So I'm back in LA (wooo, I can drink the water!), and wanted to give you some observations and thoughts on Morocco. In no particular order, here's what I got for you
1. MOROCCO IS A LAND OF TWO FACES
There is the wonderful, super friendly, generous side. And then there is the touting, in your face, "good price" side that sees you as a walking ATM. Now this happens in many of the developing countries I've visited. After all, on my budget trips (This one averaged about $63 a day), I'm spending 4 times what the average Moroccan makes in a day from work. In some places I've been the gap is even more. In some places less. So I want to say, that I don't think it's wrong that this is the attitude. It is a little unfortunate, as it makes for some rather frustrating encounters (see endless list of touts in the emails) but it also makes for rather cool ones (sleeping Kasbahs, sharing cuss-cuss before a jewelry purchase).
2. "I'VE BEEN HERE FOR THREE WEEKS" is the magical phrase
As I mentioned before. After some polite "no thank yous", "I know where I'm going's", just drop the magic phrase above, and they will smile and walk away "Welcome Morocco."
3. I'd say that Morocco was one of the more challenging places that I've gone. Looking at my "Levels of Travel" from www.craigotravels.com, I'd say it was a 4 (on a scale of 0-5). There were good tourist services...sort of. But the language barrier (for me) and the street smarts required (see touts above) made it quite a challenge. A good challenge. A challenge I'm glad to have had. And one I wouldn't be afraid of taking on again.
4. Moroccan's are good sales people.
Yep, I bought more random souveniers on this trip than any other. A cool geode from a berber guy at the bus stop in the mountains. 80 Dirham. I offered 40. He said sure. 5 bucks. Cool geode. I don't need it. But it's cool. :) You too will buy lots of things. But if something's too expensive, just walk out the door. That's cool too.
5. Hammam's are fun.
So yeah, it's a little weird to us western folks to get a scrub in a Hammam by someone of the same sex. But it's actually fun. And is a normal occurance to Moroccans' (And Turkish folks too). So don't be afraid to try something way outside your comfort zone. It makes for a good story and a better understanding of how the world works.
6. Getting outside the comfort zone is good.
I did it on purpose this time around. I wanted some Culture shock and some comfort zone expanding adventure. I got it. It wasn't always a "good time", but it was always worth it. I think in life it's far to easy to get used to our routines and our comfort zone. The places we eat, the places we drive, the friends we hang out with. And though having a comfort zone can be good, as it gives us the ability to refresh and reenergize. I'm a firm believer that ultimately, the comfort zone is a negative thing. Life is to be experienced, and if you're afraid to go out and see it, encounter it, get a scrub down or get dirty on the streets, you're missing a huge portion of what it is to LIVE.
7. Coming back is always a bit of a downer...
Yep, I got some "back-to-LA-blues". But that's ok. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, but just acknowledging that I was living in the moment much more when I was on my trip. And that's good. Some people find that feeling of being alive by playing sports, or travel, or building something, or making love. These are all good ways. (Drugs, hurting people and blowing stuff up are bad ways.) But there will always be a come down after the ride. That's cool. It's normal. Let's you rev up for the next adventure.
8. Moroccan's are friendly.
Going back to the 2 faces. They really are a nice people. I missed a lot because I didn't speak French or Arabic. But I still encountered great generosity from many people.
9. Morocco is safe.
Yep, I know I had my "F#$K YOU" experience in Fez. And it was a bit scary. But statistically you are more likely to have a violent crime committed against you in a big city in Europe than in Morocco. Sure, keep your street smarts, keep your valuables hidden. Don't walk down dark alleys alone. (Sounds like any big city safety). But in the country...you are cool. Small town Morocco, is like small town America. Safe and friendly (but with Minarets on many corners calling to prayer).
10. Islam is cool.
Yep, I said it. Islam is cool. Just like Christianity is cool. Judaism is cool. Buddhism is cool. Etc etc etc. Islam does not teach people to kill to goto heaven. Islam is not about destroying the west. Yes, there are radical Muslim's who think this. Just as there are radical Christian's who think everyone not white is an abomination. Sometimes people are just stupid.
But Islam is cool. It's respectful. It is amazing to see hundreds of people flood into Mosques 5 times a day when the call echoes out. And pray. To allow themselves to be second to something bigger and more powerful than themselves. This isn't something to be judged, like "hey you're crazy to do that", it's something to be admired. Whether you believe in what they do is irrelevant. But I think it's important to realize that people all over the world are looking for the same sense of purpose and place in the universe, and in Morocco, this is how many find it. My point being, don't judge a religion and a people based upon all the negativity you see on TV. Go experience it first hand and you might learn something good. This doesn't just apply to Islam either...
