The Dance of the Seven Veils

Morocco is a shock to the senses. Sights, sounds, and smells are all foreign, and the art of subtlety has been lost on this culture. The basic breakdown: friends Martie, Cassie, and myself left Tuesday for a trip to Morocco, in which time we planned to go on an authentic camel trek, and return back to Marrakech in time to meet fellow American friends on Thursday and continue our trip with them until Saturday. Simple enough as a plan. However, we failed to read the fine print, which explained that the camel trek came with a complimentary 9 hour drive through the Atlas mountain range and into the Moroccan desert. Although this sounded like quite a drag, the drive proved to be one of my favorite parts of the trip for 3 reasons: 1. We met some really nice people and got to know them on the long drive. 2. We got to see way more of Morocco than I had planned, and it was a welcome surprise, as it's a beautiful country. 3. It is significantly more comfortable than riding a camel.

Without sounding overly cliched, I'm going to opt for a list form of the highlights of Morocco (because it seriously cuts down on my writing time).

Highlights:

-Street food. Morocco has more street vendors selling different fruits, nuts, juices, meats, dead animals, pastries, etc. than any other country I've visited. If you know me, you know I'm fascinated by street food and often frequent stalls selling a variety of Mexican dishes in AZ. This was a step up as far as variety (though I'm not sure if you can ever really beat a sonoran hotdog in the taste department). Favorites include a bright green brick of something that was sweet and tasted and felt a lot like coconut. I still have no idea why it's green, as the man that sold it to me only spoke French. Also, snails (pictured below) were served in a spicy broth and were delicious! The winner, however, is a drink made from, as is was explained to me, "avocado, papaya, and palm." I honestly don't even know what that means. 5 different pitchers of 5 different mystery purees are poured into a pint sized mug, and the beverage costs roughly 50 cents. I have no idea what else is in it, though I tasted banana, I have no idea what it's called, and I don't think I could get it anywhere else in the world. The good news is that I saw a ton of locals drinking this every night we were in town, assuring me that it was as delicious as I thought.

-The exchange rate: Morocco uses Dirham, which is approximately 11 dirham to a euro, making shopping in Morocco a lot like shopping in Mexico (with U.S. dollars). This poses quite the paradox, however. Because everything is cheaper in Morocco, I'm inclined to buy more stuff. Thus, my spending is equivalent (if not greater than) what it hypothetically would be in a more expensive country. On the bright side, I return with more "stuff". I've got lots of "stuff". The increase in the amount of "stuff" I own causes me to have extra bag fees on the flights from Barcelona to Arizona, thus continuing the paradox.

-Moroccan people: Although the may try to rob you blind with their prices for goods (seriously), once you've haggled and settled on a price, they are true to their word. Except cab drivers. They're bastards. In all honesty, Moroccan people love to talk to Americans and many of them-- like the 3 guys we spent most of one day with-- are happy to just show you their shop, talk to you about their goods, learn about your life, and drink "berber whiskey" with you. Since Morocco is a Muslim country, berber whiskey isn't actually whiskey, but mint tea, which brings me to my next point:

-Berber Whiskey (Mint Tea): This is the national drink of Morocco, is served at literally every restaurant, café, rest stop, etc. in the country. It is served with massive amounts of sugar, and is often mixed with a small amount of green tea. In our adventures in Morocco we managed to drink between 10 and 15 free glasses of free tea (as pictured below). Drink more tea.

-Camels: This is a trick. I put "Camels" in the highlight section, but they're not a highlight. Seriously, camels suck. Ride a horse. It is nearly unfathomable that a man can ride a camel as a means of serious transportation and continue to be able to reproduce. In 10 years of hockey I can't remember ever getting hit with a stick/puck in the groin and have it hurt nearly as bad as riding a camel for 2 hours. Camels suck.

-Other travelers: I don't know if it was coincidence, luck, or something in the air, but I met more cool world travelers in Morocco than on any of my other trips. It seems like I met at least one more cool person every single day I was in Morocco and had a great time exploring the city or hanging out in the hostel with them. Americans, Australians, Europeans, even Canadians, people traveling in Morocco rules. End of story.

