It is a typical occurrence on a Monday morning, in mostly any situation, to politely ask fellow co-workers, students, and friends a traditional question that promotes what we astute human beings call "small talk": How was your weekend? often followed by: Did you do anything special?
Typically, back in Middlebury, VT, or, even for that matter in Antrim, NH, one responds with the typical "good," and "not much," or "did some work, spent a lot of time in the library."
But this Monday was different. Because, if given the chance, I could have said this very Monday, the 27th of January, that I did not spend time in the library and in fact did something very cool with my Saturday and Sunday.
"Pretty good, thanks. I went to Africa."
No thing.
It was this past Saturday that I left in the wee hours of the morning to catch an airport shuttle at 3:50 AM from the train station in Mainz, only to arrive in Marrakech, Morrocco (aka le Maroc) at 10AM Moroccan time. It was there where I met up with the Man, the Myth, the Legend, Nathan Williams, and a few friends of his with whom he studied this past August in Grenoble. We registered for our race (half marathon for me, full marathon for him and his friend Eirik), and struck out to meet the other boys, Andy and Laurence, back at the youth hostel. We had finally begun to realize our dream of spending only pennies (plus taxes and fees) to travel to Africa using RyanAir and transavia.com. And we were in for some raw culture shock that is so often discussed in Middlebury Study Abroad brochures.
Our hotel was right in the neighborhood of El Fna, a huge square filled with vendors that, as active as it is during the day, really comes alive at night. Men walk around with monkeys on leashes. Crazy costumes fill the square, along with drummers and all sorts of Moroccan musicians. Men wearing fezzes spin the tassle on their hats and try to weasel pictures out of tourists for money. Vendors for freshly squeezed orange juice shout at passers-by to win business. Cobras are charmed by wind instruments. Women try to give you henna tatooes. Children try to sell you tissues. Children try to get you to buy them orange juice. Children lead you down dark alleys to go to visit a hammam. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is very, very aggressive when it comes to business.
An example of this aggression came Sunday night, when the Fabulous Five in our party were wandering around the square to find a place to eat dinner #2 (don't judge...three of us ran races that day). A man approached us, trying to tell us of a very cheap but very tasty place to enjoy a real Moroccan meal. Listening to him for about two minutes, we decide to strike off in the opposite direction of where he was telling us to go. Thirty seconds later, he appeared in front of us again, urging us to "justa look." We decided to try heading in the direction he indicated, only to become very, very antagonized by his popping up in front of us every 100 feet. Somehow this guy had a supernatural ability to get in front of us and find where we were walking, no matter the direction in which we decided to proceed. Eventually finding a restaurant with a terrace, we took refuge from the man and enjoyed typical Moroccan dishes of couscous and tagine. The view from the terrace of El Fna was also pretty impressive at night. See photos below.
Nathan, Eirik, Laurence, Andy and I all wandered around the souks both Saturday and Sunday, as well. These souks are like mazes of stores, filled with scarves, leather products, pottery and Moroccan instruments. Just walking around and seeing all of the goods was an experience in itself. This was not, however, the most remarkable thing about the souks, which, namely, was the bargaining with vendors when making a purchase. In the souks, there are no fixed prices--you have to make deals with every vendor and eventually settle on a price together. This makes shopping even for even Valley Girls like Cher and Dion an exhausting activity. Although the goods are unique and the prices always end up being cheap, even if you do end up paying more than something is worth, arguing with vendors definitely puts a damper on the whole idea of shopping in Marrakech. One man tried to grab Nathan's arm as we left his store, suddenly determined to lower the price he was asking for as long as we would patronize his business. Another man tried to shoo us out of his store (actually, these stores are more like nooks filled with fabric and other wares than they are actual roomy stores where one can browse), presumably insulted at the prices we were asking. Between bargaining, currency conversion, and the use of the French language to carry out a deal, I had little desire to buy very much this weekend in Marrakech. Which was a shame, considering how beautiful (and very affordable) everything was. You can't win 'em all.
