Last of the Land of Many Tangines

Babel Juice

Not too much else to add from my Moroccan adventures… There was a restaurant called “Tower of Babel.”  It sounded like a ridiculous name, but had all sorts of items on the menu and we went there when someone was craving pasta.  I tried out a drink called “Babel Juice” and still have no idea what it was.  If I had to guess, I think it might have had some avocado juice in it and maybe also ice cream?  It came with a little umbrella, so obviously it was good :)

I explored Agadir a little bit and found a neat park, where all the locals, especially women and children, came to sit and chat, probably about the strange European girl that had come to join.  I also found a really beautiful mosque, La Mosquée Med V (Talborjt), and took some pictures of the outside.  I wasn’t sure if I was allowed in, and didn’t want to get in trouble! 

Before leaving, I also decided that I absolutely needed to watch the sun set.  After all, we were completely on the west coast of Africa and while I’ve seen sunrise over the ocean, I’d never seen sunset, and I figured it would be pretty spectacular.  I wasn’t disappointed!

Surf's Up!

We arrived in Agadir after a several-hour bus ride, only to find ourselves at the bus station which seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.  Having already dealt with the overbearing “Pick me! Pick me!” taxi drivers in Marrakech, we decided that we didn’t want to deal with them and that based on the maps that Kyle had printed out, it wasn’t that far to our hostel anyway.  Famous last words.  The sidewalk alternated between somewhat reasonable, pretty shoddy, and altogether nonexistent, which didn’t get along so well with Jess’s roller suitcase.  I have no idea what the temperature was, but it must have been somewhere in the range of 90 degrees Fahrenheit (32 degrees Celsius) and the sun just beat down on us, taunting us and daring us to continue.  In reality, the walk was probably only forty-five minutes or so, but it felt like a good hour or more :)  Luckily we didn’t have any problems locating the hotel!  We checked in and checked out our room, which had been advertised as ‘apartment-style.’  Turns out that meant that there was a “kitchen” (a sink, a microwave, a single plug-in hotplate, and some cookware) in addition to the three twin beds and small balcony.  We considered cooking, but the food was so inexpensive that we figured it was a better idea just to eat out for all our meals (except breakfast, which was included).  

Our big Agadir adventure took place just north of Agadir, in Taghazout.  Kyle had found a company and booked us a full day of surfing lessons!  Our surf instructor, Tarik (Tariq?), was a Moroccan version of Bob Marley and spoke fluent Arabic, Egyptian Arabic, French, English, Norwegian, Swedish, and in all likelihood another couple of languages that I may or may not have even heard of.  He sent us for a quick jog down the sandy beach to warm up and then led us through a full set of calisthenics to make sure we were prepared before we started lessons.  We pulled on (and when I say pulled on, I mean literally tugged) our wetsuits and got started, armed with our surfboards and our positive attitudes.  The lessons were all on land, and involved making me (I can’t speak for the others) feel very silly balancing on my stomach on the board and pretending to paddle.  He showed us how we needed to paddle until we were caught up in the wave, then arch our backs and push up with our hands. 


At this point, we strapped the line to our ankle (allowing us to stay attached to the board in the very unlikely *cough cough* chance that we might fall off or otherwise lose hold) and headed out to sea to give it a go.  First thing I figured out… That surfboard is HEAVY!  I had this Baywatch image of just jogging into the water, effortlessly carrying my board under one arm, but in reality, with both arms gripping the board, inching my way out, I looked like a child trying to pull along the family dog, who really doesn’t want to go for a walk.  Anyway, after trudging my way out and getting to the point where I was meeting up with some waves, I was able to successfully paddle and ride the wave in, proudly surveying the scene from my “I’m-a-mermaid-

Not me... but you get the idea

in-front-of-a-boat” position.  I headed back in for further instruction, where Tarik taught me to go from this ‘pushing up’ position to swinging my legs through and getting into a crouched standing position.  Let me tell you that this feels very silly on land, where I was hopping from one position to the next thinking, “I’m terrible at this.  Now you expect me to do this in the water, balancing on an unstable slab?!”