Morocco just goes on and on.

Hostel Living: It Could Be Worse.

Mint tea (note the proper pinky etiquette).

One of my favorite shots and one of my favorite shops.

Arabic stop sign. Pre camel ride.

Tusken Raiders?

Snails!

My camel, Humbert Humbert.

The sun just does not stop setting in this place.







Lunch being cooked on the sidewalk.




The infamous Stall #32, Marrakech.



Sunset over the city. Note the satellite silhouettes.



View from the terrace at the hostel.



Shopping!

If anyone can guess (without googling) where my camel got his name, I'll buy you dinner. Or at least tell you I'm going to. Seriously, no cheating. Go!

I had begun to think all hope was lost. Family was too far from home. Friends all had other plans. Hell, no one even celebrates Thanksgiving in Spain. I had resigned to treating my favorite holiday as though it were any other day. While discussing the topic of things we missed from home, my friend Emily casually suggested she host Thanksgiving at her apartment and that she and her boyfriend, Chris, be allowed to do the majority of the shopping and cooking. Thus, the plan was set. Chris, Emily, Matt, and I were going to have Thanksgiving dinner on Friday (the day after real Thanksgiving. Matt and I showed up around 3, which put us right on time to prep and cook a delicious Thanksgiving dinner. We ended up eating and drinking for about 9 hours. I can honestly say it was one of the most memorable experiences I've had while in Spain as well as one of the best Thanksgivings I can remember. I'm still craving more apple pie.


Matt didn't do much of the cooking...



Traditional Thanksgiving... chicken.


Emily's home-made apple pie.


Feast.


One full and happy family.



Things started getting ridiculous around the 7 hour mark.




Do I seriously need a caption? Chris' face says enough.


Note: Matt is not holding a can. Also, this was not posed. Chris was drinking and Matt just did the first thing he could think of when he saw the camera.

The Unbearable Exhaustion of Being (In All Parts of Italy Simultaneously ).

My most recent trip was a blur. 3 days in Italy in an attempt to see all that there is to be seen in Venice, Florence, and Rome. A bit ambitious? I thought so too. I was joined by my roommates Matt and Kevin, as well as Kevin's friend Dave for part of the trip. Friday morning we flew into Venice, made a mad dash around the city, and took a train to Florence. We woke up Saturday and Venice and repeated the process, seeing the Duomo, The David, Ponte Vecchio, and some cool street markets. Saturday night meant another train ride, this time to Rome. Our most ambitious day yet, we had a guided tour of the Colosseum and Palatine Hill as well as seeing the Pantheon, Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and St. Peter's Cathedral in a 24 hr period. Needless to say, we were bookin' it (despite the fact that one of the roommates was plagued with the stomach flu).

Things I've learned:
-Everything there is to be seen in Venice can be seen in an afternoon.
-When paying for a gondola ride, you pay for the gondola, regardless of the number of people in your group. However, it is strictly prohibited to form impromptu groups with strangers (regardless of group size). Lesson learned: Be sneaky. Strangely enough, my spanish speaking abilities got us a sweet deal on a gondola ride, which we split with a pair of nice spanish girls (pictured below).
-Italy's ridiculous "cover charges" to sit down and eat at a restaurant often counterbalance its sometimes reasonable food prices.
-GROM, in Florence, makes the best gelato in the world. Hands down.
-Train tickets in Italy are only sometimes necessary. Sometimes a man comes to check everyone's tickets. Other times, not. This may sound appealing to people looking to travel on the cheap, but be warned, I think they throw you off the still-moving train if you can't prove you have a ticket. Best Game Plan: If you don't want to buy a ticket, it is possible to spend the entire train ride in the bathoom (as proven by "stomach-flu roommate").
-Rome boasts the most embarrassing Metro system in the entire world. No, not for its lack of lines-- that can't be helped due to thousands of years of history being buried underneath the modern city-- but for its unorganized, filthy, always-under-construction, rat-riddled, poorly-lit existing Metro lines.
-Palatine Hill is way more interesting with a tour guide.
-Pears in pasta may be the most amazing invention since the Nutella/banana crepe (seen here).
-Don't ask for "Armando" at "The Living Room Club" in Rome. He's not there. He may not exist. No, you will not get a free shot. You may get discounted scotch, but don't count on it, Buck-o.
-Just go look at the pictures. That's the only reason the eight of you people check this anyway.