11. Some women are covered in Morocco. Some are not. Very rarely did I see any cleavage or skin, but there were many tight jeans and stylish tops, and tons of adds for hair product. TONS. The more rural you get, the more conservative it gets. The more covered up. Though, it wasn't that common to see the style where you only see the slit for the eyes to peak out. Usually entire faces were exposed. And often, someone dressed like that was next to someone with their hair out, and they were talking. I wish I could have spoken to more Moroccan women to find out what they thought, how they felt, and all. But it's very uncommon for men and women to intermingle at length. And I don't speak French. I always find gender roles fascinating.
12. Morocco isn't all desert.
Go figure! From every picture you see, it's all desert and hot as balls.
Well, not in November, not to hot at all. In the 70's or 60's or colder during the day. (My Centegrade friends will have to translate that one themselves. :). And it's not all desert. Sure, everything south and east of the Atlas mountains is desert. Either rock, barren, or sand dunes. But the mountains have evergreen forests. And the north west, though some desert, has a lot of fertile plains. Who knew?
I just finished editing the footage I shot on 11-11-11, for the film the world day. It was the great waterfall hike in Azrou with Youness, Rachid and Mike. It's strange, it feels like a million years ago already. I look at the footage, and see the town and the falls and the people and it's almost like it went past in a blur. I think "was I even really there?" But the memories come back strong with photos and video. I guess that's the forever balance of capturing the memories, so that you can relive them vs. living them fully in the first place. As always, I probably took too darn many pictures. But hopefully I will get some up on the blog before too long.
And so it really ends.
There isn't much left to say.
Go to Morocco.
You'll push yourself, and it'll be worth every step.
This is Craig Ouellette,
last surviving member of the Nostromo
Signing off.
Showing posts with label Marrakech. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marrakech. Show all posts
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Saturday, November 26, 2011
THIS IS THE WAY THE JOURNEY ENDS, NOT WITH A BANG...
...but with a hot wet rubdown by a half naked Moroccan man.
So I'm laying face down, ass up (but skivvies on), on a marble floor. The room is hot, steamy, and there are three or four other men in skivvies getting hot rubdowns by other half naked Moroccan men. They scrub with hot water, some sort of soap and a rough brush that scrapes off the dead skin from my body. And boy, who knew there was so much of it! There's also something called a "massage", but it's more like a twisted, half yoga-half chiropractic twisting session. It did feel good, but there were times, as I was being lifted against the half naked man's legs, that I thought "Oh my god this hurts, I hope I don't pop out of place!". I didn't.
The main rubdown room was in the back. It has no lights other than small holes in the domed ceiling. There's another room you walk through, that has some sort of open shower stalls, though no one was in these. The front room of the bathing area is cooler, and is the rinse room. And through a door, and a VERY low ducking under a ceiling, you enter the entry way, which is a 50 foot tall starred dome, with star shaped vents that have sun streaming in.
This is a Hammam. A traditional Moroccan (and Turkish too, I think) bath house. The one I was in is hundreds of years old, and is the place you go to really get clean. It was probably more important back when there weren't showers and plumbing, but it is still an important part of Moroccan life. Naturally, the men and women have completely separate hours. It would be a bit impure (And really very counter to the whole way Muslim's do things here) to be getting a hot wet rubdown from a man while topless women were getting hot wet rubdowns from other topless women right next to you.
But that's how it works for the gals too. I met two Belgian gals on my birthday, and they described their experience, and it was remarkably similar to mine. Though they didn't mention anything about the strong smell of cigarettes on the attendants breath. Maybe they didn't have it.
It was really fun, strangely enough. And I haven't felt that clean in a long time. He cleaned everything but my crotch and butt crack. (But he got the cheeks!).
So for my Birthday, on Monday, I went down to the Djeema El Fna, the 1000 year old square at the center of Marrakech. I had some street food, enjoyed the jovial, fun, playful way the vendors try to get your attention to eat at their stalls. They mostly have he same menu (minus the one with the goat heads), but the food did vary in tastiness. I never could find my buddy Mike. He stayed at a different hotel, we set up time to meet and somehow missed each other. A strange way to end 10 days of good travel together. Never did get to say thanks or goodbye. (But fortunately we swapped emails, so we will be able to there, and get pics too).
