"Horse With No Name"

On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound...

After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
After three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead...

     This week we reach all the way back to 1972 for our musical muse.  I was a very adorable 3 yr-old (I am going to assume) and the American folk-rock group named, um, America released our classic title.  In the interest of accuracy I should say that I am not in America at present but Morocco, and that I while I was in the desert, I was not on a horse but a camel, and his name was Tag #2825 (Yes, it was a "he" - I am nothing if not thorough).  I even have a picture!

                                         SO cute!  And the camel ain't none too shabby, either...

     Back to the beginning...school let out last Friday and I immediately bolted for the ironically named L'Oasis train station.  I purchased a 90 dirham 2nd-class ticket and hopped aboard the 5pm train to Marrakech.  Some info: a first class ticket guarantees you a seat, a second class ticket gets you aboard, but is no guarantee of a seat.  Yep, they overbook; it's part of the charm riding the rails here.  I'm too cheap to pay for first-class, so I take my chances; I've been lucky thus far this year.  Friday 5pm Casa to Marrackech?  I assumed my luck would end that day, and it did.  I stood in a narrow aisle near the rear for the first half of the 3-hour trip.

     My journey ended without further drama as I rolled into the train station at Marrakech at 8pm.  Someone from the tour company was supposed to meet me there.  I stayed inside the station; people there said that was where I should meet a tour person.  I wandered some while thinking I was in trouble, but after about a half-hour Omar found me, indicating he'd been outside.  Anyway, to the hotel we went.  The fun continued when I approached the desk and realized I didn't have my passport, which I have to have to take a room for the night.  Uh-oh.  For better or worse, I knew from experience this meant a trip to the big police station.  A taxi drops me off, and...it's the old station; I need to go to the new one.  Once there, I managed to turn on the charm (though not until after I had corrected the English vocabulary of one of the "suits" to the amusement of his colleague) and I get my authorization to bed down for the night.  I understand enough to figure out that the guy at the hotel desk was a jerk on the phone.  Apparently the police gave the guy a hard time; when I got back to the hotel I was checked into the rooftop terrace suite.  Nice!

     Early next morning I'm picked up along with others throughout the area and day 1 of our adventure begins!  I am the only American on a minibus with 5 Moroccan architecture students, plus an assortment of Australians, Austrians, Italians, Spainards and an Englishman, all of whom I believe are in their 20s.  Could be interesting.  All very nice people, and all spoke English well.  The people you meet...the 2 Aussie lasses had quit their jobs and were halfway through what should turn out to be an 8-month trek throughout the Middle East, Africa and Asia.  The Spanish guy worked for a time in a PA town at the same time I did.

     I get motion sickness the same way deserts have sand, and we were going to have to go through the High Atlas Monutains.  This trip was NOT going to be easy.  We, excruciatingly slowly, wound our way over the 14000-ft peaks.  Fun.  The first important place to see along the way was the kasbah at Ait Ben Haddou, a UNESCO World Heritage site.   Many movies have shot there, including The Last Temptation of Christ, The Mummy and Gladiator; Game of Thrones just wrapped 2 months ago.  Here are some photos from the site:


 
Oh, I'm sorry - wrong ones - here you go...

     We toured the area and learned a lot about the lenghty history of the Berber Jews.  Then we were off to the town of Ouarzazate for lunch, which had places where you could see movie props and the like.  Next was the Valley of Roses; here's a pic:



Oops - wrong again - the roses aren't in bloom til next month.  Here's a real pic:

     Anyway, we made it to a guest house at the base of the gorge.  It looked from the outside that it was going to be a real cheap place.  I was wrong.  It was real cute and cozy.  Funny, it resembled my image of a lodge at the top of the Austrian Alps, not at the base of a Moroccan gorge.  With what I had to work, good images weren't possible; however, some photographs (real, this time ;)

     We had tajine for dinner.  I was sitting at the head of a long table with the Moroccan students around me.  Everyone else filled out the other side of the table.  I would dare say we had more fun.  The others actually used utensils and didn't eat directly from the tajine pot.  We were mingled in with another group or two, and my bunkmate was a young Chinese guy from Germany who spoke better English than I did.  Poor guy - he had no idea of the snore-fest he was in for.  I was elbowed at a hostel in Florence, and I'm surprised I wasn't suffocated in my sleep over 3 nights in Rome.  But, everything turned out ok on this night.  Or at least my bunkie was too polite to say anything.

