Friday, June 22, 2007
Photos from Lisbon
At the end of May I went to Lisbon, Portugal for 6 days for a Dave Matthews Band concert. Here's a few photos from around Lisbon:
Monday, June 4, 2007
Working in Alicante
Since about the beginning of March I have worked two or three nights a week in a bar called Austin's. It's a very prominent bar in the barrio and is a hotspot for tourists and especially Americans. It's pretty much a social event every time I work, since I see almost all my friends/acquaintances pass by or sit down for a drink. How I got the job was pure luck; I just happened to be standing in the right place at the right time--specifically, in the door of the bar with my friends right when the owner was looking for a new worker. I came in the next night and started working.
Working here in Alicante has probably been the best thing for my Spanish. My coworker Adriana is from Argentina and speaks hardly any English. My other coworker, Kamy, is from Iran, but speaks fluent English and Spanish. So, during work Kamy and I teach Adri a few things of English, and she teaches me more Spanish. For example, some of our recent English lessons have been the difference between warm/worm, guys/gays, and "You want to pay?". My most recent vocabulary learned is "ventilador" (fan), "ha pedido" (he has ordered), and "Quiero cortarme las puntas" (I want my ends trimmed--I needed a haircut). By the end of each night, after talking for four hours in Spanish, I'm a bit better. Granted, much of the vocabulary I have learned will only be helpful if I'm in a bar, but the conversation time I get with Adriana is very helpful, as is listening to different accents of customers.
It's also been interesting to see the difference between Spaniards and foreigners, specifically Americans. Americans order shots and drink very fast and get very drunk. Spaniards drink slow and talk a lot. You would think that I would drink more if I work at a bar, but it's actually the opposite; after watching loud Americans get drunk and clumsy for four hours, sometimes the last thing I want to do is drink. This is also why I enjoy going out with Kamy and Adri after work; by the time we get done, all of our other friends are drunk, so it's not very fun to go join them. But we just start our night at 4 a.m., when Austin's closes. Sometimes we meet up outside Austin's with other waiters and bartenders from nearby bars and we all go out together. Sometimes just the three of us go out for a drink or two before calling it a night and going home to sleep until 2 p.m., until we get up and do it all over again the next night.
My coworkers have become some of my closest friends in Alicante, since we work all night together, then go out after work. Adriana has even invited me to come with her when she goes back to Argentina for a few months to visit her family next year. Some of the loyal customers have also become good friends, since I see them every week. It has been really sad the past few weeks watching many of the American students go back home. Austin's just doesn't feel the same without some of them. This is a picture of Adriana, Chris (a student and Austin's regular from Mizzou), myself, and Kamy. I'm really going to miss these guys.
Working here in Alicante has probably been the best thing for my Spanish. My coworker Adriana is from Argentina and speaks hardly any English. My other coworker, Kamy, is from Iran, but speaks fluent English and Spanish. So, during work Kamy and I teach Adri a few things of English, and she teaches me more Spanish. For example, some of our recent English lessons have been the difference between warm/worm, guys/gays, and "You want to pay?". My most recent vocabulary learned is "ventilador" (fan), "ha pedido" (he has ordered), and "Quiero cortarme las puntas" (I want my ends trimmed--I needed a haircut). By the end of each night, after talking for four hours in Spanish, I'm a bit better. Granted, much of the vocabulary I have learned will only be helpful if I'm in a bar, but the conversation time I get with Adriana is very helpful, as is listening to different accents of customers.
It's also been interesting to see the difference between Spaniards and foreigners, specifically Americans. Americans order shots and drink very fast and get very drunk. Spaniards drink slow and talk a lot. You would think that I would drink more if I work at a bar, but it's actually the opposite; after watching loud Americans get drunk and clumsy for four hours, sometimes the last thing I want to do is drink. This is also why I enjoy going out with Kamy and Adri after work; by the time we get done, all of our other friends are drunk, so it's not very fun to go join them. But we just start our night at 4 a.m., when Austin's closes. Sometimes we meet up outside Austin's with other waiters and bartenders from nearby bars and we all go out together. Sometimes just the three of us go out for a drink or two before calling it a night and going home to sleep until 2 p.m., until we get up and do it all over again the next night.
My coworkers have become some of my closest friends in Alicante, since we work all night together, then go out after work. Adriana has even invited me to come with her when she goes back to Argentina for a few months to visit her family next year. Some of the loyal customers have also become good friends, since I see them every week. It has been really sad the past few weeks watching many of the American students go back home. Austin's just doesn't feel the same without some of them. This is a picture of Adriana, Chris (a student and Austin's regular from Mizzou), myself, and Kamy. I'm really going to miss these guys.
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Dear Morocco
Dear Morocco,
Where do I even begin to recount our adventures together? We went through a lot, both good and bad, in one week. I tried my hardest, and even thought I had a chance a few times, but in the end, you won, Morocco...you won. I just can't compete anymore with your closed airports, scary taxi cabs, hectic Medina, angry camels, and sexual harrassment. Not to mention the language barriers, lack of food safety and sanitation, and the wild fighting dogs in the desert. Morocco, the five of us were just no match for you. I can't say if we'll ever meet again, beautiful, messed up country, but we will always have some good (and horrible) memories together. Morocco, you won.
Yours truly,
Hannah
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[Friends and family, I have too many stories and photos of Morocco to post here on the blog. When I get back the states, come find me and I will give you the full recap of our week in Africa.]
As I have mentioned before, Spain loves their holidays. As a result, we had three weeks off in April for Spring Break...which was pretty much the entire month. Four friends of mine (Kara, Katie, Nick, and John) and I decided to go to Morocco. While Katie had to catch an early flight back to Madrid to meet her parents, the rest of us booked only our flight to Morocco and left our return date flexible. If only we knew what adventures were in store for us...
Let me begin by explaining the "Dear Morocco: statement. Early in the trip, something frustrating happened to Kara (I can't even remember what it was now). She decided she was going to write a letter to the country of Morocco when she got back to Spain and she was going to say, "Dear Morocco: You win. Love, Kara." From then on, "Dear Morocco, You win" became our motto. Whenever we had a setback (like getting attacked my monkeys, or falling into sand dunes), we would add a point to Morocco's score. Whenever we felt like we came out on top (like getting earrings for 1 Euro, or successfully leaving the country), we would add a point on our side. In the end, although we came out mostly alive and unscathed, Morocco definitely won.