But… I was there to try to surf, and gosh darn it, I was going to do my best!  He told me that it was best to just try to get the hang of it and that he didn’t expect me to succeed right away.  So I tried.  And tried again.  And tried again.  Over and over, I tried to do what I had been told, with Tarik whistling every now and then from up on the cliff to tell me to go back to the left, away from the rocky area with “harder” waves.  I was getting more and more tired and even getting out to where I could think about catching a wave was almost impossible, because as I got to a point where the water came up to my waist or higher, the surfboard that I was carrying/dragging along would get sucked into the wave, pulling me backward and impeding my forward progress.  And when I tried to get up on the board, I absolutely bit the dust every. single. time.  I think I must have swallowed two gallons of saltwater, with an additional gallon going up my nose- not exactly a pleasant feeling!  After crashing, several of the waves pulled me down and scraped me across the rocks… if I hadn’t been wearing a wetsuit, I’m sure I would have been cut up and bleeding.  The once- perfect polish on my toes was completely rubbed off and it looked like I had repeatedly stubbed my toes against every possible piece of furniture you could imagine.  The only thing keeping me going was the fact that I'm stubborn as a mule and was determined to succeed... even if success meant getting up just once.  Tarik eventually called me back in to shore and said, “What are you doing?  You’re a kamikaze!  It looks like you’re trying to kill yourself!”  Welp.  Guess my efforts looked like they were going about as well as they felt they were

What a role model...

going!  He told me that it was time to come in and take a break and that lunch would be served soon.  Jess and Kyle came in at this point, too.  Kyle had been surfing once or twice before and had a bit of a head start on the two of us but was nonetheless having some trouble getting the hang of the waves (although I would have easily traded, as ‘having some trouble getting the hang of the waves’ is a different thing entirely from being completely annihilated by the water without even being able to stand up) and Jess looked kind of like I felt- completely exhausted and much more salty.  

I peeled off my wetsuit, slathered on some more sunscreen, and relaxed while waiting for the delivery of our sandwich lunches, enjoying watching other people attempt to surf with varying degrees of success and taking notes on possible helpful techniques.  Kyle showed me some guys that were holding their boards above their heads so that they wouldn’t get caught in the waves and impede the ability to get out further in the water (extra helpful for shorter people, myself included!).  I also saw the technique of diving into the wave with the board- either staying on top or spinning and doing a roll.  Our sandwiches and our avocado juice (yes, avocado juice!) were delicious and refueled me for another attempt.  With newfound energy and renewed determination, I squeezed back into that darn wetsuit and headed out for another try.  I think that Tarik felt bad for me and really wanted to see me succeed, so he came down to the water’s edge and played the role of personal coach, allowing me to go out and try and then call me back in for immediate feedback and suggestions.  This was really tiring (having to run all the way out of the water and then back in!) but extremely helpful, as I finally figured out some of what he wanted me to do.  

After several more (unsuccessful) attempts followed up with Tarik’s advice, I picked my wave, paddled along as I was caught up in it, pushed my upper body up, kept my elbows in, and got my feet underneath me, managing to STAND UP on the board!  I probably only lasted a couple of seconds, but it felt AMAZING and was totally worth all of the morning’s pain.  Tarik was just as excited as I was, and sent me back out to try again.  Throughout the course of the next hour or two, I won’t claim that I became a surfing expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I was able to get up and ‘hang ten’ :) on a semi-consistent basis.  I’m really glad that I didn’t give up after the challenging morning and I’m excited to see how much more I’ll be able to improve the next time I give surfing a try!

Tired after a long, SUCCESSFUL day of surfing!

Arabian Nights

… like Arabian Days, more often than not, are hotter than hot, in a lot of good ways…

It even said Aladdin...

