I Guess I Kind of Suck

for not posting at all these past several weeks. I suppose I've switched over to video documentation for good. Here's the grand finale:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wL1CBlPTGEo

Londontown

A picture is worth a thousand words.  Slash I'm lazy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gl8YVY8GQQs

Still More

One last entry for now.  I guess this is my second blog trilogy - the first one came right after Morocco.

Tanya and Lisa arrived Tuesday morning.  I took them down La Rambla and really wanted to show them this Cafe in Placa Reial that has great churros but unfortunately it was closed.  I don't know how they do it, but people in Spain simply don't eat until 2pm - it's almost impossible to find a place that serves a full menu of food in the morning (AKA noon.)

So we ended up taking an impromptu long walk down to the Port, where we finally sat ourselves down at a large cafe that was serving sandwiches.  I thought it was sort of chilly out, but T&L, being Parisians, were thrilled with the blue skies and "warm" weather.  We continued walking along the beach until we reached a large red rope jungle gym, towards which Tanya immediately started running.  As she climbed, Lisa and I sat on a nearby bench, snapping photos.

We headed back to the Residencia and piled into my bed to cuddle and talk, but in the middle of our conversation I passed out.  I felt bad, but I couldn't help it!  I was so tired - I had only gotten back from Greece one day before.  When I woke up I gave the girls to Kara because I had to work on a project with Ansell anyway, which took several hours and isn't worth writing about because its boring.

That night we went out to an expensive Mexican restaurant - 9.95 euros for an enchilada!  When we were done eating and wanted the check the waitress wasn't coming around, so I gave her a wave to get her attention, but instead of coming over, she gave me a cheery wave back.  Everyone laughed and for some reason I felt really embarrassed.  Then they all went out to a bar, but I went home to work more on the project.

The next day Ansell and I gave our presentation, yawn.  After class I met up with T&L in Parc de la Ciutadella (where Sarah and I got robbed - see:  Thief!) and we layed (laid? lied? I never know) around in the grass for a while before going back home and cooking a salad/chicken/pasta dinner.  Then we went to a carnival!  Lots of fun rides and music and churros and tents with people doing all different kinds of dance - the flamenco was the coolest, with the women in full costume, stomping loudly on the wooden floors with their black heels.

Thursday a big group of us went to Sitges for a beach day, which was awesome.  It was like 70 degrees and I brought my iPod and speakers.  That night we went for tapas and to La Oveja Negra to get drinks with Emma, her older sister, and her older sister's boyfriend.  And then Friday morning we went to the bus station to pick up NIKKI who was making a brief visit, and who I hadn't seen for almost a year!  We spent like 10 minutes waiting for her at the platform and as soon she got off the bus, she and I shrieked loudly and ran towards each other - she dropped her suitcase - and embraced.  I missed her so much!  That day I took T&L to Parc Guell - it's a schlep, but they had to see it, it's beautiful - and then we all (me, T, L, Niks, and Kara) went out to dinner at this chic place called Carpe Diem.  We ate our meal on a mattress, which sounds much more glamorous than it actually is, especially when you're wearing a dress.  The place turns into a bar/lounge at night, so we stuck around after dinner and had drinks on another mattress outside (you're supposed to buy a 200 euro bottle for the outside mattresses, but Nikki the genius sweet talked the waiter into letting us sit there).  It felt strange and good for all of us, who were studying in different places, to be sitting together like that - it was like being back at Brown.  

T&L left at 4:15 that morning - they never even went to bed - and when I woke up at 11:00am I was pleased to discover that I was by myself in a room, a luxury I hadn't had for the past three weeks.  I bummed around happily for hours, glad not to have to say a word to anyone.  That's not to say that I didn't love having guests - I did - I just hadn't had any alone time in a while, and as an only child, me-time is something I'm used to and very much need.

Went out for lunch and sangria with Niks and Kara at the proper time of 3pm, had some very abstract deep conversation, and came back to nap.  And when I woke up at 9:30pm, I knew immediately that I had a fever.  For the next 36 hours, then, I remained in bed with the chills and terrible GI pain.  It sucked, but I guess it makes sense - I had been pushing through my fatigue for so long, and all the travel and activity and lack of sleep was bound to catch up to me.  Luckily I have good friends who brought me water, coke, gatorade, crackers, and DVDs.  I got through the first 20 minutes of Bridget Jones's Diary (such comfort) before falling asleep again.

I'll spare you the details, but that night and following morning was not good.  My fever broke around 4 o'clock though, and this morning I woke up feeling significantly better - better enough, I thought, to go to class, but then while walking to the metro I felt kind of weak/dizzy.  I made it through the afternoon, but it's pretty clear that I need to take it easy for the rest of the week, especially since I'm leaving for London on Thursday.  Yes, another trip.  I have to - it's Shannon's birthday and I want more time with Nikki.  But, mark my words, this is the last time I will be flying out of Barcelona until I head back to the states.

I don't have a video of me being sick, sorry.

More

Okay, I'm back.

So when I stepped off the plane in Athens, the lovely and wonderful Boaz Munro was at the gate waiting for me.  As we cabbed to the hotel (it was late) the clock struck midnight and it became six months for us, though it feels like less since we've been apart for more than three of them.  It took me a while to get used to the fact that the person I had spent so much time and energy missing for the past few months was now sitting six inches away from me, and that we were in GREECE.  

We did a gift exchange and went to see the Acropolis, which involved a long uphill walk in Miami-rivaling heat.  It was neat to be up there and imagine the ancient Greeks philosophizing among all that impressive scaffolding.  Then, tired, we sat in a field of flowers and Bobobrains monologued a bit about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  No really, he seems to have learned a lot and it's awesome.  We also spent some time making fun of a couple who was sitting and kissing about twenty feet away from us.  The guy was practically eating the girl's face.  We agreed that she looked bored with him until she straddled his lap and the dry humping commenced.  Oh, Greece.

Our ferry to Santorini left at 6:00pm and arrived at 3:20pm.  There weren't enough reclining chairs for the passengers, which was fine at first because we were sitting up on the deck, but when it got cold we were forced to wander around inside and eventually resort to sitting on the floor (I was trying to find an open cabin to sneak into, but Mister Mungoodytwoshoes wasn't having it).  Also, the cafeteria food was atrocious.  We shared a table with a non-English speaking couple, but were perfectly able to communicate our distaste for the soggy pasta.

If you ever go to Santorini, stay at Stelios Place.  The place has beautiful white buildings, comfortable, clean rooms and a nice swimming pool.  But best of all Stelios himself came to pick us up at the port at 3:20am free of charge.  They take really good care of their guests, as evidenced by the guestbook at the front desk which is jam-packed with affectionate messages and inside jokes.

In the morning we rented a dorky ATV vehicle from MOTOMANIA! and spent the day riding around the crescent-shaped island, making it from the lighthouse at the southernmost tip all the way up to Oia, the town at the northernmost tip which is famous for its sunset.  We spent a lot of time driving, stopping when we saw something pretty, sitting, chatting, and then driving again.  So nice.  We ate dinner on a balcony at a fancy restaurant (we were the only customers - April is very much the off-season) and as we munched on our tuna tartar we watched the sun plunge into the caldera.  Stunning, although a heavy horizontal cloud was sitting atop the horizon; we almost mistook it for a mountain range.  

Many euros later we drove back to Perissa (black volcanic beach where our hostel was).  It was easter, so the towns were all lit up with candles, and from the road all you could really see was the flames quivering in the distance.  There were also some sporadic fireworks.  When we got back to Stelios we were pretty pooped so we stayed in and watched this porny Spanish movie that Boaz liked a lot more than I did.  

In the morning I had a nice shower with my newly-bought Herbal Essences shampoo, and we picked up some food to bring on the ferry back to Athens.  The Blue Star boat was much nicer than Lane Lines's, which is probably why the ride went by much more quickly than before, although I had a brief bout of seasickness (no puking, just dizziness).  When we arrived at Piraeus (port of Athens) Boaz carried my suitcase down the stairs, the gentleman.  A silly music-box tune played as the ramp was lowered, and then all the passengers spilled out onto the street to fight for cabs, since the metro was closed for the holiday.  

We shared a cab back to the city square with a nice, nerdy couple, and our driver, who at first seemed sort of cold, ended up dancing enthusiastically at the wheel to "The Twist" (and by dancing, I mean moving his fists cutely through the air).  Haha.

On our last day we had a mediocre brunch - my hamburger tasted more like a veggie burger, though the fries were aight - and then shared a cab to the airport because our flights were only twenty minutes apart.  EgyptAir flies out of a different terminal than Iberia, though, so we couldn't pass through security together.  Thus we spent our last few moments together sitting on the floor - a recurring theme of this trip - talking about my blackberry.

Just kidding, we talked about other stuff, too.  Like how the weekend was pretty much perfect and how we miss each other and can't wait to be together in the summer.

Surprise!  I made a video of Greece, too.  Here:  http://youtube.com/watch?v=2SLEAVy1vqk

I guess for the sake of organization and aesthetics I should start a new post to describe this past week.