Grand Canal, Venice.



St. Mark's Square.



Some canal, Venice.



Our gondola ride crew.



The view inside the Duomo.



The view from the top of the Duomo.



The location of the best meal I've ever eaten.



Street market, Florence.


An illegal picture of the David (guest appearance by my roommate, Kevin "Where's the bathroom?" Capata).



The Duomo, Florence.


The Colosseum.


Inside the Colosseum.


Palatine Hill.



The Roman Forum.



Porphyry marble keys on the floor of St. Peter's.



St. Peter's Basilica.



Spanish steps.

Plasticities: Serpenteado Por Los Calles de la Ciudad Antigua

A metallic ringing noise jolts him awake.
He looks around: it's dark. It's always dark in that room. It can't be long after 5 a.m., which makes last night's sleep more like a power nap.

Shirts, pants, socks, all stuffed into a bag. Hoody. iPod. Snacks. Camera. (Never forget the camera). No checklists, no last minute panic attacks. Packing for a trip of this duration has become second nature. They're up before the sun (yet again) and the apartment is silent, save for the sounds of shuffling feet and rumbling stomachs...

The metro ride to the train station drags on for an eternity. Próxima estación...

"Café con leche y un cruasán chocolate." He hits play and Radiohead's "There There. (The Boney King of Nowhere)" drowns out whatever it is that blonde girl next to him might be saying. 5 hours is a long way...

Approximate Speed: 298 Km/h.
Estimated Time of Arrival: 2 horas 52 minutos...

Somewhere between Juan Trejo's El fin de la guerra fría and blankly staring out along the Spanish countryside, he arrives at his final destination in one piece.



Our "4-star" hotel. I'm not sure how many stars the Spanish hotel rating system uses, but at least it was better than a hostel.



Something was happening...






Love padlocks.






Reales Alcazares.



I would do unspeakable acts to eat more of these churros.








The final CEA sponsored trip took us to Sevilla, Spain. This trip is cool for two main reasons: we get to take the high-speed train (AVE) , which turns a 14 hour train ride from Barcelona into a mere 5 hour ride. Secondly, Sevilla is located in the south of Spain, which means that the people are nice and their primary language is Spanish (unlike Barcelona). We had a relatively free trip, compared to other CEA sponsored trips, which gave us plenty of time to wander around the city and explore. While in Sevilla we tried more than a few different tapas places, at chocolate churros, partook in the botellón, and met a group of Spanish guys who dragged us to Club Fun at roughly 230 in the morning. It was an experience to say the least. I hope the pictures give some indication of how beautiful the south of Spain is. It has been a pleasure to visit each and every Spanish city thus far and Sevilla, with its delicious food and welcoming atmosphere, was no exception.

Timshel

The first of my international trips while living in Spain led me to Ireland with what can now be established as "the crew" (but seriously, it's just Juliet, Matt, and myself). Without going into too much detail (what detail of it there is left), I present the most beautiful place I've ever been.


Somewhere between Dublin and Cork.






Outside the Guinness factory.




Cork at night.







Kissing the Blarney Stone.

Embarrassingly enough, the strangest part of Ireland was speaking in English for so long. I havent consistently spoken one language for 4 days in over 2 months. I had to think of my questions in Spanish and remember to translate them back to English before speaking. A unique feeling, to say the least. We hit Dublin, where we stayed at the Ashfield House-- a cool hostel with a great location. The only down-side: we slept in a room with 20 other people. Not necessarily conducive to a restful night's sleep. We toured the Guinness factory, Blarney Castle, Trinity College, and a few other major locations before heading to Cork and Blarney! Each town had a really different feel to it and it was a pleasure to spend time every single place we went. I would say that I could spend the rest of my life there, but it may just be too wet to climb rocks, which would definitely be a deal breaker.

This weekend's Sevilla trip should be posted soon!