So I hung out with other travelers. The aforementioned Belgian gals. And an Aussie who looked a lot like Jesus. And a fun Italian guy with a great laugh, who was only there for the dinner parts. We chatted, we swapped stories, we laughed of the Moroccan sales method, and I told them it was my birthday and I was determined to find a beer in Morocco.
Judging from stories of the Australian couple in Fez who, on a search for alcohol, were sent down back alleys to an unmarked door. They were let inside and the men (all men) sitting inside drinking looked up guiltily at the door like teenagers caught by their parents. Around the corner in the next room was the "bar", where a man showed them a bottle of wine while looking around to make sure no one was watching. He wouldn't let them hold it either. And when they bought it, they were ushered out a side door into another alley.
OR, the two Belgian gals, who were led to an equally dark alley and door, and when they entered... it was all women! Who knew, women in Morocco drink. So they ordered beers (Flag Special) and sat down. Then realized that these women were sure dressed provocatively. And there were indeed a couple of men in the room, and...oh, Hookers! A whole room full. They had no problems, were not assumed to be hookers, enjoyed their drinks and left.
So, I figured, this i going to be one hell of an awesome quest down the back alleys of Morocco. Leading to adventures, strange tales and odd happenings. So in French, Florine (tall belgian girl) asks the waiter "where can we find some beer?". He says "At the end of that street there is a hotel called Tazi. They have the only bar in the Medina."
Well that was easy!
So we went. Had three beers. Talked lots more. I had a Moroccan man say "Fuzzy wuzzy was a bear, Fuzzy wuzzy had no hair, Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy was he?". And he wanted to know what it meant...um, ok.
Oddly in a place where drinking is so hidden (though technically not illegal like it is in Kuwait), they sold us our last beers as they were closing and said we could drink it on the street. So we walked along, drinking beers to the Djeema El-Fna. We did slip them into pockets when we got within sight of the big Mosque though. We know enough to not be THOSE tourists who essentially give the finger to the mosque. Not going to that, that's not cool.
And when I headed back to my hostel, I fully expected to get offered hash and pot about 10 times, since I had been offered it tons of times in Marrakech. But I wasn't offered it once. Without the scooter traffic and shops and noise, it's almost like I walked back in time hundreds of years as I cruised through the alleys.
So that was my Bday.
The next day was a rainy, walking tour of some palaces. Some shopping. Some more eating in the square, with Monkeys climbing all over me (for a tip of course).
The final day was the Hammam rubdown, and a final tour of Marrakech, where I got way off the tourist track. And the touts seemed to pick up to take me to the tanneries and other places, but I politely declined "No thank you, I'm just exploring",
and they would be insistant "Just a quick look, no pressure."
And I'd say, what turned out to the be magic words: "I've been here for three weeks. I'm good."
They would smile the knowing Oh-yes-you've-seen-all-our-techniques smile, and say "Welcome Morocco. Have fun."
So THERE YOU HAVE IT: If you need to get the touts to go away, politely decline, then say (whether you have or not), that you've been here for 3 weeks, and they will leave you alone willingly. (Now don't ALWAYS do this, as you'll miss out on some fun adventures (see the jewelry buying in Meknes for instance), but if you're not in the mood, you now have your magic spell to use.
The walking, wandering led to a cool photography museum, with pics from 1870-1950 Morocco. And strangely, a lot of things looked almost exactly the same. And many things were different. It was a great way to end the trip, with this sort of time machine into the world of Morocco before. Some really cool images. Back in the day, the female coverings (which I'm blanking on the name right now) were all white. Completely white. Like ghosts. Now they tend to be black if it's a total covering, except the eyes. Though if it's not that complete, the colors vary wildly and the clothes are very beautiful.
And I had a cobra put around my neck. And other snakes too. And took pics with the snake charmers on the square. It was fun to do, and of course required a tip. But it was "Good price, Moroccan price".:) (After I talked them down from 200 MAD (That's $25USD, ) to 50 MAD (Tha'ts about $6...still a bit pricey, but what the hell. When am I going to have a cobra on my neck...)
I asked "Isn't it poisonous?",
They said "Yes, yes, very".
I said "How do you make it not bite? Has it been devenomized?"
Them "Yes, very poisonous."
Hmmmm.....