I'm Still Here!

I feel bad for having neglected the blog over the past three weeks.  It's just that I've been really busy - so busy, in fact, that two days ago I ended up getting sick from what I can only assume was sheer exhaustion.

First came the trip to Copenhagen.  I was thrilled to be traveling with Tanya and Sarah, two of my favorite people in the world.  The city was beautiful - very clean, with immaculate metro stations and beautiful blonde people roaming the streets.  The first night we ate dinner with Mike Freeman and his host family.  We were graciously welcomed into their home, and taught how to toast properly in accordance with the Danish traditions (no glass-clinking - just eye contact).  We drank wine, ate lasagna, and then indulged in ice cream comes with chocolate covered marshmallows on top.  Then we went clubbin with some Brown kids at a place called Koolerbar.  (In Denmark you often see a K where you expect a C).

The next morning we went on a boat tour.  The weather was beautiful, but there were some obnoxious Danish guys sitting behind us who were drinking beer and shouting loudly the entire time.  One of them thought it would be hilarious to offer Tanya a banana, and then pull his pants down and have his friend take a picture of his ass.  Then about ten minutes later, to the dismay of the entire boat, the same guy stood up, turned around, and dove clumsily off the back of the boat into the cold canal.  Some people started clapping - not even because they were impressed, but rather because they were happy to get rid of him.

We walked around a cute pedestrianized area until we reached the famed amusement park Tivoli, where Tanya and I rode a beautiful, red steel roller coaster.  I hadn't been on one of those in years and really missed that feeling of being weightless.  Then we met up with Zach and Christina, stood on a bridge and fed some fish, and went on a really lame log flume ride which didn't even have a drop - it was just one of those things where you sit in a boat in the dark while the surrounding mechanical animals creepily sing, "Welcome to our world!" and then "sneeze" on you.  Tivoli was cute, but also painfully expensive.  There's an entrance fee, but then you have to pay for each ride individually.

Zach took us to an upscale beer place and then to Christiana, this cool hippie community that views itself as independent from the rest of Copenhagen (its exit is marked by a sign that says "You are now entering the E.U.") and whose buildings are covered with really amazing graffiti art.  On the walk home we watched the sun set over a pretty lake, and that night we went out to a place called "Rust" which had a live funk band.

The last day we took the train out of Copenhagen to the folk high school, where Josh Morrison lives.  The building is beautiful, with wooden beams and glass ceilings and plants everywhere.  The kids there seem really down-to-earth and cool.  A bell rang and we ate dinner with them all, and then went to explore this awesome nearby castle.  We took immature pictures with some of the statues there, and then returned to the dorm and had a bonfire outside with some of Josh's friends.  It was cold out, so the fire felt really good.  I left the next morning, and spent a mere 36 hours in Barcelona before hopping a plane (well two, actually - I connected in Madrid, it was a long day) to Greece for a much-anticipated getaway with the Bobo.

Argh, I have to run to class now.  I'll continue when I get back.  

Below is a link to the Copenhagen video I made.  Also, I noticed recently that in the credits I spelled Josh's last name incorrectly - it's Morrison, not Morisson - my bad!

http://youtube.com/watch?v=AOk6_c9Ty-Y

Sur de Francia

CASB organized an educational trip to the south of France for us last weekend.  We visited the charming town of Albi and the massive castle-village in Carcassonne, and then we hiked up a mountain in Montsegur for some dizzying views of the French countryside.  

Every meal we ate in France was amazing, except for one disgusting buffet-style lunch we had at this weird rest stop.  The bus dropped us off at a gas station, and we walked along the shoulder of the highway until we arrived at this small open-air complex called "La Village Catalana" that consisted of a couple closed, dark restaurants, one open, fluorescent cafeteria (where we ate), and a gift shop that smelled way too strongly of potpourri.  The whole thing seemed like it should be the setting of a dream or a video game - you know in N64 Goldeneye, when you want to play someone one-on-one, you have a choice of "places" in which to duke it out?  It was like one of those, just an eerily deserted complex.  Jordyn and I half expected to look up and see two moons in the sky.

Anyway, here's a video I put together from the footage of the trip:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=u_NJ6KPASz4

Enjoy.

Red Morning Light

All we wanted was to save money.  A cab to the airport is like 25 euro, so Josh and I decided to take the Renfe Train instead, which is free (Ansell was meeting us there, he was gonna leave for the airport straight from class).  We got to the platform and waited five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen minutes...at first we didn't notice how long it was taking because we were talking to each other and were so excited about the trip, but once we got on the train (which arrived over twenty minutes after we got to the platform) we realized - fuck - we were really cutting it close.  The train seemed like it was moving sooo slowly.  Finally we got to Estacion Sants and switched to the train that goes to the airport, and then to a shuttle that brought us to our terminal.  Once we got inside we sprinted through the hallway, me frantically trying to maneuver my rolling carry-on, Josh's backpack bouncing dorkily on his back, until we got to the TransAvia counter.  The screen said "Amsterdam" but there was nobody behind the desk, and everything was dark.

By now we were really sweating.  Only half an hour until the flight left.  We went to the information counter and explained our situation to the woman there.  She made a phone call that lasted five minutes, and at the end all she could tell us was to go to a different counter.  So we run to THAT counter and talk to the woman there, who calls the people at the gate - by now we have 20 minutes till the flight leaves - who tell her that we can't come through.  Really?  There's no way they can rush us through security?  Nope.  It's not possible.  I'm sorry.

Angry, discouraged, and disappointed with ourselves, we asked when the next flight left.  In five hours, but we'd have to pay the difference, which was 105 euro.  So we start running around to all the airline counters, seeing if any other airlines are flying to Amsterdam.  One company, Vueling, had a flight that left in an hour so we just bought those tickets (I don't want to talk about how much we paid for them, on top of the money we lost from the first ones).  Relieved to have tickets at all, we went to the Vueling counter to check in.  We're trying to be upbeat, but the guy behind the counter has this terrible attitude.  Did we have any luggage to check?  No, just carry-ons.  Can I see your carry-on?  I show him my little rolling suitcase (which I've used as a carry-on to fly to Paris, Dublin, and Marrakech without a problem), and he tells me I need to weigh it.  It's 12 kilos, and the limit is 10!  So I take some shit out of my suitcase, stuff it into Josh's backpack, and re-weight it.  Yay, it's only 10 now!  But no.  Now, he tells me, I have to fit my suitcase into this little metal grid rectangle thing to make sure it has all the riht dimensions.  Have you ever seen those grid things?  They're tiny!  No one's carry-ons EVER fit in them.  So I'm trying to squeeze my suitcase into this rectangle, and it's more or less the right size, although the wheels simply can't fit inside.  It's the wheels, Josh says.  Nope, the man says.  If it doesn't fit, I have to check it, and THAT costs 10 euro.  Full of anger, I try again to fit my suitcase into the thing, but I just look like an idiot.  Fuck it, I'll pay the 10 euro.  I've lost so much money already.  But then he tells me that I can't pay the 10 euro there at the counter, he has to give me a little ticket, and I have to go back to the Vueling offices and pay, and then come back to his desk to pick up my boarding pass.  We've had a very hard day, I tell him.  Why does everyone come around telling him about their problems, he asks coldly.  No one ever asks him about his problems.

Can you feel the frustration?  I run back to the offices, give them the money, get the receipt, bring it back to the guy, who finally hands over my boarding pass.  Now we're almost late for our second flight.  Luckily, though, we pass quickly through security and make it to the gate with five minutes to spare.  Meanwhile, poor Ansell's sitting on the TransAvia airplane without us (he didn't have his phone on him, so we couldn't call), completely confused, wondering if his name is Ansell Borges, if today is Friday, April 4th, ad if he's in the right place. 

We were so exhausted/relieved/happy when we finally landed in Amsterdam, arrived in our hostel, and found Ansell and Lisa waiting for us in the lobby.  We all checked in and paid - we were staying in a 6 person room, so it was gonna be the 4 of us and 2 strangers.  When we got in the room, however, there were four bunkbeds, which means 8 beds.  One of the bunkbeds was empty, though.  Maybe it's just for storage, we decided.

It was nice to get out into the city.  It is beautiful.  We ate a wonderful dinner at a Urugyayan steakhouse, and then went to a coffeeshop called The Rookie.  Afterwards we walked around and saw all the neon.  Then we stumbled upon the Pancake Corner, so of course we went in and relished in the crepe-like treats topped with chocolate sauce, caramel, and ice cream.  Also, all the TVs in the place were showing female wrestling, which was funny.  

