Paris, City of ....Merde?

It's official. This city is covered in merde. If you haven't read the book yet, A Year in the Merde, you have to; and if you did, then you know exactly what I mean. The thing about Parisiens is that they all want little yappy dogs, like the one Paris Hilton has, but no one, and I mean no one, wants to clean up all the shit. Therefore, on every street corner, around every bend and sometimes even at the bottom of stairs, is a little "present" from the pooches of Paris. I'm starting to appreciate the little doggie bags that folks put up in Boston, and signs that yell "Clean up after your dog!" You would be shunned in the States if you didn't; people on the street would a.) scowl at you and b.) give you an evil stare-down.
Well, Parisiens wouldn't even entertain the thought of bending down, putting a hand in a plastic bag and picking up after their pooch. And to tell the truth, I can't picture it either; a woman walking her poodle, wearing a Chanel suit and leopard-print heels probably couldn't bend down to reach the ground even if she tried.

Don't be fooled

So, as a result, I can't ever be looking up around me and enjoying the beautiful architecture, or the Eiffel Tower in the distance, or even watching out for cars, because I'm always looking at the ground, calculating every step and cautiously walking the sidewalks, trying to avoid stepping right into some caca.
Plus, some dogs slash owners, are evil! They plot and scheme and get their dog to shit right at the bottom of some stairs, or next to parked car, so someone gets out and SCHLAK.
The best is when you see trails of it, and can just imagine the poor chap sliding his foot along the sidewalk, trying to get off the brown goo before his job interview. I might do as Paul does in A Year in the Merde and wear plastic baggies over my boots just to be on the safe side. I thought I was in the clear just the other day, caca-free, until I look on the back of my shoe; low and behold... no one is safe in this city.

Shoe-Shining in Madrid

We catch the bus to Madrid early around 1pm, the bus ride is uncomfortable and uneventful. And Madrid, ultimately, is a city. It just doesn't have that same Spanish touch as Sevilla does. Claire and I were planning to go out and party til the break of dawn, but, um, room service and bathrobes? Yes please. So instead of partying Spanish style, we order delicious room service and call it a night.

La Reina Sofia

Next morning is our last day of our trip, tear. We stuff ourselves with buffet breakfast and take the long metro into the heart of the city to the Reina Sofia art museum, housing some of Dalí and Picasso's most famous art. We go first to an exhibition about Carl Einstein and the Surrealist movement back in the 1920s after WWI. It was cool to see how omnipresent the Spanish Civil was (and still is). As devastating as it was, it produced massive amounts of passionate art, esp from the masters like Picasso and Miro. The museum closes early, so we are left to wander around, past the Prado musueum and up to Sol and Gran Via, the centre of the city. But the best part of the day is when we go off the beaten track, and stop being tourists and start living . We stop in to Cafeteria Hawaii (promising, I know). Who knew we would have so much fun in there? the place is filled with smoke and locals. Our original plan is just to use the bathroom, get a cafe and then high-tail is outta there. Well, instead we order from the menu some random drinks and a plate of shrimp. Well the waiter brings over a bottle of Cava, says he's charging us the same price, so...we drink up!! We are beside ourselves with laughter that it's like 4pm and we're here getting drunk off a bottle of champagne between two, rather than out exploring Madrid. The prawns were actually soooo delicious, I'd go back just for those! The guys next to us just play cards the whole time and give us a wink and smile here and there. The old man next to us is "going to town", ordering an entire chicken for himself, a huge piece of cake, and then chain smoking his way through his pack of Winstons. Nice. The best part is when we pay at the end, over 2 hours later of doing god knows what, and the waiter charges us less than half for our meal. on the receipt he writes, "You girls are very beautiful, I would lke to get to know you. There's a fiesta tonight, here's my number..." HAHA! We are cracking up, I love Spain.
Back at the hotel, we swim in the pool and enjoy the hot sauna. So relaxing, although a part of me is disappointed that this is how we spend our last night in Spain, our last night of this trip. I didn't exactly throw myself out there, it hasn't exactly been a wild 3 weeks, although it's been super expensive. But I love having crazy experiences as well, meeting new people and wild adventures; that's what makes a trip and all the money I spend worth it...I didn't really feel like that this time.

Madrid!

Claire left this morning at 5am, I got up to say goodbye although I felt wide awake. Going back to bed all alone in that hotel room was really hard. I got this unmistakable feeling of sadness and loneliness, left to spend the whole day alone in my own company. So I suck it up, get dressed bright and early, eat breakfast solo and head out back into Madrid for a day to myself. This is precisely why I don't travel alone, I feel like such a loser! I go back to the Reina Sofia art museum and see Picasso's Guernica piece, it is exquisite. I love the way they set up the exhibit because they show his process leading up to the painting. I see loads of Dali's early works, as well as some famous paintings, which are actually quite disturbing in real life.
And the winner goes to: (!!!)

