole new outlook on life and it’s very gratifying to know you have all of your possessions on your back and if you need anything you either get it from your backpack, or figure out a way to find it once you get there. It also gives you an inside scoop about one of my favorite backpacking quotes “shelter first, latte second”. Although it is thrilling to have no idea where you’re staying from one night to the other-finding a place to stay-especially in a country where western women are far from respected, is of upmost important. And this quote also reminds me that traveling (at least for me!) is not about cramming 100 must see things into one day but rather going with the flow and enjoying your time in each place and soaking up culture and daily life of the people (and drinking regional coffee of course!).
Starting and ending our trip in Marrakech was perfect. We felt sad and a bit deprived having had to leave it after only one day so we were happy to return. We got off the train and took a taxi to the middle of town. We were professionals by then so we paid the exact rate we knew was fair (unfortunately still questionable).  We found a hostel right off of the town square that was only 6 euros a night! It was a beautiful hostel called Amour D’Auberge. It was a three story riad with a beautiful balcony on the top. Everything had hearts on it, the trash cans, the bed, the bedspreads, etc. We put our stuff in the locked chests and went to lunch!

It was Friday which in Morocco means couscous! All week we wanted to eat couscous but in Morocco they all cook it and eat it together (at home) on fridays! We went to a pretty touristy restaurant because we didn’t want to walk too far from the city center and locals are at home eating. We sat on a patio on the second level and people watched while we were waiting for our food. I ordered an avocado juice and couscous avec legumes. It was so yummy and although we attempted to eat with the bread that they brought, we gave up and used our forks! The whole meal cost the equivalent of about 4 euros!

After lunch we wondered around the souk and got asked if we were looking for husbands. Yes, in fact we came to the Moroccan souk just to find husbands, thanks for your hospitality.
After bargaining and bargaining more we were exhausted from trying to get good prices in a foreign language and really not knowing what the actual products were worth, so we found the exit (easier said than done).
We walked around the main square for a little while and I got henna done by a very scary and intimidating lady. She put glitter on top to “help it dry”. Mhm, yeah.

We got some ice cream at a little shop and I got chocolate and banana. It was so yummy and we ate it outside! It was really sad because this little girl selling tissues followed us around for a little while but she was actually kind of scary and was looking at us weird. We sat down on a little park bench and Claire took out her agenda so we could check what time our flight was the next morning. This guy came up and started talking to us in French about how we shouldn’t bring papers out and that we needed to put them away. Then he started asking us what language we spoke so we tried to just look at him like we didn’t understand him but he wouldn’t leave. So we got up and started walking away and he shouted..in English…. “Go to f***”. I know I shouldn’t put bad words on my blog but come on, that's hilarious! I think he was trying to say “go to hell”, but missed a crucial word. Anyways, Claire and I laughed for like 10 minutes about it.
Since it was our last night in Morocco we decided to spoil ourselves. We found a nice restaurant and sat outside and people watched while we ate. We ordered bread, mint tea, main courses and then dessert! It was  fun to just sit outside and reflect on the past week while enjoying delicious Moroccan inspired foods.  Our ice cream sundaes were huge, delicious and refreshing! Our bill for the whole meal ended up being the equivalent of 17 euros, TOTAL!!

We were leisurely walking back to the hostel when, in the main square (where there are hundreds of people even at 10pm), a scooter gang started following us and driving in circles around us. They would whiz by and growl in our ears and it was getting really creepy so we found a group of older tourists and asked if we could walk with them. They let us walk in the middle of them but then they had to go a different way so we parted with them. We thought we were safe but they came back. I was feeling pretty energized and ready to just kick down one of their scooters but instead I turned around and gave them the coldest glare I could! And guess what? My bad ass streak continues! It worked, they turned around and we were free to return to our hostel!
The next morning I was awoken by the call to prayer at 5:30am (the first one of the day). There is something so magical and eery and incredible about the call to prayer. It is beautiful but also a bit distancing and unearthly. I thought it was fitting to finish the trip with that awakening. We got up not long after that and tried to pack up our belongings quietly because it was early and there were about 10 other people in our room. I was on the top bunk and I practically fell off and couldn’t stop laughing, so that didn’t help.
We found a taxi and caught our plane back to France.
When we arrived at the train station in Milan we got a little snack before our 4 hour train ride. We both got sandwiches and a beer and it cost 4 euros more than our entire meal from the night before-HARSH.