I walked through the square one last time, and hopped in a cab at 4:15pm Moroccan time. Took a train for 3 1/2 hours. Another train for 40 minutes. Sat at the airport for 4 hours. Flew for 3 1/2 hours to Frankfurt. Leaving Morocco at night, so I never got to see Morocco from the air. Sit in Frankfurt for 4 1/2 hours. Sit on the plane 45 minutes. Fly 8 hours to Washington (Go USA! I can drink from the water fountains, wooooooooo!), wait 3 hours, take final plane for 2 hours to St. Louis where I am now for Thanksgiving with my relatives. Always a good place to be...and it only took 32 hours to get here. :)
And so that's the scoop. That's the journey. That's the adventure...
But wait, we're not done. There's one more story to be told...
CraigO
So I'm laying face down, ass up (but skivvies on), on a marble floor. The room is hot, steamy, and there are three or four other men in skivvies getting hot rubdowns by other half naked Moroccan men. They scrub with hot water, some sort of soap and a rough brush that scrapes off the dead skin from my body. And boy, who knew there was so much of it! There's also something called a "massage", but it's more like a twisted, half yoga-half chiropractic twisting session. It did feel good, but there were times, as I was being lifted against the half naked man's legs, that I thought "Oh my god this hurts, I hope I don't pop out of place!". I didn't.
The main rubdown room was in the back. It has no lights other than small holes in the domed ceiling. There's another room you walk through, that has some sort of open shower stalls, though no one was in these. The front room of the bathing area is cooler, and is the rinse room. And through a door, and a VERY low ducking under a ceiling, you enter the entry way, which is a 50 foot tall starred dome, with star shaped vents that have sun streaming in.
This is a Hammam. A traditional Moroccan (and Turkish too, I think) bath house. The one I was in is hundreds of years old, and is the place you go to really get clean. It was probably more important back when there weren't showers and plumbing, but it is still an important part of Moroccan life. Naturally, the men and women have completely separate hours. It would be a bit impure (And really very counter to the whole way Muslim's do things here) to be getting a hot wet rubdown from a man while topless women were getting hot wet rubdowns from other topless women right next to you.
But that's how it works for the gals too. I met two Belgian gals on my birthday, and they described their experience, and it was remarkably similar to mine. Though they didn't mention anything about the strong smell of cigarettes on the attendants breath. Maybe they didn't have it.
It was really fun, strangely enough. And I haven't felt that clean in a long time. He cleaned everything but my crotch and butt crack. (But he got the cheeks!).
So for my Birthday, on Monday, I went down to the Djeema El Fna, the 1000 year old square at the center of Marrakech. I had some street food, enjoyed the jovial, fun, playful way the vendors try to get your attention to eat at their stalls. They mostly have he same menu (minus the one with the goat heads), but the food did vary in tastiness. I never could find my buddy Mike. He stayed at a different hotel, we set up time to meet and somehow missed each other. A strange way to end 10 days of good travel together. Never did get to say thanks or goodbye. (But fortunately we swapped emails, so we will be able to there, and get pics too).
So I hung out with other travelers. The aforementioned Belgian gals. And an Aussie who looked a lot like Jesus. And a fun Italian guy with a great laugh, who was only there for the dinner parts. We chatted, we swapped stories, we laughed of the Moroccan sales method, and I told them it was my birthday and I was determined to find a beer in Morocco.
Judging from stories of the Australian couple in Fez who, on a search for alcohol, were sent down back alleys to an unmarked door. They were let inside and the men (all men) sitting inside drinking looked up guiltily at the door like teenagers caught by their parents. Around the corner in the next room was the "bar", where a man showed them a bottle of wine while looking around to make sure no one was watching. He wouldn't let them hold it either. And when they bought it, they were ushered out a side door into another alley.
OR, the two Belgian gals, who were led to an equally dark alley and door, and when they entered... it was all women! Who knew, women in Morocco drink. So they ordered beers (Flag Special) and sat down. Then realized that these women were sure dressed provocatively. And there were indeed a couple of men in the room, and...oh, Hookers! A whole room full. They had no problems, were not assumed to be hookers, enjoyed their drinks and left.
So, I figured, this i going to be one hell of an awesome quest down the back alleys of Morocco. Leading to adventures, strange tales and odd happenings. So in French, Florine (tall belgian girl) asks the waiter "where can we find some beer?". He says "At the end of that street there is a hotel called Tazi. They have the only bar in the Medina."
Well that was easy!
So we went. Had three beers. Talked lots more. I had a Moroccan man say "Fuzzy wuzzy was a bear, Fuzzy wuzzy had no hair, Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't fuzzy was he?". And he wanted to know what it meant...um, ok.
