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| Camp with Braghim (Arabic Instructor |
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| Augustus McCrae |
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| Augustus and I |
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| (Insert Joke About How We Rocked the Kasbah) |
Friday, February 11, 2011
Photographic Evidence
The Sahara Pt: 2
Well, I've kept y'all waiting long enough. I know it's so damn difficult to sleep at night when you're wondering the hell I'm doing.
It's ok, you don't have to be embarrassed. I know I'm that important.
Alright, so I'm not quite sure where I left off, so I'll just pick up from the first morning at the hotel. So, without further adue:
So we woke up. Big news, right? Anyway, we packed up our stuff and headed downstairs for a breakfast of coffee and bread. Afterwards, we all piled back on the bus and headed into town to visit a sanctuary. Now, the CLC (our center) has visited this place on many different occasions, however, this time was way different. We were quickly greeted by the man in charge of keeping the place up and running.
Guess what, he invited us to tea.
This man, appointed by the king, invited us to tea and proceeded to give us a tour around the entire area. Thus turning what was supposed to be a hour visit into a several hour, totally awesome tour.
Do I need to remind you how important I am?
Also, WE DRANK HIS TEA.
4reelz.
Things we saw:
-A beautiful room/tomb/place of prayer
-More beautiful rooms
-Qur'anic students
-A goat get slaughtered
-More beautiful rooms
-And the homes in which the people of Zagora live
Afterwards, we walked over to a pottery shop where I saw a man throw pottery better than anyone I've ever seen. Seriously, mad props.
I even bought some pottery.
Do I need to remind you how important I am?
Then back to the hotel for lunch, and to move our stuff into 4, separate, but equal rooms. The guys in one and the girls in the other three.
OFF TO THE SAHARA
After a two hour bus ride, we arrived at our camels. Yes, camels. Yes, I rode a camel. Yes, it was awesome. Yes, I named them.
I rode two:
The first day he was named, "Darlin'." The second day, he was named "Augustus McCrae."
Anyway, so we hopped on and we rode into the desert. After about two hours, we arrived at our camp.
We rode in around sundown, and made camp about a mile from where we thought the Kiowas had set up camp. We wanted to surprise them, though they didn't seem worried considering they had fire going, and we could hear them yelling across the plains, though none of us were really sure what they were saying. After setting up, Augustus and I rode off, leaving the others behind. Augustus wanted to go alone, but I couldn't justify sitting around while we had the opportunity to ride.
Around nine we rode into their camp. Augustus shot first injuring, what could only be assumed was a buffalo hunter who had fallen in with a group of renegades. We were lucky. They had spent the night drinking, so before long Augustus had killed the entirety of the group. I just stood there, gun in hand, confused as to how we had got ourselves into such a position.
Oh wait. That's Lonesome Dove, none of that actually happened.
We did ride into camp around sunset, but instead of being greeted with gunshots and battle cries, we were greeted with Moroccan Mint Tea, couscous, a campfire, and James Taylor's "You've Got a Friend," translated into Derija.
Not quite Lonesome Dove.
It was fantastic, and the stars were amazing.
The next day we jumped back on camels and rode back to town. We showered, ate, and went to a city that I can't remember the name off. We were given a brief tour of a Kasbah (where they filmed Gladiator, Babel, Kingdom of Heaven, and others), and shivered as we were told of the history of such a place.
Then dinner, shower, and bed.
The next day a 7 hour bus ride back to Marrakech.
Now, in a few hours I'm off to the beach town of Essaouira.
Lamborghini Dreams, Beach House Wishes.
B'slamma
Ps: Pictures soon.
It's ok, you don't have to be embarrassed. I know I'm that important.
Alright, so I'm not quite sure where I left off, so I'll just pick up from the first morning at the hotel. So, without further adue:
So we woke up. Big news, right? Anyway, we packed up our stuff and headed downstairs for a breakfast of coffee and bread. Afterwards, we all piled back on the bus and headed into town to visit a sanctuary. Now, the CLC (our center) has visited this place on many different occasions, however, this time was way different. We were quickly greeted by the man in charge of keeping the place up and running.