 Returning “home” to the south of France hardly seemed like a reality check to the end of spring break. It was nice to be back, though! But writing this a week later, I can say, I really do miss the lovely country of  مغرب

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Casablanca in > 24 hours

We left Rabat at about 10:30 on Thursday morning March 1st. Saying bye to Rabat was bittersweet. The busy and unique city had really started to grow on me, but around the next corner was a new adventure and I like to call myself an adventure seeker! The train ride to Casa was rather uneventful. We had to walk through about five cars to find a free one and it was strange walking from car to car because each had a different atmosphere. We found seats at the very back of the car named (by me) “the cave” because of its dark and clammy nature (now that i'm looking back-it was a little gross). We both journal-ed a little bit and snoozed a little bit. We arrived in Casa at about noon and set out to quickly find a hostel and drop our stuff off before meeting our friends at the Hassan II mosque.  My first impression of Casa was that there was a lot of construction going on. We kept having to cross the road back and forth because the sidewalk would end on one of the sides. People had told us that Casa is not very touristy and not that nice of a place to visit-but we wanted to form our own opinions. That's what traveling is about because one place for someone could be brilliant and it could be a dump for someone else.
 We found a hostel only about five minutes walk from the train station that was only 70DH a night (about 7 euros). We put our stuff in a five bed room and hung up the clothes that were still wet from their laundry adventure. We gathered our things and then set out to find the  mosque. We got about 3 minutes walk from the hostel when we started worrying about our stuff being left in an unlocked room.
This was my first time staying in a hostel and I didn’t really know etiquette or anything.  We turned around and returned to the hostel where we got all of our important things and put them in our purses and then started hiding our backpacks under the beds and in other inconspicuous hidings spots (as inconspicuous as you can find in an open room with 5 beds).

Then we left for real for the mosque. And let me just say right now, after we found it (which was a little hard because of the unfriendly people who didn’t want to talk to us), I discovered that if coming to casa for nothing else than to see this mosque than it is 100% worth it. The Hassan II mosque is the most incredible and elaborate mosque I have ever seen! It is situated right on the water and a part of it hangs off over the water.  It is absolutely magnificent. We spent an hour just walking around the outside and taking in its immense beauty. Unfortunately the friends we were supposed to meet up with were not there and us being out of date citizens and not having cell phones, couldn’t contact them.

At 2pm we tried to find the place where the tour was taking place. We wondered down some stairs and awkwardly found ourselves in the actual washroom where the women go to cleanse themselves before prayer. Normally if you are not Muslim you can’t enter a mosque but this is the only one in Morocco where they give tours of the main room of the mosque to non-Muslims. So we scurried back up the stairs and found the actual entrance.
The tour was incredible! The inside of the mosque is huge and the roof actually opens up to create some air flow during Ramadan when it is mandatory for everyone to come to the Mosque to pray. It was very interesting to see the divide of where the women and men pray. We also saw the huge cleansing room they use during Ramadan. People enetering the mosque to pray must wash their hands, feet, face, hair and arms before they begin. At the beginning of the tour our guide said there were a few rules and the first one was that only men could take pictures inside the mosque. Everyone just kind of looked at him and didn’t say anything. Then he was like “oh that was a joke!!” And there were some nervous giggles and he was like “I was waiting for someone to say something.”
But why would anyone say anything? There are a lot of women’s rights issues in the Arab world so why would anyone risk saying anything in case it was true? It was interesting.
Our guide was like a drill seargant. He would semi-shout at anyone who lagged behind to take pictures, etc.  In addition there are two hammams in the mosque, a traditional Moroccan one and a Turkish one.  Neither of them are in use, which I found to be a bit peculiar.  They were both beautiful hammams and their only purpose is to show tourists?



After the Mosque we walked along the beach a little bit and then found a coffee shop where we checked our email, checked into our flight and checked the reviews on our hostel. They were all relatively positive except for the bit about cold showers, but who takes showers anyways? We did a bit more roaming around town and then found a great restaurant with an outdoor seating area inhabited by stray cats. We ordered some dinner. After dinner we found an internet café and printed our boarding passes and then picked up some pastries and walked quickly towards the beach.
We sat on a wall overlooking the ocean, the sunset, and the mosque and enjoyed our delicious almonds pastries. It was a perfect second to last night in Morocco!