Oddly in a place where drinking is so hidden (though technically not illegal like it is in Kuwait), they sold us our last beers as they were closing and said we could drink it on the street. So we walked along, drinking beers to the Djeema El-Fna. We did slip them into pockets when we got within sight of the big Mosque though. We know enough to not be THOSE tourists who essentially give the finger to the mosque. Not going to that, that's not cool.
And when I headed back to my hostel, I fully expected to get offered hash and pot about 10 times, since I had been offered it tons of times in Marrakech. But I wasn't offered it once. Without the scooter traffic and shops and noise, it's almost like I walked back in time hundreds of years as I cruised through the alleys.
So that was my Bday.
The next day was a rainy, walking tour of some palaces. Some shopping. Some more eating in the square, with Monkeys climbing all over me (for a tip of course).
The final day was the Hammam rubdown, and a final tour of Marrakech, where I got way off the tourist track. And the touts seemed to pick up to take me to the tanneries and other places, but I politely declined "No thank you, I'm just exploring",
and they would be insistant "Just a quick look, no pressure."
And I'd say, what turned out to the be magic words: "I've been here for three weeks. I'm good."
They would smile the knowing Oh-yes-you've-seen-all-our-techniques smile, and say "Welcome Morocco. Have fun."
So THERE YOU HAVE IT: If you need to get the touts to go away, politely decline, then say (whether you have or not), that you've been here for 3 weeks, and they will leave you alone willingly. (Now don't ALWAYS do this, as you'll miss out on some fun adventures (see the jewelry buying in Meknes for instance), but if you're not in the mood, you now have your magic spell to use.
The walking, wandering led to a cool photography museum, with pics from 1870-1950 Morocco. And strangely, a lot of things looked almost exactly the same. And many things were different. It was a great way to end the trip, with this sort of time machine into the world of Morocco before. Some really cool images. Back in the day, the female coverings (which I'm blanking on the name right now) were all white. Completely white. Like ghosts. Now they tend to be black if it's a total covering, except the eyes. Though if it's not that complete, the colors vary wildly and the clothes are very beautiful.
And I had a cobra put around my neck. And other snakes too. And took pics with the snake charmers on the square. It was fun to do, and of course required a tip. But it was "Good price, Moroccan price".:) (After I talked them down from 200 MAD (That's $25USD, ) to 50 MAD (Tha'ts about $6...still a bit pricey, but what the hell. When am I going to have a cobra on my neck...)
I asked "Isn't it poisonous?",
They said "Yes, yes, very".
I said "How do you make it not bite? Has it been devenomized?"
Them "Yes, very poisonous."
Hmmmm.....
I walked through the square one last time, and hopped in a cab at 4:15pm Moroccan time. Took a train for 3 1/2 hours. Another train for 40 minutes. Sat at the airport for 4 hours. Flew for 3 1/2 hours to Frankfurt. Leaving Morocco at night, so I never got to see Morocco from the air. Sit in Frankfurt for 4 1/2 hours. Sit on the plane 45 minutes. Fly 8 hours to Washington (Go USA! I can drink from the water fountains, wooooooooo!), wait 3 hours, take final plane for 2 hours to St. Louis where I am now for Thanksgiving with my relatives. Always a good place to be...and it only took 32 hours to get here. :)
And so that's the scoop. That's the journey. That's the adventure...
But wait, we're not done. There's one more story to be told...
CraigO
Monday, November 21, 2011
MOVIE LOCATIONS, RAP CONCERTS and COLD WIND
So in Ouarzazarte (war-zazat) I did what the tourists do in Hollywood. Went to the big movie locations, took a tour of the studio, and then celebrated with a rap concert in the plaza (one group Moroccan, the other "Legacy" from... USA!).
It's the only sign of nightlife I've heard or seen in Morocco, and it started at 6pm and was over before 8. Was still fun. But there was a cold, COLD wind blowing down from the Atlas mountains. Probably put it in the upper 30s (that's fahrenheit, not centegrade).
During the day we went to Ait Baddadou. Which is this palatial, Unesco protected Ksar (that's walled city) that you've seen in movies from Lawrence of Arabia to Gladiator to Prince of Persia (oh wait, no one saw that movie).
It was really cool to see, and I even took the Berber taxi (that's a donkey) accross the flooded river to get there.