     In the a.m. we headed out for the town of Merzouga.  Along the way we saw a geological formation called "monkey fingers".

     We stopped to take a walk through an oasis.  I was only a little surprised our guide spoke English, French, Spanish and Berber.  The Italian and German was really impressive.  Everyone spoke English, but not perfectly, and most spoke some Spanish.  I was often able to serve as a go-between during the trip for people speaking Spanish and English and looking for just the right missing word.  It was fun. 
     It would've been rude to photo the women working, so no pics of them.  I'm amazed how some people make a life in this country under some really difficult circumstances.  Below, in the oasis...

On our way afterwards to lunch...

THIS is a place to enjoy lunch...

     Finally, we met up with our camels to make our way to the dunes at Erg Chebbi an hour and a half ride away...

                                          Here we come!  I think I heard one of them say:
                                                   "Who's carrying the Big American?"

                                                              From my perspective...

                                                       Lawrence of Arabia can kiss my...

     Considering I am a lousy photographer and I have a cheap camera and I was riding atop a camel up and down dunes, I would say the following photos ain't half bad...

     As the sun was going down and we reached our campsite, we climbed a dune that was about 100  meters high.  Well, I tried, anyway.  Got about 200 feet up, that was it for me.  That is the camp below...

     More tajine!  Dinner cooked in the desert was simple yet delicious.  I'm still wondering how this kitty cat made it's way out here into the tent...

     We sat outside in the crisp desert air, marveling at the sky above.  I saw numerous shooting stars and easily tracked a couple of satellites, that's how clear and brillant the sky was.  Beyond that, all I will say is: What happens in the Sahara, stays in the Sahara...

     Morning came too early, though I should be happy my tentmates apparently weren't tortured by any snoring on my part.  Next, some early morning photos:

     The camel ride was just the start of a v-e-r-y long day that also included a bus ride halfway through mountains halfway across the country, a 3-hour train ride, by far the most expensive taxi ride I've had here, finished by a 3 mile hike home to end my 20-hour day.  And I wouldn't trade it for anything.

After nine days I let the horse run free
'Cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
there was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with it's life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love...

You see I've been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
'Cause there ain't no one for to give you no pain
La, la ...

"Suds In The Bucket"

...left the suds in the bucket
and the clothes hangin' out on the line...

     I'm initially selected this Sara Evans song because I happened to be doing laundry right then.  Then I thought of the lyrics and saw more than a little bit of irony.  The tune is about a girl who at 18 up and leaves her parents to run off with a guy.  In my case, add a quarter-century (and subtract the guy).

     A good friend of mine once upon a time didn't know I was within earshot just around a corner when he remarked that "It takes Jack a while warm up to people, but once he takes you in, he'll treat you like a brother".  I have to concede the first part is true; I hope the second part is, too.  Anyway, coming here to start life anew, alone, was is a challenge.  Accepting the graciousness and hospitality of others doesn't come easy; just last week I declined an impromptu dinner invitation by a family here on campus for no good reason other than...well, when I think of one, I'll let you know.

     It's been said by those who have been here for a while that here in Morocco "It's all about relationships."  Whatever.  Yet, for some reason, recently I was really struck when a young colleague said he appreciates the relationship he has built with the man who owns the hanout (ha-NEWT) by his apartment.  It made me think.  There is a hanoot, think a 7-11 the size of a deluxe walk-in closet, about 100 yds outside the gate here.  I almost never went there.  I now go there to get some of the little things I would otherwise pick up on my big shopping trips.  The 2 men who run the place speak Arabic first, then French.  English, no.  But, I'm trying - and I noticed something one day last week.