Shiny boots, not one word of Spanish

The highlight of my day: I walk up to a little shoe-shiner in Sol, thinking "Shit, how the hell do you say 'how much' in Spanish?!" Sit down after asking "Quanta costa?" (pretty sure that's not even Spanish, but Italian) and show him my change (I'm completely broke at this point, I had an array of pennies and 10 cent coins) He shines my boots, not knowing a word of what he's saying to me in Spanish, not a single word!!! But he works so hard, what a cute little Basque man, asking me "Cuanaksjrk sfdjklj asktisfi csaloroiw?¡?¡" (Ok, well that's what it sounded like.) Somehow I understand that he's asking me where I'm from and I say "PARIS!" with a half English/half French accent (with a tinge of Spanish, naturally.) and walk away laughing laughing laughing to myself. Two people who don't speak a word of each others language can still manage to communicate. Brilliant.
Back to Paris, my new home. Ready for new adventures, always.

Sevilla: The Heart of Andalucía

Sevilla is definitely a place I want to return to. It is so...Spanish. The streets are all washed in sunlight- all the tiny, windy streets are dipped in a familiar yellow that reminds me of the tones in Tuscany. And the culture! It's magic. Think flamenco dancers, with bright feathery polka dot dresses, hair tightly pulled back and a red flower in their hair. Think of matadors and bull fighting, of fiestas in the street, all the time, to celebrate...anything! Think of a warm city that invites you in, to experience its rich culture, taste its delicious food (paella!) and drink its aromatic red wine. This is the real Spain.
Although, I have to admit, it's a bit depressing in January because you can just feeeeel that it's such a summery city- so I'll be back, when it's warm. Claire and I get in to our cooool hostel in Sevilla at Place Encarnacíon, where our coo, hip Oasis hostel is. They are cooking homemade paella that night (!) We make friends with some girls from Quebec and give them good advice for Morocco ( and the rest of our dirhams...) We also talk with David from NYC (such a new yorker, reminds me so much of Steve!) who worked in Sevilla for a year and is now going to Madrid to study abroad. He gives us some good directions and advice for Madrid and Sevilla.
We eat dinner just the two of us, having unsuccessfully made friends at the hostel, tear. Get a little frustrated with C cuz sometimes she loses that outgoing, fun side of her. But we did have some good laughs on this trip, like when I said "GOOD YOB!" without even noticing I omitted the J as Spaniards do. The paella was home-cooked and utterly delicious. We hurry out the door and hop in a taxi to get to a hole-in-the-wall bar called La Carbonería for flamenco!! It's all smokey in there but it is alll locals Sevillans, drinking and smoking like there's no tomorrow. Show starts at 11h30 pm, naturally. No one ever seems to sleep around here, no matter what age. On stage is an old Spanish man, a woman dressed with big hoop earrings, hair pulled back tight in a low ponytail. Well, the man starts singing flamenco, and it immediately draws me back to Uncle Will's opera "Ainadamar" with the flamenco singer that nearly brought me to tears. The other dude was strumming on his Spanish guitar with the biggest smile on his face! They start clapping and keep the beat with their hands throughout the show. The incredible rhythm comes just from clapping hands, stomping feet and a guitar. Endless clapping. And the music is sad; it sounds like he's singing about something painful as the clapping gets louder and faster and louder and faster the beat is picking up, faster faster faster she's stomping her feet now and getting into the beat and BAM! She's up and dancing with her arms out and fingers snapping, first one arm overhead and then the other, as her fingers keep snapping and her feet keep stomping stomping stomping bam-ity-bam-ity-bam...She's a big girl but is moving with the grace of a ballerina, and has so so much rhythm rhythm rhythm...she's doing some quick-quick tap dancing and alternates her hands up in the air, one finger pointing out, down, up, out, switch. She snapping her ponytail back and forth, in beat with her stomping feet thud thud thud on the floor. They build up up up up towards a climax, the combination of the flamenco singing, the dancing, tapping feet and the beat of the clapping, until you feel the music pulsing through you, feel the heat OW! as if everything is going to explode as it alll builds to a climax, and BAM! THEY ALL SHOUT! Olé!!!

They bring up two volunteers to dance, who are both just naturally good dancers, of course cuz they're Spanish. They draw you into the rhythm and just mesmerize you. Claire explains that the flamenco dance is full of meaning- which direction the fingers are pointing. So Claire and I, on our way home, think we know where we're going but of course, we have no idea and just get ridiculously lost- I mean, a 15 min walk probably took us more than an hour to get home. Yeah. First off, neither of us are very good with maps. Second, the map sucks and is incomprehensible. third, every person we ask for directions in the street says "It's complicated" or "Just go straight". That's become the running joke with me and Claire bc in Morocco, whenever we would ask for directions, they would say "Just go straight." Thanks for clearing that up buddy.
Well, for the first time in my life, Claire and I actually make a loop trying to get home. We were walking walking walking, lefts, rights, lefts, until Claire says "Wait, haven't we already passed this place?" Indeed, it was true. We were right back where we started and even farther away from our hostel that the first place. Everytime we think we're going in the right direction, we weren't. But it was also a good way to see the city at night and stumble across the giant cathedral in the center with a huuuge Moorish minaret, modeled after the one we saw in Marrakech.
The next morning, we had little time to explore in Sevilla cuz we had to catch the bus to Madrid; but, we did have a chance to see inside the gorgeous cathedral in the city centre, designed by the Moors and once again taken over by the Christians in the late 1100s (greedy bastards!!!!!)

