"Traveling- it leaves you speechless then turns you into a storyteller."

Once again, I've fallen behind, but we'll get there.  The end is so close, I can practically feel it breathing down my neck.  This is so unreal.

The weekend after Fall Break, I had planned a trip to Morocco for the long weekend.  In Italy, All Saint's Day is an observed holiday and all classes were cancelled to celebrate/ observe it.  My roommate Anne and I took advantage of the opportunity to head to Morocco.  We had planned our trip with a well-established tour group, so for those of you worried about my entering into an Islam nation, fear not.  All that I had to take care of was the flight and upon finding the perfect one quite smoothly, I was ready to go.  Only to have the flight cancelled and get stuck with a not-so-great one, but it's not traveling without something going wrong.  Details..

I arrived in Morocco with no issues and one of the tour guides was there waiting for me, just as promised, so off we went.  I had arrived pretty late, the last one of the group, and Anne had filled Marcie, the guide, in on all things 'Sam.'  Apparently, when dealing with me, all you need to know is that I'm a psychology major and that I really like bread because that is what Anne passed along to Marcie and that is the first impression I made in Morocco.

As cheesy as this sounds, Aladdin really is an accurate picture of Morocco- it's a whole new world.  Just everything is so radically different.  I got there around 10 at night, and even in the dark, this was like nowhere I had ever been before.  The people, the architecture, the language, just everything.  I can't even begin to explain.  Another major difference was the water.  It is unsafe to drink in Morocco, fun fact.  So after a stop for water, we made our way to the hostel.

The group was incredibly small compared to other groups that I had traveled with.  After my experience in Granada, I was extremely relieved to have Anne there with me.  But as it turns out, everyone in the group was friendly, and more importantly, sane.  After meeting the group, I crashed.  Even successful traveling is exhausting.

The following morning we all gathered at breakfast to gear up for our day in the Ourika Valley.  We were going to have tea in the home of a berber family, then have a camel ride and finish off the afternoon with a hike to see some waterfalls in the valley.  After piling into the van, the driver informed Andy, our other guide, that there was a market going on if we wanted to see it.  We did, of course, and we got to experience market life first-hand.

Each town is named for the day it has it's weekly market, so the name of this town was Friday, but only in Arabic.  It is the custom that only the men go to market to collect whatever is needed for the week.  The philosophy is that is they make the money and they should spend the money.  It was also quickly brought to our attention that street peddlers in Morocco are much more persistent than anywhere in Europe.  They swarmed the van before it had even come to a complete stop.  They also bothered the females much more than the one guy in the group because it's so obvious that the girls are going to be completely into the necklaces you're shoving in our faces.  I did find it a little funny when one of the vendors randomly came up some knives to tempt J.C.

However, we finally made it to the berber house and were given a quick tour.  They had the most beautiful view of valley.  The complex is for the all the extended members of the family, so there could be a many as 30 members living in the house.  We then to went to have tea.  I was a little nervous about this.  I don't like tea and it's rude to not accept food in someone's house.  Also, caffeine and I don't get along, as a general rule.  The last thing I needed was to go ballistic and for no one to know what was actually going on.  Enter miraculous Moroccan mint tea.  It's delicious.  It's custom that you have mint tea with everything, and I mean everything, so we got to have lots of it during our time there and that was fine by me.  And I didn't freak out. So, add henna, bread, olive oil, honey and butter, all fresh and homemade, to the mix and my time in Morocco was off to a good start.

From there we headed to our camel ride!  It should be noted that I adore camels.  I used to find camels rather ugly and they spit.  When I was younger, my Mom took my siblings, some friends and I to a petting zoo that had come to our mall.  I begrudgingly fed the camel there since everyone else was ignoring it and the rest is history.  We became best friends and I have loved all of his kin since.  So even without the camel ride, I was ecstatic to be there.  When you are riding a camel, you can't help but feel that you're going to fall off any minute.  The saddle isn't the most secure considering that you have a hump to contend with and camels are A LOT taller than most animals you are capable of riding.  However, the country is beautiful and you're hanging out with a camel.  Am I complaining?  NOPE.

Life made.

From there we went to start our hike.  This was trickier than it sounds.  There had been recent flooding in the valley and many of the foot bridges had been washed away.  We were also stopped by a group of kids pretending to be Jews for a local festival that was going on.  We did make it to the starting point and began the ascent.  The views were absolutely marvelous, even if the trek to the top had us all gasping for air.  What I found amazing was that halfway up the trail, there was a restaurant.  There are no roads and the trail is ridiculously steep, so this means that the poor smucks that work there have to haul up everything they need.  This hike is enough with just yourself.  I cannot imagine trying to drag a box of fruit or chairs or whatever up with me.  Despite the moment of perspective puniness, the hike was great.  I will always remember the beauty of that valley.  