As I arrived in Morocco in the early evening (crossing over the Mediterranean for my first ever glimpse of Africa!), I could hear Aladdin lyrics playing in my head.  Though I have no idea if the Disney movie was supposed to be set in Morocco, in the city of Marrakesh (or Marrakech, or راكش, depending on what sign you read), there is a bustling market, which is very similar to some of the opening scenes.  This market, which is made up many individual stands (the souks), is full of men trying to sell you everything ranging from Aladdin slippers and lamps to traditional jewelry to elaborate dresses to cheap tshirts to leather goods which in all likelihood will never completely lose the strong scent of goat.  Unfortunately I don’t have any pictures of the maze of shops so you’re going to have to imagine the animated version and eventually go check it out yourself!  

Some of the craziness

A bus from the airport took me to the center square, Djemma el Fna.  The city was beautiful by night, but I have to admit that I was 100% overwhelmed upon reaching the Djemma el Fna!  There were people milling about everywhere and the combination of lights in the souks and foodstands with smoke from who knows what created kind of a mystical haze that covered everything and made it all the more difficult to determine what was going on where.  My directions, which had seemed so simple when I printed them off the internet, didn’t make the slightest bit of sense, as few of the streets had visible labels at all, and those that did were much more likely to be marked in Arabic than French.  By carefully choosing my targets (a woman who looked to be about 25 years old and a little girl that was between 8 and 12), I was able to ask for directions without telling some creepy stranger where I was going to be staying OR having someone offer to walk me all the way there (which would require a hefty tip at the final destination, of course).  At my hostel, I met up with three friends and fellow assistants: Jess and Jenny from the states and Kyle from Canada.  

Some of them displayed dishes for passers-by to check out

Over the course of our several days in Marrakech at the beginning and the end of the Morocco experience, we ate at any number of little stands and restaurants.  However, every single restaurant offered almost exactly the same thing: Tangine, Couscous, and Brochettes.  (Brochettes are basically kebabs- everything that’s not in Arabic is in French).  The options for each one of these three items include vegetarian, chicken, beef, fish, and maybe another animal or two.  I’m pretty sure that sheep brain and various byproducts of goat were available if you were interested as well.  The bright side: none of these options was very expensive, with the majority of meals costing between 2 and 6 euros, including drinks.  The not-so-bright side: not a ton of variety… the food at every stand literally tasted the same, and each stand has at least one man designated to flag you down and assure you that “This is the best food in Marrakech!  I give you good deal.  Free juice!” and to forcefully encourage you to “Come, come, sit down!” if you seem the least bit interested or to redouble efforts and increase volume if it seems like you’re not interested and may check out the next place.  

Kyle checking out some of the dried fruits

As a ‘French’ tourist (The majority of foreigners seemed to be French, probably due to the prevalence of French language-speaking and the close proximity to Europe, so native always assumed that’s where we were from), we were also seen as perfect targets for everyone trying to make some extra money- from people in legitimate stands selling beautiful wares to women and little children sort of selling biscuits or travel packages of tissues and sort of just begging for “Un dirham? Un dirham?”  The problem with eating in the center of all this hustle and bustle is that you’re no longer a moving target, and they can come up and launch their assault while you’re a captive audience.  Occasionally someone who worked at the ‘restaurant’ would shoo them away, but otherwise we just got good at repeating ourselves: “No, merci.  No, thank you.  No.  No.  No.  No!”  

Saadi tombs

Kyle posing with our 'pool'

During the days, we set out, walking purposefully ahead and keeping our eyes forward to avoid being guilted into stopping and checking out the goods for sale, we mostly just wandered around the city trying to find things that were listed as ‘interesting’ on the town map.  We did see some neat palace ruins, where I was extremely impressed with the intricacy of the tile patterns on walls, floors, and ceilings and also found the Saadian tombs after some stellar searching and map-reading.  Kyle and I were interested in what looked to be beautiful palace gardens and pools over on the outskirts of town, and ended up going on a very long walk through some semi-sketchy areas only to find an empty, dusty field where in all likelihood we weren’t supposed to visit, judging by the walls surrounding the courtyard and the heavy metal gate.  One of the gates was broken in, so we decided to take a minute and document the ‘lovely’ site since we’d made the trip out.  Lesson learned: Objects on map may be smaller and less important and further away than they appear :)  

Last but definitely NOT least was one of my favorite part of Marrakesh- the delicious orange juice!  For a mere 4 dirham (50 cents), you could buy a full glass of orange (or grapefruit, depending on your preference) juice that was squeezed right before your very eyes.  Talk about a great way to start your morning and end your evening!!  After several days of amazing juice and other overwhelming sensory experiences, I left Marrakech and we hopped on a bus to the coastal city of Agadir.  Au revoir, Aladdin :)

Me with some of those elaborate tile patterns

Beware, Beware- the Ides of... February.

