Viaje a Toledo

(The Río Tagus in Toledo, Spain)

Yesterday I headed out early to meet the rest of the BC kids for our trip to Toledo. I met Lizzie and Jeff first and after they stopped for coffee, we all got on the bus. I had been talking to Katherine, a young BC alum who now teaches English classes in Madrid, and as we were getting on the bus, the director, Ana, told her to sit next to me and speak in Spanish. I didn't mind the practice, so we chatted on the bus ride down. But then we ended up hanging out all day, and since she would only speak to me in Spanish, I was thoroughly exhausted by the time the trip was over.

But Toledo was really nice. As it was a class trip, we got a lot of explanation as to the architecture, artwork, geography, and history of the city (all in Spanish, of course). We strolled around taking lots of notes (much like with the monkeys in Jungle Book - the newer version, if anyone gets the reference) and will have to write an essay about Toledo for the class. We first stopped at a panoramic view of the city ("it is protected by both a river and mountains") and then drove to the Mezquita del Cristo de la Luz ("a mosque with the classic Arabic ladrillos and herradura arches"). After walking through the Puerta del Sol and the Plaza de Zocodover (where we learned that Toledo is famous for it's gold, silver, and marzipan - guess which one I was most excited about), we visited La Catedral de Toledo ("a classic example of Gothic architecture"). The cathedral was gigantic and really pretty. It was designed to let light in and draw the eye towards the ceiling (and Heaven), and had really ornate carvings everywhere. We went into an attached museum to see some of El Greco's paintings (he lived and worked in Toledo) and then into another room where we saw various jewels and trinkets (including a brooch with Loyola's signature) that once belonged to famous clergy and other religious folk.

After the cathedral, we had a break for lunch and shopping. Because a few of the kids had brought lunch from home, Katherine and I went to buy lunch (for me a ham baguette) and then went back to join them. We sat in a park that overlooked the mountains and after we finished, we went shopping! We strolled up and down one of the main streets looking at all the jewelry shops (I bought myself silver earrings - or at least, fake silver earrings) and Don and Kevin asked for help picking out gifts for their girlfriends. I've got to say - I give some pretty good girlfriend-shopping-advice. Then we went to a fancy bakery and bought boxes of marzipan. Mine has since been devoured, but I took a picture the preserve the memory. . .

Next was the Iglesia de Santo Tomé, ("where the philanthropist Conde de Orgaz is buried") and the Sinagoga del Tránsito ("where you can see clear examples of Arabic influence in the architecture"). Then was the Sinagoga de Santa María La Blanca, (very pretty - decorated with abstract piñas, or pineapples) and last, was San Juan de Los Reyes (a church and monastery with a nice courtyard). By this point, my Spanish was getting tired and my notes fade out a bit, but I remember that the wooden ceilings were important (because into them are carved the different banners of Spain's autonomous regions) and that the recurring symbol on the walls is an intertwined F and I, for Ferdinand and Isabella. While we were there, a concert was being performed in the church (I think in connection with a wedding) so I blame Vivaldi for distracting me from the intricacies of the woodwork.

We wandered back to the bus, stopping for pictures several times, and drove back to Madrid. Amanda, Lizzie, Elisha, and I walked back to our homestays from the bus-stop near Retiro (which didn't take as long as I though it would) and got back just in time for dinner (rice and salmon). Julia had a headache so she went to bed early, but I stayed up and watched The Holiday, or "Los Vacaciones", as the Spaniards call it. I watched the movie in English with Spanish subtitles and made a list of vocabulary while I was watching. I'm going to watch it again in Spanish with Spanish subtitles. If I can procrastinate by watching movies and tell myself it's helping my Spanish, I'm all for it. Everyone else went out and woke up with bad hangovers this morning, so I think my night was more fun. Others might disagree.