When we got home we saw that there were two large men sleep in one of the bunkbeds, although the other one was still empty.  Exhausted, we fell asleep quickly, only to be awakened at 4am by the sound of men yelling and arguing:  Shut up, be quiet, I'm trying to sleep, who are these guys, get them out of here, go fuck yourself, go fuck your mother, etc.  Apparently two new large men had arrived at 4am and had been sent to sleep in our extra bunkbed, and were making a lot of noise, and one of the already asleep big men woke up and asked them to be quiet, and who were they anyway, we only paid for a 6 person room, and also threw in some racial slurs and then confrontation ensued.  Seriously, these guys were shouting and swearing so loudly to each other.  I was pretty freaked out.  Then one man left and came back with security guards in suits who started shining flashlights in everybody's faces.  What's going on here, they asked.  This man claims someone hit him!  (Of course, no one had hit him.)  Some of the other men explained the situation, and that no one had been hit.  The security guards didn't do much with that information, they just went out into the hall, leaving the door wide open as they spoke loudly, then came back in, then went back out...this went on for about an hour.

I got up and crawled into Josh's bed, and was like, wtf is going ON?  We really did book a 6 person room, and neither of us could believe that they sent up two other guys, especially at 4 in the morning.  We went out into the hallway to discuss what we should do.  I really wanted to switch rooms immediately but Josh told me it'd probably be best to just wait until the morning.  Then, one of the security guards came out into the hall and saw that I was upset.  You upset? he asked with a Dutch accent.  Yes, I said.  Then he touched my chin with his fingertips and said, Awww.  (In a very condescending way.  It was gross.)  Eventually one of the newcomers moved out and the other newcomer stayed - 7 people ended up sleeping in the room - and by some miracle, Josh and I went back inside and went back to sleep.  We woke up at noon because we were so tired, which means we missed the free breakfast and lost an entire morning in Amsterdam.  Furious, I stomped down to the front desk and asked to speak to the manager.  She took me into her office and I relayed the events of the entire night, including the security guard touching my chin (she agreed that it's inappropriate for him to touch me, even if it's just my face).  She also said all the other rooms were booked that coming evening (it was a Saturday night) but she could move us to a 4 person room for Sunday night, free of charge.  I said great.  Then she offered to reimburse us 50% of the cost of the previous night's stay, and I was like dude, that night was horrific.  Is it possible for you to take it off completely?  She sort of looked around dumbly for a while and then said yes, I suppose that's possible as well.  So we got our money back for that night!  I was so proud - making complaints and getting shit for free is the type of thing my mom does really well (if it were here, she probably would've gotten the money back for the entire stay, but hey, I'm still a beginner).  

So we got ourselves together, went into another pancake shop for breakfast, and then hit up the Rijksmuseum and Van Gogh Museum.  Then we went to another coffee shop and to a Thai restuarant, where I ate the most amazing Pad Thai of my life.

After dinner we found ourselves in the red light district.  It's crazy.  The hookers are just standing there on display in the windows, and as you walk by, they look right at you and kind of follow you with their eyes like those creepy portraits in the haunted mansion.  All I could think about was their mothers.  Later we went to a bar and I fell asleep at the table.  Then we left, first stopping at Burger King so we could eat french fries on the way home.

Sunday we did a canal tour which was fun, and then we sat in this place called Cafe Chaos for like two hours and drank hot chocolate.  Then we went to the Anne Frank house, which was really cool.  It really brought the story to life.  Then we went to another coffeeshop, and then to a Mexican restaurant for nachos and tacos.  By then it was starting to get dark.  We spent most of the night hopping from place to place, first to an awesome jazz club and then to a series of really homey bars.  We got hungry again around 1am and stuffed our faces with some shoarma.

Sunday morning, after sleeping in our LUXURIOUS 4 person room complete with handicap shower, we got on a train to Lisse and went to the Keukhenhof gardens to see the tulips and the windmills.  It was so colorful and beautiful, and there was this awesome organ playing eerie Dutch carnival music at the entrance.  The garden is huge and has a hedge maze and some really cool sculptures and art installations scattered throughout.  Also, in one part, there's just a field of bean bag chairs for people to chill in.  My camera died when we were halfway through the park, which broke my heart, especially when we were walking on these stepping stones in a pond and a giant flock of swans swam over to us and started pecking at our feet.  They were so beautiful, I could have gotten some incredible shots.  Oh well, I guess I'll just have to be old fashioned and remember it.

After the garden we went straight to the airport (2 hours in advance, this time) and flew home.  And then, when I got back, I met up with SHANNON OPPENHEIM for pizza cause she's here visiting with her riend Ry.  I'm gonna hang out with them today.  I'm so excited.

Some Thoughts

1)  Websites where you can illegally stream movies rule.  Films I've watched in the past 2 days:

- Half Nelson

- Breakfast at Tiffany's

- Harold and Maude

- Kramer vs. Kramer

- Raising Arizona

2)  Two facts:  The EMT training class I want to take starts in Providence on June 1st.  My last class ends in Barcelona on June 2nd.  Fuuuck.

3) Some of the best times can be had by staying in with a group of cool people, gorging on amazing (and spicy) home-cooked food, smoking hookah, and drinking tea out of pretty, ethnic-looking cups.

4)  I miss Liz terribly.  Will I ever see her again?

To Getting Run Down By Motorbikes

Youssef and Rashid dropped us off at our New Riad, Riad Lakhdar.  It was larger and more colorful than Riad Elixir, so at first we were really excited, but then we met Jamal, its owner, who seemed a bit strange.  He didn't speak a word of English (though somehow their entire website is in perfect English), and the first thing he asked us is if we wanted to pay that night.  No beating around the bush for him.  He introduced us to his two "helpers", both young, well-dressed teenage boys.  One was named Mohammad, but we never caught the name of the other boy.  They just sort of stood there and smiled dumbly.  Strange, for an older man to be living with two teenage boys, no?

We told Jamal we'd pay him later, had some tea, and settled into our rooms (huge, gorgeous).  Starving, we walked to Djemaa el Fna for dinner and found a place that served pizza, thank God (laying eyes on another plate of tajine or cous cous would have probably made me cry at that point.  Moroccan food isn't BAD, there's just absolutely no variety to it).  Then, while we were sitting at the booth talking, I heard a loud thud and turned to my right to find that a cat had squeezed through a hole in the wall, jumped down, and landed on the bench three feet away from me.  I sort of let out a yelp and grabbed Jordyn, but when I realized it was just a cat I started laughing.  But then - omg - TWO more cats jumped down from the same hole!  They crept around under the table, by our feet.  One of them disappeared behind my legs.  These aren't cute little kittens - they're big, skinny, dirty cats.  Morocco is infested with them.  I spent the rest of the meal with my feet up on the bench.

After dinner we strolled around the square.  By now we had learned how not to be hassled - avoid all eye contact and ignore all overtures.  Miguel bought a teapot and a shisha from this awesome store full of colorful light fixtures.  Then we went home, still tired from the desert.

Had breakfast on the terrace the next morning - crepes/croissants with jams, again - and bummed around the Riad for a while.  The teenage boys were eerily looming, staring and smiling wherever we went.  Jamal spent most of his time on his computer with his microphone headset, chatting loudly in Arabic with his friends on skype.  The only time he bumped into us, he asked us again when we were going to pay.  So annoying!  We missed Said.

Miguel left (he was flying out a couple of days early), so me, M and J went to the Saadian Tombs, which were cool I guess.  Some pretty architecture and a flat, tile cemetery.  We were going to hit up the Bahia Palace next, but while we were on the way a Moroccan guy told us it was closed until 2:30 pm (how did he know where we were going?).  So we went to Cafe Glacier in the square, and enjoyed another terrace-top, panoramic view of the city.  Then we wandered through the Souks for a couple of hours (we hadn't been there since our mint "gas mask" tour, and it was nice to do some shopping by ourselves).  The guidebook said a famous art gallery called "Dar Cherifa" was nearby, so we found it after asking some people for directions and quickly walking away so we didn't have to pay them.  We found its entrance, a huge wooden door, on a deserted side street (La Medina is composed mostly of deserted side streets), and knocked loudly.  A woman opened the door and let us roam around inside and see the private terrace.  It was a beautiful exhibition space, a giant courtyard with a fountain and small paintings hanging everywhere.

Went home and I took a long, hot bath in the Riad.  Jamal was still hassling us, so afterwards we ran to the ATM and got some money to pay him.  (We had to pay in cash because their credit card machine had a "broken connection."  The guidebook warned us that many hostels and restaurants would make this claim in order to hide cash flow and thus avoid paying taxes.  Later, Jordyn took a close look at the credit card machine, and said it looked totally fine, with a green light on and everything.  Ugh.  Jamal sucks.)

That evening we went to the square and ate out of the smoky food stalls.  We were still kind of hungry afterwards so we walked over to one of the dried fruit/date stands.  Mike bought a bag of dried peaches and some pistachios, but I wasn't too hungry, so I asked the guy what the price was for just three dates.  He said 14 dirham, but I only had 10, so he agreed to take it, and then gave me FOUR dates!  I got full after the third one (I had known exactly how many I wanted) and then was walking around with this one date in my hand.  Next, we ordered some tea at a restaurant, but the service was atrocious - they made us wait for like an hour.  We finally drank the damned tea and went home.