Córdoba's Mezquita

Claire and I walk later that night all through the small alleyways and souks of Tangier, but it isn't nearly as overwhelming as Marrakesh. We are able to stop into stores and have a look around without being hounded by the shop owners. We look at dresses, baboushes and take random turns here and there. Down to the Port to buy (expensive) ferry tickets and then a walk along the boardwalk to find a restaurant for dinner. We have couscous and legumes at a nice resto where the server pours tea from WAYYY up high into this tiny glass- quite impressive, we watch him like it's a spectacle. All goes well until Claire finds a staple in her food- yup, that's right. We have quite a laugh. The guy sitting behind us is from Bahrain and he invites us to his hotel- "Uhhh, no thanks." Sketchy! The taxi driver speaks really rreally bad English and tries to explain the difference in hotels, between "The interconti-mental" and the "enter-konti-mental"- great, thanks for clearing that up. Back at our hotel, or should I say, palace, we have the WHOLE place to ourselves and are so silly. We ask Abdul a few times for mint tea refills and we snuggle under our massive duvet comforter and read into the wee hours of the night. The rain falls outside, but we are so so cozy in our private palace :)
Up early to catch the ferry over to Spain, Tangier to Algeciras, the weather is shit-tastic. So much for sun in Spain (!) We eat at this incredibly sketchy resto in the shit town of Algeciras, nothing much there other than a port. We wait for hours at the train station for our train to Cordoba, which we get in the late afternoon. The train ride is gorgeous and sooo worth it! The landscape changes around every bend on the 3hr ride- from high mountains to valleys, to horse pastures, to small towns built on a hill, to vineyards bursting with Spanish grapes, to old farms, and then a beautiful sunset over the horizon. I love the region of Andalucía.
That night, once we get into our hostel in Cordoba, we walk around a bit in the old part of town. So quiet here! This place is a ghost town, but luckily the two of us feel very safe. We walk around huge ancient Roman walls and old medieval castles. Claire is totally in her element- loves speaking Spanish, loves the culture and loves the food. I know very little about Spanish culture, but this is a great way to start learning .
We find a nice little resto called Bodega Mezquita and order a phenomenal bottle of Cordoban wine, only €5! It was so delicious. Order a bunch of tapas, naturally, including whitefish and peppers, artichokes and garlic, and chorizo. Get a litttttle tipsy off a bottle of wine split between the two of us... but conversation soons opens up about Spanish wine, culture, history, music.
We make our way back to Lucano st. and crash. This morning, we explore the Roman bridge built across the river and the outdoor courtyard of the famous Mezquita. There are orange trees overhead, and inside the cathedral is stunning. Big red and white archways stretch overhead and don't ever seem to end; they are a perfect example of symmetry, design and color. I really love Moorish architecture. But more importantly is the mix of Christianity and Islam, a great building that started as a mosque but was taken over by the Christians, making it a hybrid cathedral and mix of two great cultures. Claire and I explore La Judeíra, the old Jewish quarter with whitewashed streets and winding, twisty cobblestones streets. This leads into the modern part of the city, with shopping centres blah blah I prefer the old!
Off to Sevilla!!

The Rooftops of Tangier

TANGIER

Claire and I hop on the night to train to Tangier and a cool girl named Laura, from Perth, who'd traveling solo around Europe/Morocco. The train was comfortable actually! Slept the whole way.. We arrive in Tangier and split a taxi to the port and then through the medina to get to our hotel. We wait outside for an hour cuz no one answers the door at the hotel! We make a little contraption out of a string to tie to the door knocker and still whilst sitting down hehehe we're so silly. This guy Abdul is bothering us, offering me some hashish (the size of a tennis ball!) But I didn't come to Morocco to buy drugs.. He tells us about "the moskee!" and tries to get us to go to another hotel- nice try Abdul. Finally, one guy comes to open the door and ushers us inside- we tell him unhappy we are to be kept waiting...but the place is exquisite. Oh, how to describe?Tiled walls adorn the place, nice rugs and carpets and arched doorways. And COLOR! Even the stairway is gorgeous. We have the massive master suite, with two BIG beds. And the roof! It's right in the sun with a view to die for. Let's see, there's the port, with aquablue waters. In the distance are hillsides with houses built on them. And we are surrounded by the Kasbah on the other side, house rooftops are built up like tetris cubes, with laundry hanging out to dry in the warm sun. Mosques stick up as the highest points, one at the the very top of the Kasbah. Everything is generally white white white, but there are splashes of blue here and there. I hear a rooster crowing, a kid crying, whistles from the port. I have a panoramic view from our closed-in rooftop veranda, so there's so much to see. Woman wearing bandanas on their heads hang their laundry out ot dry. Actually, there's really only womens on the rooftops, no men to be seen. It's the opposite in the street: the men are out selling. When Claire and I are outside in the sun, sipping mint tea, the call to prayer rings out over the city, from every mosque, just a chorus of chanting. In the distance, out over the Strait of Gibraltar, are mountains, with the sun dipping in and out of the clouds. I'll stay in the veranda and read, rather than more souk-shopping. But as we walked through this morning, I noticed it's already a lot calmer and more relaxed than Marrakesh- it's not tourist driven; it's just a way of life. And that's what makes it more enjoyable and more natural. Not hectic, in-your-face, but chill and really beautiful, ready to enjoy and be savored.
Off to Córdoba!