     I have a weakness for Swedish fish, gummy bears and the like.  I went to the hanoot the other day and placed a coin on the counter and pointed to one of the plastic jugs holding candies and asked for what the amount that coin would purchase.  I'm barely paying attention when I just happened to see the older man addressing the younger one.  My Arabic is next-to-nothing, but I could tell what was happening.  The old man was telling the other one to not get the older, more stale candy from the jug right there on the counter, but to get it instead from a newer one in the back.  That was nice.

     I took some photos this week of other people who live here that I have regular contact with, but they are atrocious I can't fathom the thought of posting them.  Sorry, I'm exerting executive privilege here.  If I had posted photos...

     I've been taking weekly private French lessons since the fall.  My tutor's name is Pascale.  She's crazy.  I love her.  My main man Soufiane works in the kitchen and hooks me up with a perfect cafe au lait and cinnamon roll that he knows I'l order when he sees me enter the cafeteria at break time.  The security guards are all nice guys, but there are two who are particularly good men that I've become very friendly with.  Actually, their picture wasn't half-bad.

     Update - just got home from Easter Sunday Mass at a Catholic church way downtown.  It is called Eglise du Christ Roi - Church of Christ the King.  On Sundays at 6pm they have the only English-language services of the small handful of Catholic churches in Casa.  It was a tiny, non-descript building that was SRO this evening with about 175 people, a very large percentage of them Filipino.  There was a good bit of singing, some of it in Tagalog.  Interesting experience.

     Anyway, I'm getting tired, so it's time to roll on out of here.  Gotta get ready for the desert next week - see ya in two weeks!!

"No Hurry"

Yogi Berra said "You can observe a lot by watching".  And every day brings me something that makes me shake my head (as I don't know whether to laugh or cry!)  Work has been crazy busy.  I haven't breathed since I can't remember.  Hasn't been bad, just nuts.  I haven't taken the time lately to collect my thoughts.  The next 2-3 weeks I promise will be chock-full-o'-photos.  Til then...

Ain't in no hurry
Be a fool now to worry
About all those things I can't change
And the time that I borrow
Can wait till tomorrow
Cause I ain't in no hurry
Ain't in no hurry today

"Comin' To Your City"

Well we flew through Cincinnati and we all got really happy
Grabbed a bowl of that skyline chili along the way
Then we rolled on into Canton scared the hell out of Marilyn Manson
And the party started happenin', hey hey hey...
Then in the middle of a Charleston night, we ran into Jessica White
And a little moonshine got us right plumb smack insane...

Well we broke down in Greenville in the middle of a hayfield
But a Bud Light truck pulled up and helped us out
So we Deadheaded up to Philly, partied down like real hillbillies
Brought the Music Mafia and rocked it out...
And Chippewa's where we go when we're up in Buffalo
Don't you know those Yankees drink enough to drown?...

Give it up for Big & Rich!
It seems appropriate that the GWA International Festival was yesterday; lately, I've been particularly struck by the remarkable diversity of cultures that exist here.  This is neither new nor surprising.  If you look high up on the wall of the MultiPurpose Room at the school, you will see the flags of nations represented here by a student body of less than 800.  Get out your almanacs...

Two very recent topics in 6th grade social studies have been ancient Egypt and Hinduism.  It so happens that a pair of wonderful girls in one classroom have Egyptian and Indian heritage and have given tremendous insight into those topics.  I can't remember how a recent conversation with a high school boy turned to Syria, but I'll never forget how he offered his opinion on Assad and grabbed his buddy walking by who happened to be a native of Syria, asked him the same question and got a very different response, let's just say.  The kids around these parts look to the U.S. for pop culture but are certainly aware of what's going on in the Middle East and Africa.