Sunday, however, was the day of true endurance. At 8:30AM Nathan, Eirik and I began our first race ever on the continent of Africa, where we ran through orange groves and the streets of the city, giving high-fives to Moroccan children when we went through the more populated areas of the course. I finished with a time of 1 hour 32 minutes, the fastest time I've had yet (and the flattest course I've ever ran) for a half-marathon. It goes without saying that I was very, very relieved to be on the flat roads of Marrakech while seeing the Atlas (?) Mountains looming in the distance.
After finishing, I decided to head back to the hotel and shower before meeting Eirik and Nathan at the finish of their marathon. While walking back to the race, showered and squeaky clean, as Papa Q would say, I experienced a new side of Moroccan culture. Since before I had been walking with four other guys through the streets of Marrakech, I hadn't had the pleasure of hearing many remarks on the streets that, presumably, women in the city tend to hear on a regular basis. While running in the half-marathon, I had noticed that spectators were especially excited to see a female running in the race, and had thought that there was an unusual amount of support for women runners as opposed to men. After that walk back to the finish line, it all seemed to make a little bit more sense. We'll leave it at that.
Eirik finished the race in 3 hours 25 minutes, and Nathan came in at 4 hours and 15 minutes, almost 50 minutes faster than the last marathon he ran. Everyone received medals. I was offered to exchange mine for a cereal bar at one point. As unfortunate as it was for the man in question, I was simply not that hungry.
I arrived back to Mainz Monday night, only to take off again Tuesday afternoon with Hannah to visit Tübingen, a smaller city in Germany, where a friend of Hannah's is studying for the year. My second-cousin Erika studied in Tübingen while she was abroad in college, so getting to go somewhere new in Germany where I had a semi-connection to the city and someone to show me around was pretty exciting. When Hannah and I arrived, Sarah, Hannah's friend, brought us to a typical Schwäbisch Restaurant (Tübingen lies in a region known as Schwaben, where there are thick accents that are a little bit difficult for non-natives like Hannah and myself to understand [but not nearly bad as those from Bavaria]). The food was delicious, and the atmosphere even better--there was live music that night, but not just any live music. If I had to describe the group, I would say American-wedding cover band. "Celebrate good times," "Son of a Preacher-man", "We are Family", and "Walkin' on Sunshine" were only a few of the songs featured that night. Our table, consisting of a Canadian, a Britain, and three Americans, was very excited to sing along when the lead singer held out the microphone to get audience participation. We were not embarrassed to get several dirty looks from other Germans in the restaurant (especially when Mrs. Aretha Franklin came on).
The next day I woke up early to go for a run, proceeded to get lost, found my way back to the hotel, and called it another typical morning in the life of Amanda Quinlan. I then met back up with Sarah and Hannah to wander through the Altstadt, or Old City, of Tübingen and see the Schloss, or castle, that overlooks a great deal of the city and now houses an Egypitan museum. Unfortunately we didn't have time to check out the RitterSport Chocolate Factory or the local monastery. This did not hinder us, however, from buying RitterSport chocolate and calling it even. Soon enough, Hannah and I were back on a train headed for Mainz, ready to resume classes again on Thursday morning.
Typically, back in Middlebury, VT, or, even for that matter in Antrim, NH, one responds with the typical "good," and "not much," or "did some work, spent a lot of time in the library."
But this Monday was different. Because, if given the chance, I could have said this very Monday, the 27th of January, that I did not spend time in the library and in fact did something very cool with my Saturday and Sunday.
"Pretty good, thanks. I went to Africa."
No thing.
It was this past Saturday that I left in the wee hours of the morning to catch an airport shuttle at 3:50 AM from the train station in Mainz, only to arrive in Marrakech, Morrocco (aka le Maroc) at 10AM Moroccan time. It was there where I met up with the Man, the Myth, the Legend, Nathan Williams, and a few friends of his with whom he studied this past August in Grenoble. We registered for our race (half marathon for me, full marathon for him and his friend Eirik), and struck out to meet the other boys, Andy and Laurence, back at the youth hostel. We had finally begun to realize our dream of spending only pennies (plus taxes and fees) to travel to Africa using RyanAir and transavia.com. And we were in for some raw culture shock that is so often discussed in Middlebury Study Abroad brochures.
