Morocco Day 4

Today started off with a long drive towards Ouarzazate, which is like a jumping off point for groups headed to the desert.  We spent the morning traversing long, windy roads in the High Atlas mountains, which reach at least 10,000 feet in altitutde.  We stopped for lunch in a small town and enjoyed another version of tagine; this time featuring lentils, kofta (meatballs), and an egg.  This nourishment was in prepapration for climbing up to a famous kasbah, or fortress, which has been featured in movies such as Gladiator and Jewel of the Nile.  We wound through a small village to get there, and saw that many Moroccans in the southern areas are living in similiar conditions to those as their ancestors.  The house are made of mud and straw and we sw the equpiment that allows them to mold huge bricks for home construction.  The walls are so thick that they block out the heat from the sun to some extent and keep it cool for those who live inside.

After enjoying a view from the top of the kasbah, we stopped to see a local artisan at work.  He creates drawings with henna and saffron, then heats the painting over an open flame.  The heat reacts with the dyes and changes their color, adding depth and shading to his work.  I bought the picture he made in front of our group.

I would love to know more about how the people living in small towns like this make a living.  Clearly some tourists stop there, but i would also doubt that enough is purchased to support everyone who sells their wares.  There are clearly farmers, as there was a lush spurt of trees and other plants near a small river, and we are in a region famous for their figs.

We finally arrived at our hotel in Ouarzazate and took a pre-dinner dip in the pool.  This was followed by a night of drinking and dancing at the hotel with some friends from the group.

Morocco Day 3

Whereas we were able to troop through Day 1 (and missing basically a night of sleep with the time change), jetlag really set in on Day 2.  Waking up was quite a challenge, but wortth the effort.  Our first stop was the Koutoibia mosque, first constructed in the 11th century.  An earthquake in the 1700s destroyed the original building, but you can still see the old pillars.  We also learned about the symbolism of the stacked orbs on top of each mosque: the bottom, largest represents the earth, the middle one represents the skies, and the top orb the heavens.  Zouhair told us a joke about the ingot on the very top, but it wasn't true. My logical deduction is that it would represent Allah, though.  (Update- on the last day, Idris told me none of it is verified as true, just a story that's told).

Next up was the Bahia Palace.  It was built by a man who was a slave, but eventually became a Pasha.  Bahia means beuatiful, and the palace certainly lives up to the hype, but its name also came from the woman in his harem who gave him his first son to carry on the succession.  During this stop, we learned about the 5 characteristics of Arabic architecture: ceramic tile mosaics, arched ceilings, Arabic script as a decoration due to the prohibition against reproducing the image of another living thing, the color green, and fountains in the courtyards.

The other incredible thing was seeing the gardens at the palace.  While they were lovely to see, it was striking that every plant had a purpose; we saw ginger, dates, figs, bananas, yuca, and I'm sure I've forgotten some other things.  Oranges.  Morocco is strongly based on agriculture, which makes it all the more vital that they get some rain each year (which does happen).

We followed siesta patterns; that is, as the zenith of the day's heat approached, we returned to the hotel for lunch and a much-needed nap.  The afternoon took us into Djemma al-Fna, which has been declared a UNESCO world heritage site, and I completely understand why.  It's this insane walled-in labrynth of stalls, shops, and artisans that you could get lost in, and I am not exaggerating.  I took pictures, but there's no way to replicate for you the serpentine nature of this place's layout.  Our first stop in the maze was a Quoranic school.  While now just a tourist site, it had been in use as a school until 2004.  As women cannot be imams within the Muslim religion, there is no need for them to attend Quoranic schools (they instead go to regular schoools).  Boys begin attending around the age of 6 and live at the school until 15, when they go on to secondary and then university.  To exit the school and continue on the path towards being an imam, the boys must memorize the entire Quoran.  Students also receive lodging based on their hard work, the best students are given the more spacious rooms with windows overlooking the courtyards, which slackers are given basement rooms and possibly no windows, or at least not a good view.  It would be interesting to see what a slacker in this situation looked like; since it's such a long amount of time and a large commitment of family resources to send a boy, it is hard to imagine that the boys who are sent wouldn't work hard out of a sense of duty.