The next day Mike and Jordyn went for a walk, and I stayed back to get my Hammam at the Riad.  Hammam is basically a Turkish bath.  In the old days women used to get naked and hang out and gossip in the Hammam, but in our Riad in Morocco they had a small room where you could get the spa-like treatment by yourself.  So this black woman with bleached blonde streaks in her hair (another one of Jamal's semi-sketchy employees) takes me up to the Hammam room.  We step into the vestibule and she motions for me to take off my clothes.  This involved a certain amount of bravery on my part - I'm not terribly shy, I can be naked in front of others I guess - but in general I prefer to be covered up.

She takes me into the Hammam room, which is large, hot, and made entirely of marble.  There's a little fountain on the back wall, and a marble slab bench on the right hand side.  I sit awkwardly on the bench as she starts running the water.  She prepares all these bowls of spices and explains to me what each of them are in very broken English.  As I'm sitting I realize the marble slab is heated from underneath.  She fills a pan with hot water and pours it gently over my shoulders.  The water spills onto the marble floor and seeps down a drain.  She tilts my head back and pours it over my hair, lathers me up with mud, rinses it off, and tells me to lie down.  She works for a while with a rough exfoliating glove, and then massages a wonderful smelling cream onto my skin.  By this time I'm sweating - it's basically a sauna.  She's about to rinse me off again with water, and I'm bracing myself for the hot liquid, but this time the water is cold!  It felt so good and refreshing.  Then she gave me a scalp massage and shampooed my hair.  When it was over, she put me in a robe and led me back to the vestibule.  I sat in the chair for a while with my eyes closed and then started drying off.  As I put my clothes back on, though, I heard the water running in the Hammam room, and some scrubbing.  "Great!" I thought.  "She's cleaning up!  How sanitary!"  When I was done getting dressed I figured I should say goodbye, so I cracked open the door to the Hammam room and quickly discovered that she was NOT, in fact, cleaning the room.  She was naked, crouched on the floor, exfoliating herself with what looked like the same glove she had used on me! (Gross.  I don't want to think about it.)  Shocked, I looked away, and then quickly peeked back and waved goodbye.  She smiled and waved back.  Whatever, it was a good experience.

I went up to the terrace with my journal and was relaxing when Jordyn comes up the stairs, shaking.  She and Mike had just gotten back from their walk.  "You will never guess the day we've had," she says, kind of laughing and crying at the same time.  I guess it was a good thing I stayed at the Riad, because it turns out she and Mike had been crossing Mohammad V (the busiest street in Marrakech), and some Arabic woman came out of nowhere on her motorbike and just plowed them down in the middle of the street.  Supposedly she was going full speed, knocked into Mike, who knocked into Jordyn, and they all ended up in a giant heap on the asphalt with the motorbike on top of them.  Mike was hit square in the chest and had the wind knocked out of him, and Jordyn had some pretty intense scrapes.  They said after the collision, the traffic just kept swerving around them.  A man in the street checked up on the woman on the bike, and then told Jordyn and Mike everything was okay, and that they could leave.  Then he started motioning for them to give him money for his "help."  Disgusting.  Mike was furious.  At this point, they were definitely ready to get out of Morocco.

Mike was flying out that evening (Jordyn and I still had one more night), and had made an arrangement with Jamal to be driven to the airport.  However, when we got back to the Riad Jamal was no where to be found.  We asked Mohammad and Silent Bob where he was, and they said they didn't know.  So Mike had to go out and find a cab himself.  Again:  Jamal sucks!

Jordyn and I took a cab to an upscale-ish restaurant that night (we needed it), and talked for a long time over pasta, dessert, and wine.  We toasted merrily, though her body was still aching from the accident.  We got home and paid the Riad people (in cash, of course, the assholes), and fell asleep.  The next morning we cabbed to the airport and flew home.

This trip was definitely challenging, but I'm really glad I went.  I had never seen a Muslim country before, and it's really interesting to see how the people in Morocco live.  Even after being there for a week, the place still seems a bit elusive.  I guess there's no way to really get a firm grasp on it unless you stay there for a really long time, which I don't think I would want to do.  But overall, I really really loved the time I spent there.

Who Disturbs My Slumber?

The second day we woke up early and had our free breakfast (at most Riads, breakfast is included).  It was great.  Fresh orange juice and coffee (which we drank out of bowls), and bread/pancakes/crepes with choices of jam, marmalade, honey, sugar, powdered chocolate, and butter.  After we ate, I went upstairs for a massage.  (The day before, Said had told us he could arrange various activities for us - a massage, a tour guide, an excursion to the desert, etc., and as soon as I hear the word "massage" I was ready to sign up.  Massages are my favorite things in the world.)

So I stepped into this dark room on the second floor where a tiny, young Moroccan woman was waiting for me.  She rubbed some oil between her palms and worked everything from my feet to ass to neck to fingertips.  It was wonderful.  Afterwards she tapped my back, and I thought that meant it was over, so I just sat there for a while, letting it all sink in.  But then she started motioning for me to turn over, and I was like woah, there's more!  I turned over and she did it all over again from the other side, this time doing my stomach and boobs (awkward...).  Then came a scalp massage, and this weird pressure point thing in my face.  Amazing.

When she was done (for real this time) I started getting dressed and she smiled and said "You're so preet."  I wasn't sure if I heard correctly, so I didn't say anything, but then she repeated it, so I sort of bowed and said "Shukran" ("Thank you" in Arabic).  Aw.  Then, still covered in oil, I sent Miguel up (he was next) and climbed the stairs to the terrace to chill with Mike and Jordyn.

After a pretty much perfect morning, we got ourselves to together and walked about 20 minutes to the Majorelle Gardens, which were so beautiful.  There's a lot of cool imported plants, bamboo and cacti.  The flowerpots are all painted bright colors and the villa at the far end of the garden is painted a famous royal blue (it's owned by Yves Saint Laurent).  There's also an awesome lily pad pond and a cafe, at which we had some decent paninis and fruit smoothies.  We spent a total of about three hours in the gardens, first walking around and taking pictures and then just hanging out on a bench, drifting in and out of sleep.

The gardens are already halfway to the new city, so we figured we might as well walk the rest of the way and check it out.  So after the gardens we walked for a loooong time until we reached Gueliz, the more westernized, modern side of town.  Upon approaching this neighborhood we saw a Zara store, and immediately went inside.  It was nice to be in an air-conditioned, familiar store after having spent so many hours in a state of constant culture shock.  I fell in love with a dress and Mike fell in love with a blazer, but neither of us had the heart to shell out the money 'cause the trip was so expensive.  We left before we got too sad about it and walked past some pretty fountains towards a cafe recommended by TimeOut's Marrakech guidebook (Thanks, Ansell!).  On the way the wind really started picking up, and the air filled with SO MUCH DUST.  You could see little tornados of it twisting in the streets.  The tiny particles stung my eyes and I had to put my sweater over my face.  How can people live like this?

We finally reached the Cafe, and we each had a milkshake to hold ourselves over till dinner.  At one point I had to go to the bathroom so I went upstairs and opened the door to find a fully-robed Muslim woman on the toilet.  She smiled up at me sort of creepily and I said "Perdona!" and shut the door, realizing a couple of seconds later that she probably didn't understand spanish.  I waited around for a while but she didn't come out, so I figured I'd just hold it...

That night we had scheduled dinner to be cooked for us at the Riad, and it was great.  We shared a delicious tomato/cucumber/olive salad, and some other mysterious spread.  The main courses were tajine and couscous, both very yummy.  We also had a bottle of red wine, which was a treat because you are generally unable to find alcohol in La Medina outside of "International zones" (hotels and such).  After dinner Jordyn and I took long, luxurious showers (hot water, but no shower curtain) and hit the sack early.  We had a big morning ahead of us.

We woke up at 6 am and packed up our things.  Said (who I must reiterate, is the nicest human ever to exist, so much so that it actually hurts) woke up early too, just so he could show us the way to this nearby square where the desert excursion people were supposed to pick us up.  He told us the people should be there shortly and then walked away, probably to go back asleep.  So we just sat with our luggage by this lamp post for a while, waiting.  The desert people were late picking us up, which was fine, because it was kind of cool to watch the city wake up.  A street which started off more or less deserted slowly came to life as people sped through on their bikes, heading to work.  One man was just chilling against the wall with a cup of coffee and his donkey.  The walls of the buildings looked even pinker in the morning light (believe it or not, the government mandates that every edifice in the city be the same pink color.  Also, no building except the Koutoubia Minaret may stand taller than a palm tree).

Finally a man in a red shirt approached us and introduced himself, leading us back to his rickety white van.  Inside was a driver, and an Italian girl and her mom, who would be accompanying us on the trip.  We piled in, excited, and sped away from Marrakech.  After a while we found ourselves on these windy, treacherous mountain roads, not unlike those of MarioKart's Choco Mountain.  We popped some Dramamine pills so we wouldn't get nauseous, but they made us super drowsy.  I sat with my head against the window, falling in and out of consciousness as some of the most beautiful scenery I've ever seen unravelled before me.

