And now I'm home...

Okay, so I'm home, finally, unfortunately. And so I'll make a last blog post about my little 2 week adventure. The weather, generally, got nicer and warmer as we went south: Chilly in Copenhagen, Cloudy in Berlin, increasingly warm in Amsterdam, sunny in Brussels, and absolutely splendid in Paris. And of course, I barely did any sort of historical or touristic sight-seeing: mostly our days were spent wandering around.

Copenhagen (May 9th-May 11th)

I arrived in Copenhagen on the 9th, and stayed in Humlebæk with my 2 travel companions, Jane (who was studying there) and Kelsie (who came from the US). Humlebæk is 30 minutes away from Copenhagen and we left for Berlin early on the 11th, so I only spent 1 full day in Copenhagen, but it was really great. Although, there's not really much to stay--clean city, small, blah blah blah. We had to leave at 5am to catch our flight, and almost missed our train.

Berlin (May 11th-May 14th)

Berlin was definitely my favorite! It was raining when we got there, but we stayed with this really nice woman, Albina, kind of on the fringe of East Berlin. Every day we'd take the tram and wander around the East--the farthest West we got was the Brandenburg Gate. During the day we hung out with Andy, Albina's roommate, and Christophe, another couchsurfer staying with Albina. I absolutely fell in love with Berlin--so many open spaces, so much green and trees and parks, such a good open, creative feeling: Berlin is a good place to be young. I especially loved all the artists' collectives scattered throughout the city: Albina directed us to one, I can't remember the name, that featured some warehouse-type buildings and an open area behind them filled with shacks acting as little ramshackle galleries, and really cool cafes and seating areas where you could sit and drink a beer on some sand. At one point, Jane, Christophe, Andy, and I (Kelsie was sick that day) spent a day walking around, going to the Wall, and walking through random parks, sipping on delicious and refreshing lemonade beer. One night, we went out to the Weinerei and met some other couchsurfers in the area.

Amsterdam (May 14th-May 17th)

Amsterdam...was totally trashy. Literally! There was a trash pickup strike! We got to Amsterdam expecting to see picturesque canals and a buttload of bikes, and they were there, but you kind of had to get past the GIANT MOUNTAINS OF TRASH. Luckily, after a day or 2 the strike ended and the trash guys went back to work (Jane and I started to clap and cheer at one truck at a stoplight, making the workers start to blush and laugh embarrassedly), but...Amsterdam is pretty trashy without the trash, so it definitely colored my perception of the city. Don't get me wrong, I loved Amsterdam, but the center was a little bit riddled with tacky and kitschy tourist shops. The center, with it's Madame Toussauds, just kind of felt like a European Times Square. Escaping the center, when we went to the Van Gogh museum, was definitely like a breath of fresh air. There was even a park! Then we went on a canal tour.

Brussels (May 17th-May 19th)

Basically everyone we asked about Brussels continually put it down--"it's boring," "there's nothing there," "Why are you going to Brussels??"--so needless to say we had pretty low expectations. Which is a good thing to have! Because we pictured Brussels to just be some gray, faceless city, we were never badly surprised; instead, Brussels was pretty pleasant! Of course, we left a day early, since there really ISN'T much to see in Brussels, but the time we spent there was nice and lax. After getting off the train from Amsterdam and having no idea where we were (and our CS host being MIA for the night), we wandered over to a park where we chilled in the sun for a bit, before finding our way to a last-minute cheapo hotel. Most of Brussels looks like Midtown Manhattan--lots of cars, big shiny buildings, people in business suits walking purposefully--but in the center, with all the old buildings and narrow streets, and the main square with these magnificent gold-accented buildings, it was really calming. And the beer...delicious. The main attraction in Brussels (other than Mannekinpis, a statue of a little boy peeing) is going to Delirium, a bar with over a hundred (nay, a thousand) kinds of beer. After a mishap with a snooty bartender who was generally being a jerk, we had a lovely evening (and some free drinks from his replacement to apologize for the service). The next day, we boarded an 11:00 am train for our final stop: Paris!