Then I went to ATLAS studios and did the 1 hour tour of movie sets from Kundun, to Alexander, to Gladiator (again), to MISSION: CLEOPATRE, which was pretty awesome. To the KINGDOM OF HEAVEN city of Jeruselem, which took 7 months to build, was shot in for 2 months and had 1500 extras involved. Sweet. I love movies. Can't help it. Can't wait to be making some big ass movie myself. It would be amazing to shoot on sets like the ones I got to see today (or the locations).
Such as the Taorirt Kasbah. Which is featured in many movies, including that crazy Prince Of Persia again. I got to explore all the rooms, and enjoy the maze like aspect of it.
It was a good day.
And today, it was off on a 5 hour bus ride over the very twisty, turny, two lane, cliff hugging road over the high Atlas to the grand daddy of all Moroccan cities, Marrakech. It is here I will likely end my trip. I was going to head to the mountains to hike tomorrow, but forecast calls for rain and clouds, which doesn't bode well for seeing scenery. And it's not easy to get up there, and the ski resort (yes, Morocco actually has skiing!) isn't open yet. Still not enough snow.
So here in Marrakech, there are tourists EVERYWHERE (well compared to the rest of the trip). I'm actually at a hostel with bunk beds, which normally I don't do, but it's a cool place and I wanted to have some traveler socializing while I was here. But then again, I'm typing emails instead, hmmmm....
But really, that's because I wanted to say thanks to everyone who send me Birthday wishes! WoooooO! Most of them are on Facebook, and I haven't figured out how to get on FB here in Morocco, because of the french interfaces. But I wanted say "THANK YOU!" to all who wished me a happy birthday. And if you didn't...well.... you're still my friends! :) After all, if you don't have FB to tell you it's my bday, you might not know. (Though now I guess you have no excuse since I just told you.).
Anyway, thanks for the wishes. It always makes me feel close to everyone, and when I'm half a world away (from most of you), it means a lot.
And now off to the Djeema El Fna (I think I spelled that right), for the 1000 year old, nightly party that tonight is being held for me! :)
Craigo
It's the only sign of nightlife I've heard or seen in Morocco, and it started at 6pm and was over before 8. Was still fun. But there was a cold, COLD wind blowing down from the Atlas mountains. Probably put it in the upper 30s (that's fahrenheit, not centegrade).
During the day we went to Ait Baddadou. Which is this palatial, Unesco protected Ksar (that's walled city) that you've seen in movies from Lawrence of Arabia to Gladiator to Prince of Persia (oh wait, no one saw that movie).
It was really cool to see, and I even took the Berber taxi (that's a donkey) accross the flooded river to get there.
Then I went to ATLAS studios and did the 1 hour tour of movie sets from Kundun, to Alexander, to Gladiator (again), to MISSION: CLEOPATRE, which was pretty awesome. To the KINGDOM OF HEAVEN city of Jeruselem, which took 7 months to build, was shot in for 2 months and had 1500 extras involved. Sweet. I love movies. Can't help it. Can't wait to be making some big ass movie myself. It would be amazing to shoot on sets like the ones I got to see today (or the locations).
Such as the Taorirt Kasbah. Which is featured in many movies, including that crazy Prince Of Persia again. I got to explore all the rooms, and enjoy the maze like aspect of it.
It was a good day.
And today, it was off on a 5 hour bus ride over the very twisty, turny, two lane, cliff hugging road over the high Atlas to the grand daddy of all Moroccan cities, Marrakech. It is here I will likely end my trip. I was going to head to the mountains to hike tomorrow, but forecast calls for rain and clouds, which doesn't bode well for seeing scenery. And it's not easy to get up there, and the ski resort (yes, Morocco actually has skiing!) isn't open yet. Still not enough snow.
So here in Marrakech, there are tourists EVERYWHERE (well compared to the rest of the trip). I'm actually at a hostel with bunk beds, which normally I don't do, but it's a cool place and I wanted to have some traveler socializing while I was here. But then again, I'm typing emails instead, hmmmm....
But really, that's because I wanted to say thanks to everyone who send me Birthday wishes! WoooooO! Most of them are on Facebook, and I haven't figured out how to get on FB here in Morocco, because of the french interfaces. But I wanted say "THANK YOU!" to all who wished me a happy birthday. And if you didn't...well.... you're still my friends! :) After all, if you don't have FB to tell you it's my bday, you might not know. (Though now I guess you have no excuse since I just told you.).
Anyway, thanks for the wishes. It always makes me feel close to everyone, and when I'm half a world away (from most of you), it means a lot.
And now off to the Djeema El Fna (I think I spelled that right), for the 1000 year old, nightly party that tonight is being held for me! :)
Craigo
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