Time Flies

I'm not sure how it got to be the middle of June, but turns out it is. The 2 weeks in May I spent in Morocco with Brian were fantastic. The food was amazing; fat chickens, olives, almonds, apricots, figs, strawberries, cherries, nectarines, spices, fresh squeezed orange juice, oh so many good flavors. We did do other things in between meals.

For starters we met in the Casablanca airport and took a train to Marrakesh. After 3 days of wandering thru the medina, drinking tea, eating great street food, and repeatedly not being interested in buying a carpet, we got on a bus and headed towards the climbing area. (Well actually it was 2 days of that, and 1 day of hanging out at the hotel while Brian was sick.) We spent a night in Ouarzazate just to brake up the trip. 10 hour bus rides are never fun. Ouarzazate has a movie studio and is a wealthy, well kept town. On the bus we met two writers from New York, Harry and Stella. She was doing research for a book on pirates. He was a fascinating character that had been to a lot of places; Vietnam, China, Iran, and had even written travel brochures for Kadafi. I love the random people you meet while traveling.

After 4 days of great climbing in the Tadra Gorge we hopped in the back of a truck with a donkey, a horse and a lot of Moroccans and headed into the Atlas mountains. The trip was just long enough to be an adventure and not so long as to be a painful epic. The town we ended up in was on the map in the guide book, but the roads to get in and out of it were not. So we weren't exactly sure how to get out of town or even which way was out. But with a lovely twist of fate the nice man that owned the hotel we were staying in figured out that I was a Peace Corps volunteer and told us about the volunteers in the area. With a little help from some locals, we showed up at one of the volunteer's door. She was increadably helpful and gave us a wealth of information on things to do, drew maps and wrote down transport schedules and prices! We went and had tea with her host family and watched her host Mom and another woman weave. Amazing! Yeh Peace Corps network, and thanks to her for being so nice, and helpful.

After some uneventful transport, things run on schedule in Morocco, we eventually ended up in Fes. Here there was more eating, medina wandering, tea (and coffee) drinking, tannery visiting (they smell bad!), and further resistance to carpet sales. We might be the only tourists to have ever visited Morocco and not bought a carpet.

We also a went to Voulibus outside of Fes, a very mediterranean looking area with rolling green hills, olive orchards, vineyards and roman ruins. The ruins were a beautiful dork paradise. We tried to figure out what every column, channel, tile and divot had been used for. We crawled thru aqua ducts and I especially marveled at the covered sewers. But sadly it was time to go. So we got on the train back to Casablanca.

Brain flew out in the morning and I had a day to wander thru the streets and parks being hit on by Moroccan men in creatively creepy ways. (I'm not sure why anyone would respond well to be hissed at and then offered ice cream. He was trying to work it from every angle with that.)

To escape the streets I took myself to the local hammam, or spa. Brian said it sounded terrifying and didn't want to go. He is a smart man. At the hamman I paid a woman to scrub off all my dead skin, and part of my live skin. To give you the play by play, I first left all my clothes at the door. I was then led (naked) into a dimly lit hot room where this women threw me on the floor, poured buckets of water over me and did a variety of other things to me that would make the guards at Guantanamo cringe. Since this was the local hammam I was surrounded by the ladies of the neighborhood torturing themselves or each other in the same way, or waiting for their turn with the torture master after she was finished with me. There was even a kid playing in the corner. No big deal, no need for me to be tramatized, it's just bath time. After I staggered out of the torture room my clothes were returned to me by the front desk lady. She was a wonderful round matronly figure who kissed me on each check and sent me on my way back to Mali. I have never been so clean.

The flight from Casablanca arrives in Bamako at about 3 a.m., a confusing time to be anywhere, especially Mali. On the way from the airport the wheel feel off the taxi I was in. The driver seemed more surprised that I refused to pay until I got to my destination than at the wheel falling off. I guess the horrible noises and smoke filling the car made the wheel falling off less of a surprise and more of a grand finale. After a nap and some food I got on the afternoon bus to head home. Since it was over 100 degrees I thought this would be a good way to make the trip a little less painful. Silly me. As I said earlier a 10 hour bus ride is never fun, especially when it takes 18 hours. There isn't even a good reason that it took 18 hours. We didn't have 3 flat tires or have the brakes catch on fire or any of the other hundreds of things that can, and do, go wrong with transport here. I was sitting across from the door, so there was a nice breeze, but a crap load of dust. I finally made it home, but I don't think I have every been so dirty. All that torture to get clean wasted.

Soon after I got back to my site, I left again. The annual mudding of the Djenne mosque was taking place. So a bunch of us went to see what it was all about. After a night that involved a lot of wind, thunder, rain, muggy heat, bugs, hard floors and not a lot of sleep we were ready for the festivities to begin. Just so you know, scrambling off a mud roof, down a set of mud stairs during a thunderstorm in the middle of the night is not easy.

To cover the largest mud structure in the world with a fresh coat of mud you have to start early in the morning, I think is was 6:00ish. I'm not sure how to describe this event. Ancient Islamic architecture at Woodstock maybe. There were old men with whips, troops of young men chanting and running around with baskets of mud, women hauling water, rickety ladders, men climbing walls, and mud flying every direction. There was even a BBC documentary film crew to record it all. It was tons of fun, and one of the most organized events I've seen in Mali. We even had time to clean up and take a nap before lunch.

After all this fun I headed to Bamako to meet friend who were all coming back from different vacations. (Yes, there is a bit of a mass exodus of peace corps volunteers from Mali during hot season. Please don't judge us.) We went to the Mali versus Ghana soccer game. A World Cup qualifier match. Sadly Mali lost, but it was a great time and there was no rioting, always a plus.

Someday in the not too distant future I will hopefully post pictures of all the fun I've been having, and our amazing sand storms.