Our hotel was right in the neighborhood of El Fna, a huge square filled with vendors that, as active as it is during the day, really comes alive at night. Men walk around with monkeys on leashes. Crazy costumes fill the square, along with drummers and all sorts of Moroccan musicians. Men wearing fezzes spin the tassle on their hats and try to weasel pictures out of tourists for money. Vendors for freshly squeezed orange juice shout at passers-by to win business. Cobras are charmed by wind instruments. Women try to give you henna tatooes. Children try to sell you tissues. Children try to get you to buy them orange juice. Children lead you down dark alleys to go to visit a hammam. Everyone, and I mean everyone, is very, very aggressive when it comes to business.
An example of this aggression came Sunday night, when the Fabulous Five in our party were wandering around the square to find a place to eat dinner #2 (don't judge...three of us ran races that day). A man approached us, trying to tell us of a very cheap but very tasty place to enjoy a real Moroccan meal. Listening to him for about two minutes, we decide to strike off in the opposite direction of where he was telling us to go. Thirty seconds later, he appeared in front of us again, urging us to "justa look." We decided to try heading in the direction he indicated, only to become very, very antagonized by his popping up in front of us every 100 feet. Somehow this guy had a supernatural ability to get in front of us and find where we were walking, no matter the direction in which we decided to proceed. Eventually finding a restaurant with a terrace, we took refuge from the man and enjoyed typical Moroccan dishes of couscous and tagine. The view from the terrace of El Fna was also pretty impressive at night. See photos below.
Nathan, Eirik, Laurence, Andy and I all wandered around the souks both Saturday and Sunday, as well. These souks are like mazes of stores, filled with scarves, leather products, pottery and Moroccan instruments. Just walking around and seeing all of the goods was an experience in itself. This was not, however, the most remarkable thing about the souks, which, namely, was the bargaining with vendors when making a purchase. In the souks, there are no fixed prices--you have to make deals with every vendor and eventually settle on a price together. This makes shopping even for even Valley Girls like Cher and Dion an exhausting activity. Although the goods are unique and the prices always end up being cheap, even if you do end up paying more than something is worth, arguing with vendors definitely puts a damper on the whole idea of shopping in Marrakech. One man tried to grab Nathan's arm as we left his store, suddenly determined to lower the price he was asking for as long as we would patronize his business. Another man tried to shoo us out of his store (actually, these stores are more like nooks filled with fabric and other wares than they are actual roomy stores where one can browse), presumably insulted at the prices we were asking. Between bargaining, currency conversion, and the use of the French language to carry out a deal, I had little desire to buy very much this weekend in Marrakech. Which was a shame, considering how beautiful (and very affordable) everything was. You can't win 'em all.
Sunday, however, was the day of true endurance. At 8:30AM Nathan, Eirik and I began our first race ever on the continent of Africa, where we ran through orange groves and the streets of the city, giving high-fives to Moroccan children when we went through the more populated areas of the course. I finished with a time of 1 hour 32 minutes, the fastest time I've had yet (and the flattest course I've ever ran) for a half-marathon. It goes without saying that I was very, very relieved to be on the flat roads of Marrakech while seeing the Atlas (?) Mountains looming in the distance.
After finishing, I decided to head back to the hotel and shower before meeting Eirik and Nathan at the finish of their marathon. While walking back to the race, showered and squeaky clean, as Papa Q would say, I experienced a new side of Moroccan culture. Since before I had been walking with four other guys through the streets of Marrakech, I hadn't had the pleasure of hearing many remarks on the streets that, presumably, women in the city tend to hear on a regular basis. While running in the half-marathon, I had noticed that spectators were especially excited to see a female running in the race, and had thought that there was an unusual amount of support for women runners as opposed to men. After that walk back to the finish line, it all seemed to make a little bit more sense. We'll leave it at that.
Eirik finished the race in 3 hours 25 minutes, and Nathan came in at 4 hours and 15 minutes, almost 50 minutes faster than the last marathon he ran. Everyone received medals. I was offered to exchange mine for a cereal bar at one point. As unfortunate as it was for the man in question, I was simply not that hungry.
