Day 175: Surviving Morocco (Marrakech)

Considering last night was my first pub crawl, I'm glad that I am able to write this blog entry. I was celebrating being alive – and given the recent events in Marrakech I had good reason. For those of you that haven't heard, yesterday a suicide bomber in Marrakech ended his life and those of fourteen others in a café in Marrakech. I cannot believe this happened one day after I left and only a few minutes walk from a hostel where I stayed. While I'm happy to be alive I grieve for the dead because I could have been one of them. I am also disgusted with this horrific act because all Moroccans will be unfairly judged. I had a number of discussions with people about how safe I felt in Morocco and the kindness of the people but after this I can't help but feeling a bit silly. Even after this I stand by my opinion that Morocco is a safe place to travel and full of wonderful people. Furthermore I encourage the rest of you to keep an open mind and realize that the idiotic acts of one individual do not reflect the values of an entire country. Regardless of this horrific event, Marrakech is a joy to visit and I am excited to tell you about my experiences there.

Marrakech's big square where the bomb went off.

Here's a map showing just how close my hostel was to the explosion.

I was lucky in Marrakech to stay in a hostel and with a local. Both environments provided a unique experience. My first night in Marrakech I stayed in a hostel called Amour d'Auberge. It was as cheap as it was excellent. The people I met there were tops and the next day we didn't waste any time before we headed out and explored Marrakech.

The hostel had an open courtyard space with a glass roof.

Spying on people from above.

Morocco is my favorite place to wander. The streets are rich like chocolate cake, and I ate too much. Walking around I found myself in a maelstrom of activity. Stray cats being grungy, vendors shouting at me, children playing and laughing, the smell of questionable street food, beautiful architecture, and ancient history. Every second I was exploring I felt like I was in a movie. Without going to see anything specific, just wandering the streets is an experience. Specifically, we saw Marrakech's two palaces, a school, and the big square Jemaa el Fna. The palaces were exceptional and had some of the most intricate artistic detail that I've seen. Definitely worth a visit, but my favorite part of Marrakech was the big square Jemaa el Fna. Imagine a mob the size of four football fields replete with snake charmers, monkey trainers, orange squeezers, and hasslers. It's incredibly alive to the point where it's a little overwhelming. Morocco is the most difficult place that I've traveled to but also the most rewarding. Experiencing the lifestyle is difficult because it's so different but that just means I was learning heaps. Staying in the hostel was a ton of fun but staying with a local was priceless.

Romantic.

This is one of the courtyards of the first palace we went to.

Beautiful old paintings of flowers decorated many walls.

The carvings were plentiful and exquisite.

Detail upon detail.

A corridor of the palace.

One of the large rooms inside.

I was so psyched when I found someone to CouchSurf with in Morocco. I wasn't sure how difficult it would be to find a host due to any sort of cultural differences. There were a lot of hosts on the site but lots of them had negative references from women. Apparently some Moroccan men like to oppress themselves on their surfers. I wasn't worried and thankfully I wasn't staying with some homo-creeper.

His name was Mohammed – imagine that. Throughout my stay I gave Mohammed a handful of opportunities to show his patience. Before we met I felt like a bad surfer because I was unsure of my arrival date and Mohammed waited for me for over an hour outside the post office. From Jemaa el Fna the bus ride back to his apartment took around 45 minutes. He lives in a block of apartments along with other families. When we walked in all of the kids stopped playing and stared at me. I smiled at them and some of them smiled back. Little twerps. Mohammed opened the door of his apartment and it was certainly different than accommodations I'm accustomed to. With a tile floor, his front room was empty, his kitchen was bare except for a sink and a propane canister and burner. Mohammed's room was nice with traditional carpets and desktop computer. His bathroom has a basin for showering and a squatting toilet. Toilet paper is for suckers and don't touch me with your left hand. This felt like the authentic Moroccan experience I was hoping for.

Spices are abundant throughout Morocco.

Morocco can be depressing.

A group of kids playing in the alley.

One of my favorite photos.

Rachel had a bomb camera from Lomography.

Amazing textures.

This dude's head looked like his brains were hanging out.

Who doesn't carry cow legs on their bike?

Rachel vs orange

Watch out... he's going to put his monkey on you!