How to Haggle 101

Everytime you go to buy and argue for the price, they love to unravel the fabric and show you how sturdy it is, show you the length blah blah. Basically every trick in the book to make you pay more. Nah nah, not gonna work on me buddy! But I'm finally starting to get the hang of it here. First, talk in French, and go really low so that you can always go higher. You can never go lower than your original bid, rule number one. Laugh and keep things light; keep talking talking talking and repeating your price, and then say "What's the best price you can give me? Best price, come on. Aller. Best price. Voilà!" I go to haggle for some shoes that I've had my eye on this whole time, and I get it alllll the way down from 200 Dh to 100Dh. I try and go lower and lower (starting 50D and working my way up) until we get to my final, last last price of 75 Dh. I won't go any higher and he won't go any lower; instead of me walking away, he tries to walk about from me! Talk about role reversal- we meet in the middle at 75 Dh. Go me!
We recuperate back at the hostel and enjoy the view from our little rooftop balcony, of course with a refreshing cup of mint tea. Down below, you can see into the other courtyards of others, orange trees from inside would peek through. Laundry hangs out to dry and the rooftops looks like little tetris blocks. We go back out there and once again get lost among the endless souks- I've never seen so many shops! But once we get past Aladdin's treasures, we wander the tannery district, where animal hides are stacked up like cards, where dyed wool and hides hang out to dry like laundry. We just go left, right, straigh? Sure. On and on and on, dodging the vendors sticking their jewels out to you, and who yell out "Come into my shop! Maybe later?" Key phrases like that; they know em all. One guy nearly corners me in the road just to get me to come one! Whew, stay calm. This place is tourist-driven so they have to act like that. We get so turned around in this labyrinth and wander and wander until we see other tourists who look as lost as us. We dodge motorbikes, bicycles, donkeys and horse cariages charging though the crowds. I walking walking through the districts where you see them actually making the stuff, such as babouches, lanterns, dresses and silver. We finally find our way back to the Jamaa El-Fna for henna. God, what a nightmare experience this was. As soon as we sit down, this pushy woman preys on me like a vulture. She has her pen to my hand with henna until I pull back to negotiate a price- but everytime I try to, she talks about the colors (red, brown or black) "No! Wait! How much?" I try to tell her I want 2 hands painted for 20Dh and she's says Ok, "C'est parti! Let's go!"..doesn't even paint the design I've picked out... at the end she looks at me and says 40 Dh- "What?" We said 20! And alas, I've awoken the dragon- I've never seen anyone so mad. She looks at me with this terrifying face and yells at me "FORTY DIRRRRHAM MAM!" Of course, I have no more money on me and look to Claire, but she's broke too. The lady next to her, who doesn't speak a word of English or French, starts hitting my leg and showing me to pay up- I realize it's not only anger on their faces but desperation; these women really have no way of making money for themselves in La Place other than henna, and they depend on tourists. I leave totally flustered and feel as if my time in Morocco is stained by this experience. Mandy got totally screwed over though because they charged her 150 Dh at the time cuz she didnt negotiate before. oops.
Back at the hostel, Jordon and Mandy show us their photos from South Africa, which are unnnreal. They did a roadtrip from Pretoria to Cape Town, allll the way across S.A. But the inequality problems continue to plague the country, along with the AIDS epidemic. The inequality problems there may even be more stark that in India- apartheid only ended 14 years, which is racism by law. It's hard to believe and even harder to comprehend. Jordon tells us that the government receives massive donations for the AIDS problem, but of course none of the people actually suffering ever see a dime. Will the world always have problems this colossal? Will there always be suffering? Esp over problems we can easily fix, like clean water, cholera, malaria and contraception.

Dodging motorbikes and bicycles, and donkeys

Three Words for Marrakesh- Julia's are: exotic, bustling, invigorating. Claire's are: tourism, hectic, delicious. Others we brainstorm about on the heavenly terrace of our guesthouse in Tangier: overexpectant, rip-off, dishonest, greedy, stinky, cluttered, clean, well-off, delicious, stressssed, chaotic, haggle, call to prayer. Dodging motorbikes and bicycles, and donkeys!
Three Words for Tangier: indulgent, relaxed, sunny, white & blue, guides* to the Kasbah is the market here, quiet, breathtaking, Spanish, lack of tourists, where they do take No for an answer. Right past the moskee, says the local.
Marrakesh:
Claire and I sleep in on Tuesday, shower and pack up before heading to the Majorelle Gardens with Mandy and Jordon. We haggle for a horse&carriage there, as it's all the way across town. We go outside of the medina- it's nice to see a new part of town, outside the city walls. The gardens are....well, not as much as I was expecting, as Francoise built them up. The colors are amazing however, as are the esthetics, but it's cacti and plants- not that exciting. Mandy and Jordon are quite silly, and we make it fun anyway. We walk allll the way back to Jamaa El-Fna, getting lost several times and ending up in some really obscure neighborhoods. But we went into a beautiful park, where all the locals are eating. We end up at a café is La Place for pizza (!) of all things and mint tea. I am quite impressed with our clean (relatively) Marrakesh is, even compared to...London! The streets and the souks are kept very clean and you see people sweeping at the end of the day, and not that much litter. Also, the men don't reek as they do in India, not what I was expecting. But the streets can get hectic as a tourist, stressed, chaotic, uncomfortable. Especially the fact that some guys are so desperate for money that they'll grab your hand and stick something in it to make you buy it!! Talking at me is one thing, but touching me? Back off, invasion of space.
In the square, there are snake charmers, monkey shows and storytellers telling old Arab tales to the beat of a drum. The 4 of us first go into a scarf shop where Mohammad wraps me and Jordon in turbans- his name becomes Mustafa Couscous and I am Fatima- sweeeet! After, we haggle for SO LONG with Mohammad, but I end up buying 2 scarves and help Claire haggle for hers.