Paris (May 19th-May 23rd)

Paris could not have given us a better welcome: sunny, no clouds, and deliciously warm. After arriving at Gare du Nord, we met my friend Remi at the Louvre, where we stored our bags (after getting free tickets by conning the museum officials Jane and I were EU citizens, using my French 12-25 student card). After Kelsie took an early flight home, it was only me and Jane. The first day, after Remi finished his classes, we went to the Louvre for a couple hours to look at Renaissance, 19th-, and 18th-century French paintings, plus the Winged Victory of Samothrace. The show came complete with Remi, an art-history student at the Louvre, jumping around with excitement as he expounded upon the glories of 18th century French landscape painting. That night we stayed at Remi's apartment in Malakoff, a small suburb to the south of Paris, as we had arrived a day earlier than we had told our CS hosts, 2 students at Sciences Po. Next day, we had a lovely little picnic before wandering around the neighborhood; during our trip, we also went to Montmartre and the Eiffel Tower, but the highlight was definitely going to my cousin Andrew's apartment for tea. Not in the least because it involved Remi trying on many of Andrew's old clothing, including a spiffy canary-yellow 70's bespoke suit. We also went to the Cimitere de Montmartre, right in the middle of Clichy, which only cemented by love for cemeteries. What else? Oh yes, the night before we left Remi also made us a delicious dinner of asparagus omelets and veal. The next day, my last, we ended it with one last picnic: Italian saucisson, warm fresh baguette, Tomme du chevre, olives, stuffed chili peppers, and fruit juice. Sad that we were not allowed to drink wine in the park, we finished it with some Leffe beers at a nearby cafe.

Leaving, at Charles de Gaulle, was, if not overtly emotional, very...reflective. I love Europe, I loved being in Europe, and hopefully I can come back for a more permanent stay. Whether or not that means teaching English, magically finding a job I'm actually interested in, or marrying some European man to get citizenship remains to be seen. Anyway, everyone always asks me if I feel I've "changed" since I've been to Europe. I normally say yes, at least before I saw how scarily easy it was to fall back into my old habits of TV-watching and lounging around since I've been back in the US. Of course, I've spent almost 21 years in the US, and only 5 months in Europe, so of course my American habits trump all, but...I'd like to think I've changed. Maybe? I can never tell these things.

Anyway! C'est tout! Goodbye, blog!

Bises!

Greetings from Berlin

So I arrived in Berlin on Tuesday and we're leaving for amsterdam tomorrow morning. I'm writing this on my iPod, so this is going to be short, but I have absolutely fallen in love with Berlin! It's so...eclectic. Today were going to do some sightseeing, hit up the wall and then maybe brandenberg gate. Wunderbar!

Home Stretch

Welp, I'm leaving in an hour. My bags are packed, my suitcase is a beast, and my apartment is weirdly clean and empty--although even with a made bed, I still feel like it's mine. Right now, in some weird circularity, what began with oddly cold weather and light snow is ending with oddly cold weather and light rain. And I even got myself a pain au chocolat, just like that first day! Although it's not like getting pain au chocolat is out of the ordinary for me...I'm just getting nostalgic. I'm thinking about the next group of students to live here. Even though everyone else seemed to hate Auberge Cardinale, I absolutely loved it. It's the best apartment: cozy, traditional, with lots of character. It's also my first apartment ever, and I will definitely remember that. I want to write a note asking the next group to be kind to our Auberge, because it may not be swanky, but to me it became home.

Ugh ugh ugh I don't want to leave Aix!

Last night we had a little apéro chez Mme. Gigi (i.e. Professor Scott), where everyone brought drinks and food and gathered together one last time. It was fun, and kind of sad, especially because the group didn't begin to bond until just recently. In between glasses of wine and plates of food, I managed to get in my last goodbyes to everyone--even to Eliza and her little sister, who came before going off to a concert in Marseille. I also talked to Mme. Gigi, who said that I was "one of two people to think creatively," but that I couldn't express myself because of my atrocious grammar. Um...thanks? But seriously, it really meant a lot coming from her: she was totally one of the best professors I've ever had.