We went on from here to a Berber pharmacy, where we were given a bit of information on many products, mostly involving argon oil, then given the chance to purchase what we like.  I should have looked up argon oil sooner.  Lots of claims were made from prevention of wrinkes and dark circles to greater moisturizing benefits to improved memory, etc.

We wound through more of the maze, seeing incredible craftsman ship: blacksmiths creating intricate wrought iron lanterns and wood carvers using both hands and feet to carve out the perfect pattern.  Eventually we ended up in a large city square, where we saw snake charmers, henna painters, and stands selling everything from goat heads to fresh squeezed OJ.  Michael even had a monkey thrown on his back.

We had a mint tea (ubiquitous in the country) on a rooftop cafe and watched the life happening down below.  Then it was time for a swim, a nap, and dinner.  This time, we went to a traditional Moroccan restaurant, and it did not disappoint.  It was somewhere in the labrynth, and while the ornate door belies a bit of the opulence to be seen , you are not fully prepared for how stunning the huge underground chambers of this place area.  In between delicious salads, tagine, and melons for dessert, we enjoyed two belly dancer performances.  The first was an older woman, respectably clad, performing the traditional Moroccan version.  This involves incredible gyrations ALL WHILE A TIERED TRAY OF BURNING CANDLES IS BALANCED ON HER HEAD.  Wild.  The second dancer performed in the Egyptian style, which is the more scantily clad hip shaking version that most of us picture when belly dancing is the topic.

We then walked into the main square we had seen earlier, and it was a complete transformation.  Hundreds and hundreds of people were gathered onut, eating, drinking, playing music, telling stories, and enjoying each others' company.  What was most impressive were the 10s of restaurants than had not existed during the day, and had been set up for the evening gatherings.

After some time here, we went back to the hotel, and eventually found our way back to the hookah bar again.  There was a nice mix of Brits and Americans, and it made me really look forward to spending the tour with a fun group of people.

Morocco Day 2

After a failed excursion to find a lunch spot, Michael and I took a much needed nap, then rejoined our group for a brief info session.  The info session's most important reveal was that our group would have a hilarious guide named Zuhair.  He then took us to a small store (which we keep referring to as a bodega, if that gives you an idea), to get water and snacks.  I also got to practice my Arabic with Zuhair, which was incredibly fun.  That on the heels of a successful Arabic-only exchane to buy water in the Casablanca airport has really revived my desire to continuing to study Arabic.  Maybe after the TESOL courses...

Our first dinner experience in Morocco was a bit disappointing; we ate at the hotel, and as it caters to tourists, much of the food was not native (pastas, fish, turkey, etc).  They did have some nice chopped veggie salads with beets and cukes, plus couscous and tagine. (A note on tagine- it is a style of cooking that involves throwing all the raw ingredients in a conical pot, then leaving it over the fire for several hours- think crockpot minus the need for electricity.  Ingredients are usually meat, veggies, and spices,  and then it's served  with rice or couscous. Michael and I have been looking forward to this since first trying it with Hlavka and Palmer at the Moroccan hookah place in Baltimore.)

Dinner was followed by a hookah excursion, wherin I was able to practice more Arabic.  Right now, Mulslims are observing Ramadan.  During this whole month, they must fast during the day, which includes not drinking any water and abstaining from sexual contact in addition to the no food.  Exceptions are made for kids, pregnant women, older people, and those who are ill.  As makes sense, people try to avoid being out in the heat of the day if possible, and while Michael and I certainly saw people during the day, there was a much greater presence at night.  Everyone is very friendly and receptive to the cobbled together Arabic spoken by me and the French spoken by Sandy, an American girl we've become friends with.

The hookah bar was a fun experience, because we were seated in a spacious room decorated with rugs and sofas, but with trees growing in it and open to the night sky.