After a few hours we stopped at a rest stop.  Miguel bought some pringles.  I went up to the counter and said loudly, "Bread and Twix."  The bread was hilariously generic - just a simple, round, brown loaf, kind of like the cartoon bread Aladdin steals.  Ha.

We continued on to the Kashbah.  We crossed a shallow river by hopping from one bag of sand to another, and then arrived at this monstrous fortress.  Supposedly parts of the movie "Gladiator" were filmed there - there's an entire room full of props from the movie.  This Berber man proudly showed us his home, taking us through some rooms and up some staircases to a large balcony, where he offered us some nuts.  I leaned on the railing but he warned me that it was "fresco."  When I took my arm down I realized I had mud all over my sweater - it was a freshly built wall!  The whole thing is made of mud, water, and straw, and it's so huge and beautiful.  Some parts are even ornamented.  

Once we got to the top we took photos of the breathtaking, panoramic views.  Our guide was nice and funny, but he kept touching my arm and back and it made me kind of uncomfortable.  Then it started to drizzle, so we climbed back down, over the river, and into the van.  Next we stopped at Ouarzazate for lunch, and had - surprise, surprise! - tajine and couscous.  The restaurant had these really creepy wall portraits, and there were cats freely roaming the premises.  Ouarzazate is pretty cool.  It's often called the "gateway to the Sahara."  It is also the center of Morocco's film industry (a ton of Hollywood flicks were filmed in the Moroccan desert).  There was actually a cinema museum next to the restaurant, but we didn't go in.

At this point in the journey we switched guides and drivers.  Apparently touchy-feely-red-shirt-man specializes in the Kasbah tour, but not the camel trek.  I was happy to part with him.  We hopped into our new van and were introduced to Rashid and Youssef, who are the coolest dudes ever.  Youssef seems younger than he is because of his high, boyish voice.  During the trip he was always checking on us, making sure everything was okay.  It took him a while to learn my name, but once he did, he used it as often as possible.  I'd arrive at the van, and he'd say enthusiastically, "Emeelee is here!"

We burst into the Sahara at full speed, stopping at a few Berber towns for meals and bathroom breaks.  One village had these strange paper mache camel/human statues overlooking the valley (see facebook pics).  The people in the desert were really laid back and nice, but still, most of them were trying to sell you something.  The roads grew even more ominous as we approached the gorges.  Just before it grew dark we checked into a hotel to have dinner and spend the night, and in the morning we ate a quick breakfast and drove to the gorges again, this time viewing them from the bottom by the water rather than overlooking them from the cliffs.  The rock walls rose sharply above us, and we spotted a man climbing in the distance.  If you examined the spring, you could see the sand being disturbed from where the fresh water was bubbling up from below.  A group of kids practiced karate outside.  Berber carpets and scarves fluttered in the light breeze.  It was beautiful.

We kept driving, and the mountains grew redder and redder.  We stopped one last time to eat omelettes and buy headscarves (I know, I know, we're touristy fools).  We also met these two Berber boys who spoke spanish!  Their names were Mohammad and Mohammad.  Such variety in the names here in Morocco!  They asked my name, and I said "Emilia."  Then they pointed to Jordyn and said, "Jordyn!"  Jordyn was freaked out - she hadn't told them her name, and I'm pretty sure no one said it out loud.  "How did you know?"  she asked them.  "Mohammad," they responded.  We still haven't figured it out.

Soon we could see the orange dunes looming in the distance, like giant piles of easy-mac cheese powder.  We packed our essentials and left the rest of our luggage at a hostel on the edge of the dunes, and then boarded some fucking CAMELS.  (Well, dromedaries.  But I'll refer to them as camels anyway.)  

Camels are the coolest animals in the world.  I love how they chew, with their jaws circling to the side.  Some other facts, according to TimeOut:  They can last five to seven days with little or no food/water, lose more than a quarter of their body weight without distress, slurp up over 20 gallons of water in ten minutes, and carry loads of up to 900 pounds.  They're badasses, basically.  I named mine Chewbacca, because of the crazy noises he made.

A man in a yellow turban led our caravan into the Dunes of Erg Chebbi, which look just like they do in the movies.  However, it is only possible to appreciate the precise beauty of these dunes in person.  The sand is this incredible pink/orange color, and is so smooth and fine.  There are these cool ridges in some places, formed by the wind.  Generally the sand is untouched, although in some places we saw footprints and motorcycle tracks.  Also, we saw these tiny tiny animal tracks, and eventually found that they belong to these scuttling black beetles (you know when Jafar unites the two gold halves of that bug in the desert?  They kind of look like that.)  As we rode, the sun set.  In the diffused light, the dunes started to glow.  By the time we arrived at our campsite it was already dark.

We settled in and then went to the main tent to hang out, eat dinner and drink tea (Berber whiskey, they call it).  Youssef, yellow turban man, Rashid, and this Berber guy Mostafa whipped out some drums and these loud, harsh, metal castanet things.  They played music and sang for us.  It was awesome.  Then let us play their instruments, but we all sucked compared to them, so we mostly clapped.  I took two of the tea glasses and clinked them together to add to the music, and it sounded pretty good, but then I got a little too into it and one of the glasses broke in my hand.  Smooth, Emily.  

I walked outside to pee and did a double-take.  The moon was glowing brightly, and in its light the dunes looked WHITE.  I can't even explain it.  There was also this amazing halo around the moon, and lots of stars (though not as many as I expected).  It felt good to walk through the smooth sand in my socks.  When I arrived at the rectangular tent that served as the bathroom, I found a toilet, which obviously didn't lead anywhere.  Haha.

We talked and drummed some more and then I got tired, so I went to sleep.  Then, in the middle of the night, I woke up freezing so I started to adjust my wool blankets when I heard this cackling and saw these orange sparks - it was so dark and dry, I could see the static electricity.

Woke again at 5 am.  So much for being disappointed by the stars the night before - by this time, the moon had disappeared and the sky was just LITTERED with them.  There was also this faint, overarching band of white, which I assume was the milky way.  Youssef helped me fill a large water bottle with sand as a souvenir, and then led us back to the camels by candlelight.  I climbed onto Chewbacca's hump-saddle and we all strode back to the hotel.  The sun rose over the dunes as we traveled, and when we got there it was fully light out.  We showered and breakfasted, hopped in the van, and drove for many, many hours back to Marrakech, which now seemed like fucking New York City in comparison to the desert.

I'm gonna take a break.  Sorry these are so long.

I Just Want a Picture of the Damn Snake

I don't even know where to begin.

This past week has been so many things - exciting and eye-opening, scary and frustrating, bizarre and beautiful.  Everyone should visit Marrakech if they are given the chance.  Here I will do my best to recount my adventures in The Pink City.

Thursday, March 13th 2008, Jordyn, Mike, Miguel and I arrived wide-eyed and clueless in the Marrakech airport.  We stepped outside and crossed the street to a parking lot where a group of dusty beige Mercedes were parked.  These are the city's taxi cabs.  We tried to communicate the address of our Riad to the driver (Riad = traditional Moroccan house), but he only spoke French and Arabic.  After a few minutes of repeating the address loudly and with a hopeless Arabic accent, I gave him the phone number of the place and he called and got directions straight from them.  When he was done he smiled and said "Okay, good!" and we hopped in.

We were silent as he drove, watching all the donkey carts and motorbikes weaving through the surrounding cars.  It was over eighty degrees, but all the women were covered from head to toe.  For a while our taxi was straddling the line that separated the two different lanes.  There were barely any traffic lights, and we squeezed each others' hands when the driver temporarily veered into the lane of oncoming traffic just so he could pass the person in front of him.    Then he turned into the thick, pink wall which encloses La Medina, or the old city, and the streets got significantly narrower.  After coming close to grazing the walls and also some pedestrians, the cab came to halt.  We started to get out, but he gestured for us to stay in the car.  Turns out he was lost, and had only stopped to ask for directions.  We drove some more and stopped again.  Now the road was too narrow for the cab to fit.  We got out, and the driver gave the address of our place to a random man on the street who would walk us the rest of the way.  So we followed this skinny, toothless guy for a few minutes until we arrived at the door to our Riad where Said, its owner, was waiting to greet us.  

I must pause and mention how incredibly uncomfortable I felt during that walk.  I'm pretty sure we were all in shock.  The walls were lined with people just sitting on the ground, and I could not tell if they were peasants, or just chilling.  A woman whizzed by on a bicycle, dressed completely in black robes, with only a slit for her eyes.  Everyone was staring at us - its not a particularly touristy neighborhood.  I have never felt so white in my life.  

We gave the toothless man some money for his help, and went inside.  Said is the sweetest man ever.  He has a nice complexion, big cheeks, and a warm smile.  He spoke good English and welcomed us with mint tea (I was astonished upon taking the first sip - it was spectacular!) and a bowl of figs and dates.  Then he gave us a map of the city and explained to us how to get to the main square.  The Riad was beautiful, consisting of about six rooms branching off a central courtyard.  The decor was modest and elegant.  