Oookay so it's about 10:30 right now and I want to call a cab (no way am I going to drag my ridiculous suitcase all the way to the bus) at 11:00, to be at the gare TGV for my 12:13 train. First stop Paris, and then tomorrow Copenhagen (oh god I'm going to Copenhagen tomorrow!), if the ash cloud doesn't get in my way. I don't want to go!


Question: how does one become an expatriate? I don't want to teach English, but I will if it means getting to live here. I don't want to leave!

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while; spring has sprung and I've just now gotten to the point where I no longer am having panic attacks from all the work I have to do (true story: if you are under the age of like, 50, you are probably not actually having a heart attack. it's good to know), so obviously I don't really want to be updating my blog. This won't be a picture-based one anyway; those take up too much of my time and right now I'd like to enjoy the weather and maybe nap. When I got back from Tunisia (because I went to Tunisia), the tree in the church courtyard outside my window had blossomed into this big green benevolent beast, sitting in the middle of the street. I can hear people outside my window congregating under his foliage, which is so dense and thick, and rises up like some big leafy gumdrop. Right now there are kids my age drinking and playing with the water in the fountain (which is clear and deliciously cold), people of various ages sitting on the steps to the eglise, tourists going to the Musee Granet, mothers pushing babies on strollers--the sun is out, the sky is blue, and even though I'm ridiculously tired and I still have work it's hard not to feel good.

Anyway, before I forget: yes, I went to Tunisia. Yes, Madeleine and my dad came over and we had a great (if frustrating) road trip around Provence (and yes, I still love them even if we all have different traveling styles and road trips bring out the worst in everyone).

But I don't really have time to dwell on that...because in, say, a week and a half, I'll be going up to Copenhagen, to start a 2 week trip with my two lovely ladies Jane and Kelsie before heading back to the US. Right now I'm trying to organize where we're going to stay, but we got the most serious stuff down, i.e. trains, planes, and automobiles. We're hitting up Copenhagen, Berlin, Amsterdam, Brussels, and Paris, and I am seriously excited.

But mostly shell-shocked. I still have to proof-read this paper before I have to email it in today, and then I have to memorize a short scene from "Hiroshima, mon amour" that I'm performing for my theater class next week. I also want to soak up as much Aix as I can before I leave. So, sorry friends and family, that I couldn't elaborate more--I will try to do one more good-bye post before I leave, but if I don't I'll try to make sure that on my travels I scrounge up some internet to make a quick post, even if it's just saying I've arrived in Brussels or something.

Enjoy the weather, wherever you are!

The Luberon, Nice, and Paris

Wow, I haven't updated in a while, have I? Anyway, here's a nice long blog post with lots of fun pictures--If I don't update consistently, I might as well just dump everything in one big go, right?

The Luberon

Okay, so I just need to get this out of the way because I went to Eliza's house renovated farmhouse in the Luberon, oh, weeks ago. I'll try to keep it short: we took a bus up to Bonnieux, in the hills of the Luberon, where her mother picked us up. Eliza, as I said, lives in a currently-being-renovated farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, down a dirt road in the hills of the Luberon, and it is breathtaking. Open skies, high cliffs, dense forests, pastures with actual sheep grazing on them, and actual stars that you can see at night. Eliza even has a little moped, which apparently does not work anymore. I only stayed from Saturday to Sunday: Saturday, we ate late lunch with her family, and then got a ride off to her friend's family's farmhouse...compound...thing, even MORE in the middle of nowhere, for her friend's birthday party. We stayed the night in one of the many rooms (they rent it out to groups going on excursions, or something), and the next day we sat around until about 4pm, until someone agreed to give us a ride to Apt, where her mother picked us up. Although it was awkward being around people I didn't know and who I could barely understand or talk to, I enjoyed myself with the 60 degree weather (this was February), the beautiful surrounding pastures, and by drawing in Eliza's notepad.