I woke up this morning, planning on being productive, but then pretty much just read The Pelican Brief until lunch. After my meatballs and rice (Julia doesn't really believe in vegetables) I had to rush out to meet Christine at Nuevos Ministerios. We went to El Museo de Ciencias Naturales, which is right on Paseo de Castellana. It's a small museum, but they had a temporary exhibit about Darwin on display. There was lots to look at, and afterwards, we went to a cafe near the Bilbao metro stop. We were the only ones there (it's more of a night hangout, I guess) but it was really good. I ordered a white hot chocolate and Christine ordered tea, which both came with cookies. We sat and chatted for a couple of hours, and got back to our señoras' houses for dinner (for me, tortilla española).

Tomorrow I'm going to try to go to mass at one of the bigger churches in Madrid, which should be interesting, and then prepare myself for the bullfight. Other students have already gone, and haven't liked it at all, but it will be an experience if nothing else. And now, I think I will sleep.

Más fotografías!

I've finally added all my Morocco pictures to the shutterfly site.

Enjoy!

Here's the link: http://gigiinmadrid.shutterfly.com/

Una semana ocupada

(A view of the Atlantic Coast in Asilah, Morocco)

So now I will tell you about the rest of my week, because I'm sure you're not sick of me yet.

Monday involved catching up on work and sleep that were ignored in Morocco. I actually woke up Tuesday morning, opened my eyes, and saw that my lights were on. I figured I must have fallen asleep before turning them off, and then I wondered whether I set my alarm or not. I rolled over to check, and saw the my phone was in my hand on the alarm screen, but that I had not pressed "set." Yes, I fell asleep setting my alarm. I had to skip a shower and breakfast, but made it to my class on time, despite being awfully peeved about being deprived of food.

Because I get home from class by 5 on Tuesdays, (and because I had just eaten for 4 days straight) I decided to go for a run. This is a rare and unexpected occurrence for me and usually results in some kind of story. This run didn't disappoint. In preparation, I checked google maps and planned a loop that would take me about 45 minutes. I even made myself a little Post-It note map to stick in my Ipod case. So I was running, feeling good, and loving that there was a stoplight on every corner. Suddenly, the road that was supposed to be there wasn't. I even checked my Post-It map. But I figured that since I was heading in the right direction, I'd intersect the next road eventually, so I kept going. Things started to look familiar and I was running downhill, so things were going well. But then everything started looking less familiar and it seemed like I had been running for an awfully long time. I stopped to look at the first map I saw, and realized I had run about 20 minutes in the wrong direction. So I had to run back up the hill (since when are there hills in cities, anyway?) to the plaza where I had made the wrong turn. I was supposed to make a left, but of course, the road I needed was not there. But I kept going, figuring it must be somewhere around there. I ran into a sketchy neighborhood and then, more quickly, out of the sketchy neighborhood, and then started asking for directions. It took three people before anyone knew my street. After stopping several more times for directions and after running for about another 20 minutes, I made it back to Julia's. I had been gone for more than 2 hours. I think this is one of the reasons why I always swam instead of ran - it's hard to get lost in a pool (although there was that time I ended up two lanes over. . .)

On Wednesday, I had lunch with Lizzie and Guillermo, who popped up out of nowhere (maybe he's stalking me. . .) We chatted for an hour and half about holiday traditions in our designated countries, and I sat there jealous that I don't have a guy's metabolism (he had a plate of pasta, a steak, a plate of fries, a footlong sandwich, and a bowl of rice pudding). Then I went to the Carlos III library, determined to come out with some movies (so that I can watch them in Spanish with subtitles). I have been searching the online catalog for two weeks now, and have not figured out where they are hiding these movies. So I wandered through the whole library to no avail, and then worked up the courage to ask a librarian, in Spanish. Of course, she pointed at the door right behind me and gave me a look that I did not appreciate, but as soon as I walked into the room, I didn't care. Behind this door (which looks like it is to an office and is why I didn't check there in the first place) is a wonderful room full of movies and books in English! I was really excited and spent quite a bit of time there. I loaned three movies and a book (a process which involves a lot of Spanish) and interlibrary loaned two more books. I was pretty proud of myself. Of course, now I have to figure out how to play these movies on my computer, because the discs in Europe are a different format than in the US. You can change the language on your disc drive only 5 times, so I don't want to do that, but I heard talk of some media player you can download. I tried that and have successfully gotten one of three discs to work. Hmpf.