Gettin' my creep on while trying sunglasses.

Probably my favorite photo of all time.

Staying with Mohammed was so cool not only for his apartment but for experiencing his neighborhood. Mohammed's apartment didn't have interwebs so I spent many of my days at a cafe nearby. I became friends with the staff and they would smile as I came around. We cooked a lot of tagine together and buying ingredients from the locals was awesome. There was a place for the vegetables and the meat shop was right next door. The meat stand had all of their meat prepared up front with live chickens in cages in back. Fresh! He made a wonderful tagine one of my first nights there and then I made two tagines after that. I can't wait to buy a tagine for myself so I can cook it all the time.

Mohammed loved my sunglasses and stole them every chance he got.

Watching a master at work.

Tagine is great, especially when you eat it for every meal.

My tagine was potato, parsnip, ground lamb, peas, with parsley and saffron.

My second, more experimental, tagine was raisin and prune with sausage.

We also went to a hammam which was one of the grossest highlights of my trip. Every neighborhood has its own hammam, a place where people go to get totally clean. The Roman bathhouses were probably modeled after hammams. Basically you go in, rub a special black soap all over yourself, sweat your brains out in a hot room for 20 minutes and scrub yourself with a sandpaper washcloth. Your dead skin is supposed to roll up like spaghetti rolls and fall off. Some of my dead skin rolls were almost the size of sausages. After all of your skin comes off you wash with soap and then rinse off using buckets full of water. It was a wonderful experience and afterwards I was definitely the cleanest I've ever been.

Going out for street sandwiches after a night of pool.

Not the hammam we went to but another local one.

We were hardcore to the core...

Experiencing Marrakech from two points of view was a treat. On one hand I did the tourist thing and enjoyed walking around the streets, seeing some sights, and the company of fellow travelers. On the other hand I lived with a local and saw first hand how he lives and enjoyed everything from buying food to seeing his apartment, from playing pool with his friends to making kids smile. During my time in Marrakech I started to feel comfortable in Morocco and I fell in love with my environment. Even though it's a difficult place to travel the experiences that I had were well worth it. Because my experiences were so positive, news of this terrorist attack was crushing. I feel connected to the Moroccan people and responsible for upholding their reputations . I encourage everyone to visit Morocco. Sakran Mohammed, and thanks, Marrakech!

Salam!

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Day 47: A Backpacker's Christmas in Vevey

Merry Christmas and happy holidays from your favorite backpacking blogger.

I'm sure the absence of my Monday and Wednesday entries caused a great deal of confusion and emotional turmoil for many of you. I was undergoing many challenges myself. I assure you that the challenges I faced outmatched any lack-of-post stress you may have felt. Anyway, that's a story for another time (tomorrow).

The mountain I climbed, fog free.

In a previous blarticle I reconciled my feelings concerning this holiday season through writing. This did wonders to calm me down. Throughout my schooling I wrote piles of essays but writing for myself has made me realize how comforting writing can be. Kate Quarfordt, my client, repeated to me a quote from one of her students which hits the nail on the head. "I write to figure out what the hell I think I mean." -Chris Moncrief

Headed up the hill.

A prime example of Swiss architecture.

These must be rather old.

The hills were a patchwork of vineyards.

Amidst all this tinsled emotion, how did I actually spend my holiday? As with any good Christmas story, it begins on Christmas eve.

I'm not sure why Christmas is so disruptive to my sleep pattern. I spent this Christmas eve the same way I do most every other year – awake. Presents have fueled my insomnia in years past but as I only had one present this year something else was keeping me up. I couldn't stop thinking about how I was going to spend my Christmas. It looked like I was going to spend this Christmas with the cats.

There's wine in them thar hills.

High altitude sheepies.

A cool panorama. Thanks Photoshop.

Ultimately I decided to spend my Christmas day in a relaxed and reflective state. To further my spiritual journey I was going to fast for the whole day. Since I have been meditating daily for the past few months, I planned to meditate for a total of two hours, divided into six twenty minute sections. To top it off I was going to write postcards to a handful of my best friends. That seemed like a good plan to me. Fast, meditate, appreciate. Right before I fell asleep I made one Christmas wish, "Go away, fog!"

The Swiss flag, flying high above the town.