Bonnieux

Eliza's house

Pasture

Nice
The weekend after I got back from Morocco I went to Nice for Carnival, which was ridiculously fun. The program took us to the grand parade, the theme of which was "King of the Blue Planet" (the irony of having a "green" type of thing, for a parade with countless exhaust-spewing floats that left Nice covered in confetti, garbage, and probably non-biodegradable silly string was not lost on me): I could go into detail about each and every float and the amazing performers (there was a massive mechanized dragon that spewed smoke, a giant float of Obama dressed as Superman holding a tree, acrobats performing in a bubble, hundreds of performers wearing amazing costumes, I was covered from head to toe in silly string), but to get a good idea of what it was like, I'm just going to say that there is still confetti on my floor. When I came back that night and got changed into my pajamas, an ocean of it fell out from who knows where. I still find it sometimes in between pages of books, in pockets, and under my bed. The Côte d'Azur, itself, was stunning: I have never seen a color blue like that. Unfortunately, the beaches in Nice are rocky and not that fun to walk barefoot on, although I did take my boots off and tough the Mediterranean for the first time. Nice had a wonderful Italian flavor, and although it's glory days are gone, walking along the Promenade des Anglais and seeing all the magnificent hotels, expensive bistros, and beautiful white boardwalk facing the sea made me feel a little bit more relaxed and a little bit glamorous.

Me and Destiny, the adorable granddaughter of Professor Scott, the Professor-in-Residence from Vandy. She spent the entire day putting as much silly string and confetti as she could find on her head (this was only the beginning).

Whenever we went to take a group photo, someone would attack us with silly string.

Told you.

Paris
Last weekend, I took the TGV up to Paris to visit my cousin (my grandmother's first cousin, really), Andrew. I stayed with him from Friday afternoon to Sunday morning, and it was really nice--I didn't do anything touristy, and except for spending an afternoon wandering around St. Germain and the Seine, and Andrew's 'hood of the 3rd arrondissement, most of the weekend was spent talking to Andrew and playing with his cats. I hadn't seen him since I was last in Paris, February of 2006, so it was good to see him again (and I'm sure he's reading this). Saturday, as I said, I walked around St. Germain and discovered Pierre Hermes macarons, which are highly superior to the ones at Laduree. Unfortunately I didn't take a picture...they were so bright and colorful, some even dusted with edible glitter, in flavors like Jasmine, Rose, Anise and Kumquat, Chocolate and Passion Fruit...delicious. After waiting on a line out the door, I bought Andrew a little assortment of them, and at first he was actually going to make me take them, so we compromised by sharing them together, as a very decadent dessert (fortunately, there were two of each flavor, making it much easier). I also made friends with Andrew's cats, especially Sylvia, an adorable, sweet little cat who likes to play with plastic bags and sleep on my pelvis at night. And, of course, no trip to see Andrew is without hearing various sordid stories about my WASPy family and getting to see lots and lots of old photographs--he even showed me his old homework from when he was seven years old! I was also cordially introduced to one of Andrew's younger friends, a student with whom we had dinner, who was very nice, if not a little overly serious (who also knew of all the sordid affairs of my family...and let me tell you, when someone you have never met already knows everything about your relatives, it makes you feel a little bit like a character in a book someone has read).

I left on Sunday morning with an inkwell shaped like a hippopotamus and a book of Brassai photographs, with a little commemorative note from Andrew (last time it was a Paris Michelin Guide, a book of Jaques Louis David paintings, a hat, a scarf, and a waistcoat from the 1800s that I still treasure); after a mad dash to the TGV station in which I was freaking out about missing my train and having to buy a new, 90 euro ticket (the most convenient line to Gare Lyon was closed, so we had to run to the A line, which, apparently went on strike and closed not 30 minutes later), we made it and I said goodbye to my cousin with a promise to come back soon. Anyway, it was a lovely trip (sorry...Andrew's high-class old-world mannerisms rubbed off on me. Give it another day or so and I will stop describing things as "lovely" or "vulgar" or calling people "great beauties"), and it was nice to just see family and not worry about doing touristy things at all. I really can't wait to come back--Andrew will probably be upset with me, but more and more I'm considering how much I really want to stay in America, and not France!