After putting our stuff down in our rooms and relaxing for a little while, we headed out into the city.  I noticed as we were walking that the air felt warm and thick.  You can taste the pollution.  The sky was a uniform white color.  No blue in sight.

We were only walking for a few minutes when a young Moroccan guy approached us and asked where we were from.  He seemed friendly enough.  His name was Abdul, and he was a University student in Gueliz, the new city.  He showed us the way to the Souks, the major shopping area of the city.  It was kind of a far walk, with lots of twists and turns.  I don't know how anyone could ever learn their way around La Medina - it's like a giant pink maze.  He said he was going to show us the tanneries, where they prepare animal skins to be made into leather.  We turned into a gate and were suddenly confronted by a terrible odor.  Yep, we were in the tanneries.  Abdul introduced us to another man there, who handed us each a couple springs of mint leaves to hold under our noses ("It's gas mask!").  We asked this new guy what his name was, and he said "Abdul."

Abdul #2 took us for a little tour of the tanneries.  He showed us how the skins are rinsed in tubs of water and pigeon shit (the source of the pungent smell).  He also took us up to a ledge so we could view the complex from above, which was pretty cool.  Then he took us out the gate, down the street, and to a colorful store.  Abdul #2 disappeared, and we were left with the storeowner, whose name I don't remember, but he was very friendly and spoke great English.  He also had a limp.  He limped over into the back room, told us to sit down ("Big welcome, America!") and showed us some beautiful leather cushions.  He explained in detail how each type of dye gives rise to each specific color, and he also clarified the difference between a camel (2 humps) and a dromedary (1 hump).  Then he had his assistant bring us some mint tea.  It was hot, so he gave both me and Jordyn a child's shoe in which to hold the tiny class so we wouldn't burn ourselves.  Mike and Miguel didn't get the shoes.  They're manly.  They can handle the heat.

Then his assistant started unrolling dozens and dozens of rugs.  The storeowner explained enthusiastically how each rug is unique, made by hand by Berber women as part of their wedding ritual.  We each bought one.  Mine's yellow.

We exited the store, and Abdul #2 was waiting for us!  He took us to a nearby spice shop, where a very intelligent pharmacist explained to us the various uses of each spice.  Then, to demonstrate, he wrapped a pinch of this one dark grain in a thin cloth and shoved it up each of our nostrils, one by one, to show how it "cleared the sinuses."  We coughed and our eyes watered.  Jordyn, Mike and Miguel each bought some tea from this guy.  I took some pictures, and then we went back outside, where Abdul #2 was waiting.  We thanked him for his help, but then he asked for 200 dirham from each of us!  "For what?" we asked.  He rattled off a list of things:  "For the tanneries, and the peectures, and the pigeon shit, and the tanneries, and the store, and the spice shop, and the peectures..."  To make him shut up we gave him 150 dirham (between the four of us, not each), but he still wanted more.  As we were arguing Abdul #1 (who liked us a lot, I think) showed up and told Abdul #2 to leave us alone.  Then we got out of there.

Next stop was Djemma el Fna, the heart of Marrakech.  It's a giant square, full of street vendors, blind beggars, snake charmers, and food stands.  However, it's impossible to walk through the square as a tourist and not get hassled.  One woman ran up to Jordyn, grabbed her hand, and without a word started applying a henna design to her palm.  Jordyn repeated over and over again, "I don't want this!" and when it was over, the woman was furious when she wouldn't hand over any money.  

It's even more impossible to take a photo in the square.  As soon as you hold your camera up, the subject shouts "No Photo" or hands out his hat for you to put in money (and if you don't, he yells and chases you for at least two minutes).  I really wanted to get a good shot of the black, rubbery cobras in the snake-charmer tents, but it was way too difficult.  You have to learn how to be discreet.  After a while I just started shooting from far away, and doing my best with the zoom.  (Which was fine, in a way, because I didn't want to get near the snakes.  I have this weird phobia of them, yet at the same time, they totally fascinate me.)

It's a shame you can't enjoy the more touristy parts of Marrakech without feeling harassed.  Overwhelmed, we retreated to the rooftop terrace of a cheap Moroccan restaurant and ate the traditional dishes of tajine (a sort of beef stew) and couscous.  During dinner, I realized I had accidentally stolen the glass of tea/child's shoe from the rug store!  I must have absentmindedly thrown it in my purse.  Oh, well.  Anyway, we had a nice view of the square, and it was cool to observe silently from above.  It grew dark, and all the lights went on, illuminating the smoke rising from the food stands.  It was so surreal.

After dinner we were tired so we headed back to the Riad.  We got pretty close to finding it, but we couldn't remember the last few turns, so we warily asked a storeowner for directions.  He sent us off with a boy who was about eleven-ish years old.  Great, now we were going to have to pay this kid.  We accepted this and followed in his tracks, but as we walked, some of his friends joined us.  They asked us where we were from and said "Welcome!" which was nice, but with each turn more and more kids joined the party.  By the time we arrived at the Riad we had at least twenty children at our heels.  Said opened the door, surprised, and forty tiny hands grasped at us for money. We paid the original kid and rushed inside, exhausted.  One of the kids made it inside with us, though, and stood with Said at the counter, crying because he hadn't gotten a coin.  We explained to Said that we paid the original boy, but this one kid wouldn't stop crying, so we threw him a couple dirham.  What a baby!

We fell asleep quickly (the boys in one room, me and Jordyn in the other) but at 5 am we were awakened to a booming, male voice that chanted Arabic.  It was the call to prayer.  The chant lasted for about half an hour, during which neither Jordyn nor I could go back to sleep, so we had a long conversation about religion with our eyes half-closed.  It was kind of eerie to hear the prayer while alone in bed in the dark.  I don't really remember falling back sleep.  In the morning, the whole thing seemed like a dream.

Speaking of dreams:  that night I had a lucid dream.  It was the first one I've had since I've been abroad.  Basically I was at home in Miami with Vicky and Joanna (not Sarah, for some reason - sorry!) and we were talking, when suddenly I turned to them and said, "You know what I just realized?  This is a dream."  Then the room started shaking loudly.  Realizing I could control everything around me, I jumped up and started swimming through the air, but I couldn't see my own hands.  (This is common in lucid dreams.)  Then, I told Vicky and Joanna all about the first day of my trip - it was like we were at home chatting, and I was explaining to them that my sleeping body was all the way in Morocco.  "That's so cool!" they said.  

Weird.

Anyway, this post is long enough already, and I'm tired, so I'm going to finish it tomorrow.  Good night.

Yet Another Post About Food

Today I had a midterm, which sucked, but afterwards we went to a free, CASB-organized cooking class.  It was about fifteen of us and Juanjo, so of course it was a hilarious time.  Tereza, our instructor, has this large kitchen in an apartment with a kickass view of La Rambla.  We hung around, examined the recipes, and then split off into smaller groups to handle each course separately.

First came a tomato gazpacho, garnished with shredded goat cheese and a dab of pesto (we ground it ourselves).  Then came the tortilla, which I helped with.  My first task was to chop some potatoes, but of course as soon as I got started, Tereza said "NO!" and quickly corrected the way I held the knife.  Handling the onions was easier, though they caused me to shed some serious tears.  Then my arm muscles cramped up as I tried to "whisk" the egg whites.  Cooking is so physically taxing!  I have definitely gained a newfound sympathy for those Top Chef competitors, who, while trying to construct the perfect dish in just one hour, can't really help it if a bead of sweat drips off their nose and lands in their duck confit.

The tortilla came out all right, thank God, but it was the paella that stole the show.  The pan was of epic proportions, and after some sizzling and prodding, we had this perfect mixture of cuttlefish, clams, prawns, chicken, tomato, rice, a little bit of lemon.  Don't worry, guys, I picked out my clams and gave them to Dan.  (See: Excuse Me, Where's the Vomitorium?)

We rounded out dinner with Crema Catalana, a dish which contains lots of eggs and much more sugar than I'd like to remember.  Then, once the creme itself is done, you sprinkle even MORE sugar on top and treat it with this badass blowtorch, which causes the surface to harden (similar to creme brulee, but you don't put it in the oven).  

All of this was consumed along with an excellent white wine and pan con tomate (a staple in Catalan cuisine).  We talked in castellano for most of the time, which was cool.  The whole thing lasted for over three hours.  Afterwards, I was sad to take off my apron because I know I'm not gonna go home and replicate the entire production - there's simply no way to acquire all the tools, pans and ingredients.  Or the patience.

Some Things I Love

About having my parents in town:

1)  I eat so friggin' well.

2)  I am forced to do all the Barcelona touristy things I have been putting off thus far, e.g. going inside La Sagrada Familia, seeing a concert at Palau de Musica, etc.

3)  My mommy's cold hands, and my dad calling me "Boogs."

4)  Someone actually being impressed by my spoken spanish.

5)  Taxi cabs.