It all started with a long busride to Madrid, followed by a delay. The flight itself was quite adventurous, as they announced everything in THREE languages: Spanish, English and French. Thus, any announcement took about 10 minutes to make. The flight to Morocco was quite short, but once above Marrakech, we circled for about 20 minutes before the crew made an announcement (which took another 10 minutes) that the airport was backed up and we needed to wait a bit more. Another 10 minutes later, they announced that the airport had closed due to a plane stuck on the runway and we were being redirected to Casablanca. First point for Morocco and we hadn't even landed yet. So, 30 minutes later, we were herded (in Arabic and frantic hand gestures) from the plane, down the stairs, across the tarmac, onto a bus, into a closed-off room in the airport, through customs, and then left to wait for two hours outside the airport for a bus to take us to Marrakech. Now, if you have read anything about traveling around Morocco (or any developing country), you will know that it is very unwise to travel at night. And, if you have seen the movie Babel, you will never want to sit by the window seat on a bus again--especially in Morocco. So here I was, on a bus in the middle of the night, in the window seat, in Morocco. Just when I thought things couldn't get any scarier, we arrived in Marrakech. At 3 a.m., the bus dropped us off in a deserted parking lot where a bunch of sketchy, 1970s-era taxis awaited us. The drivers only spoke French and Arabic, and we only spoke Spanish and English. Luckily, we had made a friend (Chris from Sacramento) from the plane fiasco who knew a little French from high school. So after some difficulty, we hired two taxis to take us to the address of our hostel. Putting a boy in each cab (we're smart travelers, aren't we?), off we went--on the scariest taxi ride of my life. We were speeding down deserted dirt roads, careening around narrow corners, barely yielding at stop signs. I was silently saying prayers the whole ride. Once, we slowed down on a narrow dark dirt alley while a man pulling a donkey-cart passed by. I thought, oh god, we're going to get robbed and left for dead on the streets. But, up pulled a police car at that exact moment. As the taxi driver was talking to them in Arabic, Nick said, "good, at least the cops are here." Unfortunately, the cops then left. Then, our two taxis pulled over to the side of the alley, turned off the headlights and shut off the engines. ...... We all held our breath ...... what was happening??? Finally, our driver gestured/explained to us that we were going the wrong way down a one-way road, so we were waiting for the cops to leave in order to continue on our way. How comforting. Five more scary minutes in the cab and they drop us off on a doorstep at the end of a deserted alley. We had finally arrived at our hostel, but, since it was 4 a.m., they had already given away our rooms. However, they did give us blankets and pillows and let us sleep on the couches in the tea/breakfast/lounge room of the hostel. I laid there on a couch in my street clothes, with Kara by my head, Nick by my feet, and my backpack snugly by my side, thinking: what the hell did we get ourselves into?? And so passed our first night in Africa...
(This photo was actually taken our second evening in Marrakech, but these are the exact couches we slept on our first night in the city. This tearoom/lounge is actually an open-air courtyard in the middle of the hotel...so, basically, we slept outside.)
The next day I was awoken to a group of English tourists breakfasting and talking about which types of cheeses they prefer. After an amazing breakfast (especially by hostel standards) of fresh pita bread, orange marmalade, mint tea and fresh-squeezed orange juice, we moved our bags to the building we would be staying in for the remainder of the time in Marrakech (it was about two blocks from the building we had slept/ate in, but owned by the same hotel). Then we went to explore Marrakech. According to Wikipedia, Marrkech is a city in southwestern Morocco in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. It has the largest traditional market in Morocco and also the busiest square in all of Africa. The official population of the city is one million, but it is estimated to be more around two million. It's probably the craziest, dirtiest, most hectic city I have ever been in--and this is coming from a girl who's seen some crazy, dirty, poverty-stricken cities. This is definitely in the top 3, if not number one. But, if you can make it past the initial culture shock (and if you can make it down the street without getting run over by either a car, bike, motorcycle, cart, or donkey), Marrkech is a very interesting and exciting place. The Medina is what the traditional market area is called and is full of twisting, narrow alleys, hundreds of little shops, and thousands of people. Our hostel was right in the Medina, and about two blocks off of that famous city square. We spent quite a few hours exploring the Medina, bargaining for souveneirs; Nick bought a marble chess set, John bought a scary-big knife which somehow was allowed through customs into Spain, and Katie, Kara and I bought a lot of beaded and silver jewelry. We also found a safari/tour company that had expeditions for very reasonable prices and we signed up to take a two-day, one-night trip out into the Sahara Desert the following morning (more on that later.) We found a restaurant and had our first taste of Moroccan food. Morocco is famous for tagine, which is kind of like a meat and vegetable stew cooked in a clay dish with a cone-shaped lid. Most of the time the meat is either chicken or lamb. Couscous (a kind of very fine pasta, almost like a rice) is also a staple in the diet. Mom, you know how much I love both stew and lamb, so you can imagine how thrilled I was with Moroccan food. Not my favorite, but they did have very yummy spices in the tagine (I'm trying to think of something positive). All in all it was a quite a successful day--oh, except for Kara getting sexually and racially harrassed by two young men in the Medina...that was scary. And then we returned to our hostel...and Morocco earned some major points. You see, we slept in a room with 6 beds and a bathroom. The room next door shared our bathroom. And, a girl in the room next door had food poisoning. I'm just going to let you imagine the rest...none of us slept very well that night. Morocco, you won that battle.
(This is a very tall Frenchman that I saw walking down the street. He is wearing a Boone Tavern t-shirt. Boone Tavern is in Columbia, Missouri--I used to work there. He asked me where the restaurant was, so apparently he never actually went to Columbia. How and why a Frenchman had a Boone Tavern t-shirt, I have no idea, but I just had to take a photo.)
(This is the famous square in Marrakech. The one that's the largest and busiest in the entire continent of Africa. Our hostel was just down one of the twisty streets, right in the heart of the Medina.)