Anyway, back to the International Festival.  Elementary students did art and social studies projects on what had to be a couple dozen or so countries and put on cultural performances under sunny skies.  I took some crappy pics of all the tents where you could look at the projects and didn't get any of the dancing.  That's why I'm glad I noticed that a very nice young woman who is an elementary teacher here had posted some fine photos.  Major props to Ruthie...

Who is that stud standing to the right in the last photo?  He shows up in another pic, too:

Representing Jersey for the Red, White and Blue! 

Hit 82 yesterday.  It's that time of year - March Madness and Spring Training!  I love it!!!
USA!  USA!  USA!

Well we're comin' to your city
Gonna play our guitars and sing you a country song
We'll all be flyin' higher than a jet airliner
And if you want a little bang in your ying yang come along...
 

"You Can't Take The Honky Tonk Out Of The Girl"

Yeah, she lives in L.A. she flies to New York City
That woman’s been around the world
You can take the girl out of the honky tonk
But you can’t take the honky tonk, take the honky tonk
Out of the girl

  Thank you, Kix Brooks & Ronnie Dunn - wish you two would get back together...You are what you are, right?  A zebra can't change its stripes.  On Wednesday night the HR department held the last of a series of continuing orientation functions for new staff.  Since I hadn't attended all the others and this one was being held on-campus in the building adjacent to my apartment I didn't have much excuse not to go.

(Just took a phone call here at home from my roommate who is out at the store; I'm helping him buy vodka.  Earlier this year has been wine and cigars; I'm very proud of my corrupting influence!)

  Anyway...yeah, the gig was next door.  Plus, there was going to be pizza.  Hey, after a long day I just wanna go home and feed my face and surf the 'net.  The people here are very nice, but I work with them and live them; I need Jack time.  In my defense, I've made myself do a lot things I've never done, or wouldn't typically do voluntarily.  My nature is such that it takes me a long time to warm up to people, and this bunch is a very different demographic.
  But, I'm glad I went.  And not just for the Papa John's.  Well, mostly.  But it really was interesting.  At this point, we didn't as much talk about what we might expect as much as we reflected on what we've experienced.  I don't think I was ever overly shocked by anything.  I think I've done a good job of jumping feet first into the experience and getting 'bout near everything I can from it.  Given how I am, it could've been a complete disaster, and a few months ago it was an even bet.  Now, I'm fairly comfortable and actually look forward to returning in the fall.
    However, at the same time, I've clung tight to certain things.  A student I'm close to gives me grief all the time about what I'm certain to get if I eat at the mall.  Chicken McNuggets, fries, diet Coke.  Yup, that's my comfort food.  I'll have Indian, Thai, Chinese and others, too, but the Golden Arches is my go-to.  And I wish I'd be able to watch more of March Madness, and the Phils on opening day, and a bunch of other things I've always appreciated, but now even more, if that's possible.
  What I thought was the most interesting was something I hadn't even really noticed.  We were told early on that here "it's all about relationships".  Greetings are elaborate.  It's rude to 'hit-n-run' when you see someone, if that makes sense.  I hadn't realized I'd internalized that.  Whenever I'm walking thru campus and encounter a couple of the security guards I'm real friendly with I will chat with them (as much as I'm to, at least).  I noticed that I felt real bad when I was 'on a mission' and had to sort of blow them off and not take the time to have a conversation.
  If you know me, I am an avid student of human nature and society.  I love talking to people who come from a different perspctive about the world.  Here, that can get real interesting.  Like the 2 boys earlier this week who, um, didn't see eye-to-eye on the Syrian president Assad.  One thought he was the greatest leader, the other hoped not only that he died but his whole family as well.  I stayed neutral.  My mama didn't raise no fool.  6th grade social studies classes have been fun, as we've learned recently about ancient Egypt and India, and the 2 girls from those places have enlightened us all with their perspectives.  I often get more out of school than the students.
  Hmmm...what other things have I learned lately?  I should've listened to Danielle; a small, 1kg bag of instant couscous makes A LOT MORE than you might think - you wanna guess what I've been snacking on for days with no end in sight?  Speaking of the metric system, I like weighing 110 kg, though I think standing 1 meter 90 cm makes me sound shorter. On a list of top 10 Moroccan sports, soccer would be numbers 1-8.  Voleyball makes the cut.  You know what rounds out the list?  Badminton!  Really.  I'm a sports nut, but I still can't believe I'm following soccer.  When in Rome Casablanca...

