EVER WALKED IN BLOOD?

Well today I have.

Much less than I was expecting. From the sounds of it, this holiday was going to be rivers of goats blood running down the streets as many, many, MANY goats were ritually sacrificed for the holiday Eid al-Adha. All those goats coming out of trunks and trucks and beng hauled on the back of donkeys. Every one of them.

And to top it off... I got sick last night! Ugh. So after waking up at midnight and throwing up (for only 5 minutes or so... I lucked out),
I didn't feel to swift. Been draggnig all day, but after what happened in Guatemala (see puke and shit simultaniously for 3 or 4 days... remember that one team?), I felt pretty lucky. I've been careful not to drink water and not eat cut vegatables. But obviously something got me. Oh well, it happens.

So when I finally woke up and drug myself up to the rooftop terrace on a beautiful sunny day, I peered off over the town. There was no traffic. No horns. Just the sounds of families spending time together. I looked to the terrace next to mine and a grey haired man, his son, and his grandson drug a goat out on the patio...

(My vegan freinds (Cadry, David...any other ones) should stop reading now...until you see the capital letters saying you can read again)....

...they all had plastic "aprons" on and sharp knives. 4 kids were there watching. 2 boys. 2 girls. Probably 6, 8, 10 and 12. The 12 year old girl looked over and saw me. I offered a wave and said "Bonjour". She cringed and pointed at the goat, who was suprisingly not struggling. Then the son (who was 14 maybe,) got the honors of cutting the goats throat as dad and grandpa held it down. It kicked a little, and then just lay there. The 12 year old girl cringed and looked away. The other kids were sort of dancing on the table.

One of them turned and saw me. Said "Bonjour". I returned it. Then the grandpa looked at me and said a few thngs in French with a smile. I said "Parle Vouz English?". He smiled "English. Welcome Morocco!" And they went back to what they were doing. Which was washing the blood with a bucket and eventually cutting off the goats head...

well, this didn't exactly sit well with my upset stomach, so I headed inside. (Though later when I peeked out the goat head was cooking on a hot plate and the animal had been skinned. Seems like everyone here knows how to do this. I don't have any idea how you butcher an animal. Though I know my uncle Kev does! :)

As I looked off the balconies, and you could smell the hundreds of goats being cooked. I also realized that those weren't all clothes hanging over balconies. Nope, that's inside out goat skin. Yep, hanging like a bedsheet over the balcony. Don't see that everyday.

VEGAN FRIENDS, YOU MAY CONTINUE TO READ NOW... :)

So the purpose of this, I was informed at the panoramic lookout later in the day, is a symbol of Ibriham's sacrifice for Allah. He was the first prophet (after Mohammed) and there seems to be some sort of choice he had to make between a Jewish son and a Muslim son. As often happens with my lack of language skills, and the thick accents that I'm not quite used to listening to, I missed exactly what it's for. But I had been told that Moroccan's are the main country that ACTUALLY do the sacrifice. And as I said before, this is a very holy day. Meant to be with family, and much of the meat gets given to those less fortunate. Sure, there are status points for how big your goat is, but for the most part it's not nearly as commercial as Christmas is. It's Christmas...with goats.

So I went for a bike ride in the afternoon. Along a cool road on the side of the bluff. The area looks a lot like the southwest. Parts of New Mexico perhaps. The roman ruins of Volubilis are below. And other than the 4 boys who threw rocks at me (no clue what that was about.) It was a very pleasant ride.

(Yesterday I visited Volubilis for 3 or 4 hours. It was sunny, and rainy, and sunny again. The ruins are awesome. TONS of mosaics in the ruined houses. Very elaborate. Been there for 2000 years. And pllars and columns and other houses. It was really amazing. A great day and really fascinating).

I met a Spaniard on my bike ride who rode up behind me and said "Hi". He's riding from Spain to Mauritania (Which is south of Morocco) to visit his girlfriend. 10 weeks on the road. Very little stuff. Was nice to chat with someone who spoke decent English. Sure it's my own shortcoming, but damn it, I'm ready to have some conversations with someone. The chopped conversations I've been having are nice and all, but it's fun to have a REAL conversation with someone. I'm hoping that Fez will have more tourists and English speakers. (Though I've been told that the level of touts increases dramatically there).

So I'm back in my fancy ass house. Writing another email update because I have no one to talk too. Sure, I could wander around town again, but I did that as the sun set. It was super super cool. This town covers two hills, and I went down the backside, had amazng views, ran into lots of people playing and laughing. I was searching for the thermal Roman bath, that apparently is somewhere, but I never found it. Oh well. So I'm here, writing this, with the sounds of a family coming through the front door. Every time someone knocks on the door next door or talks, it sounds like they are here. The Spanish guy is stayng a couple doors down (where I ate last night), but we didn't set up a time to meet later, so alas, no conversation.

I JUST remembered that you have to do that when you're backpacking / travelng. You have to say "Hey, you want to meet for dinner? Cool, come by at 7pm". OH YEAH! Funny, we're so used to the endless instant access of celphones that I forgot you had to make PLANS to see people and stick to them. Hilarious. Guess I should have chatted a bit more with the british folks I saw earlier and maybe we could have met for dinner. (Guess I don't quite have my "See" legs back all the way!)

A NOTE ON MOROCCO:
So I'm havng a great trip (and yes the "i" key on this keyboard sucks), but I have to say that Morocco is definitly living up to the culture shock travel challenge I was looking for this time. It's not the easiest place to be a traveler. And not just because I don't speak the language. There is a different way of dong things here, with constant tipping, and touts and people people EVERYWHERE. (which is why I enjoyed just stopping on the side of the road on my bike ride. It was me, olive trees, and silence for half and hour). Now, if I lived in New York, maybe the people everywhere would be more familiar. But I don't. And it's also me. I like people and crowds, but I also like my space. And not only are people everywhere, if you engage, many times they are into tout and selling mode. Not always. I've had some interesting interactions with folks just sayng hi. One guy shook my hand, and then just held it as we got by on a broken conversation. It was a little unnerving...until I realized that often Moroccan men will do that. But you never know if someone is being friendly or sellng you something. And honestly, I haven't been to Fez, or the grand daddy: Marrakesh. I have a feeling it's going to be pretty wild.

So if I had to rate Morocco's travel level now (on my travel scale), I'd give it a 4 of 6. If I spoke French, perhaps it would be 1/2 a point less. Who knows.

But again, it's all part of the adventure. Being out of my comfort zone is a good thng.

Craigo