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.