When the sun started to dip under the ocean, we decided to walk back to our hostel before it got too dark. Unfortunately a couple of knuckle head guys thought it would be fun to follow us home. We walked twice around a round-a-bout to try to get them to stop but they continued. They walked farther behind us but then got closer and started trying to talk to us. We stopped next to this group of people but then they started talking to us too so we just continued our walk home. They had been following us for about 10 minutes when we started getting a little concerned and I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I turned around and saw their smiling faces from the amusement of following us. I said
“Do you speak English?" And he said “un peu” and startled cackling! So I said in my super serious hardcore voice “we want you to stop following us RIGHT now.” And I watched the smiles fade off of their faces and they turned around and walked the other way. I surprised myself with my stone cold stare! (I’m secretly a hardcore badass!!!!)
We made it back to the hostel alive but very tired.  We hung out around the hostel trying to make friends (actually trying to find the courage to talk to other people). Same thing. At about nine we were going to head out into the medina to find some dinner but the guy working the hostel told us to be very careful and come back quickly because it was getting late and a little dangerous. We walked around for awhile and were upset to find that all of the restaurants and cafes were filled with only men, along with the streets and pretty much everything else. We were feeling a little discouraged so we returned to our hostel defeated and foodless. We decided to hit they hay pretty early.
This is what we ate for dinner:
LOLZ for being 2 women in Morocco! 

Thursday, March 8, 2012

Rabat, living the high life.


On the morning of the 28th, Claire and I said goodbye to Caitlin and Thea (who were heading up to Spain) and caught a train to Rabat, the capitol of Morocco. The train ride took about 2.5-3 hours, which was much shorter than we anticipated and we were both startled awake just in time to hop off the train! I have become a huge fan of train travel, especially longer trips. I love the sway of the train and being able to catch up on journaling or being rocked to sleep. It’s a small luxury!
We stepped off the train in Rabat and really had no idea what to expect. The train station was super nice and the minute we stepped out the front doors, we knew there was something different about Rabat. No one was staring at us and no taxi drivers approached us. People were going on with their daily lives hustling and bustling around the city. Women were much less conservatively dressed, and although we still didn’t fit in (note the LARGE backpacks and brightly colored clothes), we didn’t draw near as much attention.
We weren’t meeting our couch surfer until later that evening so we began our journey around the city. We walked to the royal palace and after trying to enter FOUR different entrances (they told us we had to find the visitors entrance) we finally made it and were able to walk all the way up to the door of the palace and take pictures! The royal palaces in the other cities would not let you come close or take pictures, so that was a pretty big deal for us. We sat on a little bench in the park and ate the warm yogurt that our Fez couch surfers gave us for our trip. They gave us like nine of them and no one else wanted them so I’m pretty sure I ate all nine.
 The Royal Palace

We then made our way down to the old medina. The walk was a little long and treacherous (walking right on the side of the highway) but we finally made it downtown and took a little lunch break.  Our extensive traveling and lack of solid sleep was starting to catch up with us so we found a grocery store and bought some fruits and made our way (miraculously/probably because of the sea breeze and smell) to the beach. There actually wasn’t a beach, just rocky cliffs. But it was still very lovely and we found a spot to sit down and relax and listen to the waves crashing into the caverns. We spent most of the afternoon there fending off weird men who would literally stand behind us for 15 minutes trying to talk to us (despite our lack of even acknowledging them) and people/seagull watching. It was a wonderful and relaxing break from our usual go-go-go.

 We saw one guy drop trow (trowsers) and pee into a cave, so we took that as our sign to head back.
We caught a taxi back to the train station and walked around that area for awhile popping into bookstores or little shops. Our couch surfer told us not to eat until he picked us up because he was going to take us out, but we stopped back at the train station café to have some mint tea. We were enjoying our mint tea (trying to, but the teapot was broken so the table got to enjoy the majority of it) when two guys from Sciences Po came walking right up to us! It was so random! They were visiting Casablanca but had just arrived by train…..to meet with the prime minister! It was actually hilarious because Claire and I were dirty and wearing the same clothes we had been wearing for awhile and here they stroll up in their suits and ties. We’re about to meet up with someone we met on the internet and they’re about to meet with the prime minister! Funny how things work out. It was nice to see them but they were running late so unfortunately they couldn’t share the tea with us and our table.
We met our couch surfer in front of the train station (we have no idea how he found us-could it have been the large backpacks and confused looks on our faces?). He was super nice and we all talked easily on our walk to the restaurant. He was born in Marrakech but moved to Rabat to work for an engineering company.  His English was excellent but he also taught us some Arabic and we exchanged a few words in Spanish (because he is taking a beginner course at a local university).
When we arrived at the restaurant we walked in and were greeted by a man who poured hot water over our hands from a beautiful teapot. Then we dried off our hands and walked upstairs into a Moroccan paradise. The restaurant was so beautiful and filled with lovely cushions and tapestries and rugs. We took a seat and unrolled our leather menus. Habib (our couch surfer), ordered for us and soon the waitress was at our table pouring us mint tea and bringing out 2 lovely platters of dip.