While Morocco is a Muslim country, there is a great range in what women wear.  We've seen everything: burka (everything including eyes covered), niqab (slit for the eyes), to chador (big cloth that covers head and upper body, with pants on the bottom), the hijab (scarf covering hair), and then finally no head covering whatsoever.  We have also noticed some Moroccsn women wearing short sleeves or skirts.  As for foreign women, supposedly you can wear whatever, and while there are some in our group who do, the most daring I'll go is a cap sleeve shirt, still with pants or skirt below the knee.

A final note on day one is our cast of characters:

Along with Zouhair, mentioned above, Idris is our other guide. Both wonderful and experienced tour guides. Idris has been bitten by a scorpion twice and lived to tell the tale, so he may be a desert god.

Sandy and Vicky- two American girls who are travel buddies of the same age as Michael and myself.

Jackie, Kristen, and Vinnie- 3 amazing Californians, mid 20s, and super friendly.

Adam and Glenn - two British guys that can drink more than should be humanly possible. They a quite nice (we learned from them over the trip that this genuinely means they are great, whereas a Brit simply saying "nice" may mean anything from indiference to f***off).

There are certainly others on the tour, perhaps 30 in total, but these will be the familiar names over the next few days.

Entry

We have landed in Marrakech and are figuring out plans for the afternoon.  In the meantime, enjoy this picture of our room as if you can read Spanish, below are some thoughts I had on the plane about frustration and our attitude towards it.

Morocco: Primera Leccion

La primera cosa que aprendi Durante este viaje fue algo relacionado con nuestra abilidad de - mejor dicho dificultad con- superar momentos en los que no nos setimos muy comodos.  Etaba casi durmida pero de pronto me desperte porque el hombre sentado a mi izquierda era aplastado a mi lado.  Una palabra sobre este hombre- no era gordo, sino bien....how do you say broad? Digamos que para nada era estrecho.  Bueno...me desperte porque tenerle tan cerca me proporciono con el calor de su cuerpo.  Y por los primeros 5 minutos despues de despertary, la unica cosa que queria era que se moviera.  Hasta que tenia la idea de darle un pinzon- aunque claro que no lo hice.   Por fin, me di cuenta de que me estaba portando como una nina. Tenia que reirme, porque fue tan facil perder el control durante la incomodidad.  Dos lecciones aqui:

-si soy adulta y me frustro hasta la punta de pensar en violencia, como se translada a nuestros estudiantes? Es vital que entendamos su capacidad disminuido (en comparison con la mayoria de adultos) para controlarse, y igualmemte importante que le ayudemos en desarrollarla.  Tambien, necesitamos comprender que si no se portan bien, al fondo hay una incomodidad de una manera u otra, e eso es lo que resolvemos para que el estudiante siga aprendiendo.

-todos nosotros fallamos en algun momento. Hay que tener paciencia con si misma para superar los momentos dificiles.  Pero igualmente necesitamos exigir que tenemos expectacionese altas para nuestra comportamiento, hacia otras pero mtambien en la mente. Porque tener "the habit" de pensar algo negativo muy pronto translada a un camino negativo de vida. Siempre debemos intentar alcanzar el positivo y el mejor que hay adentro de nosotros.

Mientras escribo, todavia puedo sentir la presion de su brazo sobre mi lado.  Planeo en hacer un tipo de meditacion balinesa: me rio por el proposito de reir.  Muy pronto aterrizamos en Morocco, y llevare sonrisa adentro y afuera.

Climb Every Mountain...

A bit delayed, but I still wanted to write about the experience of 4 days worth of trekking through the Andes and arriving at Machu Picchu...