The next day we woke up early for our trip to the desert. The six of us had our own Land Rover and driver, Ibrahim, who was quite a character. The trip southeast to the Sahara took 8-10 hours, mostly because we made many photo stops and a few hiking/exploring stops. The scenery was absolutely gorgeous; the landscape went to rolling green hills and gradual mountains to snow-topped mountains with hairpin curves, to Grand Canyon-esque rocky gorgeous to flat deserts with the occasional palm tree-filled oasis. This was my favorite part of our trip to Africa because we really had a chance to see what Morocco looked like. Just think...if we had stayed in Marrakech the whole time, we never would have even imagined that Morocco was so beautiful. Here's what I mean:
(You will notice I'm wearing this pashmina in almost every photo...it was probably my best purchase in Morocco.)
(This is a village we had to go off-roading to reach, but it was so much fun! Part of the movie "Gladiator" was filmed here.)
(Kind of looks like the Grand Canyon, right? It was absolutely huge.)
(Oasis!)
Our final destination was just outside Zagora, the city famous for the sign "Timbuktu: 55 days" or something like that. Ibrahim dropped us off on the edge of the desert, where guides dressed in the full headscarves and robe get-ups awaited us with camels. They helped us mount the camels one by one. When it came time for my camel to sit down so I climb on, the stubborn guy spit and stomped everywhere before finally kneeling down. I looked at the desert guy with fear in my eyes; the last time I rode a horse was when I was 8 years old, and I was so scared that I cried for the first hour. Now I was being told by an Arabic man in desert garb to climb on to a very tall, very angry camel. I thought, I've already made it this far in Africa without dying yet...so I took a breath and got on the camel. Well, the good news is, I didn't cry. It was actually really fun--it was a little scary when we went DOWN a sand dune:
But, my feisty camel was sure-footed. I'd have to say, one of the coolest things I've ever done in my life was ride a camel in the Sahara at sunset.
That night we had mint tea and tagine (surprise surprise), then we all climbed to the top of a sand dune, named constellations and listened to our guide Mohammed play the bongos and sing in Arabic for us. We made friends with some of the other people along on the trip while playing cards in the main tent, had a little scare with a large spider/scorpion mutant inside the tent, then made our way over to our own tent to sleep. When we tried to close the door flap to keep out the wind, scorpions, and wild dogs who were fighting in the distance, we realized our door flap didn't tie shut. So, we improvised and held it down with a big rock, hoping that would hold out the animals. I think all of us slept a little on the edge that night, especially when we heard the dogs growling right outside our tent. When we woke up at dawn the next morning, we noticed dog prints encircling our tent--apparently the large rock did its job and kept them out, though! We breakfasted on more tea and pita bread, then mounted our camels and rode out of the desert while watching the sun rise. Two points: (1) The return ride was very painful, as camels are very bony and we were very sore from our ride the prveious evening, and (2) the sunrises in the Sahara are just as beautiful as the sunsets.
(Kara took this photo of our shadows in the sunrise--so cool!)
Ibrahim met us at the edge of the desert, we said goodbye to our camels (even my feisty one), and we drove with minimal stops all the way back to Marrakech, as Katie had a flight back to Madrid to catch. This is when poor John got hit with food poisoning. However, he was only the first soldier to fall--Katie would later come down with it while spending the night in the Madrid airport, and I unfortunately was sick with the belated, bacterial version four days later back in Spain. That night in Marrakech, we met a new friend: Jum, who is from Australia but teaches at a boarding school in England, decided to join us the following day on our trip to the waterfalls.
The next day, our drive to the waterfalls was much shorter (3 hours) and much less eventful and scenic. But, the waterfalls were amazing. We had a personal guide for the 4 of us (John was too sick to make it), plus a Danish woman and her two young boys. Our guide took us hiking all over the waterfalls, rowed us out to the base of the falls (so close we were all getting soaked!), and then took us up to where the monkeys lived. We asked him if the monkeys were dangerous and he said no, so we got within twenty feet and started snapping photos of all the cute little monkeys running around. Then, one of the little buggers took a running swipe at Nick's backpack. Then, two of them started climbing up my legs, baring their sharp little teeth. This is when Jum snapped this photo:
You can't see it very well, but there is a look of pure fear on my face. Isn't this how people get malaria and die?? Yeah right, the monkeys aren't dangerous. Add another near-death experience in Africa to my list--and another point for Morocco.
(This is the full view of the waterfalls, which are the tallest ones in Africa. We hiked all around them--it's not like Niagra Falls, where everything is roped off for safety. Morocco pretty much lets you do what you want, and hope your common sense is enough to keep you alive.)
That night, Nick and Chris got haircuts and blade shaves from the coolest barber in Marrakech:
Then, we said our goodbyes to Chris and Jum--actually, we didn't really have a chance to say goodbye...we were too busy running through the streets, trying to outrun the hostel-keeper who was trying to charge us for another night for keeping our bags there during the day. We got away (point for us), hailed a taxi, and made it onto our train with about 4 minutes to spare. Yeah! We had a sleeper car for the 4 of us and experienced our best night of sleep in Africa while on our way to Tangier, on the Mediterranean coast. The train also had some of the best bathrooms in Morocco, too--there was an actual toilet, running water in the sink, and toilet paper. This was amazing to us, considering that most of the facilities we used looked like this:
Once in Tangier, we took a look at the city, took a quick vote, and decided to catch the first ferry that morning out of Africa. We thought about spending the day in Tangier, but at that point Morocco was winning horribly, especially over sick John. We bought tickets for a ferry to Tarifa, Spain (purely on the recommendation of a nice woman we met on the train, who said we would love Tarifa), went through customs (which let us bring fruit, nuts, knives, and more over continent borders), and borded the ferry for the one-hour ride across the sea to Europe. The woman was right: Tarifa was amazing. The population is normally 15,000, but swells to 40,000 during the summer. Known as the kite- and wind-surfing capital of Europe, Tarifa has long, beautiful beaches with big waves. The beach was filled with people in wetsuits with wakeboards strapped to their feet and huge kites/parasails harnessed to their bodies. They would walk to one end of the beach, get on their boards in the water, and jump and glide over the waves all the way to the other end of the beach. It was so fun to watch, and so pretty with all the colorful kites!
(John, pretending he's King of the Beach, with the kite-surfing sails in the background.)
We found a 2-star pension hotel, which to us felt like a 5-star Hilton. We had a private room for the 4 of us: two twin beds, a full-size bed, our own private bathroom, a TV, and it was clean. It was amazing--we were in heaven! It felt so good to be back in Spain, where things were clean and normal and we understood the language! That night we went out in Tarifa, which was sort of like a small version of Alicante's nightlife.
