Moroccain Mayhem

Moroccan Mayhem

Dearest Nell,

And so it began. Some basic physics and I'm being wisked across the ocean on what could be either a life altering quest, or a fiasco extraordinare. How on earth did I get myself in to this situation. With no real source of income I've thrown myself to the wolves the of the financial world and sold myself for the touch of a woman's hand. A woman who has possessed my soul and held control of my life in her so very distant grasp. A recent note to her remarked at how "the far distant future we'll never quite know." Would I have foreseen anything like this whole operation. I've rationalized it off the friends that Morocco is indeed a spot I've had a lifelong dream of going to, but who else would I have so blindly gone to see. Am I that bull-headed and perservearent, or was there a higher order of reason to this. I suppose I'll know some time in the future when I'm old and wise. For now I'll have to claim youthful vigor and the pursuit of love.

The excitement of the unknown land and the lush hopes of fulfilling destiny, in whatever way it works its way out is quite the rush. I've thought it all over so many times and rehearsed my lines for so long that I can't imagine any other possibilities rearing forth. Yet reality will very soon illuminate life's path that I’m heading down.

How many landmarks have I passed on this road of relationships I've traveled before. I know they're there, but this fog of emotion I'm heading through seems to cloud my vision as a night of boozing will destroy logic and clarity. Perhaps this fog has also led me past those painful landmarks that have been shown to me quite plainly before in the past. Time will happen and so will this, whatever it may be. I learned a few years ago how powerful and therapeutic writing a good letter can be. I can say I've never had a letter I didn't' enjoy writing to you. A chance to voice the ideas and words I can't yet say out loud or face to face. That day will soon come. I will say what I need to say. I tell the kids at school that words have real power and they should be used carefully. I’ve looked over so many words lately and tried so many combinations I only hope that i don’t find myself getting tongue tied and turning a powerful moment into a lighter farce. All I can do is wait.

But the power of words only shows true when they are interpreted in their true light. How many times can a subtle cue be quickly glanced over and forgotten while an unremarkable remark get an eternal cross-examination. We'll see how my words come across to you.

With so much time on my hands I also got to plan out the many ways this trip could go wrong. For a while it even seemed as though some might even come true. My first real bout of panic came when I got that first 4:30 AM call. I haven't ever nor do I ever care to again, ride an emotional roller coaster like that. It's odd how life will do that every so often it seems. When it seems you've got your head above water and you’re pushing towards shore they throw some more weight on the belt to make it interesting. Since that first bout more have followed. But in the end, it all has worked out. As long as the laws of physics hold out for a few more hours I'll be by your side.

The plan, as it stands now, is to meet in Rabat. Being the careful planner I am, I left the name of the hotel and the directions to it on my desk. I think I've got it. It's the one with the Arabic sounding name. Haha. I hope I can exchange some cash in Amsterdam so the train bit will go much easier. My lack of proficient French has me worried a bit indeed. Amy says the train is no big deal though, so I'm hoping for the best. I hope the camera I picked up will do a decent job. I've got so many people keyed up on checking out the shots and slides I'd hate to disappoint them. However, I know that even with a good camera I'm still gonna look like the doofy touron for the USA. Maybe I can fake Canadian.

Side note- They're serving wine with dinner!! 187ml bottle of Glen Ellen Cab. Sav. This international thing could be fun. I've been laying off the sauce lately, but since I'm not going to be driving for two weeks why not...lighten up the mood a bit!! Crisp yet fruity, zesty yet subtle! Could it be a reversion back to the dark side? Then again, Morocco is an Islamic state, and booze is not highly available. Amy, I'm sure, has the low down and will be able to wrestle up an occasional bottle.

Whoa!! ?So much for the wine. Guess we'll have to see if the club soda really can get the stain out before it sets in your pants. One quick flick and the glass was off the tray and in my pants. AACK!! I can't imagine a more bumbling maneuver to start a trip. Then again, I'm sure I'll have quite a few more like that. Lucky for me though I'm so foresighted that I threw a last minute pair o' jeans into the carry-on. An uncomfortable and embarrassing ride was narrowly averted.. The khakis may be through!!

I'm really enjoying the readout in the cabin. It's got a map with the plane on it showing how far we've gone. It's creeping along but is an interesting time piece nonetheless. It appears that we’re over the Atlantic now. "Appears" only in that I can't see didley out the window. I hope I can get the northernmost latitude we hit from the pilot. Kids might find that interesting.

OK, so sleep isn't important to me now. Sure didn't get much last night of two in Lebanon and the plane was a cruel hoax. it's now 3:AM and I only had about two hours of bad plane sleep. Lucky my neighbor left the seat for the entire flight to talk to a very attractive "co-worker" having two seats was all right with me. The moonrise was a bizarre note. Cruising at 40,000' certainly gives a new perspective on things. I actually was looking down at the moon. A very noteworthy observation I thought. As the plane a raced head-on into dawn at 350 mph, I "awoke" to a young au-pear from Denmark who was the standard "bubbly" babe. I hope I can get some sleep tonight to compensate for the last four nights. Then again, tonight Amy and I will be hanging our- so how knows what'll happen. She then heads back to Ifrane and I get a week to dabble in the mountains. I'm sure I'll get some sleep in then. I'd better go and try to change some money.