Guess what, he invited us to tea.
This man, appointed by the king, invited us to tea and proceeded to give us a tour around the entire area. Thus turning what was supposed to be a hour visit into a several hour, totally awesome tour.
Do I need to remind you how important I am?
Also, WE DRANK HIS TEA.
4reelz.
Things we saw:
-A beautiful room/tomb/place of prayer
-More beautiful rooms
-Qur'anic students
-A goat get slaughtered
-More beautiful rooms
-And the homes in which the people of Zagora live
Afterwards, we walked over to a pottery shop where I saw a man throw pottery better than anyone I've ever seen. Seriously, mad props.
I even bought some pottery.
Do I need to remind you how important I am?
Then back to the hotel for lunch, and to move our stuff into 4, separate, but equal rooms. The guys in one and the girls in the other three.
OFF TO THE SAHARA
After a two hour bus ride, we arrived at our camels. Yes, camels. Yes, I rode a camel. Yes, it was awesome. Yes, I named them.
I rode two:
The first day he was named, "Darlin'." The second day, he was named "Augustus McCrae."
Anyway, so we hopped on and we rode into the desert. After about two hours, we arrived at our camp.
We rode in around sundown, and made camp about a mile from where we thought the Kiowas had set up camp. We wanted to surprise them, though they didn't seem worried considering they had fire going, and we could hear them yelling across the plains, though none of us were really sure what they were saying. After setting up, Augustus and I rode off, leaving the others behind. Augustus wanted to go alone, but I couldn't justify sitting around while we had the opportunity to ride.
Around nine we rode into their camp. Augustus shot first injuring, what could only be assumed was a buffalo hunter who had fallen in with a group of renegades. We were lucky. They had spent the night drinking, so before long Augustus had killed the entirety of the group. I just stood there, gun in hand, confused as to how we had got ourselves into such a position.
Oh wait. That's Lonesome Dove, none of that actually happened.
We did ride into camp around sunset, but instead of being greeted with gunshots and battle cries, we were greeted with Moroccan Mint Tea, couscous, a campfire, and James Taylor's "You've Got a Friend," translated into Derija.
Not quite Lonesome Dove.
It was fantastic, and the stars were amazing.
The next day we jumped back on camels and rode back to town. We showered, ate, and went to a city that I can't remember the name off. We were given a brief tour of a Kasbah (where they filmed Gladiator, Babel, Kingdom of Heaven, and others), and shivered as we were told of the history of such a place.
Then dinner, shower, and bed.
The next day a 7 hour bus ride back to Marrakech.
Now, in a few hours I'm off to the beach town of Essaouira.
Lamborghini Dreams, Beach House Wishes.
B'slamma
Ps: Pictures soon.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
The Sahara
I feel like I owe the world an update. I also feel the need to brag to all my zero readers about how awesome my weekend was. Unfortunately, I have a cold and I feel like hell, so this probably won't be the update that will change your life.
But in all seriousness, drop whatever you're doing and ride a camel.
So here's how it goes:
Friday morning, I was up at 6:30 for breakfast with my brother. We ate, and around 7ish, I grabbed my bag and we hopped on his brother's motorcycle and headed to the center. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am officially a Moroccan badass. We swerved in and out of lanes, picking up speed, and being awesome. Now, at this moment, I feel the need to describe to the readers of the world the insanity that is Moroccan traffic.
Let's take a busy American street, for example. Portland folk, let's say the Burnside-downtown area. Laredo folk, let's say Mcpherson (spelling?). Ok, now let's say you're on these streets during rush hour. Ok, so there are tons of cars, you're passenger's seat of your friends car, the air conditioning is broken, and talk radio is blasting in some language you can't understand. Also, traffic lights don't exist (well they do, but they are randomly placed and seem to be only taken as suggestions). Now, imagine that every car had one selfish agenda, to get to it's destination without any sort of consideration for anyone else on the road. That means, if there is space for the car to go, it's going to go. On coming traffic? No biggie? Lady with stroller pushing a small child? No bigger. Godzilla making a bed out of all the office buildings within a 10 mile radius? No problem at all. Motorcycles are smaller, so they can cruise down the center lane and there are so damn many.