(I posted this photo purely to boast of my lighting and framing skills. It's a pretty good photo of John, too.)
The next day we took a taxi to Algecieras, about 15 minutes away, and tried to find a way to get back to Alicante. Since it was Sunday, all the car rental places were closed except for one, which only had minivans left, which you had to be 23 to rent. We looked at train prices, but it was really expensive. We looked at the bus schedule, but it would take us 12 hours on a hot, crowded bus to get home. So, we decided to spend the night in Algeciras and reserve a rental car for the morning. Algeciras was not nearly as exciting as Tarifa, but we did have a fun time at the beach.
(The boys, Nick and John, doing their "King of the Beach" pose, with Gibraltar in the background.)
Finally, on Monday morning we arrived at Europcar, picked up our pretty nice SUV-type vehicle, and made the 6-hour drive through outhern Spain to Alicante. It was a gorgeous drive--I've decided I want to live in southern Spain someday. We tried to go to Gibralter to see the famous monkeys but changed our minds when we saw the line for British passport control. We did stop in Granada for a little lunch break, though.
(This is us getting our speed up to over what it was on the Audabon in Germany...yeah!)
(Southern Spain was so beautiful--one one side of the road were green hills and mountains, and on the other side was the Mediterranean.)
We rolled into Alicante to our new anthem, Akon's "Gun in my Hand" (we put it on repeat for about an hour straight), dropped the car off at the rental place right near the beach, walked the five minutes up La Rambla to our apartment, and crashed. We were finally back home--exhausted, dirty, but happy about having taken on Africa--and almost winning. However, even though we were back in Spain, Morocco would continue to beat us: Nick's shampoo had leaked all over his backpack and clothes, and I had what I think was Giardiasis (a type of bacteria picked up from water) for the next 3 days. I suffered through 102-degree temperatures and some horrible stomach sickness, but came out alive in the end (and quite a bit skinnier from not being able to eat for 3 days). We had an amazing time in Africa, but I'm not sure if any of us will have a desire to visit beautiful Morocco again for quite a while. Once is enough for me, at least for now. All I can say is, Morocco...you won.
Love,
Hannah
Where do I even begin to recount our adventures together? We went through a lot, both good and bad, in one week. I tried my hardest, and even thought I had a chance a few times, but in the end, you won, Morocco...you won. I just can't compete anymore with your closed airports, scary taxi cabs, hectic Medina, angry camels, and sexual harrassment. Not to mention the language barriers, lack of food safety and sanitation, and the wild fighting dogs in the desert. Morocco, the five of us were just no match for you. I can't say if we'll ever meet again, beautiful, messed up country, but we will always have some good (and horrible) memories together. Morocco, you won.
Yours truly,
Hannah
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[Friends and family, I have too many stories and photos of Morocco to post here on the blog. When I get back the states, come find me and I will give you the full recap of our week in Africa.]
As I have mentioned before, Spain loves their holidays. As a result, we had three weeks off in April for Spring Break...which was pretty much the entire month. Four friends of mine (Kara, Katie, Nick, and John) and I decided to go to Morocco. While Katie had to catch an early flight back to Madrid to meet her parents, the rest of us booked only our flight to Morocco and left our return date flexible. If only we knew what adventures were in store for us...
Let me begin by explaining the "Dear Morocco: statement. Early in the trip, something frustrating happened to Kara (I can't even remember what it was now). She decided she was going to write a letter to the country of Morocco when she got back to Spain and she was going to say, "Dear Morocco: You win. Love, Kara." From then on, "Dear Morocco, You win" became our motto. Whenever we had a setback (like getting attacked my monkeys, or falling into sand dunes), we would add a point to Morocco's score. Whenever we felt like we came out on top (like getting earrings for 1 Euro, or successfully leaving the country), we would add a point on our side. In the end, although we came out mostly alive and unscathed, Morocco definitely won.
It all started with a long busride to Madrid, followed by a delay. The flight itself was quite adventurous, as they announced everything in THREE languages: Spanish, English and French. Thus, any announcement took about 10 minutes to make. The flight to Morocco was quite short, but once above Marrakech, we circled for about 20 minutes before the crew made an announcement (which took another 10 minutes) that the airport was backed up and we needed to wait a bit more. Another 10 minutes later, they announced that the airport had closed due to a plane stuck on the runway and we were being redirected to Casablanca. First point for Morocco and we hadn't even landed yet. So, 30 minutes later, we were herded (in Arabic and frantic hand gestures) from the plane, down the stairs, across the tarmac, onto a bus, into a closed-off room in the airport, through customs, and then left to wait for two hours outside the airport for a bus to take us to Marrakech. Now, if you have read anything about traveling around Morocco (or any developing country), you will know that it is very unwise to travel at night. And, if you have seen the movie Babel, you will never want to sit by the window seat on a bus again--especially in Morocco. So here I was, on a bus in the middle of the night, in the window seat, in Morocco. Just when I thought things couldn't get any scarier, we arrived in Marrakech. At 3 a.m., the bus dropped us off in a deserted parking lot where a bunch of sketchy, 1970s-era taxis awaited us. The drivers only spoke French and Arabic, and we only spoke Spanish and English. Luckily, we had made a friend (Chris from Sacramento) from the plane fiasco who knew a little French from high school. So after some difficulty, we hired two taxis to take us to the address of our hostel. Putting a boy in each cab (we're smart travelers, aren't we?), off we went--on the scariest taxi ride of my life. We were speeding down deserted dirt roads, careening around narrow corners, barely yielding at stop signs. I was silently saying prayers the whole ride. Once, we slowed down on a narrow dark dirt alley while a man pulling a donkey-cart passed by. I thought, oh god, we're going to get robbed and left for dead on the streets. But, up pulled a police car at that exact moment. As the taxi driver was talking to them in Arabic, Nick said, "good, at least the cops are here." Unfortunately, the cops then left. Then, our two taxis pulled over to the side of the alley, turned off the headlights and shut off the engines. ...... We all held our breath ...... what was happening??? Finally, our driver gestured/explained to us that we were going the wrong way down a one-way road, so we were waiting for the cops to leave in order to continue on our way. How comforting. Five more scary minutes in the cab and they drop us off on a doorstep at the end of a deserted alley. We had finally arrived at our hostel, but, since it was 4 a.m., they had already given away our rooms. However, they did give us blankets and pillows and let us sleep on the couches in the tea/breakfast/lounge room of the hostel. I laid there on a couch in my street clothes, with Kara by my head, Nick by my feet, and my backpack snugly by my side, thinking: what the hell did we get ourselves into?? And so passed our first night in Africa...