This is Marrakesh, the real Morocco.

MONDAY, JAN 5th 2009
Claire and I start the day off right- as soon as we awake, we go up to the roof to sit in the sun and wake/warm up. HAPPY. Feel slightly shit-tastic as we explore the new Cyber Garden, down Avenue Hassan II and allll the way to La Gare ONCF to buy the train tickets to Tangier. Afterwards, we get a quick bite at a local stand for chicken kebabs plus bread plus rice. THEN I got maybe the best massage...of my life. I think I died and went to heaven. A local the hostel hires comes by to work on me and Claire, and gets out alllll the knots that have been building up in my back, shoulders and neck. Wonderful! Talk about treating myself...
Afterwards, while Claire is getting her massage, Chris and I walk to a restaurant Chez Chegrouni for a quick bite, mint tea and some good chatting. I feel like my old self again, talking about my adventures in India. Chris has been to Egypt/Thailand/Australia so we exchange stories and some good laughs. He's such a quintessential English bloke. We meet up with Claire after and enjoy another sunset up there on our terrace haven.
The best part of the day though is when Chris joins us to explore the souks- WHAT A DIFFERENCE! We are barely pestered! We get hassled so much less. The usual markets in the main square are just so colorful and RICH, and it's nice to actually enjoy it and take it in without being on your guard. We get to the dyes section of the souks, and explore an old drum and instrument shop where the 2 guys in the back are clearly smoking hashish haha. We bargain with him over some Berber drums and tambourines and marrocas. Chris is quite good at haggling, unlike me, but we work together so it's O.K. We keep going down these dark alleyways, with dyed wool hanging from above, black/silver/hammersmiths souks where they make the lanterns at night. It's cool to see the market at the end of the day, when things calm down and people close up their shops, or you see shopowners sewing up dresses..I realize that tomorrow morning every will start again! And that's just how life goes here.
We wander down some of these dark alleyways, where the locals come out and we lose the tourists. Yes! We both feel so much comfortable/safer with Chris around. We get down some dark alleyway and find some hillbillies! AHHH! Creeeepy...but just went straight straight and wind up at a main road and wander wander wander aimless through the food markets. Great big wagons filled with heaps of abricots, figs, dates, almonds, pistachioes, litchies, cashews and sweets. Mmmm! All the locals are out buying their food, while the tourists (except us) are in.
But the highlight of my night is walking past the turnoff of our road and just keep going straight past meat shops, spice vendors, random-ass stuff on the ground to a totally non-tourist area. Bingo. This is Marrakesh, the real Morocco. We dodge the crowds, weave in and out and avoid the motorbikes and bicycles inching past us through the throngs of people. But I love every minute, it's so..invigorating. We wind up all eating some baklava sweets (and joking that we better not all get sick from it cuz there's only 1 bathroom!) , and then check out the big vats of frying meats and veggies in Jamaa El-Fna, as well as the drumming circles with an old Arab storyteller in the middle reciting an old tale to a watchful crowd, to the beat of a drum and a horn. I haggle for a tambourine, cuz it would be awesome to have :) Back at the hostel, we all sit in the courtyard, sipping beer with Jordon the cool Canadian now studying in South Africa, and traveling to the corners of Africa over break (Morocco, Egypt, S.A.) Conversation flows freely, between Canada and Montreal to the metric system to the incredible inequality Jordon tells us about in South Africa- and then wordl even. I want to research the history of South Africa and see if it's a place that interests me next year. Chris and I stay up even later, talking about mariage and inevitably..divorce.