 Habib told us that Moroccans eat with their hands and therefore, he wouldn’t allow us to eat with our forks. They give you lots of bread to scoop things, etc. Which was okay with me because who wouldn’t want more bread, right?
The dips were absolutely fantastic and before we knew it our main courses were coming. He ordered me tagine avec legumes and it was seriously the most beautiful thing I have ever tasted. The vegetables were soft and filled with yummy spices (and olives!).

 I thoroughly enjoyed getting intimate with my food (because your hands are all up in it). I looked down at my fingers and they were filthy, I glanced over at Habib and his were clean. Mhm, well not all of us were born without utensils to use.  After the meal (which he refused to let us pay for) we washed our hands and went downstairs where the man at the door spritzed our hands with an orange-something mist. Habib tipped him (?? Not sure) and we walked back to his car. At this point it was already about midnight so we went back to his apartment which is about a 10 minute drive outside of Rabat. It was nice to see the city and the outskirts. His apartment was very beautiful and very white. There was a guest bedroom for Claire and me so we unpacked our things and went straight to sleep (because his maid was coming early-so we had to get up early). The next morning Habib took us to breakfast and ordered a TON of food for us, paid, and then left because he was running late for work. 
We sat on an outdoor patio and had fresh squeezed orange juice, coffee, bread, an omelet, and 2 kinds of special Moroccan breakfast biscuits. Both of our stomachs were starting to feel a little weird because of the drastic change in eating habits (eating late) and the drastic change in foods (very rich and a lot of it). We struggled to finish all the food but we didn’t want to waste it so we sneakily wrapped our croissants in a napkin and shoved them in our purses J we’re so American!

We rode the tram into town and visited supposedly the only tourist place in Rabat. It was beautiful and had a view of the whole city. It was also the location of the King’s tombs and another important mosque.

We also walked up to a lookout spot called the Kasbah. We met two american girls there who have internships in the north of France. We talked about our journey snd struggles through Morocco. It was nice to meet some companions!

In the afternoon we met up with Habib and walked through the souks because he was going to try to find someone to unlock Claire’s phone so that she could use it internationally. The souks were full and a little scary, but we made it out alive! We walked Habib to his Spanish class and told him we would meet him back there in 2 hours. He told us not to eat, but this was a trap that we didn’t want to fall into again. He had been paying for everything and we felt so bad, so we grabbed a few snacks so that we wouldn’t order as much at dinner. We also went back to the souk and bought Habib some dried mint tea leaves and also some fresh ones so that we could make tea later.
After class, Habib drove us to a hip little “juice bar”. We sat on the patio and ordered Panini’s and cups of juice-which were actually smoothies. I got a mango/orange one and a surprise one (secret ingredients). They were so good and so we ordered more J we tried to pay but he said his friend worked there and wouldn’t let him pay. We kept seeing friends and coworkers of his, which was really funny, but I guess the younger crowd all goes to the same places! Habib also kept giving money to homeless people and he then explained to us that Moroccans are very generous and give freely to those less fortunate. I thought this was interesting but definitely explained why we had had such great hosts in Morocco.
We returned to his apartment only to discover that all of our clothes were hanging on his clothesline on the patio. We were so confused so we went to the guest bedroom and our bags and all of our stuff was gone! The maid had unpacked our bags and washed all of our stuff! Our bags were in his closet along with my bathing suit and some of my clothes which were folded nicely in his drawers. It took about 30 minutes to gather all of our stuff. My journal on his bedside table, our snacks in his cabinets, etc. He felt really bad but Claire and I couldn’t stop laughing. And it was nice to have clean clothes, even if they weren’t going to be dry for the rest of the trip!

We stayed up late listening to music, drinking tea and watching movies in Arabic. At about 2am we decided we needed to go to sleep. I took a cold shower because the maid had accidently turned the hot water off (it was unfortunate). A total of two “baths” the whole trip. One in a Hammam and one in a cold shower. That’s the life.
The next morning he took us to breakfast again (and ate with us this time) and then walked us to the tram station where we said our farewells. We took the tram back to the train station and boarded our train to Casablanca!

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Fez, Meknes, Moulay Idriss (and Volubilis)..oh my!


After our 8 hour bus ride, we arrived in Fez bright and early on Sunday morning. We were all a little scatter brained and drowsy from the long bus trip so we headed inside the train station to freshen up. There wasn’t any toilet paper (of course), but there were toilets and running water (and SOAP!!). We spent about 30 minutes in the bathroom just changing clothes, brushing teeth, washing our faces, etc. The bathroom attendants were hardcore judging us (but not as much as when we started practicing our belly dancing routine a few nights later in the same bathroom…).