Guinea Pig
Before leaving Cusco, of course I still had to try guinea pig.  Erin and I went to a little restaurant down the street to enjoy this local delicacy.  We entered and ordered.  A moment after, one of the gentlemen restauranteurs dashed out the front door of the establishment.  In short order, he returned, discreetly "hiding" the plastic-bag wrapped guinea pig from the eyes of his impressionable clientele...which in the entire restaurant came to the sum of two gringas from PA and MD.  Erin and I had a great laugh over that...and had to chuckle again when our orders (or the ineptitude of the cooks, who seemed to be googling the recipes as they prepared the meal) necessitated not one but two more errands down the street.  And while this all might sound strange, this is nothing particularly out of the ordinary, at least from what I've seen previously in my travels.  I enjoy it, to be honest- it's a distinct departure from what we are used to at home, and the entire meal is an experience in one way or another.  I think I probably would have been more disappointed if I didn't have a tale like this to tell.

Once the pig finally made it to our table, I stared him in the eyes...and the teeth.  It was served whole, including the head, and WOW were his teeth sharp.  There's not much meat on a guinea pig, and it was so well-cooked that I could not get my knife or fork through the guy.  One of the waiters took it back to the kitchen, and a few whacks with a chopping knife had it quartered for me to pick up and eat finger-food style instead.  My next recourse was to pick up the guinea pig (cuy is the local word for this delicacy) by his hind foot and take a bite.  This, also, was more difficult than anticipated, as the meat was really done.  The consistency was like leather (I imagine) with crunchy flakes breaking off in your mouth.  Because of all the effort needed for mastication, it was hard to get an actual flavor from the meat.  I tried a second bite, to no avail.  Check that off the list, but unless it were to be cooked in a different style, guinea pig is one food I won't feel the need to try again.

Porters

Before I start writing about the actual trail, I have to put in a word about porters, or chasquis (Quechua/Incan word for messengers).  For each group of trekkers that goes out on the trail, there is also a group of chasquis that goes with the group.  These gentlemen are, in a word, incredible.  Wearing, in most cases, no sturdier footgear than a pair of leather strap sandals, the chasquis carry around 55 pounds of gear (think tents, kitchen equipment, and food for the trek) all over the Inca Trail- and many run or jog the trail.  To give you a better visual on this, I'm struggling to get my ass up the trail, with a backpack and water bottle plus the aid of a walking stick, and these guys are running by, passing me, and carrying about 9 times the weight that I am.  One chasqui with our group was in his SIXTIES.  We figured out that each guy makes about $75 dollars, plus maybe another $15 or so in tips, for a grand total of $90 plus food and lodging for a 4 day trek.  I cannot imagine getting paid that amount to run all over the mountains.  These guys are, again, no other word but incredible.  One of the really neat things about the trail is that no matter who you are walking near, anyone who knows a chasqui is approaching will yell ahead to the next group: "Porter on the right!" or "Chasqui on the left!" to give them right of way.

The Inca Trail
This was truly the trip of a lifetime.  After being picked up around 5:30 AM on Wednesday, we rode the bus for a few hours until we were dropped at a town called Kilometer 84.  At this point, the elevation is already 2600 meters and you're left to stare at the rugged mountains around you, thinking to yourself, "Can I really do this?"  Well, hopefully so, or else you'd better board the train because at this point, there's no turning back (or at least not without a lot of work- once you're on the trail, you have to hike back the way you came, so deciding to quit makes little sense unless it's still Day 1).

Day 1's hike is basically a pleasant meandering along the River Urubamba with one or two hills of any note.  You take a break along the river for a delicious lunch, which is your first introduction to just how magical your cook is (Benedicto will live forever in my memory- I can't even cook like him with the amenities of a full kitchen).  After lunch, we hiked for another few hours until arriving at Camp 1, 3000 meters up at Wallaybamba.  Although our hike wasn't particularly stressful, we still took a nap before dinner was served at 7, and promptly fell back asleep again at 8 PM.

That was a good thing, because you're woken up with tea service at 5:20 (aka, shortly after my normal get-up-for-school-time anyway).  You have about 40 minutes to pack your bag and get ready for the day, breakfast is served at 6, and you're hitting the trail again before 7.