Today I had lunch with my intercambio student, Jennifer. The intercambio program assigns you a Spanish student who wants to learn English, and you meet once a week to practice the two languages. It went really well, and she seems nice. I'm meeting with her again next week, so hopefully my Spanish magically improves. I have one other intercambio I haven't met yet, and I'm still debating whether I should take Guillermo up on his offer to do an intercambio. I'm also considering instigating Spanish-only days for myself. I considered a week, but that seemed daunting, so I decided to start off smaller.

I also got my Spanish test back today - 93.25! This is a solid A at Carlos III and is one of the highest grades in the class. Other people broke down in tears upon getting their tests, so I had to hide my excitement until I excused myself to the bathroom to do a happy-dance.

And yay! I am finally caught up on my blog entries, and about time. I have a class trip to Toledo tomorrow, so I'll probably have plenty more to talk about then. Now, I'm going to go work on getting my 273 pictures of Morocco posted. Fun!

Día Cuatro en Marruecos

(A view of Chefchaouen, Morocco)

I had volunteered to wake up first again, but it went much better this morning as I had a warm shower for the first time during the trip (having buckets of boiling water dumped on your head at the Hammam doesn't count). We had to wake up early as Arnd was taking us on a "short walk" up the mountain to a scenic view-point of the city. Well, Arnd is a hiker and first came to Morocco on some sort of intense hiking trip. So a short walk for Arnd was a hike for the rest of us, and what's better than a hike at 7 in the morning? This is Morning-Gigi, remember. But the view from the top was nice, and we all sat on the overlook as Arnd read some insightful poetry and whipped out some cookies, (to appease us after our stroll up the mountain).

We then walked back down the mountain, grabbed our stuff from the hostel, and headed to the bus. Once we were all settled, (meaning out knees were crunched in a somewhat comfortable manner and the AC was finally on) Arnd surprised us with a breakfast of bread, cheese, figs, candied nuts, bananas, and "Yogurt - you can drink it!" We drove back towards the border, stopping once at a rest-stop where one of us, Dan, went outside to stretch his legs. Arnd thought he was lost and you should have seen how he jumped into action - apparently he really slows his pace for us cookie-munching Americans. Because our driver was Moroccan and not allowed to cross the border, we actually walked across the border and into Ceuta, a Spanish territory. After getting our passports stamped, we took taxis to the port, only to find that our ferry had been cancelled. We had about an hour to waste until the next boat, so we all went to the bar and ordered drinks (for me, a Fanta, because I'm cool like that).

We took the ferry back to Algeciras, while filling out Arnd's survey about "What we learned about ourselves on this trip." After landing we all said goodbye and Arnd said he was pleased about the Spanish custom of "kissing all the beautiful women" (remember the accent here). He started with me - awkward, but then all of us had to figure out what we were going to do for the six hours before our bus left for Madrid. Lizzie, Christine, Don, Julia, and I decided to take the 2 euro bus to Gibraltar and chill there for the afternoon. We tried to get to the British side, but it seemed really complicated, so we found a harbor on the Spanish side and stuck our feet in the Mediterranean. We got ice cream on the way back to the bus and when we got back to Algeciras, ate dinner at a kebab place. I had a chicken kebab pita thing, which was fantastic, and then we got bus to Madrid.