Well the cash thing was a bust. I finally found the bank and tried to exchange $10 for a bite to eat. not wanting to deal with quite pitiful amount, she said the airport merchants would take American money directly. The Dihran was selling for only 8-1 so I passed it up. Bought an OJ and a sandswhich that I only found out later was a cheese sandwhich, since I really didn't peak up to ask what it was. This trip could be a crash course in speaking up loudly. Smokiest damn airport yet. Easy to get around in though.

Final stage to Africa and Morocco now. Nearly spilled my apple juice on myself again. What an oaf. I've been waiting so long it seems like this last bit is by far the best though. The end of my tunnel is at hand and the tracks look clear on theother side. My luck has improved immensly since the uneventful attempt to exchange money. I struck a convesation with a Moroccain octor who said he would give me and Amy his BUNGALOW!! Either I have been swindled or it's turned into an extremely serendipitious and fortuitous trip. The clouds seem to be clearing up down below and the sand is already squeaking between my toes. The future has yet to unfold and we shall indeed see what will be waiting for us.

Glad to know my passage through the x-ray machine was not uneventful as my camping geat and crampons got sent through three times.

train ride-ticket-amy-henry's bar-hotel Francs (sp)- gift sandwhich shop- medina- sat on grass- drank beacoup @LaMamma- beer at hotel Terminal- hookers- phone call

Hustle and bustle, the city is coming alive as a new day begins. Yesterday had quite the finish. The plane touched down and I helped Dr. Yassar with his luggage as his book bag kept him busy enough. A beautiful airport with some great architecture and artwork in the central room. Customs was nothing very exciting. The luggage guard only asked where I had been and asked to see nothing. Yassar introduced me to his wife and kid (both charming) and pointed out where the cash exchange and trains were. Airport is so small it was hard to miss them. A mild panic hit at the train station as I tried to understand the ticket agent but I got through it ok. There was only one train track, and one train on it. Unknowingly, I was to switch trains in Casablance and had no clue about it. It probably said so in the guide book but I was so psyched about being there I forgot to read it.

Anyway, the big moment arrived at Rabatport. I strolled up the walkway and into the building. No blue eyes as of yet. Maybe I'm to meet her at the hotel since I'm a little bit behind schedule. A few small steps and a smiling blue eyed vision darted over to me. A fumbling hug and we set out across the street to henry's bar to grab a beer. I would have to admit it wasn't the passionate embrace I had imagined, but imaginations can be cruel when placed against reality.

Anyway, she looked great. Her bangs had grown out into a very sophisticated and sexy look. She looked a tad shorter than I had remembered but, geez, I guess I can deal with that. We had a talk and headed over to the Hotel Terminus to check in. Amy was a champ. Direct and in control with French that was fine. I was impressed, but then I usually am with her.

So then we did the gift giving thing, with all the "presents" I had brought from home. She even had some stuiff for me to look over. As we gabbed about trivial things and possible time frames to work around, we forgot we could do all these things over a beer and some food. She knew a great Giro shop in the area and we dropped by. The owner knew her.

It felt a bit odd actually being here with her at first. Since the option of romance now seems out of the picture (although I haven't ruled it out on my own accord) I was thrown off beat for a moment or two. However, we are best of friends and we still had a gazillion things to talk about.

After the sandwiches, I had a hard time finishing mine (perhaps my stomach has shrunk), we started to walk towards the Medina. The sidewalks were mobbed with people. Mostly men I had to note. Along the main drag, Rue Mohamed V, there were a few hustlers selling their wares, which was a big let down. I wanted more of the movie scene. A short walk down the way brought us to the medina proper of which I somehow missed the huge entrance gate. Throngs of people were everywhere in a chaotic jumble of tumultuous movement. A beautiful sight. Warm wind blowing in off the Atlantic gave a hint of ocean.

When we finally got into the main part of the medina I was amazed! An incredible sight Spielberg couldn't have even come close to. At first we went into the central food marche and walked by the timy stalls selling horse, rabbits, pigs, pigeons.chicken, and maybe some beef. It was odd to see the pork in an Islamic country, but I didn't feel I was in a position to scold them. It was an interesting sight to see a pigs genetalia displayed in their own. The smell was amazing, not to mention the mamallia garbade disposal prowling system, known to the western world as cats. They were just walking around eating scraps of meat that fell to the floor. A ragged bunch to be sure.