This one’ll be short, sweet, and practical!  When people talk about February, they inevitably talk about Valentine’s Day and maybe the comes-around-every-four-years Leap Day, but few people recognize that it’s the ‘normal’ February that’s the doozy.  Why?  Because… 30 days has September, April, June, and November… yada yada except February, which has TWENTY EIGHT (or in leap years, 29).  What’s the big deal about 28?  There are 7 days in a week.  And as I learned with those endless times tables, 4 x 7 = 28, meaning that February is exactly four weeks long.  So far, not rocket science.  You trick is that this combination means that March has the EXACT same setup of days/dates.  Following me yet?   

Check out the following calendar for February 2010:

And a calendar of the first 28 days of March 2010:

Look familiar?  

Moral of the story- if you’re booking plane tickets in January for a March trip and know that you want to fly on Friday the 4^th, make sure that you book your tickets for March 4^th and not February 4^th because there’s a Friday the 4^th in both months.  Trust me, it’s easy to make the mistake :) 

The Ice Queen takes on Spain

I was recently reminded on a trip to the east coast that some people actually do read this blog and enjoy hearing what I’ve been up to.  So… I apologize for the long hiatus in blog writing, and hope to entertain you with some stories about my travels and adventures over the past several months!  

Let’s see… I think I’m going to start with Madrid.  

This year, two of my good friends- one from my hometown and one I met in Madison- were both in Madrid, the former as a study abroad student and the latter as a teaching assistant in the Spanish equivalent of my French job.  I’d talked with them both on and off throughout the year about getting together and realized while looking at trip options for my winter break (in February- NOT to be confused with my Christmas break in December… gotta love the French system) that options in flying to Morocco are cheaper and more plentiful from Madrid than from Marseille.  (If you’re thinking, “wait… what?!  You went to Morocco?!,” don’t fear- I’ll post about that one soon!)  Win-win in my book… I’d get a chance to see the boys AND save money!  So, after minimal planning and a couple of booking mishaps, I was set!

I made it to the bus stop in Carpentras and the train station in Avignon without any problems (this is notable, especially after what had happened on my winter break) and hopped my plane in Marseille.  Nathaniel (my friend from home) agreed to meet me at the airport in Madrid.  Mid-flight on my way there, I started feeling slightly anxious.  I realized in my excitement to get to Madrid, I had assumed that everything would work out as planned and had neither a way to contact Nathaniel nor any idea where he lived if he wasn’t there to meet me at the airport.  Eep!  Fortunately, he was right there waiting for me- reliable as always :)  I hung tight to my single bag on the metro, remembering my one and only trip to Madrid two years before, where one of my travel buddies had her wallet stolen!  

My favorite street performer in Plaza Mayor

We stopped in at his place to drop stuff off and then headed downtown to meet up with Jordan (my Madison friend) and his friend, Jackie, who was visiting.  The name of the place we hit up for dinner (but let’s be honest… drinks)  escapes me, but the gist of it was that for every little appetizer you order, you get a 1 euro beer.  Delicious and cheap!  It’s still crazy to me that the two of them met in a town of something like 6 million people and figured out that I knew them both!  Anyway, they get along like an old married couple ;) and the combination of the two of them with the two of us girls was just what the doctor ordered.  