The bus ride was miserable - I hardly slept at all, but we got back to Madrid at about 5 am. The metros don't start until 6, so four of us girls who live fairly close together shared a taxi. After the taxi-driver got lost and charged us for his mistake (suspicious, I think) I finally got to Julia's at abut 5:45. I went upstairs and unlocked the door, but she had closed that lock that you fold over, meaning that I couldn't get in. Great. I was too scared to call her and wake her up at 6 in the morning, so I considered sleeping in the stairwell until 9 when Baquita arrived. But then Baquita would see me, tell Julia, and Julia would be mad that I didn't wake her up. So then I considered sleeping on the couches downstairs and setting my alarm for 8:30, at which point, I'd go walk around outside until Baquita showed up. I realized I couldn't do that, because Julia's neighbors would be going off to work and would wonder who that strange girl sleeping on the couches was. Next I considered sleeping in the park next door (when I played that thought back in my head, I realized it was a bad idea) and then considered riding the subway for three hours (until I realized that only homeless people do that). So I called Amanda, one of the students I took the taxi with, but her phone was off, so then I called Lizzie, who graciously allowed me to crash at her residencia and sleep in her bed while she studied for a test. I took the metro back to Julia's at 9, and didn't tell her a thing about the morning's escapade.

And that's the end of my Moroccan adventure! It was a really fantastic trip and I loved every second of it. I can't wait to get home and try my hand at Moroccan cooking, but for the real experience, I think I'll just have to go back!

Día Tres en Marruecos

(A rural home in the Rif Mountains of Morocco)

After waking up and eating breakfast (there was no need to shower after the previous night's excursion), Lizzie, Christine, and I said goodbye to our host family and headed off to meet the rest of the group. We packed ourselves into our little van and headed for the Rif Mountains. We stopped at a scary, hole-in-the-floor bathroom (those things require way too much effort), while Arnd went to the local market to buy us more snacks (we are a demanding group). He returned with freshly-baked bread, figs, bananas, and of course, cookies. Yay for Arnd!

When we got closer to the mountains, we met up with a Moroccan friend of Arnd's, whose home (which is in a rural village in the mountains) we were visiting that afternoon. The only reason there was a road to the village was that the family's grandmother petitioned the government about the necessity of being able to get women to the hospital when they were in labor. We drove through the village, stopping to look at the communal well, and then took a short hike through the mountains to the family's home. After introductions, we helped the family prepare lunch by washing and cutting vegetables, arranging food on plates, and setting everything out on a mat they had spread under one of their olive trees. I was in a jumpy mood as their patio seemed to be infested with bees that seemed to be chasing me. Fortunately, the bee conditions were much better on the mat and I was able to calm myself down. We ate bread, vegetables, nuts, figs, dates, grapes, moroccan tea, cookies, and huge bowls of couscous.

We chatted for two hours about marriage differences between the West and Morocco. The conversation was mostly between Arnd and the men in the family, but it seemed to be generally agreed upon that the desired qualities in a Moroccan husband are a big heart and a big wallet (the women spoke up when asked and added their two cents, as well). After this talk, the Moroccan family took out their drums, and gave us a performance of traditional Moroccan music and singing. Arnd made us all dance, and we looked like flailing fools, but it was a good time and I think the family enjoyed our attempts at coordination.