After we felt a little better, we emerged from the train station and were greeted by the lovely city of Fez! Several taxi drivers approached us but at this point we were starting to get the hang out it so we just walked right past them and entered into a little coffee shop to get some breakfast. We ordered mint tea and croissants (yum). The croissants were sticky and some of the sugar got stuck all over my teeth-I thought I was going to have to find a dentist-but it all worked out!

We walked around the city a little bit and I guess we looked lost because one guy gave us his number “just in case” and then proceeded to follow us across town to “warn us that we were walking towards a dangerous neighborhood”. Yeah, ok.
We were supposed to meet our couch surfer at the McDonalds at about 9:30-so we found the McDonalds and were chilling there for awhile (he said he would be there in 5 minutes-I think Moroccan time is similar to French time).
Side note for everyone who is unfamiliar with couch surfing: It is a fabulous website where you can find people in a region that you are traveling to and if they are available they will host you on their couch for a few nights and show you around their city. It’s an incredible invention and because of it we only had to pay for two nights in hostels our whole trip!
This was my first experience with couch surfing-so we were all a little anxious as we waited the arrival of “Loukman”. I was joking about how he was going to pull up on his little scooter and try to pile all of us on: and then he pulled up on his little scooter and tried to pile all of us on. Just kidding, kind of. He did pull up in his scooter but then he called a taxi for three of us and Caitlin rode on the back of his scooter. It was pretty sketchy-but we’re young and fun, so we went with the flow (this motto was necessary for pretty much the rest of the trip-especially regarding Loukman and his friends).
We arrived at his apartment and were greeted by 3 of his friends, all who appeared to be very nice guys. They showed us to our room and we sat down our stuff and they started making breakfast for us. We were all so tired from two nights of less than ideal sleep so we hung out on the couch and chatted with them while they cooked. We ate and were very grateful. After brunch they sang us a few songs (just go with it). We laughed initially but then realized they were serious. We then played some name games and other activities that I did in 4th grade. They all seemed to be having so much fun that it was hard to break into the conversation and tell them we wanted to explore Fez!

They escorted us around the city and we were so thankful because one of their friends owned this absolutely stunning riad in the middle of town and they gave us a tour of it, and THEN one of the guy’s cousins was building a traditional riad so we got a tour of the building process also! Riads are so amazing and the amount of detailed work that goes into them is so incredible. It’s been decided that I want to live in one when I grow up and become a big girl.
We played games in a pretty park. There were two teams and they would say a number in Arabic (it’s like we were studying!) and if that was your number you had to try to run across the line without getting tagged. It was fun for the first few rounds but then we were more than ready to continue exploring the city.
They took us through a souk and got us some sweet deals (because they are locals) and also were so generous and would buy us random things that we mentioned we needed (toothbrush, coffee, etc).
While walking through the souk, we entered a leather shop and our friends spoke with the owner and then they led us upstairs and handed us mint leaves. I knew from reading guidebooks that the tanneries are actually located in the middle of the medina and you can access them from the leather shops. Most of the time though you are pretty much required to buy something if they give you a tour of the tannery. It was really interesting and pretty gross at the same time. I was thankful for my mint leaf. And since we were with the locals, we didn’t have to buy anything, but got a tour (sweet!).