(This photo was actually taken our second evening in Marrakech, but these are the exact couches we slept on our first night in the city. This tearoom/lounge is actually an open-air courtyard in the middle of the hotel...so, basically, we slept outside.)
The next day I was awoken to a group of English tourists breakfasting and talking about which types of cheeses they prefer. After an amazing breakfast (especially by hostel standards) of fresh pita bread, orange marmalade, mint tea and fresh-squeezed orange juice, we moved our bags to the building we would be staying in for the remainder of the time in Marrakech (it was about two blocks from the building we had slept/ate in, but owned by the same hotel). Then we went to explore Marrakech. According to Wikipedia, Marrkech is a city in southwestern Morocco in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains. It has the largest traditional market in Morocco and also the busiest square in all of Africa. The official population of the city is one million, but it is estimated to be more around two million. It's probably the craziest, dirtiest, most hectic city I have ever been in--and this is coming from a girl who's seen some crazy, dirty, poverty-stricken cities. This is definitely in the top 3, if not number one. But, if you can make it past the initial culture shock (and if you can make it down the street without getting run over by either a car, bike, motorcycle, cart, or donkey), Marrkech is a very interesting and exciting place. The Medina is what the traditional market area is called and is full of twisting, narrow alleys, hundreds of little shops, and thousands of people. Our hostel was right in the Medina, and about two blocks off of that famous city square. We spent quite a few hours exploring the Medina, bargaining for souveneirs; Nick bought a marble chess set, John bought a scary-big knife which somehow was allowed through customs into Spain, and Katie, Kara and I bought a lot of beaded and silver jewelry. We also found a safari/tour company that had expeditions for very reasonable prices and we signed up to take a two-day, one-night trip out into the Sahara Desert the following morning (more on that later.) We found a restaurant and had our first taste of Moroccan food. Morocco is famous for tagine, which is kind of like a meat and vegetable stew cooked in a clay dish with a cone-shaped lid. Most of the time the meat is either chicken or lamb. Couscous (a kind of very fine pasta, almost like a rice) is also a staple in the diet. Mom, you know how much I love both stew and lamb, so you can imagine how thrilled I was with Moroccan food. Not my favorite, but they did have very yummy spices in the tagine (I'm trying to think of something positive). All in all it was a quite a successful day--oh, except for Kara getting sexually and racially harrassed by two young men in the Medina...that was scary. And then we returned to our hostel...and Morocco earned some major points. You see, we slept in a room with 6 beds and a bathroom. The room next door shared our bathroom. And, a girl in the room next door had food poisoning. I'm just going to let you imagine the rest...none of us slept very well that night. Morocco, you won that battle.
(This is a very tall Frenchman that I saw walking down the street. He is wearing a Boone Tavern t-shirt. Boone Tavern is in Columbia, Missouri--I used to work there. He asked me where the restaurant was, so apparently he never actually went to Columbia. How and why a Frenchman had a Boone Tavern t-shirt, I have no idea, but I just had to take a photo.)
(This is the famous square in Marrakech. The one that's the largest and busiest in the entire continent of Africa. Our hostel was just down one of the twisty streets, right in the heart of the Medina.)
The next day we woke up early for our trip to the desert. The six of us had our own Land Rover and driver, Ibrahim, who was quite a character. The trip southeast to the Sahara took 8-10 hours, mostly because we made many photo stops and a few hiking/exploring stops. The scenery was absolutely gorgeous; the landscape went to rolling green hills and gradual mountains to snow-topped mountains with hairpin curves, to Grand Canyon-esque rocky gorgeous to flat deserts with the occasional palm tree-filled oasis. This was my favorite part of our trip to Africa because we really had a chance to see what Morocco looked like. Just think...if we had stayed in Marrakech the whole time, we never would have even imagined that Morocco was so beautiful. Here's what I mean:
(You will notice I'm wearing this pashmina in almost every photo...it was probably my best purchase in Morocco.)
(This is a village we had to go off-roading to reach, but it was so much fun! Part of the movie "Gladiator" was filmed here.)
(Kind of looks like the Grand Canyon, right? It was absolutely huge.)
(Oasis!)
Our final destination was just outside Zagora, the city famous for the sign "Timbuktu: 55 days" or something like that. Ibrahim dropped us off on the edge of the desert, where guides dressed in the full headscarves and robe get-ups awaited us with camels. They helped us mount the camels one by one. When it came time for my camel to sit down so I climb on, the stubborn guy spit and stomped everywhere before finally kneeling down. I looked at the desert guy with fear in my eyes; the last time I rode a horse was when I was 8 years old, and I was so scared that I cried for the first hour. Now I was being told by an Arabic man in desert garb to climb on to a very tall, very angry camel. I thought, I've already made it this far in Africa without dying yet...so I took a breath and got on the camel. Well, the good news is, I didn't cry. It was actually really fun--it was a little scary when we went DOWN a sand dune:
But, my feisty camel was sure-footed. I'd have to say, one of the coolest things I've ever done in my life was ride a camel in the Sahara at sunset.
That night we had mint tea and tagine (surprise surprise), then we all climbed to the top of a sand dune, named constellations and listened to our guide Mohammed play the bongos and sing in Arabic for us. We made friends with some of the other people along on the trip while playing cards in the main tent, had a little scare with a large spider/scorpion mutant inside the tent, then made our way over to our own tent to sleep. When we tried to close the door flap to keep out the wind, scorpions, and wild dogs who were fighting in the distance, we realized our door flap didn't tie shut. So, we improvised and held it down with a big rock, hoping that would hold out the animals. I think all of us slept a little on the edge that night, especially when we heard the dogs growling right outside our tent. When we woke up at dawn the next morning, we noticed dog prints encircling our tent--apparently the large rock did its job and kept them out, though! We breakfasted on more tea and pita bread, then mounted our camels and rode out of the desert while watching the sun rise. Two points: (1) The return ride was very painful, as camels are very bony and we were very sore from our ride the prveious evening, and (2) the sunrises in the Sahara are just as beautiful as the sunsets.