We then just chilled for a while, playing with the kids of the family, looking at the olive press (many Moroccan families sell olive oil for income), and taking pictures. We then said goodbye and headed back to the bus and drove to Chefchaouen, a city near the mountains. We checked into our hostel/hotel - Hotel Jasmina, and then had three hours to walk around the Medina. Lizzie, Christine, Don, and I wandered together and had a really good time. It was dark by the time were walking around, but there were still lots of people (and kids especially) hanging out in the narrow, winding streets. We did some souvenir shopping, which takes talent in Morocco if you don't want to be ripped off. Bartering is expected and shop-owners will always quote you a price that's about five times too high. If you come off as American, your price will be about 10 times too high, so we decided to barter in Spanish, which turned out to be a really good strategy (Moroccans generally speak Moroccan Arabic, French, Spanish, and English). I turned out to be pretty good at the not-getting-ripped-off thing despite my being pretty nervous. The first thing I tried to buy was a bracelet which the store owner said was 150 Dirhams. I suggested 20 Dirhams, and then after a bit of back-and-forth, 30 Dirhams (3 euros). He didn't seem to be budging from his lowered 90 Dirhams, and I'm stubborn, too, so I left. I was about two blocks away when he came running up to me with the bracelet and offering it to me for 30 Dirhams. Muchos gracias, I said. We wandered some more and got lost, and in our attempts to get back, passed that same store about three more times. He invited us in on our third time around and was trying to get Lizzie to buy some bracelets. We started chatting, and he showed us pictures of himself when he lived in the Sahara. Then he wrapped us up in turbans and we got a kick out of that. He also gave us directions back to the main plaza, and as we were heading in that direction we ran into one of the Peace Corps volunteers, who suggested that we try the snack from the food vendor we were standing next to. We did (it was some sort of egg-pastry desert) and, of course, I thought it was great. As we were eating, a traditional wedding procession walked by, (which is essentially a rowdy parade) so that was cool to see.

We then met up with the rest of the group for dinner at Cafe Aladdin. We were seated upstairs on the outdoor patio with a view of the city. You could see all the white and blue houses that made up the town and hear all of the bustle of the city, even though it was about 9:30 pm. For dinner I had a Moroccan tomato soup, and chicken pastilla. Now this chicken pastilla deserves some attention. It was simply amazing. The dish consisted of spiced chicken wrapped in filo dough and topped with sugar and a ton of cinnamon. I know this sounds like a weird combination, but that's exactly why I ordered it and I was so glad I did. Fantastic. Marvelous. Delectable. I wish I had one right now. Then after tea and cookies we headed back to the hostel where Arnd said, "I have a surprise for you!" We all guessed it was cookies, but it wasn't. We all crowded into his room and sat down around some candles he had set up. Our surprise was a talk about our feelings. How very German. He also gave us each a piece of crystallized sand and a little block of musk that smells just like Morocco. After we were done exploring the depths of our emotions, Lizzie and I headed out again to finish some gift-buying. We didn't stay out very long and came back to a "snuggle-fest" with all the BC kids. I think we were exhausted and not thinking straight by this point. After a few minutes of that, we all went to our designated beds and curled up for the night.

Día Dos en Marruecos

(The Medina in Rabat, Morocco)

I volunteered to wake up first (I don't know why I do these things) so I stumbled on up to the bathroom. Apparently the hot water was not turned on yet, because I enjoyed a frigid shower/bath/avoid-the-water-dance. Lizzie and Christine got to sleep later and had warm showers. Humph. But then we all ate breakfast together (bread, rolls, apricot jam, this brown-sugar-almond dough, and tea) while watching "Friends" in English with Arabic subtitles, (the TV was on the entire time we were there).

We then had to run to meet the rest of the group and headed off in our bus to a language school in Rabat. Here, we had a discussion about Islamic and Western images of each other with a professor from the school. It was interesting to hear the professor's points of view about the importance of both modern and traditional education and the way in which she was raised by her mother and the way in which she raises her own daughters.

Then we got back on the bus and headed towards the Roman ruins of Chellah. En route, we were provided cookies and fruit (Arnd was really good about keeping us fed, and we all got really excited when we heard, "I have cookies!" from the front seat). We got to Chellah, which is the ruins of an ancient Roman fortress and city. There were gardens and the ruins of a mosque. While in Morocco, we weren't allowed to take pictures of Moroccan people without their permission or mosques and government buildings because of tradition and security issues. But because Chellah was a ruin, pictures were allowed. There was also a fountain to which women prayed for fertility (the fountain houses eels - I think you can figure out the symbolism there). Also near the fountain were about 25 stray cats that all live together. I was really excited about the cats, and some of my friends have pictures of me playing with the cats while everyone else was looking at the fountain.