But anyway, here are some pictures (mostly taken with Andrew's camera, as my battery was dead):

There were a ton of locks with the initials of various couples all over the Pont des Arts

So that's it! My fingers are killing me. Although we FINALLY have heat, it seems to be spring: the 10 day weather forecast never dips below the mid-50s, the sun is shining, the birds are singing, I feel a weight lifted off my shoulders and my newfound pep to be productive is fighting against the urge to just sit outside and read or stroll around town. However, last night M. Poirsson (of the old couple we have dinner with) totally killed the mood by saying Spring in Provence may be sunny, but Mistral season and extremely windy during the day--apparently the French have a saying: "En avril, ne te découvre pas d'un fil," which is basically saying that one must be careful not to be too optimistic about the arrival of beautiful weather by taking off all your heavy clothes, because it's windy and just gets cold at night.

Ahh whatever. It's sunny! I'm in Provence! My family is coming in a couple weeks!

Bises!

Last stop part 2: Ourika Valley (and Barcelona)

Because we wanted to get out of Marrakesh, we decided to go on a day trip: since Essaouira didn't pan out, Saturday morning we stopped at one of the many signs on the street advertising day trips and excursions to check out a Berber village we heard was an hour away. Quickly we were ushered inside the tiny office of Syba Cars ("Car Rentals and Tourist Transportation") to talk excursions. Although the pictures of the Moroccan desert in the travel binder looked amazing, going to the desert and back in less than a day was impossible, so we decided to go to the Berber village in Ourika Valley in the Atlas Mountains, an hour away. Because we had missed large tour bus, we arranged for our very own driver--Ahmed--to take us there personally for 300DH (30 euros) each.
On our way to our destination, Ahmed made sure to stop at various spots of interest to take pictures--one conveniently at an outcrop of stalls selling jewelry, art, clothing, scarves, etc. We also stopped at a Berber village that sold argan wares--argan is a nut that's extremely popular and important in Morocco, and is ground into oil used in all sorts of things. It was obviously a touristy thing--they had some women grinding argan for show, and when we got there there was an English-speaking woman on hand to whisk us away for a whole tour of products--but it was...well okay, it was interesting. I feel weird having playing the character of rich white tourist in poverty-stricken land, and I don't want to "ooh" and "ahh" over some sad little village putting on some show for my enjoyment. My friend Charlotte even gave some tiny little boys all her pens, and they went bonkers. I liked being shown all the stuff made with argan, but when it came time to leave we were ushered into the store where this lady stuck to me like glue--whenever I politely mentioned that I thought something was nice, she would throw it into a little basket she clutched and asked me if I wanted another. At this point I only had 100DH, but when I told her I reaaally couldn't buy anything, she point-blank asked me if I didn't want to help out the Berber women. Auuuughhh. So I left with a little tub of argan lip balm for 50DH--I was almost pressured into adding random hair stuff to it, but thankfully I physically didn't have the cash.


Argan women grinding seeds...for show, I'm sure, but...whatever.


Village with the argan wares.


So we left, and finally got to the village--I'm going to take a guess and say it's called Oualmass--on the banks of the Ourika River. After Ahmed made us go to the lame expensive touristy restaurant (obviously a deal in the trip or whatever), Ahmed got us a guide, Majit, to take us into the mountains to see a waterfall. It was really fun: after being in cities for so long, it was nice to get to do some light hiking. The village was basically built over the mountains, and while hiking we passed over rickety little bridges across rivers and scrambled up boulders. Along the way, I chatted a bit with Majit, who must have been at about 18, when he wasn't half-listening to his iPod and leagues ahead of us, totally a pro at ushering tourists through as quickly as possible. He was really nice, at least from what I knew of him: grew up in the village, been a guide for 4 years, liked the mountains.


Berber village

We finally got to the first waterfall, but unfortunately we didn't have the time or equipment to continue much further. The waterfall wasn't necessarily spectacular, but it was pretty, and we rested for a bit with some tea.





Group photo with Majit

Majit told us that many people go camping in the mountains, or at least on longer, all day hikes (my dad would love this), but we didn't have the time. So, we departed: not through the same route we arrived by, which rose steeply among slick rocks and rivers, but around in a wide circle back to our starting place, through more open and rocky plains. It was...undescribable. By this point the clouds had started to gather and rain was on the way: the mountains and ridges, reddish brown and without trees, stood starkly against the gray sky. As we approached our sharp descent along a dusty brown scree slope, you could see the river and the houses of the village built into the facing mountain slope; in the distance, dramatic cliffs and higher, snow-covered peaks.