Jamaa El-Fna

The hostel is gorgeous; there's a little Garden of Eden courtyard at the centerpiece of the open-air hostel. Ripe orange trees dripping with great big fruits rise up to the sky, and surround this pool of water filled with rainwater. Up above are balconies to the guestrooms- and then the ROOF! Which I love because there are 2 seating areas with benches, pillows and hot tiles. We immediately strip of our 14 jackets, shedding both layers and tension. Ahhh. Shoes off! Barefoot! We take in the sun up their on the roof and just feel it healing our problems. Headache? Gone. Sore throat? Gone. Pale as ghost? Well, not quite gone but we'll try.
The windows in our room look straight down to the alleyway down below, as voices carry straight up, along with the drumming in the distance.
We venture our into the market after composing ourselves, where I am so reminiscent of India's vendors, shouting at you from the other side of the street: "Madam! Yoo hoooo! Have a look! Maybe later?" But it soon becomes overwhelming being there in the souks because we become the prey of the shopkeepers. Claire is not at ease at all, granted it's a very different market than she's used to. But it's the snake charmers that freak her out the most cuz they practically stick them in your face!!! She's so jumpy she even jerks 10 ft back when a guy is holding a belt in his hand hahaha. At lunch, we saw a guy weaving in and out of the table with a snake and of course the two of us are attempting to hide under our table- until we realize that the snakes are fake!!! For lunch, we eat at a touristy restaurant for some gooood couscous+chicken, delicious. Then back to the hostel (cuz the souks are too much) for some relaxation on the rooftop and some MINT TEA. We just bask in the sunshine streaming through, until we fall asleep like a cat in the sunlight. The sunset afterwards is gorgeous, as are all the colors everywhere- just incredible. Up there, you can spy on all the rooftops around, look into other's courtyard (and compare your orange trees to theirs..pfffff)
We go for Round #2 in the souks after our repose- it's different at dusk, a little jumpy, although everything is just as vibrant, all the fabrics and spices and silver and leather. I haggle for a mirror and some Moroccan slippers but unfortunately get followed by this dude whose shop I was in before (and left uninterested). You can't even enter without buying anything! They won't let you leave, or they follow you!
We have some more mint tea on the rooftop of the restaurant and admire the chaos of Place Jamaa El-Fna down below.
Back at the hostel, I start up a conversation with some cool New Zealanders, all fashion-y and kinda full of themselves. Claire and I start talking to Chris, a 30-something year bloke from London who's here traveling. We share some very similar experiences on trying to find this hidden gem of a hostel, and share some good laughs. New day and new adventures tomorrow!

Morocco: Finding the Riad in the Maze of the Medina

Sunday, January 4th
Claire and I are so so pumped for Morocco, even from the air, looking down on the vast and endless landscapes, with mountains capping off the horizon. As soon as we step off the plane, the sun gently greets us, and we just grab each other and sing "HERE COMES THE SUN!!" God, after a week in the UK, I've never appreciated the sun so much. At the airport, I flag down a taxi to get us to the medina. We see loads of bikes with two or three people balancing on the bars, and rows and rows of orchards outside the walled city. Our taxi driver keeps driving, right to the entrance of Jamaa El-Fna, now a World Heritage site for it's incredible culture all in one square in the center of Marrakesh.
So he drops us off there, and we walk....forever. We wind through all the souks, Claire with her huge backpack and me pulling my suitcase behind me. Not ideal for our first excursion into the madness of the souks. In the main square, there's snake charmers, acrobats, weird hats, tambourines, tale-tellers and PEOPLE! Then we start going through the souks...ooooooh la la what a delight. I am in heaven (!)
It's like Aladdin's cave has opened up, the streets spilling out silver lantersn, tapestries, carpets, colorful scarves, Moroccan slippers (babouches), silver jewelry, leather works, big grain sacks of colorful spices like vibrant curry or green oregano or yellow saffron or brilliant chile powder. And all the walls of the winding alleyways are this deep ocre red color, illuminated by the hot sun, giving the city a glowing color. We make it to the Cafe France and head in the (hopefully) right direction, until we don't know which (2nd?) right it is. We learn quickly that around here, the best you'll get for directions is "Just go straight"...except what makes it even more helpful is that "straight" and "right" sound exactly the same sometime : tout droit et droite. Great. These children obviously spot that we're lost, and I make the mistake of asking them for directions in French. Pretty soon, we've got a posse of a million little boys waving their hands, saying "This way Madame! I will show you the way!" I soon realize that they're gonna want some money for this, and unfortunately, I only have 100 notes. Well the bantering boys are leading us alllllllll the way down these alleys, saying "Just a little farther Madam" until I no longer hear the din of the marketplace and start getting a little freaked out. Claire and I say that we'll just find the place ourselves, but the damn kids are so persistent!
I have this moment when I'm freaking out that they're leading us farther and farhter down an alleyway and into a trap for the clueless tourist. I would fall for that one. We get to #17, as it says on the sheet but no where on the building does it read "Riad Medina Azahara", so I'm still freaking out that we're being led into the place where they first maim the clueless tourist before killing them! Door opening...Oh! Ok, it's a woman we're safe. She explains in a far-off mix of French and Arabic (let's call it Frarabic, shall we? Or maybe Arabench...) that this is only the reception, and that our lovely little shits of a tourguide will show us the way to the hostel. I try to explain once again in French that we have no money to pay them but the punk is either changing the subject or saying we'll pay when we get there...Well they say they'll show us the way, "Just down here! 2 minutes!" Down a few lefts, a few rights, past the flowing stream of Rue Dabachi, some more rights, lefts, straights until we get to a doorway. I'm now sweating profusely in clothes that are fitted for the UK dark ages, not the blazing sun of Morocco. A nice man opens and pays the little shits for us- well, I am partly grateful cuz they did show us the way, even though we said we couldnt pay them. But hard part is over!