We then got back on the bus and headed to the Mausoleum of King Mohammad V, which is really ornate and huge. We got there just as the Friday afternoon prayer was letting out (the most important of the week) and got to walk around while all the Moroccans were heading home for the traditional Friday afternoon couscous. Right near the Mausoleum was the half-finished remains of what would have been a huge mosque and tower. An earthquake way back when prevented it's completion, but you can tell how huge the place would have been. We were also told the three subjects that are taboo in Morocco: criticism of the current king, criticism of Islam, and the sub-sahara issue. We weren't allowed to mention any of these things so that we wouldn't insult anyone, but between taboo subjects and not taking pictures of things, I felt like I was going to slip up.

We then headed back to our homestays for our own lunch of couscous. Lizzie, Christine, Isabel, and I had the traditional chicken and vegetable couscous, which comes out in one huge communal bowl. The aunt and grandmother ate with their hands as is usually done, but the rest of us had spoons. There was so much couscous when we started that I didn't think we would make a dent, but I should have known better. The bowl was pretty much clean by the time we were done. Then they brought out a fruit platter, what they call milk (which I would call liquified sour cream), and more Moroccan tea.

We then headed back to our meeting point and our group walked to the Medina where we were scheduled to meet some Moroccan university students who would showing us around. I think we were all surprised that they were all guys. Two of the Peace Corps ex-volunteers we were traveling with (they're training to be the program's tour guides) turned to Lizzie and I and told us that Moroccan men are very forward and that we had to refuse any dates the guys offered us. This just made me nervous, per usual, but it was still a fun afternoon. We wandered around the town and the Medina and I was chatting with Ahmed (one of the guys who was a recent grad and had just started his own language school in Casablanca). He broached the boyfriend subject within the first half hour, so that was awkward, but I veered the conversation away from that topic pretty quickly. Too bad, though - he was tall, dark, and handsome, and both older and taller than me.

Our group consisted of Lizzie, Christine, Don (my Korean posse - you'll see the pictures) and I. The students took us to an outdoor cafe where we had tea and Hawaii sodas, although mine was infested by bees as soon as it was opened. There were more Moroccan students that joined us at the cafe, and by this point, it was about 3 or 4 Moroccan guys to each of us girls. I felt special. We chilled for a good 2 hours and just talked about Morocco and whatever else came up (I had a 45 minute conversation about cats with Brahim - I'm a crazy cat lady, but he likes cats, too, so it's okay). We also met this lady, Debbie, who is an American who recently decided to make a life change and just up and moved to Morocco without a house or job. She's since established herself, but I thought it was really cool that she had the guts to do that.

After a sketchy bathroom break, we all headed back to meet the whole group and after exchanging e-mails, our BC group headed to one of the homestays with two of the Peace Corps ex-volunteers, who spoke about their experiences. Both were stationed in rural Morocco, and had a lot of insight into the county. One of the girls mentioned that it's common to see men hanging out with their friends during the day while the women are at home. But she says that she thinks this is often misinterpreted by Westerners. While we see this as a women's rights issue, it's actually that the men are kicked out of the house during the day so that the women can finish all the housework without interruption. I thought it was an interesting perspective. The volunteers, Katie and Ana, also talked about their personal experiences, and Katie said for the first 9 months, she woke up every morning wondering if she could live with herself if she went home. After two years, they both consider themselves only proficient in their rural languages, but say that the Peace Corps was the most rewarding experience of their lives. Since hearing them talk, I've been through the Peace Corps' website, but it might be too intense for me. That's a life decision right there. Debbie also joined us at this talk, as did a study-abroad student who was living with the family for the semester. He was awkward, as he made comments that were both vague and somewhat insulting towards the Moroccan family and our BC group. Arnd had to pick up the mood after each thing this kid said, but he was successful, as everything he said with his German accent put most of us in a good mood.