We took a cab home and they sang if you’re happy and you know it (in Arabic) the whole way home. We giggled and took pictures with a fez (the hat). When we arrived back at the house they sang us a welcome couch surfing song to the song “Waka Waka” by Shakira. They put our names in it, then they played a broken guitar that they explained was sat on by a fat Algerian man. We didn’t ask questions. They brought us lunch (lots and lots of French fries-and sandwiches).
Then we told them that we wanted to go to a hammam. They weren’t all that thrilled because I think they just wanted to sing with us the whole night, but they suggested a “great local” one and said they would drive us. Thea had researched a traditional, beautiful, UNESCO hammam, but we didn’t want to argue. We gathered our shower stuff (because this would be our first bath of the trip-thrilling!) and headed to the hammam in one of the guys cars.
They dropped us off and talked (and tipped) the ladies for us and told us they would be back in a couple hours to pick us up.
We entered the hammam and went upstairs to undress. Some ladies followed us up there and took all of our stuff and started shoving it into one small bag while simultaneously yelling at us in darija (the Moroccan dialect).  They then started pulling us down the stairs and into this big room FILLED with women, children, teens, and sheep (just kidding). Right when we walked in we knew there was going to be trouble.  Every single face in the whole room whipped in our direction and followed us as we walked to the back corner and sat down. The room was really warm and we all took our hot buckets of water and started bathing ourselves. Not long after, a large woman (I think it’s repetitious to say she was naked-but in case you missed that-she was) came over and sat next to me and started pulling me over to her and scrubbing my body with one of those loofa things. She scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin started to fall off and then she tapped me and pointed to the skin and made a proud face. I was thinking “oh yeah, great. You managed to rip all my skin off. Great”. She pulled limb after limb trying to get me to turn over or move a few inches. She didn’t speak a word of French or English so communication was left to her just moving my body in whatever way she needed in order to best scrub all my skin off. After about 6 hours of this torture that was supposed to be “relaxing” she started dumping buckets of hot water onto my head and stealing some other ladies shampoo to wash my hair. She then ripped all of my hair out trying to brush it and then pulled it TIGHTLY into a braid and moved onto the next person.
I was let sitting there, alone (except for everyone staring at me), feeling like a naked mole rat.
Luckily for me, they had a latrine! So I did the walk of shame and crossed the floor to use it.
I returned and I was pretty ready to leave, but big breasted lady was still scrubbing all the skin off of my friends, so I sat in a corner and tried to drink one of the soda’s that the guys had given us but unfortunately when big breasted lady poured the water over my head a lot of it splashed into the can-hence giving it the title of “undrinkable”.
After searching for our clothes (this was a hard process with our limited Arabic and their limited French), we headed home and tried to hit the hay but were forced to sit through a few more songs and a few more salsa dances before the lights were finally shut off.
The next morning we got up bright and early and headed to Meknes (with all 4 of the guys escorting us to the train station). Mom you may want to skip this part if you have successfully managed to make it this far in the blog. Dude! Best part ever! I rode on the back of a little scooter to the train station! We weaved in and out of traffic at about 100MPH and squeezed between cars as they changed lanes!  I thought I was going to die for sure, but I didn’t J
The city of Meknes is so lovely and there are actually rolling, green hills, which I didn’t expect at all. We walked through a souk and people actually stuck their hands in our pockets! It was a crazy experience. Well not actually my pockets because I was wearing a dress over my jeans, but still. It was creepy how people would walk by multiple times and stare at our purses. #reallife While in Meknes we also took a tour of an underground prison (that's no longer in use). It was huge and cold and dark and eery and right above it there used to be a beautiful garden where the ambassadors from different countries would come to negotiate the terms of getting their prisoners released. The irony was that they didn't realize that their prisoners were standing right under their feet!
Moulay Idriss

We then took a cab up to Volubilis and Moulay Idriss which are ancient roman ruins and a little city on a hill (respectively). The cab ride was so beautiful and both places were incredibly breathtaking and historical!
We took the train back to Fez that night (after buying a drum in the souk for our couch surfing friends). We arrived and gave them our drum and (of course) they spent the rest of the night singing and drumming until we told them we were extremely exhausted. Nonetheless, they went out and brought us dinner at 2am while we were tucked into bed J

Monday, March 5, 2012

Lesson 1 of Morocco: Learning how to use a Latrine (AKA Latrine 101)


Reader’s Warning: If you’re not into reading/discussing bathroom habits, you may just want to skip over this entry.
Learning how to properly use a latrine is a long process. Don’t be under the impression that I developed and mastered this skill in one or two days. I still have not, to this day, mastered the art of latrine-ing. It is an ongoing learning experience.
Here is the dictionary.com definition of a Latrine (in case you're lost)

la·trine

  [luh-treen] 
noun
a toilet or something used as a toilet, as a trench in the earth in acamp, or bivouac area.

a trench in the earth. ha. classic.

Fact one: there are no toilets in Morocco.

Fact one falsified: that is absolutely false. There are toilets but they are hard to come by and when you do come by them, there is no toilet paper and you can’t guarantee that they will flush.
Fact two: there is no toilet paper in Morocco
Fact two falsified: this is also false. There is toilet paper but only in the really nice places, but you have to buy it from the ladies lurking around the bathroom. Let me just say I’m glad I brought a few extra pairs of underwear…
This post may seem silly and irrelevant but learning how to use a latrine (or how I call them: a hole in the ground) is an engaging and fascinating experience.  The first time I walked in and saw one, my first reaction was: oh, I’m in the boy’s bathroom, whoops, awkward. But after walking out and noticing that, nope, there’s only one, I walked back in.  Second question: where’s the toilet paper? Oh, now  I understand why there were ladies at the train station selling it to me….Third question? Where do I stand on this thing? Fourth question? Dang, those Moroccans must have some killer thighs.
All jokes aside, my first few times of using the restroom in Morocco were a struggle. Sometimes I tried to avoid it, or go into restaurants that looked like they might have a real toilet (even the nice ones don’t…) until I decided to ask my fellow travelers about this mystery to this censored American girl (me).  Thankfully (after many laughs directed towards me) I got some useful tips from the girls. The most important one being that you actually STAND on those little things with the grate marks. 