For me, the true spirit of Christmas is sleeping in. Waking up at 11 was wonderful (so much for waking up at 7). Bleary eyed and crusty, I wandered out into the living room, rubbing my face. When I opened my eyes and looked out the window I was psyched! The ground was carpeted in a luxurious coating of powder. Though white Christmases are probably common in Switzerland, it was special for me. Even better than the snow the fog cleared! My wish came true. The past two days the fog was so thick that it was impossible to see the other side of the lake. To make the most of the weather, I immediately decided to climb a nearby mountain and experience a view I craved for days.

The perfect date.

Street signs never fail to make awesome photos.

Climbing a mountain without breakfast was a bummer. I would have liked a big plate of ham and eggs, hash browns, with buttery pancakes smothered in warm blueberry syrup, washed down with a gallon of orange juice. Christmas is the season to get fat. But if I couldn't eat my family's food, I wouldn't eat at all – so, I had some water. Sebastian inspired my fast with his 'way more intense' 10 day long water-only fast. Having never fasted before I was interested to see how it would make me feel and how difficult it would be.

"What's next, mom?"

A lonely sled.

A lonely burro.

Before setting out for the mountain I enjoyed two meditation sessions. I would tell you about them but to put them into words would do them and myself an injustice.

Feeling centered, bundled up, and with camera in hand, I set out. The climb wasn't intense but there was snow all over the place. It took me about two hours to reach the top, taking plenty (350) photos along the way. I enjoyed myself walking in silence through the streets that wound up the mountain. As I got higher the view of Vevey and Lac Léman got more and more beautiful. I thought the top would be the ultimate view, but I ended up at some point where trees blocked most of the village. The views from about 3/4 of the way up the mountain were the best.

Here is the church, there is the steeple.

Seems like a nice place to live to me.

Belle.

On my way down I did a bit of off-roading. I put my boots to the test as I scaled down the steep hills of the vineyards. I'm happy to report that my feet stayed dry and I didn't slip and die. Passing through one vineyard I saw some grapes on one of the vines. These must have been grapes for ice wine because I ate them and they were the sweetest grapes that I've ever tasted. Then I remembered I was fasting. Oops!

Another post card.

The view from the top.

Vevey from far away.

In years past, making and delivering gingerbread has been my personal Christmas tradition. I usually choose so many friends to give cookies to that I end up making a huge batch so there's enough to go around. This year the situation was more extreme. Traveling has put pressure on me to stay in touch with my friends and family. One of my favorite parts about Christmas is connecting with old friends and checking in on everyone that I care about. This year I have a lot of people I care about. I started writing names down and my list grew and grew. When I started writing the post cards I realized I forgot a few people so I added them. Rinse and repeat a few times and my list grew to 40 people. Despite my best efforts, there was no way that I could finish all of these in one night.

Aaaahhhh, the cold!

I saw this shot in my mind's eye and it took me a while to find it.

What a charming town.

When 4:30 rolled around I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. If you got a post card and couldn't read it, sorry. I was ready to pass out. I brushed my teeth and was ready to crash when I remembered my present. I felt like my mom. She waits to open her presents so she can enjoy them for longer. I picked it up. It felt like a book. What I thought were chocolates on top turned out to be a beautiful candle. Somewhat reluctantly I peeled back the paper. A constructible paper manger scene. Not something I expected. Oddly enough I enjoyed this gift more when it was wrapped. It didn't matter what it was, just that it was a gift. Opening it spoiled the surprise. The symbolic value of this gift was the most important.

Back on the lake side, I was ready to go back inside.

Merry Christmas, sea gulls.

More than anything, spending this Christmas separated from my traditions made me reevaluate what Christmas means to me. I figured out how to make my Christmas special by appreciating everything I had. Although I only had one gift, it was the first gift that I enjoyed more while it was wrapped. Although I didn't meditate for two hours, this was the most that I've ever meditated in one day. Although I ate some grapes and Christmas cookies, this was the first fast that I've ever attempted. Although I didn't get the best photos from the top of the mountain, I got some amazing ones along the way. Although I couldn't write 40 post cards in one day, I hope I made a few of my friends smile. This may not have been the best Christmas but I sure learned a lot. I can't wait to bake cookies next year.

Au revior!

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