Yeah, he lives in Casa, he flies to Italy
That man’s been around the world
You can take the guy out of New Jersey
But you can’t take the New Jersey, take the New Jersey
Out of the guy ;)

"Only God Knows Why"

I've been sittin' here
Tryin' to find myself
I get behind myself
I need to rewind myself...

Country tunes take a time out this week, courtesy of Kid Rock.
 
With the advent of March comes a lot of decisions.  I've had to do a lot if figuring.  There appears to be a place here at GWA for me.  Will I be here for GWA?  A couple of months ago I'd have said no way, but now I believe so.  I'm finally something that resembles comfortable with my job and place, which are not the same thing.  Is international education my future, or should I move forward to the past?  Damned if I know.  Who does?  Wish I knew...

People don't know
'Bout the things I say and do
They don't understand
'Bout the shit that I've been through...

I've brought a lot of things upon myself, leading to where I am in the present.  Some things didn't, and couldn't see them coming.  Either way, it is what it is, and I do not know if I will ever get back to where I used to be.  Is it even possible?  If so, should I even try?  Can I make my own destiny, or is my fate already determined?  Are those last two sentences related or not?  Seems to depend on who you ask...

I've been gone
I've been gone for way too long
And maybe I forgot
All the things I miss...

Spring is springing and with it comes some of the things I cherish most.  The beginning of March means the Philadelphia Flower Show, the oldest and largest such event in the U.S.  Accompanying it are the wisecracks from my male friends.  Hey, I appreciate art in all its forms, including horticulture, especially bonsai.  It's always nice to go down with certain of my friends from Woods and do all the things we always do.  Soon after is the Conwell-Egan Catholic H.S. charity basketball marathon with all the Lower Bucks gang.  Spring training is in full swing; every team is undefeated and has a shot at taking the Fall Classic.  It's always magical under the sun in the Grapefruit and Cactus leagues.  Maybe best of all is March Madness; the first weekend is certainly the very best time of the year.  While I wish to heaven I was going to be home for the PFS and CEC tourney, the thought hasn't been depressing.  I wouldn't have guessed...

Oh, somehow I know
There's more to life than this
You get what you put in
And people get what they deserve...

I didn't even begin to learn what love was until years after my divorce.  Then, what is actually important in life until my 40s.  I had to lose absolutely, positively everything, and then some, to learn just how much I had.  I gambled with my life on nothing more than a hunch, my gut, that I could travel by myself 4000 miles to another continent to finally, after many stumbles, stand stronger than I had in...forever?  What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger?  I'd be lying if I said I had any doubts, for sure...

I've been walkin' that there line
So I think I'll keep a walkin'
With my head held high
I'll keep movin' on...

And only God knows why.
 

"No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems"

I've been up to my neck workin' 6 days a week.
Wearin' holes in the soles of the shoes on my feet
Been dreamin' of gettin' away since I don't know.
Ain't no better time than now...
Want to soak up life for a while
in laid back mode.
No boss, no clock, no stress, no dress code...