Nathaniel posing with the Madrid symbol

While Jordan worked and Nathaniel ‘studied’ the next day, they sent Jackie and me off to explore the city.  They doubted our abilities, since neither of us speak Spanish, but they needn’t have worried!  We probably had more fun without them than we would have had with them anyway ;)  I was particularly proud of my success in asking a saleswoman in Ingles where I could buy a razor!  Granted, all I was ‘no hablas espagnol’ and ‘rasoir (the French word) por favor?’ along with a fairly obvious shaving my legs pantomime, but still… Chalk it up as a win.  Nathaniel came to escort us to Jordan’s schwanky restaurant recommendation for lunch, which was good because he needed to practice his Spanish ;) (Jackie and I were fluent by this point, clearly, after spending all morning on our own.)  He gave us the tourist tour of Madrid and was nice enough to organize a protest since he thought that we needed to witness one.  

Let’s see… other fun and notable parts of the trip in no particular order… 

-An open-air market with delicious fresh fruit, where Nathaniel showed off his newfound wine connoisseur knowledge and introduced me to some study abroad friends. 

-Going to class- and seeing some of the same friends- when I joined him in class on Friday morning.  I think I enjoyed the lecture more than he did, since it was simple enough for me to understand and follow along (meaning that it was waaaaay below his level, of course).  I was actually called on to read out loud but he piped up to tell his prof that I didn’t speak Spanish.  Ah well, it would have been a good charade! 

Gotta throw in some ridiculous pics

-Walking all over the city, hanging out at parks, touring the Prado, and reminiscing about high school days (when we played French horn in the band together and he and the other section members used to call me the Ice Queen of the Underworld) as well as catching up about more recent events (excursions in France, spring semester vs full year study abroad students, etc). 

-Making dinner plans for the two of us along with study abroad friends, a roommate, and a Madison friend, Scott, who was studying abroad in France and came to join in the fun. 

Side note here: Dinner could very well have ended in disaster, as Nathaniel’s a very good cook and I’m very much not, and he left me in charge to do everything while he hopped on the metro to pick up Scott at the airport.  When he returned, the potato soup looked very much not like potato soup and I hadn’t finished half of the stuff I was supposed to finish… but I hadn’t ruined anything yet and he was able to salvage my feeble attempt :)

Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end and I had to leave Madrid behind en route to Morocco, so after a few fun days, I bid adieu to Spain, packed up my bag, and returned to the airport!  Gracias for a lovely visit, boys :)

Oh So Pretty

Follow-up to my last post about forward European men…

I recently taught a group of eighteen secondes (who would be sophomores in the US system) one of my favorite lessons, where we go over all of the vocab for how to describe the location of things in a picture (at the top, in the middle, on the right, in the foreground, above, below, etc) and then they break up into groups and describe their picture to another team, who then does their best to draw the picture without having seen it.  It’s always spirited and students resort to French to say the equivalent of things like, “Are you stupid or what?  I said a small dog!” or “That doesn’t look anything what I’m describing.  You’re a terrible artist.”  Taken out of context, the phrases that come out seem crazy… but I assure you that in the heat of the moment, it seems like a big freakin’ deal that the other team drew the giraffe facing the right instead of the left.  I intervene as quickly as possible to remind them that we’re describing things “In English! In English!” so that it doesn’t get too out of control.  One side note: I wish I had more lessons/activities like this, as it seems like they’re more likely remember vocab if they are able to use the words in some sort of activity.  A similarly successful lesson has been to introduce common phrases used when you’re talking on the telephone and then having students write their own conversations to act out.  I’ve had groups present everything from practical conversations where they make a reservation at a restaurant and ask questions about “the chef’s special” to ridiculous conversations between spies planning the details for Sarkozy’s assassination…

But anyway, where was I?  Oh yes.  Secondes.  After all of this fun and excitement, the bell rang and students filed out of class.  As usual, I was met with a flurry of “Goodbye miss!” and “Have a good day, miss!” exclamations as they ran out the door.  The last student was taking his time putting all of his school supplies back in his backpack and when everyone else had left, he looked up at me and said, “You’re so pretty.”  I smiled and said thanks and he walked out, clearly pleased that he’d been able to get his point across.  With some of my BTS classes, I might worry a little bit more about this crossing the line, but in this instance it was just so innocent and cute.  He clearly didn’t expect any response on my end, but merely wanted to tell me what was on his mind.  Needless to say, I felt like Maria from West Side Story for the rest of the day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L7BQRGXFLJs