So then on the schedule was the Hammam Baths. Moroccan people bath once a week at these public baths which are these huge, steaming, shower rooms (separate for men and women). Both parties wear only bottoms and you pay extra to have a professional scrub you down with a sandpaper-like cloth until you've rid yourself of the top few layers of skin (who needs those anyway?) Unfortunately, when our pack of American girls showed up, the price for that experience shot up to 50 Dirhams each. We all agreed that we could scrub ourselves. Now, I had put a great deal of thought into this process. Our tour guides said we could wear bathing suits, but recommended just bras and panties, and suggested that to fit in, we wear just panties. Well, I was sweating bullets over this all day, but when we got there, we all figured, "no regrets!" I'll let you guess what happened - I'll just say it was definitely liberating and that you come out of a Hammam Bath squeaky clean!

We went back in our small groups to dinner with the homestay families - at our place we had chickpea soup, bread, tea, and cookies (one kind that I thought was coffee flavored, but was actually black sesame seed dough balls - Lizzie and Christine recognized it from Korean cuisine). We gave the family some chocolate bars we had bought on the way back from the Hammam, and then stayed up and talked to Zenip (the 18-year-old teenage daughter who was our English-speaking contact in the family). We talked about boys, and she said, "of course I've had a boyfriend! The students at school will think you're weird if you don't." Christine has similarly never had a boyfriend either, so we comforted each other after hearing this cultural tidbit. It seems Arabic and Western cultures are maybe more similar than we thought. After a good hour of talking - Zenip was really curious about American dating, too - we all went to bed and slept like rocks.

Día Uno en Marruecos

(Me with a baby camel on the Atlantic Coast of Morocco)

We have an awful lot to talk about. I have a feeling that some of these Morocco posts will be close to book-length, but they will be terribly exciting book-length posts, and definitely worth every second.

I got out of class on Wednesday at 7:30 and didn't consciously realize that the bus left at 10, so I ended up having to book it back to Julia's, switch bags, and run to the bus station (literally, at times). I did make it in time and was in a good mood, because Baquita had packed me two gigantic sandwiches. I had left a note on the table before I left for class saying I was going to be in a hurry and just needed some food to carry with me. I thought I was going to come home to Julia yelling at me about organization and good planning, but instead, I found two sandwiches on the counter. I was relieved to say the least.

The bus ride to Algeciras was eight miserably uncomfortable hours. The BC girls in front of Lizzie and I insisted on pushing their seats back as far as they would go (the only thing that stopped them was our crunched-up knees that weren't going to smush any further). After very little sleep, we got to Algeciras at about 6 am and chilled at the bus station until we met up with our group leaders at 8. There were enough BC kids for two 12 person groups, so they started calling off the names of the first group. With each name that was called, I wanted more and more to be in the second group, and thankfully, I was. We were basically an awesome bunch of BC kids plus two ladies from Spain, and our tour leader, Arnd, of the introspective variety complete with German accent. He sounded just like Will Ferrell in "The Producers" and this thought often forced me to laugh at inappropriate moments. Say to yourself, "Does anyone want to climb the mountain and eat some cookies" in a German accent and you'll know what I mean.

Following Arnd, we all got on the ferry that would take us to Tangier. We passed Gibraltar while on the boat, which was nifty. I always pictured it as a cliff, but it's more like a separate mountain - go figure. Once we got to Tanier and were walking to the port, these Moroccan ladies that worked for the ferry company pointed these little white medical gadgets (think Star Trek) at us with no explanation. We were all a tad alarmed, but then one of the Spanish ladies explained that they were checking to see if we had swine flu. I didn't, no worries.