Oh, and one more thing: Everyone's horn is on.
That's Moroccan traffic.
So we cruise through morning traffic, get to the center, and jump on the bus. 9-12 hours later, we arrive in Zaragoza and check into this beautiful hotel (complete with palm trees and swimming pool) and we....
But in all seriousness, drop whatever you're doing and ride a camel.
So here's how it goes:
Friday morning, I was up at 6:30 for breakfast with my brother. We ate, and around 7ish, I grabbed my bag and we hopped on his brother's motorcycle and headed to the center. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am officially a Moroccan badass. We swerved in and out of lanes, picking up speed, and being awesome. Now, at this moment, I feel the need to describe to the readers of the world the insanity that is Moroccan traffic.
Let's take a busy American street, for example. Portland folk, let's say the Burnside-downtown area. Laredo folk, let's say Mcpherson (spelling?). Ok, now let's say you're on these streets during rush hour. Ok, so there are tons of cars, you're passenger's seat of your friends car, the air conditioning is broken, and talk radio is blasting in some language you can't understand. Also, traffic lights don't exist (well they do, but they are randomly placed and seem to be only taken as suggestions). Now, imagine that every car had one selfish agenda, to get to it's destination without any sort of consideration for anyone else on the road. That means, if there is space for the car to go, it's going to go. On coming traffic? No biggie? Lady with stroller pushing a small child? No bigger. Godzilla making a bed out of all the office buildings within a 10 mile radius? No problem at all. Motorcycles are smaller, so they can cruise down the center lane and there are so damn many.
Oh, and one more thing: Everyone's horn is on.
That's Moroccan traffic.
So we cruise through morning traffic, get to the center, and jump on the bus. 9-12 hours later, we arrive in Zaragoza and check into this beautiful hotel (complete with palm trees and swimming pool) and we....
RANDOM PICTURE INTERMISSION
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| Picture by Renda |
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| Picture by Renda |
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| To Be Continued... |
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Oh Whoa, I Forgot
Well, I warned all you readers out there that I'm the absolute worst at keeping a blog. I mean seriously, who cares if my life is that much more awesome than anyone else's. Everyone knows this to be true, so why do I need to constantly prove it by dictating everything I've eaten and done here in Morocco.
Who knows?
Regardless, I'm going to do it and if you don't like it you can go read some other blog about someone else's life you secretly wish you were living.
So here we go:
GUESS WHO'S THE PROUD OWNER OF A JALABA?
GUESS WHO'S THE PROUD OWNER OF ONE OF THOSE SCARFS YOU WRAP AROUND YOUR HEAD (no I don't think it's called a turban, I'm pretty sure it's something different)?
Me! I mean, c'mon, you're reading my blog after all.
Aside from that, things have been insanely academic. It turns out Morocco is not one of the "fuck around" study abroad programs (take that The Onion). Seriously though, I'm in class at minimum, 4 hours a day and usually end up doing homework for at least 2 1/2-3 hours afterwards. It's insane, however there is still a good amount of time for fun, games, and getting lost in the never ending alleyways of Marrakech.
Did I talk about basketball last time? I'm not sure I did. Anyway, I play it. A lot. It really is a blast, and all the Moroccan folks get into it. Hell, there is even a basketball club at the center on Saturdays. It's really great. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that playing basketball against local kids is one of the highlights of this trip thus far.
Picture this:
Me. Girls in Hijabs. Moroccan guys. And everyone getting into it.
Of course, everyone get's schooled my your's truly, but they're great sports.
(Actually, I retract that comment. I'm awful at basketball, but it's damn fun.)
What else?
Sunday, we all went on a tour of the Mellah of Marrakech by the author of, "The Mellah of Marrakech." Now, I'm not going to give y'all a history lesson, however I will say this:
The tour was fantastic. Essentially, the Mellah is an old Jewish neighborhood and is absolutely amazing. Hah, I even got to open a door to a synagogue that hadn't been opened in 14 years.
Tonight: More random pictures.
This weekend: The Sahara.
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