(Kara took this photo of our shadows in the sunrise--so cool!)
Ibrahim met us at the edge of the desert, we said goodbye to our camels (even my feisty one), and we drove with minimal stops all the way back to Marrakech, as Katie had a flight back to Madrid to catch. This is when poor John got hit with food poisoning. However, he was only the first soldier to fall--Katie would later come down with it while spending the night in the Madrid airport, and I unfortunately was sick with the belated, bacterial version four days later back in Spain. That night in Marrakech, we met a new friend: Jum, who is from Australia but teaches at a boarding school in England, decided to join us the following day on our trip to the waterfalls.
The next day, our drive to the waterfalls was much shorter (3 hours) and much less eventful and scenic. But, the waterfalls were amazing. We had a personal guide for the 4 of us (John was too sick to make it), plus a Danish woman and her two young boys. Our guide took us hiking all over the waterfalls, rowed us out to the base of the falls (so close we were all getting soaked!), and then took us up to where the monkeys lived. We asked him if the monkeys were dangerous and he said no, so we got within twenty feet and started snapping photos of all the cute little monkeys running around. Then, one of the little buggers took a running swipe at Nick's backpack. Then, two of them started climbing up my legs, baring their sharp little teeth. This is when Jum snapped this photo:
You can't see it very well, but there is a look of pure fear on my face. Isn't this how people get malaria and die?? Yeah right, the monkeys aren't dangerous. Add another near-death experience in Africa to my list--and another point for Morocco.
(This is the full view of the waterfalls, which are the tallest ones in Africa. We hiked all around them--it's not like Niagra Falls, where everything is roped off for safety. Morocco pretty much lets you do what you want, and hope your common sense is enough to keep you alive.)
That night, Nick and Chris got haircuts and blade shaves from the coolest barber in Marrakech:
Then, we said our goodbyes to Chris and Jum--actually, we didn't really have a chance to say goodbye...we were too busy running through the streets, trying to outrun the hostel-keeper who was trying to charge us for another night for keeping our bags there during the day. We got away (point for us), hailed a taxi, and made it onto our train with about 4 minutes to spare. Yeah! We had a sleeper car for the 4 of us and experienced our best night of sleep in Africa while on our way to Tangier, on the Mediterranean coast. The train also had some of the best bathrooms in Morocco, too--there was an actual toilet, running water in the sink, and toilet paper. This was amazing to us, considering that most of the facilities we used looked like this:
Once in Tangier, we took a look at the city, took a quick vote, and decided to catch the first ferry that morning out of Africa. We thought about spending the day in Tangier, but at that point Morocco was winning horribly, especially over sick John. We bought tickets for a ferry to Tarifa, Spain (purely on the recommendation of a nice woman we met on the train, who said we would love Tarifa), went through customs (which let us bring fruit, nuts, knives, and more over continent borders), and borded the ferry for the one-hour ride across the sea to Europe. The woman was right: Tarifa was amazing. The population is normally 15,000, but swells to 40,000 during the summer. Known as the kite- and wind-surfing capital of Europe, Tarifa has long, beautiful beaches with big waves. The beach was filled with people in wetsuits with wakeboards strapped to their feet and huge kites/parasails harnessed to their bodies. They would walk to one end of the beach, get on their boards in the water, and jump and glide over the waves all the way to the other end of the beach. It was so fun to watch, and so pretty with all the colorful kites!
(John, pretending he's King of the Beach, with the kite-surfing sails in the background.)
We found a 2-star pension hotel, which to us felt like a 5-star Hilton. We had a private room for the 4 of us: two twin beds, a full-size bed, our own private bathroom, a TV, and it was clean. It was amazing--we were in heaven! It felt so good to be back in Spain, where things were clean and normal and we understood the language! That night we went out in Tarifa, which was sort of like a small version of Alicante's nightlife.
(I posted this photo purely to boast of my lighting and framing skills. It's a pretty good photo of John, too.)
The next day we took a taxi to Algecieras, about 15 minutes away, and tried to find a way to get back to Alicante. Since it was Sunday, all the car rental places were closed except for one, which only had minivans left, which you had to be 23 to rent. We looked at train prices, but it was really expensive. We looked at the bus schedule, but it would take us 12 hours on a hot, crowded bus to get home. So, we decided to spend the night in Algeciras and reserve a rental car for the morning. Algeciras was not nearly as exciting as Tarifa, but we did have a fun time at the beach.
(The boys, Nick and John, doing their "King of the Beach" pose, with Gibraltar in the background.)
Finally, on Monday morning we arrived at Europcar, picked up our pretty nice SUV-type vehicle, and made the 6-hour drive through outhern Spain to Alicante. It was a gorgeous drive--I've decided I want to live in southern Spain someday. We tried to go to Gibralter to see the famous monkeys but changed our minds when we saw the line for British passport control. We did stop in Granada for a little lunch break, though.
(This is us getting our speed up to over what it was on the Audabon in Germany...yeah!)
(Southern Spain was so beautiful--one one side of the road were green hills and mountains, and on the other side was the Mediterranean.)
We rolled into Alicante to our new anthem, Akon's "Gun in my Hand" (we put it on repeat for about an hour straight), dropped the car off at the rental place right near the beach, walked the five minutes up La Rambla to our apartment, and crashed. We were finally back home--exhausted, dirty, but happy about having taken on Africa--and almost winning. However, even though we were back in Spain, Morocco would continue to beat us: Nick's shampoo had leaked all over his backpack and clothes, and I had what I think was Giardiasis (a type of bacteria picked up from water) for the next 3 days. I suffered through 102-degree temperatures and some horrible stomach sickness, but came out alive in the end (and quite a bit skinnier from not being able to eat for 3 days). We had an amazing time in Africa, but I'm not sure if any of us will have a desire to visit beautiful Morocco again for quite a while. Once is enough for me, at least for now. All I can say is, Morocco...you won.
Love,
Hannah
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Semana Santa
Semana Santa, or Holy Week, is one of the most beautiful times of the year to visit Spain. Being a Catholic country (and since we all know by now how much Spain loves parades), there are elaborate processions every night of the week leading up to Easter, beginning with Palm Sunday. Sevilla is world-famous for its Semana Santa celebrations, but Alicante was full of excitement, as well.