View of the village


The rain came as we started our descent, so Majit hurried us on quickly. Thankfully, zig-zagging down the scree wasn't too difficult, and we easily made it back to the road and Ahmed, who was waiting with the car. When it was time to pay Majit, (NOT included in the price of the car) we were able to scrounge together a hodge-podge mix of euros and dirham, even though he said it wasn't necessary after he saw the worried looks in our faces and furious scrambling through our wallets; anyway, I really didn't want to not pay someone who personally guided us. Besides, he was nice.
The ride back was spent sleeping, despite the awful Middle Eastern music Ahmed played (I was SO SICK of Middle Eastern music after this trip, because it is the only music Moroccans seem to play); back in Marrakesh we crashed, ate in Djmaa el Fna, and prepared for our flight the next morning to Barcelona. Despite the disappointment of the touristy overpriced restaurant, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and the escape from the madness of Marrakesh. And even though I don't think I can ever completely get over being a Western tourist to a poor nation and feeling exploitative and all that, Morocco--or what little I saw of it--was amazing. My dream is to go back and hike the Atlas Mountains; maybe see Fès, Casablanca, and Essaouira; and travel in the desert.

Anyway, we left at 10:00 Sunday morning for Barcelona, using the last of my money--50DH--for the taxi. Because our bus back to Aix wasn't until 10pm, we made our way over to the Picasso Museum (which was free!) and wandered around there for a couple of hours. I'm sad we were only in Barcelona for a couple hours: one of these days I really need to go there for a weekend. We didn't really see anything except the museum and the Arc de Triomf before we made our way to the bus station; one argument with the bus driver and Eurolines over a ticket mishap and 7 hours later, we were back in Aix-en-Provence at 5:30 on Monday morning, in time for classes.

The end! Hopefully I'll continue with my blog updates--tomorrow we're going to Nice for Carnival, so that should be fun. A bientot!

Marrakesh

Last stop!

We arrived in Marrakesh tired and ready to fall asleep, but we quickly got a cab--it was easy, they were all clamoring outside the airport--and payed 15 euro (a horrible steal, as we later learned) to meet our friend Charlotte, who had arrived earlier, and Djmaa el Fna, the main square.



A quick breakfast of honeyed bread...stuff...and tea and a nap at our hostel on Dar el Bacha later, we were ready to explore the souks.
Marrakesh is...ridiculous. It's not like I haven't only been the west--I stayed in Japan for a month--but Morocco is something completely different. Firstly, I didn't take as many pictures in Marrakesh as I did in Portugal, mainly because I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself, and I couldn't really get completely over being the white exploitative tourist girl: yeah, sure, I supported the economy by buying LOTS and LOTS of cheap amazing stuff, but when every word you hear is "gazelle" or "petite fille" or "you want to buy?" you don't really want to whip out a camera too often. It felt...tacky. But anyway, to continue. Marrakesh is full of sights, sounds, and smells: of spices and cooking and jasmine, but also of pollution, exhaust, beeps from mopeds weaving through the narrow market streets; and men EVERYWHERE--the women just kind of seemed to fade into the background, especially as an unveiled young Western woman tends to attract lots of catcalls. And, of course, when it rained and I didn't have a hood I would loosely drape my scarf around my head: like that, most of the calls would stop, or at least I felt less unwanted attention towards myself. The souks in Marrakesh are filled with everything: untold amounts of jewelry, mounds of spices and nuts, leather slippers, vendors selling anything from shampoo to individual cigarettes to grapefruit. It was sensory overload.