We then exchanged some euros for Dirhams, the currency in Morocco, and took off in our little bus for downtown Tangier. We walked through a food market, which was so classic it could have been at Disney World and then headed to the DARNA women's center. DARNA offers cheap language and skill classes to Moroccan women so that they can find jobs to help support their families. A person is considered illiterate in Morocco if they speak less than 2 languages, so most women take jobs in factories and sewing shops, which require less written and oral skills. Two students, Hajar and Khadija, gave us a tour and then we all sat down to Moroccan tea and cookies. Moroccan tea is wonderful - I didn't think I would like it, but it is wonderful. It is green tea with mint leaves and a lot of sugar. They drink a ton of it with every meal, and in my opinion, Morocco even smells like Moroccan tea. We had the chance to talk to the two students about women's rights in Morocco. Apparently, the current king, Mohammad VI, has given more rights to women, such as raising the marriage age from 15 to 18, decreeing that women must actually agree to a divorce, and allowing polygamy only if there is a really good reason. Whatever floats your boat, I say. We then headed downstairs for lunch, which was chicken tangin (chicken, potatoes, and green beans cooked to delectability). I was seriously enjoying the food in Morocco and am definitely attempting these recipes when I get home.

We then got back on the bus and drove along the Atlantic coast towards Asilah. We stopped at a scenic outlook to take pictures, and noticed that there were camels strolling around on the beach. We were all excited to take pictures of camels when Arnd said, "The camels are for you. Go ride the camels," (remember the accent). So we did! It was very exciting and I took many pictures. The only scary part was that to let you off, camels literally fall to their knees. Camels are very large and this fall is quite a drop. You really have to hang on during this process and many curse words were uttered by others in my group as their camels plummeted to the ground. I had the opposite problem, though. My camel was grumpy and refused to let me off. It took the two owners 5 minutes to get my camel to fall down and I was very nervous, because the camel was making angry sounds and I thought it was about to take off down the beach.

We got back on the bus and drove to Asilah, where we toured the town and heard the call to worship that all mosques perform 5 times a day. It's actually a pretty cool effect to hear all the mosques in a city reciting these ancient Arabic prayers. Very Moroccan.

After buying snacks for 10 Dirhams each (or 10 euro cents) we got back on the bus for a 3 hour drive to Rabat, the capital of Morocco. Groups of 2 or 3 of us each stayed with a different host family in Rabat, and about 5 minutes before we met the families, Arnd gave us a sheet of pleasantries in Arabic we could say to the family. The only problem was that these phrases really get repetitive after a while - there are only so many times you can say "Thank you" (shukran) or "Delicious" (bnin) in one sitting. After about 3 minutes, my Arabic really comes to a halt.

But anyway, Lizzie, Christine, and I were one group and when we got to our host family's house we were really excited to see a whole table full of pastries, breads, and Moroccan tea waiting for us. One of the Spanish ladies, Isabel (who speaks only Spanish - good practice for me), also joined us for meals, and we ate a lot. The Moroccan family then took us on a walk around the Medina (a market neighborhood) and when we came back, the table was set again, this time with a huge pasta dish in the middle. We had thought the first spread was dinner, but apparently that was just appetizers. Everyone else was worried about having to eat again, but by this point, I was considering moving in.

So we ate again and then the three of us girls went to bed. Moroccan houses are pretty nifty. There are usually 2 or 3 floors and an open-air center courtyard, with all the rooms around the sides. The bedrooms have long benches that wrap around the walls, with mattress-like cushions on top. These are couches during the day and beds at night. The walls have some pretty intense tile-work and the fabrics on the furniture were really elegant. The bathroom was upstairs, and luckily for us, it was fully operational and had a western-style toilet. The grandmother had her own room, and the mom and kids had another. I think the dad's and uncle's rooms were upstairs somewhere. The three of us girls passed out pretty quickly, and while two of us were concerned about going to bed on a full stomach (I still don't understand the problem) one of us was making mental notes to check house prices in Morocco (I'm really good at eating and then sleeping).