Which to me seems gross because the first few times when I didn’t know what I was doing I actually peed on those (and I’m sure I’m not the only one!). But I guess that’s why they like people to take their shoes off before they go in their houses…
The problem was that I was trying to stand OUTSIDE of the square, which is why I was having trouble balancing without gripping the wall.
The second tip I learned was that you don’t actually lean against the wall or support yourself with your hands in the least. You literally just plant you feet and “aim and fire quickly” (as one of my travel buddies said-she can remain anonymous). It’s essential that you fire quickly, because if you don’t you may very well end up with urine on your shoes/pants/whatever else you unfortunately brought into the latrine with you.
Note on sexual inequalities: males only experience this less than half the time, so although this post is relevant to both genders, if you’re of the male persuasion, you don’t need to worry as much.
When all is said and done, you walk out feeling confident and a little damp, but at least you have some soap and water and paper towels to clean your hands, NOT!

I hope this post is useful and in the future, when faced with these same circumstances, you won’t make the same silly mistakes I did. 

Sunday, March 4, 2012

Living my parents worst nightmare: Spring Break part 1


Wow-I don’t even know where to begin. Where have I been for the past week, and why does it feel like I was there for months? I did more things than I normally do in a whole month.
I went to Morocco for spring break 2012. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and I still don’t truly understand. I went into the trip not planning or really thinking about anything and ended up having the most amazing experience of my life. I knew very little about Morocco and spending 8 days there taught me many things that I would have struggled to pick up if I were learning it in a course.  I am going to attempt to recount my journey and my experiences. As I’m sure everyone knows, trying to tell people about an experience is very difficult especially because the receiver of the story will never truly understand it because they are missing the key component of it: which is the actual physical experience of being in the moment. But I will do my best and bare with me while I discuss the good, the great, the interesting, and the bad (which there was not very much of considering I returned alive, with all of my possessions (minus my glasses) and healthy).
I suppose I will start at the beginning. I packed my backpack with one pair of pants (and wore another one) and two shirts (and wore one). I brought underwear, socks and one fleece. I wore my sneakers and brought one pair or flip flops. I also brought my towel (so thankful for this!!) and a small toiletry bag with my toothpaste, toothbrush, brush, and contact lenses. The point of explaining the content of my bag is very important. It is imperative to understand that I was truly roughing it. My bag weighed about 4kg (6kg under the weight it was allowed to be). In general, I am very happy with the amount of things I brought. There were many days when we had to walk around all day with our backpacks until we could meet up with our couch surfers or find a place to stay. And although I had to wear the same things nearly every day, it was so worth it to not have a broken back.
Also: I want to note that traveling is exhausting, especially in a new country (and new continent). But traveling when you’re a woman in Morocco (no matter that there were 4 of us) is 10 times harder.  I’m not going to write every time someone followed us or said something to us or grabbed us because that would be distracting and would take up the majority of the trip. But let it be known that every time we stepped outside, or inside for that matter, people stared, they made remarks at us, etc, etc. Over the course of the week I think I gained 10 pounds from growing a thicker skin alone. I’ll try to leave out the majority of the unwanted attention discussion, but some of it is too important to ignore, especially the sex divide in Morocco (more on this later).
We started our journey on Friday (Feb 24th). We took a 4 hour train ride from Ventimiglia to Milan and arrived at about 11:30pm. We then took a one hour bus from Milan train station to Bergame airport. We arrived at around 12:30. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 6:20am so we decided to sleep on the airport floor (5 hours into the trip and I’m already doing something my mother would have a heart attack over). There were hundreds of people there and all of the “good” spots were taken. We found a little corner and set our alarm for 4:30. Setting an alarm was comical looking back on it-because we actually thought we were going to get sleep! HA!

 The floor was freezing so I got out my towel to cover up with (towel trick #1) and settled into a small snooze when all of a sudden I heard something that sounded like a hurricane coming straight for us. I put my glasses on and looked up to see a large zamboni (sp?) barreling down the airport floor. It went back and forth and back and forth for what seemed like an hour. What’s the point of cleaning the airport floor if the only ones who will appreciate its cleanliness are trying to SLEEP on it? About an hour later we were awoken to shouting. The cleaners were telling us to move to a different area because they were trying to clean that area. This happened a few more times-we were like cattle! At about 3:30 we were shuffled to a new area where there were benches available (LUXURY!) I think at this point I might have gotten about 45 minutes of sleep. We woke up and got all (haha) of our stuff together and checked in and went through security.  The following is an excerpt I wrote in my journal at 3:30 in the morning in the Milan airport:
“Sleeping in the airport from the hours of 12:45-4:30 is comparable to sleeping underneath the wheel of an airplane while it’s landing: loud, cold, and uncomfortable and oh yeah, relatively impossible unless you want to get squished and die.”