As we got deeper into the medina the streets got narrower and narrower, and more and more packed with people, tiny cars, racing mopeds, pushcarts, beggars, and hawkers trying to sell everything from neckties to a sandwich type thing to individual silkworms. Merchandise of every sort was spilling out of the tiniest stalls and windows imaginable. Some "stores" were not even big enough to stand in and the merchant was forced to stand in the street. A retail world like this would blow the K-Mart people away. Some people just sat on the road with a box of stuff. Even the 4' alleyways were somebody’s retail headquarters. Mind blowing!

Hotels kept popping up behind every corner and mosques appeared around far reaching corners to keep out us infidels. Perhaps my photos will relay some of the wonders- side note- it's hard to write because I'm getting wired on mint tea and the cafe is such a crazy place.

As the medina was rather quickly shutting down (9:30) we headed out for some food and wound up at La Mama's for 2 beers and a napoleon ice cream. We had a candle table and the flame illuminated Amy in a secretive flickering glow made all the more seductive with her new hairstyle. 5:20 rue Mohamed v Ave- slight position change- felt awkward since I was taking up a table and not eating or drinking. then again nobody else was either so they made no notice of it. folks seem real at ease with just hanging our COOL. I'm now hanging out under an ivy covered palm tree while the suns sets on the Atlantic. Toto- we ain't in no NH anymore!

So anyway, she was making me nuts in the candle light. Talk centered on old romances, new lives and passions and pitfalls. Really it was a continuation of our talk out on the grass where I'm sitting now. We then headed back to the hotel bar for some more of these tiny beers. Amy pointed out some very ugly hookers who apparently use it as there home base. More good talking and we went upstairs to crash for the night- in separate beds. The city was still quite alive for most of the night.

A night of bad sleep woke me up several times before the agreed upon 7:30. A shower and we were out by 9:ish. A stroll found up at a great morning spot for some MINT TEA and a cheese omlette ( or an omlette du fromage for those Steve Martin fans). To bad they wouldn't let us eat outside, but we had the place to ourselves.

Whoah!!! what a difference a few hours make. Lets see if I can get cought up on the day. So after a bit of food we bagen to wander. it became more and more apparent just how bad my french was and how much trouble I could get myself into on my own. I tried to call Dr, Yassar, but had little luck with the plone. Wrong coin, wrong technique, wrong language. Amy probably got a good laugh out of my troubles. We checked out a sporting goods store or two and got back to the main gate to the medina. hopped into a petit taxi and took a spin out to the kasbah which overlooks the ocean where the river flows into the sea. the ocean was blue and the beach was filthy. A great view nonetheless.. A photo shot and headed out the rock wharf for a stroll. Great photo ops. of kasbah walls and towers. All very impressive and a fun jaunt. Trying to imagine the slaves made to construct the walls under penalty of death made for an interesting perspective. We headed to the kasbah and had some more photo ops.

I can see the trip producing a wealth of photos for an amazing slide show. Everything is so picturesque and different. It still feels, I'm sure it always feels, somewhat unerving not knowing what people are saytin about you. As we strolled around the kasbah we found a neat print shop and Amy bought some nice prints for her dad and I got a card for my parents. They were really some nice prints, but I'm not in a buying mood just yet. I'm saving that for Fes and Mecknes. Kept on and strolled our way down a sunny street with classic timy doors and white washed walls out of the kasbah. A huge (museum it turned out) door loomed above us at the gate., An inspiring set of mordern prints in the ancient setting-backed with a yanni-esque sound-track was quite the dichotomy. About 50m down the wall was an entrance into a great garden. Families were walking around in the shade reading academic minded things from the looks of it. Flowers-fruit trees quite organized, but in need of some maintenance made it a great site. getting the "eye" by everybody was indeed a role reversal on the racist issue. Food for thought I suppose, but an interesting idea nonetheless. Out of the garden and the problem quickly posed itself as to how to get back to downtown. A walk would have taken a short while (45 min) but would have been a drag. A brief stop in an interesting shop and a helpful hint from a policeman sent us to aPetit Taxi stop where we got into a "standard" beat up-no window-handle-engine-barely-running-choky-stinky-barely -running car. Even the driver didn't clue in to well on where we wanted to go. Nell jumped right inand exuded her wrath on the driver. “Tu ne comprehend pas le march?!” with a biting sarcasm that made me cringe. A few U-turns and we got back to the right spot at the train station.

So then it was time to change hotels. A brief walk down the hotel chain of quality brought me to the Hotel Central to drop off stuff. The check in went ok- I'm getting the hang of it. The room really wasn't that bad. Small w/ a bit of a stench of antiquity, but not the rat infested hole I had imagined. I wan't sure where the shower might have been, but the bathroom was right down the hall and it even had a light bulb!!

Anyway, we dropped by next door to the cafe for a great dish. Takish? poullet. then had to run to get Amy to her pick up spot at 3:00 so we could wait for an hour in front of the Mcdonalds wouldn't you know.

It seems the beggars have no problem with being ignored. They don't leave very easily and any attention at all they will stick around for a long time. What else do they have to do after all.

More to come sometime soon...

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