Kenny Chesney probably didn't have me in mind when he wrote this song, but more on that later...
Actually, I haven't worked at all this week - I've been on recess!  Just did a bunch of little things close to home.
I visited the Museum of Moroccan Judaism.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I don't want to get this wrong, so I'm going to use Google's own description:

     Better known as simply the Jewish Museum, this is the only of its kind to be found in the
     Islamic world, and is often highlighted as an example of Morocco's historic tolerance between the
     two faiths. Set in a modern villa, the museum's exhibits follow the 2,000-year-old history of
     Morocco's Jews. A number of rooms display various aspects of their traditions and daily life such
     as torahs, Hanukkah lamps, ketubofs (marriage contracts), and traditional clothing. There are also
     life-size replicas of the interior of a synagogue and a jeweler's workshop, referring to the Jews'
     historical dealings in silver. A photo library displays many of Morocco's ancient synagogues,
     cemeteries, holy sites, and various Mellahs and other Jewish landmarks within Morocco.

I finally found the place in a tucked away on a quiet street in a nice section of the city.  Two security guards sat out in front of the property.  If they weren't there, no one one ever even begin to guess what was behind the gate.  All the descriptions were in French!  I could figure out a lot of things, though English translations would've really helped!  I read ahead of time that a English-speaking guide could be had for 10 dirhams.  There was no one there when I entered, so I wandered around for a bit, then a woman appeared.  The way she was dressed told me that she was a cleaning lady first and foremost, which told me that very most likely wouldn't be an English-speaker.  She gave me a ticket and I gave her my 20 dirhams (about $2.35 USD) and continued on my way.  She pointed me toward a couple of rooms that were darkened in the other wing of the villa and turned on the lights to the rooms for me.  When I was done soon after she held out her hand - my "guide" expected 10 dirhams for her trouble.  Sigh...

     The other highlight of the week was a visit to a hammam, or a public steam bath.  Yup.  I did my homework and went to the local "hanout" buy for 10 dhs a "kiis" (pronounced with a long E sound), which is an exfoliating glove.  I got a travel size soap and shampoo, not opting to invest in the traditional "savon noir" (black soap, w/ black olive base) or "ghassoul" clay w/ Argan oil (remember the tree-climbing goats?)  I had remarkably found by chance the day before a pair of inexpensive plastic flip-flops that actually fit me!  This is no small achievement in this country.  Anyway, off to the bain turc...
     I went for the whole deal - "gommage", massage, "savonnage" (scrub, you know what, bath).
This wasn't your typical public bathhouse, cheaper but crowded.  Mine cost, w/ tip after, about $25 USD.  I locked up my gym bag and went into a stall to strip down to bathing trunks then into a shower stall to rinse myself.
     I was directed to the HOT room, which took my breath away when I stepped through the curtain.  OK, this is what a tropical forest with max humidity in summer is like.  After a few minutes in there I went into the (small letters) hot room and laid on a marble slab for the scrubbing.  WHOA!  I was told to expect a very vigorous treatment, but it still was an eye-opener, though by my definition, not painful.  I glowed red like a lobster afterward every single inch of my body gave up multiple layers of skin.  (And I paid for this).  In a public hammam, I would have returned the favor to whoever scrubbed me.  I rinsed and saw the remarkable amount of dead skin removed from my carcass.  Back to the HOT room.  Then to a massage room.  Then HOT room.  Then to hot room for soaping and rinse.  Back to HOT room for 5 minutes then shower stall then dressing stall.  I must say - I was way relaxed when all was said and done.  My colleague steered me right.
  Will I go again.  Perhaps.  Having a perfect (male) stranger with whom I couldn't even converse spend what had to be way over an hour working over every square centimeter of my person took a bit to get used to initially, but wasn't really a bother for me.  Spending my youth in locker rooms probably helped here.  A lot of my female colleagues aren't ecstatic about the idea of being topless (for certain) and bottomless (maybe) and having either a complete stranger, or worse, a friend give them the business.  Whatever.  I wanted the experience and I'm glad I did it.

  Now to plan for my trip to the Sahara Desert in April... 

No shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues? Hey, I forgot 'em
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
Babe, lets get packed - tank tops and flip flops if u got 'em,
No shoes, no shirt, no problems
No problems...