We landed on Saturday morning in the beautiful city of Marrakesh. We arrived in the Jemma el fnaa, which is the central square of the old city. There were juice stands selling fresh squeezed juice for 4DH (about .40 cents), monkeys doing tricks, people playing with LIVE snakes, donkeys and camels and hundreds of people approaching us and asking us to their restaurant or their cab, etc. We walked around the square a little and then found a yummy little “local” (or at least that’s what we think because we were the only tourists there) restaurant. I ordered my first tagine avec legumes (essentially cooked vegetables with spices), and mint tea, and some bread.

 It was absolutely delicious and the whole meal ended up being only 30 DH (3 euros) a person! They put olives, bread, and bottled water on the table even if you don’t order it, and then if you touch it, you get charged for it. So we had to be careful!
We then did the tourist-y things of Marrakesh like the Bahia Palace which is a beautiful Riad that I want to live in when I grow up, and the Saadian tombs (where I saw an owl!) and a few museums.

 Then we went to the royal palace and attempted to take pictures (and got yelled out). So instead we laid down on the royal fountain and took a little snooze. At this point I think we were all delirious and we thought it was HILARIOUS that we were lying on the king’s fountain and no one was saying anything (we learned later that there is a royal palace in every city-hence-not that big of a deal).

We hailed a taxi (another adventure) and took it into the more modern part of town. It was big and industrialized and where most of the rich tourists were staying. We found a ritzy café and ordered some coffee that cost about the same as our entire lunch.  We washed our hands with SOAP about 25 times each and stole some toilet paper (the usual) and used their wifi to let our families know we were alive and well.
We walked around the city a little bit more but we were really tired from carrying our backpacks and it was starting to get dark so we stopped in at a little restaurant to eat and rest. Our bus for Fes was leaving at 11pm so we started making our way on foot to the station.
After getting lost and stopping to ask to directions a few times, we finally found the bus station. Warning: this is probably the scariest part of the whole trip.  As we approached the train station- there were several warning buzzers going off in my head, but they had been going off pretty much all day, being in a new country and all. There were tons and tons of men outside the train station (homeless and sleeping and talking, etc) and as we crossed the threshold into the train station, there were more men and no one official behind any of the counters.  A group of about 10-15 men started to surround us and talk to us in French and English and ask us where we were going and if we needed help. We all tried to stay together but we got separated and it was terrifying. We all found each other and Thea was explaining that they were a bus company and wanted our business. I automatically refused to get on any bus of theirs and wanted to leave the bus station and find the official bus that we had found online. Moroccan busses are very strange. I guess the headquarters of the bus we were taking had its own office-but no one bothered to tell us that online. We tried to walk out but they just followed us and wouldn’t stop, they wouldn’t let us go. Me and Claire thought the best idea was just to get away, but Caitlin and Thea wanted to explain to them that we had others plans. This made it very irritating and we all got angry at each other-which didn’t help our case of trying to escape. I was so tempted to just walk away but traveling in a group has its responsibilities of not walking away. It was seriously irritating. No matter how much they explained to them that we didn’t want to take their bus, they wouldn’t stop. Finally Claire and I told Caitlin and Thea that we were NOT getting on their bus and we wanted to leave RIGHT THEN. They agreed and we all crossed the street to a big, nice looking hotel. They followed us (of course). We entered the hotel and asked the concierge where we could catch our bus. He was super helpful and even volunteered to have his friend drive us to the station (looking back on that-it seems a little sketch-but it all worked out). We were so frazzled so they let us use their bathroom and relax a little before driving us to the REAL bus station. They were all really nice and the guy who drove us (we thought he was a cab driver-definitely wasn’t) just charged us “whatever we wanted”. So that was good. We all discussed the past events and decided on a new protocol in case anything like that happened again. That’s the funny thing about traveling, you can’t really prepare for things like that, you just have to experience them and then learn.
We arrived at the station and bought our tickets and boarded our eight hour bus ride to Fes.
Night number two of spring break: sleeping on a bus (mom and dad: aren’t you proud?). The bus was relatively empty so we all got our own 2 seats and were all exhausted, so we conked out. Unfortunately the bus was freezing, so towel-to-the-rescue strikes again J Eight hours later on a bumpy and loud bus, we arrived in Fes!