Every night my roommates and I heard drums beating outside our apartment. So we opened our windows and could watch the processions pass directly in front of our place. These were processions, not parades; they were very somber, very meaninful, very long--most lasted two hours or more. We were a little alarmed when we saw Spaniards in long robes, pointed hats, and masks with eye slits marching down the street, but then we realized this was the traditional Semana Santa costume--not a KKK demonstration. Still, it was very spooky, especially with the beating drums in the background.
The processions were mostly made up of small drum-and-brass bands keeping a somber pace, the KKK-looking marchers, women wearing black dresses, black veils and carrying rosaries, and large statues being carried by dozens of men and women. These statues were on platforms covered with flowers, sort of like a parade float. Depending on the size of the statues, it required anywhere from 20 to over 100 people to carry them. As the week progressed, the statues grew in size and in numbers.
It was very humbling to stand against the walls in the narrow old streets and watch the processions pass by on their way to the Cathedral. It wasn't until I left our apartment and got up close that I realized how heavy the statues were. I watched as about 75 men marched by carrying a statue of Jesus on the cross; the men were standing in 5 rows carrying the supporting beams on one shoulder, and supporting themselves on the free shoulder of the man in front of them. The strained looks on their faces and bent knees showed how much of a chore it was to carry the images, and they had to stop every ten minutes or so and rest. It was very symbolic to see them suffer while carrying the statues to the Cathedral, as was the brotherhood required for such a chore.
One of the most interesting aspects of the proecessions was the variety of people that participated: everybody from age 5 to age 95 had a role. I also thought it was a bit strange that the KKK-garbed people and the little children in the processions passed out handfuls of candy from their pockets, just like a summer parade in the States. It just didn't seem like the right type of event to be handing out suckers. Oh, Spain.
On Easter Sunday I went to mass with my friends Jimmy and Katie. The church was absolutly gorgeous--and huge. It had a big pipe organ on one side and the altar was beautiful. I understood probably about 25% of what was going on...First, it was a Catholic Mass, which I am not at all familiar with. Second, it was all in Spanish, making it even more uncomfortable. When I went up during Communion and bowed my head for a blessing instead of receiving the bread and wine, the Priest gave me the most confused look I have ever seen on a holy man's face. It was one of the most awkward moments of my life. I just turned and walked back down the aisle to my seat. But, even despite the blessing denial, it was one of the most memorable and meaninful Easters I've ever had.
Every night my roommates and I heard drums beating outside our apartment. So we opened our windows and could watch the processions pass directly in front of our place. These were processions, not parades; they were very somber, very meaninful, very long--most lasted two hours or more. We were a little alarmed when we saw Spaniards in long robes, pointed hats, and masks with eye slits marching down the street, but then we realized this was the traditional Semana Santa costume--not a KKK demonstration. Still, it was very spooky, especially with the beating drums in the background.
The processions were mostly made up of small drum-and-brass bands keeping a somber pace, the KKK-looking marchers, women wearing black dresses, black veils and carrying rosaries, and large statues being carried by dozens of men and women. These statues were on platforms covered with flowers, sort of like a parade float. Depending on the size of the statues, it required anywhere from 20 to over 100 people to carry them. As the week progressed, the statues grew in size and in numbers.
It was very humbling to stand against the walls in the narrow old streets and watch the processions pass by on their way to the Cathedral. It wasn't until I left our apartment and got up close that I realized how heavy the statues were. I watched as about 75 men marched by carrying a statue of Jesus on the cross; the men were standing in 5 rows carrying the supporting beams on one shoulder, and supporting themselves on the free shoulder of the man in front of them. The strained looks on their faces and bent knees showed how much of a chore it was to carry the images, and they had to stop every ten minutes or so and rest. It was very symbolic to see them suffer while carrying the statues to the Cathedral, as was the brotherhood required for such a chore.
One of the most interesting aspects of the proecessions was the variety of people that participated: everybody from age 5 to age 95 had a role. I also thought it was a bit strange that the KKK-garbed people and the little children in the processions passed out handfuls of candy from their pockets, just like a summer parade in the States. It just didn't seem like the right type of event to be handing out suckers. Oh, Spain.
On Easter Sunday I went to mass with my friends Jimmy and Katie. The church was absolutly gorgeous--and huge. It had a big pipe organ on one side and the altar was beautiful. I understood probably about 25% of what was going on...First, it was a Catholic Mass, which I am not at all familiar with. Second, it was all in Spanish, making it even more uncomfortable. When I went up during Communion and bowed my head for a blessing instead of receiving the bread and wine, the Priest gave me the most confused look I have ever seen on a holy man's face. It was one of the most awkward moments of my life. I just turned and walked back down the aisle to my seat. But, even despite the blessing denial, it was one of the most memorable and meaninful Easters I've ever had.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Aunt Jan and Uncle Dave's visit
At the end of March, my Aunt Jan and Uncle Dave came to visit for a week! They had a great time, despite some dreary weather and Aunt Jan catching a cold.
This is the view of the Mediterranean from the top of the castle. We took a nice hike up to the very top and could not have asked for a better day--there wasn't a cloud in the sky!
This was Aunt Jan and Uncle Dave's last night in Alicante. At Austin's Uncle Dave did possibly one of the most romantic things of his life--he bought a rose for his wife (and a few more for the other ladies at the table).
And this was our goodbye hug. It was so great having my aunt and uncle here for a week. I got to show off my beautiful city, introduce them to my friends, show them were I work, and we just had a great time. Now I can't wait for when my parents come and visit in June!
This is the view of the Mediterranean from the top of the castle. We took a nice hike up to the very top and could not have asked for a better day--there wasn't a cloud in the sky!
This was Aunt Jan and Uncle Dave's last night in Alicante. At Austin's Uncle Dave did possibly one of the most romantic things of his life--he bought a rose for his wife (and a few more for the other ladies at the table).
And this was our goodbye hug. It was so great having my aunt and uncle here for a week. I got to show off my beautiful city, introduce them to my friends, show them were I work, and we just had a great time. Now I can't wait for when my parents come and visit in June!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Photos from Paris
As promised, here are a few photos of me, Jill and Lizzy in Paris this past weekend.
Jill and I took a walk Saturday morning before Lizzy's flight got into Paris from Scotland. Look what we ran into while wandering around the neighborhood: the Eiffel Tower.