Camden Town Market

London is amazing!!! Quite a different city from the last time I was here 3 years ago with Lill and when I was obsessed with London. This was a more expensive and posh trip, but in a way that kinda bugged me. Claire and I both are sick after New Year's, her with a nasty cough and me with a cold. But I'm always cold here in England, seriously. Can't quite get rid of it. OR I'm really really overheated in the Tube, never quite comfortable! We meet up with Hannah Rzysko, who I haven't seen since INDIA!! It's so so so good to see her, she hasn't changed a bit and still has that lovely aura about her, someone who's just so pleasant to be around and always telling fun stories. The 3 of us get along quite well, Hannah is telling stories, laughing, smiling, and saying "Oh, it was fantastic!" and "He was such a proper dude". We reminisced about our adventures in India and tell Claire alllll about our crazy, fun adventures. She spent two months in India, traveling partly with me and partly by herself to places like Varanasi, and then Goa with her boyfriend Olly.
In London, we spend a good part of the day on the Tube bc none of us actually know how to get anywhere. She shows us Camden market with all these ethnic restaurants, old stables, little shops and weird leather shops too. It was fantastic! We stop at a little Moroccan place for mint tea- Claire's throat is really raw, but it helps. After, we take the Tube to, well, first stop- Westminster to see BIG BEN and Westminster Abbey. A little walk thru the park to the London Eye and to see the Thames. Waterloo to Piccadilly Circus to see the little Times Square and walk to Chinatown and thru the sex shops of SOHO- great atmosphere, esp. in Leicester Square. Oh! And we walked thru Harrod's- which was absolutely packed. But we hit up the Chocolate Bar and get fresh strawberries, cream and fondue chocolate with double chocolate tart and espresso. Mmmmmm. Totally worth every pound!
Eventually we make it back to the hostel to settle down for a bit- I feel kinda bad for making Hannah stay the night in this shitty hostel with shitty dinner (just a sandwich() when there's nothing really going on tonight for nightlife. Meh. We didn't have a crazy night or anything but it is nice to spend time together- we make friends with these two Israeli dudes and French guy. We drink red wine and make fun of this cheeeeesy movie w/ an English Bruce Willis. Some h*** outside with the Israelis, where they teach us Arabic phrases that we'll use in Morocco, such as numbers, phrases and greetings. They write it down for us in a "easy-to-read" format haha. We all walk to the Lock Tavern for drinks before it closes at 2am- good music, good beers. Me and Hannah just talk the whole time, kind of ignored the other guys by accident, oops. Off to The Stables for dance, music and drinks!!! Very cool club, all open with these different rooms and lights. Hannah and I have a good chat on the way back, she feels bad that we were on the Tube half the day! I say we both love her to death, no hard feelings, it's not her fault that the city was just packed all day. She tells me about her dreams to move to Australia with Olly and 3 years and get married, which I just think is so so great...good for them! We stay up until 3am talking- this morning she left immediately, a little strange, I feel bad. She wanted to get out of that hostel and catch the first train back to Reading. Oops.
Claire was so so sick but trooper-ed on cuz she's amazing, what a good sport. We first went to Buckingham Palace to drop in on the Queen, she wasn't in for tea though...too bad! Then to St. James' Park for lunch at this cute little cafe called Pickles. Just what we need.
Then to Tower of London for some fun pictures, British Museum for big artifacts and back to Camden for our stuff. WHEW! My feet..are...killing...me....
AMAAAZING Hilton room to ourselves at Gatwick, Claire gets sweeet benefits for working there. We just pamper ourselves cuz tomorrow we're off to...
MOROCCOOOO!

New Year's in Glasgow

NEW YEAR'S EVE 2008!!!! And wot a good year's it's been!!!!
We were planning on doing a "sub crawl" all day, but the night before hindered our plans- easy on the drinking. My liver hasn't recovered yet. But let me explain what a "sub crawl" is (instead of a pub crawl): the subway in Glasgow is a circuit, so you get off at every stop and have a pint at the local pub, and then back on! Except there are about 15 stops, so it takes the whole day. So instead, Stuart Claire and I go to Kelvinhall to see the West End and walk around a bit. Stuart is a riot, and has the best facial expressions but has such a strong accent. Haven't seen him in 2 years since the Red Sox game in 07....We wind up in one pub after another where ALL we talk about is..drinking or getting drunk. It's unbelievable that that can be the subject of conversation for so long. Oh wait, we talk briefly about Hitler/Stalin/Nazis/WWII for a wee bit. At home, we drink some champagne and get ready for the night. Hit up a pub in the West End but hardly notice the New Year's countdown.We wind up at a house party where I Get really super drunk and have lots of random conversations. Pascal and I spoon the air mattress with no air hahaha. Pack up for LONDON!