Shopping in the souks was at once tiresome and awesome. For one, you couldn't even sweep your eyes over anything as you walked for fear of having someone yell out "les gazelles! est-ce que vous voulez acheter quelque chose?" ("les gazelles! do you want to buy something?"), let alone stop and calmly peruse. Although, on the other hand, we had a fun time in one stall looking at jewelry for 20 minutes while the owner was helping us pick out stuff, and it was great to be able to haggle over prices: with tourists, Moroccans hike up the prices twice, or maybe three times the original price--it was endlessly empowering being able to look at a bracelet, shrug at the original price, walk away, and have the shopkeep run after me asking what price I was willing to pay. And I got SO MUCH STUFF (a large part of why I have absolutely no money right now): two bracelets, a necklace, shoes, a block of jasmin (and I will tell you why), harem pants...insane. We also learned just how much everything revolves around money here, especially when Western tourists are involved: when lost in the souk, we'd seek a kid to lead us out, which cost money. The first time, a teenager led us to Djmaa el Fna and I gave him 20 dirham because I was tired and my friend wanted him to break a 20 (that...would not have happened); the second, two adorable young kids in keffiyehs, pushing a massive bike, led us to the main square. They'd weave ahead of us through the teeming mass of people, stopping every so often to look back and make sure we were there, even waiting as we stood and pretended to peruse a run-down store selling used electronics as we waited for a man who was hounding us to leave.



Although, on the bad side, you couldn't just ask for directions: one kid, even after telling him we knew the way, thanks, still insisted on walking with us, or ahead of us--when we finally just got a cab to get rid of him, he hung on to the open window for dear life, insisting we give him money. We did not. I'm sorry, kid. Better luck next time.

The second day in Morocco we had planned to go to Essaoira, 3 hours away on the coast; however, since it was already 10am by the time we had coffee and we had been told to go earlier or at least stay overnight, and it was a beautiful day, we opted to stay in Marrakesh and go out on Saturday. It was really nice: instead of just staying in the souks we were able to wander around and see some more sightseeing around Marrakesh. Before heading of to the medrasa we stopped for a bite first: near our hostel in Dar el Bacha we stopped a tiny little restaurant on our way to Djma el Fna: not only were we the only women, we were the only tourists, which definitely meant this place would be delicious. And oh my god, it was the most delicious food ever: lentils, beans, curry, spices, bread, all served with hot and sugary mint tea. Definitely perfect.





After the deliciousness, we headed off to the medrasa near Djmaa el Fna...I'm not entirely sure what it was called Koutoubia mosque. But among the gardens and the orange trees; the men filing in and out to pray; and the sounds of the muezzin from the top of the tower, it was all very calming.



From there, we headed off to see El Badi Palace; sadly, it was closed, but in our wanderings around the massive castle walls and armed guards we met a Berber man who offered to show us the nearby Jewish quarter and synagogue for free. It was really amazing: the synagogue dated back to 1492, when the Jews were expelled from Spain and moved to Morocco.



Then, he gave us a tour of the area, and we stopped off to meet his friend, another Berber who sold a myriad of spices, herbs, powders, and perfumes. After giving us a tour of what was displayed outside, he welcomed us inside his tiny shop where his wife served us tea and he gave us a whole tour of his wares: rose hand oil; jasmin, musk, ginseng perfumes; khol; curry and cumin and saffron; paint powders; everything. He even gave us traditional Berber makeup: a little plate-shaped piece of brown-red clay that when leaves a blood-red ink on a licked finger, which you then rub on your lips and cheeks. I also bought a little block of jasmin perfume, to be used on your body or in your drawers for your clothes--I couldn't leave without buying anything, he was so nice.


Group photo. I had a Berber marking on my chin that our shopkeeper (I totally forgot his name, oops) drew in khol, which, although I wiped off later as it's a religious symbol, was pretty cool.

We then made our way to the Mederasa Ben Youssef and the Museum of Morocco, where I actually met an Ursuline nun--definitely an odd occurrence.



That night, after a nice long nap, we headed out to Djmaa el Fna to eat: at night, it turns into a massive open air restaurant, with waiters hounding you with menus from left and right, trying to get you to eat with them. That night we ate at a fairly touristy place, but it was delicious: sausage, olives, bread, chicken with couscous, vegetables, soup, and, of course, tea. The next night, obviously already locals, we picked a place where I ate this amazing plate of ground beef garnished with various spices and chopped onions, sopped up with ripped pieces of soft pita. We also stopped at a vendor where we bought these delicious honey-and-sesame coated peanuts. So. Good.

Phew! Okay! One more day! This is so freaking long. Please wait for another entry for Ourika Valley, thanks.