Lizzy and I climbed up to the top of the Arc du Triumphe (on our friend Amanda's recommendation) and were rewarded with an amazing 360-view of the city. This was probably my favorite thing we did in Paris. Way in the distance to the left behind me is Monmarte and the Sacre Cour, but it's tough to see.
Sunday night after Jill flew back to London, Lizzy and I went on a boat tour down the River Seine. It was cold, but we had a great time. Our Belgian friend Kim from the hostel came with us, also. She spent hours trying to teach us some phrases in French. The only one I remember is "Je vouz san prie" (you're welcome).
Ah, the Louvre. We spent a few hours in here and only saw a small portion of the museum, but hit all the main works, including the Mona Lisa and Venus du Milo. My favorite, as it was five years ago when I visited, is the Winged Victory statue.
We had a wonderful French dinner under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower on Saturday night. We had an appetizer of escargot (snails). The waiter had to show us how to eat them because we had no idea. This is my reaction to my first taste of escargot...it was great! A lot like oysters or shellfish, with butter, garlic, and a seaweedy taste. Yum.
This is just a cute picture of my Lizzy and me.
The three of us in front of the "flying buttresses" of Notre Dame. Although this is technically the back of the building, it's my favorite view of the Notre Dame. The details on the front are amazing, though...you could spend hours scrutinizing the statues cut into the stones.
Jill and I took a walk Saturday morning before Lizzy's flight got into Paris from Scotland. Look what we ran into while wandering around the neighborhood: the Eiffel Tower.
Lizzy and I climbed up to the top of the Arc du Triumphe (on our friend Amanda's recommendation) and were rewarded with an amazing 360-view of the city. This was probably my favorite thing we did in Paris. Way in the distance to the left behind me is Monmarte and the Sacre Cour, but it's tough to see.
Sunday night after Jill flew back to London, Lizzy and I went on a boat tour down the River Seine. It was cold, but we had a great time. Our Belgian friend Kim from the hostel came with us, also. She spent hours trying to teach us some phrases in French. The only one I remember is "Je vouz san prie" (you're welcome).
Ah, the Louvre. We spent a few hours in here and only saw a small portion of the museum, but hit all the main works, including the Mona Lisa and Venus du Milo. My favorite, as it was five years ago when I visited, is the Winged Victory statue.
We had a wonderful French dinner under the shadow of the Eiffel Tower on Saturday night. We had an appetizer of escargot (snails). The waiter had to show us how to eat them because we had no idea. This is my reaction to my first taste of escargot...it was great! A lot like oysters or shellfish, with butter, garlic, and a seaweedy taste. Yum.
This is just a cute picture of my Lizzy and me.
The three of us in front of the "flying buttresses" of Notre Dame. Although this is technically the back of the building, it's my favorite view of the Notre Dame. The details on the front are amazing, though...you could spend hours scrutinizing the statues cut into the stones.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Amsterdam, then Paris
The past two weekends have been filled with travel and lots of new photos and stories. Two weekends ago I went to Amsterdam for a quick visit. My friends left a day ahead of me, so when I flew in and took the train into the city, they met me at the Central Station. From there, we did a boat tour of the canals in the city. Amsterdam is a really pretty city; the architecture is very different from what I was used to seeing in Spain. We saw the house that Anne Frank and her family hid in until they were discovered. I didn't get a chance to go up inside of it, but my friends said it was a very good experience. I also enjoyed seeing all the houseboats; there's a large housing shortage in Amsterdam, so many people find it cheaper and easier to live on houseboats in the canals. We also did a tour of the original Heineken brewery, which was probably the highlight of my trip; I had no idea it was such a HUGE company. I especially liked the history of the advertising; there was a room on the tour where you could watch old commercials. My favorite was a European one from the early 90s. Here's a few photos from Amsterdam:
This last Friday, I took a train to Madrid, then flew to Paris to meet up with two friends from Mizzou. Lizzy is studying in Scotland for the semester, and Jill is studying/interning in London. We stayed at a pretty dingy hostel, but it was just nice to be in Paris and be spending time together. We hit pretty much all the main attractions. My favorite things were going to the top of the Arc du Triumphe, our first experience with escargot (snails), figuring out the Metro, our picnic at Sacre Cour, the Eiffel Tower by night, and the Notre Dame. I had been to Paris about five years ago, when I was 16, and didn't enjoy it very much. This time was so much better. It was nice and sunny, too!
I'm having trouble with uploading the photos right now, but check back later to see pics of Paris!
Other news: Job is still going well, I work later tonight and this weekend. School is in full swing, so I've been doing a lot more studying lately. And we just got a fourth roommate in our apartment here! His name is Paolo, he's 22, biomedical engineer graduate, fresh from northern Italy. I'm hoping he can teach me a bit of Italian language and food in the next few months! My roommate Nick's parents are in town this week. It's been really fun playing host so far and showing off our city. They're also giving me good ideas for where to bring my aunt and uncle when they come in a week or so. Tomorrow we are all making a big paella dinner (or attempting to) for our apartment, Nick's parents, and random friends. It should be fun...and messy.
Ciao,
Hannah
This last Friday, I took a train to Madrid, then flew to Paris to meet up with two friends from Mizzou. Lizzy is studying in Scotland for the semester, and Jill is studying/interning in London. We stayed at a pretty dingy hostel, but it was just nice to be in Paris and be spending time together. We hit pretty much all the main attractions. My favorite things were going to the top of the Arc du Triumphe, our first experience with escargot (snails), figuring out the Metro, our picnic at Sacre Cour, the Eiffel Tower by night, and the Notre Dame. I had been to Paris about five years ago, when I was 16, and didn't enjoy it very much. This time was so much better. It was nice and sunny, too!
I'm having trouble with uploading the photos right now, but check back later to see pics of Paris!
Other news: Job is still going well, I work later tonight and this weekend. School is in full swing, so I've been doing a lot more studying lately. And we just got a fourth roommate in our apartment here! His name is Paolo, he's 22, biomedical engineer graduate, fresh from northern Italy. I'm hoping he can teach me a bit of Italian language and food in the next few months! My roommate Nick's parents are in town this week. It's been really fun playing host so far and showing off our city. They're also giving me good ideas for where to bring my aunt and uncle when they come in a week or so. Tomorrow we are all making a big paella dinner (or attempting to) for our apartment, Nick's parents, and random friends. It should be fun...and messy.
Ciao,
Hannah
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