Arthur's Seat in Edinburgh

Whew! It's been 4 days since I've written cuz it's just been a whiiiirlwind of activities- I don't think I have a liver left. Welcome to Scotland.
Arrived in Gothenburg City (Göteborg) on Sunday night and flew out to Glasgow, where Claire and Graeme pick me up at the airport. I'm starting to feel really ill so I'm doing everything not t to get sick- Vit A and C, hot bath, tea. Monday I sleep in until 1pm, then out and about to see Glasgow and Claire's university- it's absolutely stunning , straight out of Harry Potter! Looks like the pitch where he learns to play Quidditch! I take some gorgeous photos of all these archways on campus, and then we check out the art museum on campus in this old Victorian building.
At home, Claire and I make some homemade veg soup and ham sandwiches and just hangggg out all the day until Pascal gets in at 10pm. She's from Frankfurt, Germany and was also a study abroad student at Clemson 2 yrs ago. She's fun and totally crazy! We all decide to go out dancing to "Campus", which is SO much fun!!! I was barely even buzzed but it is nice not to be totally wasted. Graeme and Claire and Pascal are such fun to dance with, especially when songs like Grease Lightning come on. We spend the whole night, til almost 3am just dancing in a circle the 4 of us.
Up early to catch the train to EDINBURGH! What a lovely city, not at all like industrial Glasgow. All the buildings are so old and remind me of the Middle Ages or something. Right in the city center is a giant castle, built on the edges of a cliff- straight out of "The Sword in the Stone" hehe. People are more posh here, plus plaid and bagpipes and scotch everywhere. We stop in a pub quickly for lunch and a pint of local McEwin's brew, and then off to Parliament.
Highlight of the day though is our hike up "Arthur's Seat", a giant cliff that overlooks the city and provides a magnificent view of everything. Absolutely worth the walk up. We hike alllll the way up one side, lots and lots of steps, all frosted over, and then we do some real climbing- never a good idea in Converses with no traction. At the top though we get a whole view of the city- and what a beautiful day it is, luckily! We eat our lunch up there and laugh and walk our way down. Graeme decides to go off the beaten track- bad idea. Nearly tumbled off the mountain! We take the train back to Glasgow and straight out to Gourock for the Morton v. Partick football game with the locals. Fuckin' freeeeezing, I've never been so cold. But it's fun to hear all the Scots swearing their heads off at the ref. AFterwards, me, Stuart, Graeme, Claire and Michael get tanked at a bar called Classrooms because vodka and Jack Daniels is only 90p- deal!!! Claire and I say beforehand that we shouldn't drink but of course, inevitably, with 3 Scotsmen and 90p shots- whatta ya expect?!?! So we get in at 4am, wasted. Off to sleep in Frenchie's bed, cuz he's not here!

Skål! (Cheers in Swedish)

Saturday, Dec 27th
COPENHAGEN today!!! In Swedish, it's called Köpenhamn (Shippin-hamm) Louise and I take the bus early to get some shopping done, and we all converge at Christian's place to drop off our stuff- then to the train station for a quick train ride across to water to Denmark. The train ride is really fun once the tension disappears btw Malin and Louise. But soon Malin is telling us funny stories from her first few months living in Florence and the rough start she had...First, by paying way too much in Emilia's house and what happened when she simply stole an apple! Then when she tells me the story of working at "Griglia #1" at McDonald's for 2 months (frying), and then the first day she moves up to chicken nuggets at "Grillia #2"- she gets caught on her first day stealing a chicken nugget and it's back to Grill #1!! We laugh about her "shaking lip" and her trying not to cry when her boss was yelling at her. Sad then, hilarious now. Ohmigod I was howling with laughter, so I arrive out of the subway in Copenhagen laughing my ass off.
There's a building like Harrod's there and an ice skating rink right in the center, and trees all covered in lights. Beautiful. We walk around the New Harbor and explore all the little streets- much more quaint than Malmö but expensive! Fresh baked muffins in the window mmmmm. For dinner, we pop into the Cafe Bellagio for some really good chicken club sandwiches and a Leffe brune beer. Skål! (Cheers in Swedish) I tell them about Les Frères Berthom in Grenoble, my favorite pub for my favorite beer...France feels so far away now! Christian and I talk about California, San Diego and I tell them about my trip to Mexico. He Just got back from South Africa, Zimbabwe and Botswana in September for 10 days- WOW! On safari and everything how coool. After dinner, we run right into the L.A. Bar for Coronas and Irish coffees- oh, we had fun. We talk about their friend Andreas in London and how badly he's doing there- drugs, alcohol, overboard, a bit strange and out of control. Malin, such a good friend and such a good heart, wants to go over to his parents' house and tell them what he's doing- so they can save him. She feels it's her duty of someone who used to be here friend- I admire her loyalty and her intentions. Then, once Christian tells us about his adventures camping outside in South Africa, we all get really really excited about traveling, maybe to South America all together or to Thailand. We name every place we want to go and conclude that the world is just too big to conquer. Maybe next year.
But Malin and I possibly want to go to Australia next year together and work/live together. I would love to, I really enjoy her company and trust her. We do a pinkie promise swear for the future, that we'll take next year off- LOTS of energy for being young, adventurous and FREE!
Back home to Malmö to pack and do pictures- M&L drive me to the train this morning and give me the CUTEST goodbye I think I've ever gotten: their little guinea pig dance where they are so synchronized and pretend to lick their paws- adorable! We keep saying how much we'll miss each other and they say how boring it will be without me..aww!! I love them so much! It's more of a "see you later" with Malin bc we have plans to visit each other, in Manchester or Dublin or Paris, or Prague with Christian! yay! super!
OFF TO SCOTLAND!