Day 2 is...grueling doesn't really even do it justice.  It turns out that I was doing the trek with some sort of upper respiratory infection, possibly bronchitis, so that complicated things too, but even in good health, it probably would have been killer.  There were many times during the day that I really thought, hmm, I might have been insane to start this or even There was mention of kidnappings by the Shining Path....let them take me now if it means I don't have to hike anymore!  No joke.  I'll come back to this later, but I would have been so excited to finally reach the top if I hadn't been so exhausted.  I don't even want to mention how much later I reached Dead Woman's Pass than the rest of my group...

...but on the other hand I caught up to about a third of them while climbing down the other side, so I guess I wasn't too far behind.  Despite a persistent hacking cough, I don't think I've ever slept better than I did that night.

The next morning, we had two more passes to make it over.  After having made it through Day 2, my attitude was definitely, "well, now I can do anything!", so it was much easier going.  I had also had the genius stroke of putting in my iPod, and I was enjoying the misty morning, so all in all it was a wonderful day.  We also got to see another ruin, Phuyupatamarca, another Quechua word that literally means "City in the Clouds".  Very true to its name.

That day, we also encountered the Gringo Killers.  Basically, after you've come through the second mountain pass of Day 3, it's straight down more than 2500 steps.  Wayyy worse than if you were simply walking down a path.  Every step, you're jolting a knee, ankle, or hip (or all three).  Finally, you emerge from that and arrive at the Intipata, one of the old Incan terraced farming sites set way above the Rio Urubamba, and from which you can actually see the third and final campsite on the trail.

We really tried to go to bed early that night, because we were waking up at 3:30 the next day.  The trail opens at 5:30 to get to Machu Picchu, so we were trying to be first in line.  Team Goonies ended up being second, and following our entrance into the Sanctuary (as it was stamped in my passport), we had a very rapid 2 hour hike all the way up to the Sun Gate.  The Sun Gate is the first place from which you can actually see Machu Picchu- at least, if the weather permits.  Climbing at the end of the rainy season like we did, the weather did not cooperate, and we waited a few minutes in vain before continuing our descent down into the sacred city.  We paused at another lookout, where we were able to start making out some of the forms below, but it was until we were right in Machu Picchu City that we could really see things.  I don't really even know how to describe what it was like to see this ancient stone city rising out of the mist, or how it felt as we began to explore and the sun began burning the mist off, so that more and more of the ruins were revealed.  All I know is that I eventually needed some time to just sit by myself and revel in being there.

The Lesson
That brings me to my personal revelation from the trip: indomitable will.  The Incas needed will in order to build a city so high up on the mountain that from the bottom, it can't even freakin' be seen.  They needed will to destroy THE ENTIRE FIRST DAY'S WORTH OF THE TRAIL just so the Spaniards wouldn't be able to find Machu Picchu (and they never did).  And I needed it to make it up and over the trail at all- in fact, if I had been more sure of myself, I honestly don't think Day 2 would have been AS hard as it was.  It's all about telling yourself that nothing will dominate your confidence and your willpower.

The End
Because Erin and I are masochists, we decided that noo, we wouldn't take the bus down from Machu Picchu like everyone else- nope, we had to hike down and all the way to Aguas Calientes.  David and Angel, our wonderful guides from Peru Treks, Ltd., told us that it would take 40 minutes.  They must have been telling us chasqui speed, though, because it took us about 2 hours.  Still totally worth the effort to roll into town and know that we did every last inch of the trail on our own two feet.  After some pizza, beer, and final laughter with the group, we got on a train, then a bus, and finally made it back to Cusco.  BEST SHOWER OF OUR LIVES.

The next morning, we headed for Lima (but not before we finally got to try choclo con queso!)

where we lounged in hammocks at the Pay Purix Hostel before heading to Miraflores.  Once there, we found a lovely restaurant on the sea, gorged ourselves on seafood and dessert, and then headed back to the hostel, where we spent the night drinking beer and eating pizza (again) with some other hostel dwellers until our flight the next morning.