Ireland (sham)rocks

If you ever fly RyanAir (a popular discount airline), bring a blindfold.  Their aircrafts are just as, if not more, obnoxious than their website.  The seats and walls of the plane were highlighter yellow, the attendants' suits were electric blue, and there were giant, emphatic self-advertisements on each of the overhead compartments.  Dude, we're already on your plane!  Leave us alone!  The whole thing was so bright I had to literally wrap my black scarf around my eyes and ears in order to fall asleep (ears, because of the child behind me who shouted and thrashed in his seat for the duration of the flight).

That being said, Dublin is so awesome.  I sort of took this trip on a whim (mostly because I happened to be invited), so I didn't really have any expectations, but I quickly discovered that it is very beautiful place.  A river splits the city into a North and South region, both of which are replete with cobblestone streets and charming, bustling neighborhoods.  Each shop/pub/cafe is marked by a facade of bright, saturated color, and an impossibly tall spire pierces the sky in the center of O'Connell street (analogous to Paris's Champs d'Elysees).  Also, the people are so incredibly cheery and nice, though some were too nice - I have never been hit on so much in my life, not even in Italy.  Ironically, I found myself less able to understand Irish people than Catalans.  Their accent is so friggin' thick, it doesn't even bear a resemblance to American English.

We took Shannon's advice and avoided the infamous Irish cuisine ("It will kill your gut, your palate, and your heart"), feasting instead on Chinese, Japanese, Italian, and even Mexican food.  After having spent over a month paying for individual glass bottles of snobby, tepid Euro-water, it was a great relief when the waitress at Elephant & Castle, a well-known restaurant in Temple Bar, delivered to our table a huge jug of tapwater with a ton of ice.  They might have shitty food, but the Irish sure know how to serve drinks.  They never skimp on the beer - it is served practically overflowing in pint-sized glass bottles, which often have the name of the beverage stamped on the side.  It feels almost elegant.

I'm a girly drinker so I left the Guinness to Sydney and the yeasty beers to Jordyn, and instead developed an infatuation with Bulmer's, a kind of carbonated cider which tastes like heaven and packs quite a punch.  I also want to give Helen Teschauer a shoutout for recommending the Porterhouse Bar near Grafton street, which serves over 100 different varieties of beer.  She suggested I try the Fruli, a unique, strawberry-flavored beer.  I drank two pints.  It's sublime.

Somehow on the very first night we managed to stay out until 4am at The Purty Kitchen, a bar/club that had four floors and a 2 euro drink special.  On the walk home we took photos with some men in kilts, and met four American boys who invited us to a rugby game the following day.  We then returned to our comfortable beds (long story - basically all hostels were booked solid so we ended up staying at this kickass hotel) flipped on the TV, and fell asleep to appallingly sexually explicit European music videos.

The next morning we window shopped, met up with the boys, and took a yellow double-decker bus to a small stadium in Donnybrook to watch a club rugby game, A.K.A. to watch young men with very thick thighs beat the shit out of each other.  As we were leaving one of the players walked by with blood all over his face and jersey.  Cool!  We all spent the first part of the evening at Busker's, which had sort of a mixed crowd.  It was fun to watch all the thirty-somethings dance with each other - a welcome departure from the sweaty, drunken, and often awkward grinding of our generation.  We then relocated to a more casual pub and the boys bought us shots of Soco Lime.  The background music was purely Irish, and the locals sang merrily along to every word.

Saturday morning we went to a sketchy Italian/Mexican hybrid restaurant, hilariously named "From Mexico to Rome".  We stopped for coffee and chocolate in a cafe and read the Irish newspaper, which had a section entirely devoted to the U.S. election.  Since I've been here it's become very clear that almost every country in Europe supports Obama.

Next we wanted to visit the Dublin Castle, but we were a little lost, so I went up to the first red-haired pedestrian and asked if he knew where "the castle" was (haha!).  It's actually nestled right in the city, a block or two from where we were standing.  We marveled at the fairy tale-like structure and then frolicked in the gardens, eventually finding ourselves in the Warren Beatty library, which has on display some of the oldest religious scriptures in the world.  The ancient Egyptian scrolls we saw were disintegrating, to the point where you could make out each thread of papyrus.  There were also beautiful illuminated Christian manuscripts, some cool Qu'ran stuff, and a nice collection of old Buddhist statues and paintings.

Then we went to Porterhouse to watch the Ireland vs. Scotland rugby game (the professional one, not the club one we saw in person).  These two teams are rivals, and the game was huge, which explained the abundance of men in scottish kilts roaming the streets.  Apparently tickets were going for like 500 euro on eBay.  The pub was packed.  Ireland won.

That night we went into a bar called Fitzsimon's, and there was a really great live band inside.  I had a Bulmer's and some more Soco lime, and danced and sang along to a few songs by Oasis and an incredible acoustic cover of "Mr. Brightside" (I don't even like the original version that much, but this guy did such a good job).  The Irish people knew all the words, too.  It gave me chills, I was so happy.  There's just something about live music.

Sunday, our last day, we took the train into Dalkey to stalk Bono (he lives there).  It's a small cute town on the coast, so the ride had some pretty views of the ocean.  We wandered around, ate a spectacular lunch at a place called Ivory (fried brie with raspberry sauce appetizer, then a perfect dish of eggs florentine), and then sat in a pub called Finnigan's.  After a few hours we started walking back to the train station, when around the corner comes BONO, in his tall, dark, sunglassed-glory.  We chatted with him for a while and took some pictures.

Just kidding.  We didn't see Bono.  But how cool would it have been if we did?

Train back to Dublin, plane to Girona, and finally, bus to Barcelona.  Got back late, and woke up at 9:00 am for class.  Now I have to deal with all my matriculation paperwork.  Shit!

Thief!

Yesterday was nuts.  I went to class at 9:30 and on the way home I ran into Dan and Sarah on the subway, so I went to lunch with them.  Then Dan had class, so Sarah and I went to the train station to change her ticket (she loves us and Barcelona so much that she stayed an extra day!), and then to the park to lay down, talk, and read (I just bought The Sun Also Rises, which takes place in Spain).

So we're sitting on this patch of grass in the park.  It's about 3pm and there's a ton of people around, strolling down the surrounding paths, walking their dogs, etc.  After about an hour it started to drizzle so we decided to leave.  I was laying on my leather jacket and purse, kind of using them as a pillow, so I turned and started to get my shit together, and when I turned back - literally, two seconds later - I see Sarah wrestling with some guy for her iPod!  She's yelling "what are you DOING?" and he's like tugging at it, trying to kick her away, and I'm just standing there frozen, shouting "No!" over and over again with a spanish accent.  Finally she just lets go, and he walks - WALKS! - away with it.  I looked around and started gesturing wildly at everyone around us, but no one did anything.  Some blonde woman with a dog just stood and stared.  A scrawny french guy came up to us and told us he would follow him, but didn't want to get hit.  We were both shaking.

This guy seriously came out of nowhere.  He must have heard us speaking English and realized we were tourists, and then hid behind a bush, waiting to pounce.  Sarah said she just looked over and saw him going through her purse.

I kept replaying the scenario in my mind, thinking maybe I should have kicked him or something, but he could have had a knife (a friend of a friend attempted heroics on the metro at 5am and was stabbed in the stomach).  I guess what I probably should have done is just yelled really loud, and the thing is, I was considering shouting something, but I didn't know what to shout or in what language to shout it.  It crossed my mind to say "THIEF!" or "AFTER THAT MAN!" but in my mind it sounded so silly that I kind of giggled to myself.  Funny, how in the middle of getting robbed all I could do was smile and think about how the situation seemed like a giant cliche.  It was like my body rose above the scene and I was watching it from above.

Sarah is okay, she just got a little dirty and a cut on her elbow.  Luckily he only got her iPod, and not her wallet/passport/camera.  We just felt really shocked and violated.  This had never happened to either of us before.  And the weirdest part was, he had absolutely NO shame.  It's not like he discreetly pickpocketed her - he confronted her in the middle of the day, and physically struggled with her face-to-face.  He was strangely calm about the whole thing, never saying a word.

I called my mommy and she told me to file a police report, even though we probably wouldn't get the iPod back, just to put this asshole on the map.  We got back to the Residencia and told Dan what happened, and his male-friend instincts kicked in.  He got really mad and protective and marched down to the police station with us.  It was really far and we were too flustered to look up a route on the metro, so it took us like 30 minutes to get there.  We sat in the lobby for like 20 minutes, and Sarah and I were so exhausted from the rush of adrenaline/fast walking that we both fell deeply asleep in really uncomfortable chairs.  Finally they called our name, and we went into this white room.  A woman took down all the information and typed up an official report.  She also gave me a book of mugshots to see if I could identify the guy (I couldn't).  Sarah said she didn't even see the man's face, she was just watching his hands and her stuff.  It was kind of cool and weird to look at all the mugshots.  Some of the people are really creepy looking, but others seem pretty normal, and a handful were even attractive.  I guess bad people come in all shapes and sizes.

The good part is now I'm much more watchful of my things, and wary of my surroundings.  It could have easily been me.

On a happier note, that night like 25 of us went out to dinner and then to chupitos for Kimmy's birthday, and it was really fun and delicious.  Sarah left this morning.