We were treated to a traditional Moroccan meal after our hike and enjoyed some delicious couscous and tajine.  Tajine is basically the Moroccan equivalent of our crock pot, but much tastier.  I would gladly eat tajine over a crock pot meal any day.  We were given time to rest and wash up after dinner for a Halloween party that some of the American teachers were having that evening.  We got to meet many interesting people and hear their stories of how they came to be in Morocco and what their time there had held for them.  Very interesting people with many interesting stories.  Maybe teach abroad is something I should look into..

The following day we were given a tour of the center, or the Medina.  We went to one of the first museums and to an old university and given a little insight to the life of a student before the school became a museum.  As I said before, everything in Morocco is so different.  From weapons to education to art, everything is so unique and new in my eyes.  It's truly fascinating and bewildering.  

Part of the tour included a tour of a pharmacy which was probably one of the most exciting parts of the trip.  We loved everything about the pharmacy and everyone went a little hog wild went we were given the opportunity to purchase some of what we had been shown.  Everything was natural, organic and herbal.  It was perfect.  If only we had a place like that in the United States then I would be living the dream.  They showed us oils for migraines, powders for sinuses, lotions, tea, body oils, hair products, anything you could have possibly wanted.  It didn't hurt that there was a lady going around giving everyone massages while we listened to them talk.  Again, no complaints.

After the tour we went out for a nice ride through the desert on 4-wheelers.  I had not been 4-wheeling in years and it felt so great.  And it was a great way to see the surrounding area and some of the smaller villages.  And it was beautiful in a way that only the desert can be.  

After 4-wheeling, Anne and I had signed up for a Hammam bath.  I'm going to spare you the details of this little misadventure.  If you really want to know, I'll give you a personal rendition, but long story short, Anne and I got know each other VERY well.  They said we should pack swimsuits and despite their presence, they went completely ignored.  

After the very refreshing and somewhat awkward bath and massage (even with the awkwardness, it was worth it.  It felt so wonderful and it was good practice for embracing your personal beauty.), we went out for a final dinner.  The food was great and they had live music (American, of course, you can't avoid it, but it's actually kinda nice) and belly dancers.  It was a great way to wrap up the trip.

The following day, I wandered around and got way too many souvenirs until it was time to head to the airport, and of course, my bad luck streak had to catch up with me.  When I got through security, my flight was not listed.  I waited for a couple of hours and finally it showed up, but it didn't say what gate.  Considering all the others were full, I waited at the remaining one, but they never called for boarding.  I thought I heard someone say my name and I decided to double check, just in case.  Not only had they boarded, but the plane was waiting on me.  All seven other passengers.  I arrived in Casablanca and another night in the airport.  This time, I perfected the homeless routine.  I found some cardboard boxes in a secluded area of the airport and used that as a mattress, which really does make a difference.  I had a scarf I had bought that I used as a blanket and my backpack worked great as a pillow.  I actually got some decent sleep, at least in comparison to my other nights in airports.  And for some strange reason, when I tell this story or mention it, my roommate Anne about wets herself every time.  She should be proud.  I'm a champ at this by now.  Who knew being homeless was so funny?

The following morning I was at my gate the second it was announced to avoid what had happened in the Marrakech airport.  And, of course, it was delayed.  We were finally were allowed to board, but we had to be shuttled.  After cramming everyone on like a can of sardines, we finally left.  When we got to the plane, they still weren't ready for us.  And the brilliant driver, instead of at least opening the doors to give us some air, let us sit in the extremely crowded shuttle with the doors closed at noon under a lovely desert sun.  I was about to fake an epileptic fit just for an excuse to get some fresh air.  I was really over the face-to-face time I was getting with my neighbors.  I'm pretty sure I could make fairly accurate guesses as to what each of them had had for lunch.  The driver finally grew some brains and at least let us off the shuttle and and then finally we were allowed on the plane.  I had never been so happy to be crammed onto a freezing plane in all my life.  

I loved Morocco.  It was such a diverse trip and I'm so grateful to have been able to go there.  Morocco was wonderful in the sense that it reminded that there is so much to our world that I am so unfamiliar with.  While I was shopping, I talked with a shop keeper about Islam for a little while and though Morocco is so unfamiliar to me, the human spirit isn't.  What this man had to say about his religion was beautiful and meeting this brother in humanity was such a blessing.  I'm pretty sure I would struggle in making Morocco a permanent home, but it was so awesome to see and feel and experience the home of a really phenomenal people, to have their home so joyously opened up to me.  We're different, but they make my story and experience all the more treasured and colorful.  

Your Devoted and Loving Storyteller,

Samantha