Excuse me, Where's the Vomitorium?

My fever is gone!  Went to class all week.  It's been so nice to break out from the jam-packed pro-seminar schedule.  Things are much more relaxed now.

The other day in my literature class the professor needed someone read a poem aloud, and she started to approach me, but then she stopped herself and said, "No, no, you're from California" and promptly asked the girl behind me.  Is it really that obvious that I'm from the states?  Of all things to ask a foreign student to do, reading a poem aloud is probably the most benign.  I would have done it!  Oh, well.  

After class we went to the Salvador Dali museum, which was awesome.  It's small, but it holds a huge volume of works - the walls are crammed with rows and rows of crazy drawings and paintings.  He is insane.  Some of his sketchier works are very tongue-in-cheek and funny.  And one room was, to our dismay, entirely dedicated to very erotic paintings of horses...

Another highlight of the week:  yesterday the professor of our consortium class took three of us out for coffee after class.  On the way, he showed us a beautiful church and where Picasso used to live.  We sat in a pretty courtyard and chatted for a while.  He's so chill.

Last night me, Jordyn, Mike, Dan and Emma went to this famous seafood restaurant called Cap Pep.  It was phenomenal.  We didn't have to order a thing - we just sat down and they brought us plates for two hours.  The waiters were really friendly and animated, pretending to drop the wine bottles as they refilled our glasses (I fell for it every time) and poking fun at Jordyn for drinking too much.  Among the dishes we had were pan con tomate, thinly sliced salmon on crackers, lightly fried artichokes, one of the best tuna tartars I've ever had, some fish/egg dish, a perfectly cooked tortilla with a tangy sauce, green peppers, assorted clams and mussels, shrimp (you're supposed to suck on the shrimp heads - I'm the only one who dared to do it), a scrumptious steak dish, bratwurst with beans, and for dessert a tray of bite-sized dark chocolate pastries and shotglasses filled with lemon-flavored creme.  Needless to say, the bill was hefty.

I went to bed full and happy, woke up at 5:09 a.m., vomited, and went back to sleep.  Clam allergy, I think.

So the night left me without any cash, or entrails.

Whatever, it was worth it.

Feverish

I'm sick.  This morning we were all supposed to meet downstairs at 8am for an overnight trip to Zaragoza, but I felt too ill to even get out of bed.  So I'm missing the trip.

Hopefully with some rest I will feel better, but now I have to hang in the Residencia by myself for two days.  Maybe I'll read Jordyn's Allende novel, or catch up on some House episodes, or something.

This sucks.

If You Can't Cook, Just Bring the Wine

Real classes started this week.  Monday was the consortium course on urban studies which seemed cool, but the best part was afterwards when Antoni, our professor, offered to take a group of us up to Tibidabao, a mountain which overlooks Barcelona.  We hopped on the subway, then on a gondola, and then into this little shuttle which circled slowly up the mountain before letting us off at the peak.  Stellar timing, because we disembarked from the bus and found ourselves in the middle of this gorgeous orange and yellow sunset.  Against the sky were silhouettes of a ferris wheel, Calatrava's "needle", and an enormous church with a statue of Jesus on top with his arms outstretched.  Not to mention, of course, the spectacular panoramic view of the city.  It was freezing, but I barely noticed as I took in the view and made love to my camera.  Such a lovely day.  And it was cool to hang with the professor outside of the classroom.

Tuesday we woke up, went to La Champagneria (sp?) for lunch, got tired, and immediately returned to La Residencia to nap.  Jordyn and I tried to fall asleep, but the song "The Way You Say Goodnight" by The Magnetic Fields was playing in the background and the beautiful lyrics were keeping us awake, so I had to turn it off.  God, they're good.

That evening I had my first UB course.  Beautiful, wooden, official-looking classroom, but absolutely NO leg space.  It was pretty full, about fifty people, and I was surprised at how many of the students were older, like in their 30s and 40s.  The professor sat behind the desk and spoke in spanish for over an hour about the syllabus which, for some reason, was in catalan. I could understand about half of what he was saying when I was really focusing, which was about half of the time.  He clipped a lot of his words, and the acoustics in the room were terrible.  Overall, it was very exhausting.  

Also, the class seems like a lot of work.  There's a reading list of about ten novels.  Emma asked a spanish guy in the class when he thought we should start the books.  His response:  "If I were a foreigner, I'd start tomorrow."  Fuuuuck!

On a better note, last night we did a pot luck dinner at Andy's apartment, which was one of the most delicious meals I've had here.  Andy made beef/salmon carpaccio and shrimp/vegetable skewers, Ansell made a fluffy spanish tortilla, Claire made a salad with avocado and pomegranate seeds, and Jose Maria made rice with shrimp and calamari.  Emma brought the cheese, I brought the wine, and Kimmy brought Catalan-style sugar coated doughnuts.  After we ate we just sat around for a while talking, while Andy strummed his guitar lightly in the background.  It was really nice.

Now I have to decide if I want to go to Dublin with Jordyn and Sydney the weekend of the 22nd.

Taste the Rainbow

Friday after our exams, Juanjo and Libby arranged for us to go to a wine tasting (tough life).  The session was led by this adorable, old couple who bickered cutely throughout the whole thing.  Like most wine-os, they were incredibly passionate about the subject.  Lots of swirling, swishing, and smelling with their eyes closed.  But in a genuine way, not a pretentious way.  The woman was particularly incredible; after each sip she would superbly articulate how the flavors changed on the palate.  I think it's so cool how people can develop their sense of taste like that.  And their sense of smell, too - I guess they're interconnected.  Smelling is such a strange thing, sort of the outcast of the senses since it's the least necessary for survival.  It's ambiguous, but also sometimes shockingly powerful.  Like when certain scents brings back memories and stuff.

Afterwards everyone was slightly buzzed and in a good mood.  We grabbed some sandwiches, packed up our things, and hopped a train to Sitges (the tickets were free!).  The town was beautiful, and it's only thirty minutes away.  It's very small and mediterranean, with narrow streets that open up to a gorgeous blue coastline.  We drank some wine on the beach (no swishing this time) and went to a nearby restaurant for nachos.

I should probably explain that Sitges is one of the best places in Spain to celebrate Carnaval, which is taking place all over the world this weekend. Supposedly Salvador Dali used to hang out there a lot.  It is very famous for its colorful parties and vibrant gay and lesbian community, which would explain why, in the middle of our nacho snack, a group of men dressed in heels, ribbons and thongs sauntered by and happily volunteered to take pictures with us.

As it grew darker, the streets swarmed with people in costumes.  A group of blue-faced women dressed as smurfs.  A man in two-foot-high platform boots.  People in full-on animal costumes.  Complete madness.

We spent most of the night on the main drag, which is lined with bars playing different types of music.  Crowds were spilling out of each door and people were dancing in the streets, so even though we jumped from place to place, the whole thing sort of meshed together into one giant party.  We danced so hard in our crazy wigs, hats, masks and boas.  Really fun, though throughout the night I probably second-hand-smoked like 15 cigarettes.

Crashed in the hostel pretty late.  Jordyn and Mike were all perky in the morning and pulled the rest of us out of bed.  It was chilly as we walked back down to the beach.  There's this buoy in the water a ways off from the shore, and it has a statue of a white man on top of it.  I remembered it had looked so cool the night before, because the water and sky were both black, so it was just this shaky white figure hovering in the distance.

We ate at a mediocre restaurant, and realized a little too late that it was ridiculously overpriced (over four euro for an orange juice!).  We threw down our money and swore to never speak of it again.  Then we were gonna go back to the train station, but we heard these drumming noises, so we followed the sound to this AWESOME percussion group that was marching through the streets.  It had people of all ages, shapes and sizes, and they were just pounding out these fucking incredible beats.  There was dancing and shouting, too.  One woman was miraculously able to smoke a cigarette as she played.  Another man and kid switched off between playing their own drums and each others'.  

I love drums.  It's the kind of sound that goes all the way down to your bones.

Anyway, after a while we were getting tired, so we headed back to the train station.  Actually, we headed in the opposite direction of the train station and got kind of lost, but we asked some really nice dude for directions and he offered to walk us there.  ("No pasa nada!  Es sabado, y no trabajo!")

The (free!) ride back was much more picturesque in the light of day.  Catalonia is the shit.  And I'm not sure if it's because I've been traveling, but as we stepped into the familiar lime-green lobby of the Residencia, I realized that Barcelona is starting to feel more and more like home.

Sellout.

I used to scoff at those who blogged; just hearing the b-word made me chuckle.  But after three weeks of sending out nearly identical e-mails (or sometimes, unfortunately, no e-mails at all!), I realized these bloghead people might actually be on to something.  And since orientation ends tomorrow and real classes start Monday, I figured this would be an auspicious time to start collecting my thoughts in one place.  So I picked the pretty layout with all the dots, snatched a title from Orwell, and officially joined the dark side.  Enjoy.

Oh and Shannon, I'm still waiting for your seven tidbits...