I arrived back to Mainz Monday night, only to take off again Tuesday afternoon with Hannah to visit Tübingen, a smaller city in Germany, where a friend of Hannah's is studying for the year. My second-cousin Erika studied in Tübingen while she was abroad in college, so getting to go somewhere new in Germany where I had a semi-connection to the city and someone to show me around was pretty exciting. When Hannah and I arrived, Sarah, Hannah's friend, brought us to a typical Schwäbisch Restaurant (Tübingen lies in a region known as Schwaben, where there are thick accents that are a little bit difficult for non-natives like Hannah and myself to understand [but not nearly bad as those from Bavaria]). The food was delicious, and the atmosphere even better--there was live music that night, but not just any live music. If I had to describe the group, I would say American-wedding cover band. "Celebrate good times," "Son of a Preacher-man", "We are Family", and "Walkin' on Sunshine" were only a few of the songs featured that night. Our table, consisting of a Canadian, a Britain, and three Americans, was very excited to sing along when the lead singer held out the microphone to get audience participation. We were not embarrassed to get several dirty looks from other Germans in the restaurant (especially when Mrs. Aretha Franklin came on).
The next day I woke up early to go for a run, proceeded to get lost, found my way back to the hotel, and called it another typical morning in the life of Amanda Quinlan. I then met back up with Sarah and Hannah to wander through the Altstadt, or Old City, of Tübingen and see the Schloss, or castle, that overlooks a great deal of the city and now houses an Egypitan museum. Unfortunately we didn't have time to check out the RitterSport Chocolate Factory or the local monastery. This did not hinder us, however, from buying RitterSport chocolate and calling it even. Soon enough, Hannah and I were back on a train headed for Mainz, ready to resume classes again on Thursday morning.
Tübingen with the Stiftskirche in the background--one of the first churches to convert to Protestantism
A giant grouping of sponges. Not quite sure.
The Catholic Church in Tübingen
Altstadt
Fachwerkhäuser
Rathaus (City Hall)
View from the castle. A lot of red roofs.
Schloss Hohentübingen
Stiftskirche
From the Neckar River
Dessert!
You should have seen the size of the pretzels at this restaurant...we didn't order any so I couldn't take a decent picture, but believe me. They were gargantuan.
At the Schloß
Hannah and I :)
We never fail to find statues to imitate.
The restaurant where we ate (below)
Laurence and I enjoying some Moroccan specialties
Trophies at the marathon...imagine getting that thing through security at the airport. Good thing I didn't win.
Walking back to the hotel after the race
Nathan and I
Bearing our Moroccan t-shirts
Tangine
The pot tangine comes in--served nice and hot!
View from the terrace
El Fna at night
Nathan, decked out in his new Moroccan scarf
A Mosque--one can hear incantations periodically throughout the day, including as early as 5AM
Moroccan tea = very, very good.
Good thing the snake charmer didn't see me take this. I wouldn't want him to sick his cobra on me or anything.
The finish line! There was also a giant inflatable teapot, but they deflated it before I could take a picture. It looked a lot like the actual teapot pictured earlier, only about one million times its size.
Simply Orange.
Koutoubia Mosque, which you can see from almost any point in the city.
A typical road sign...
Where we stayed!
One thing is for sure: we ate well. Even if we weren't sure about the utensils.
Spoon, or pipe?
The food kitchens set up at night on El Fna
Andy and Nathan on a magic carpet ride
Eirik, on the roof of the hotel
Nathan!
Up on the roof (Track #1)
The streets of Marrakech
Koutoubia Mosque again
Freshly squeezed orange juice--unbelievable. Especially after a half marathon.
A hat vendor in the souks
The souks!
Yes. Fatty and delicious.
Nathan, digging in.
Laurence and I enjoying some Moroccan specialties
Trophies at the marathon...imagine getting that thing through security at the airport. Good thing I didn't win.
Walking back to the hotel after the race
Nathan and I
Bearing our Moroccan t-shirts
Tangine
The pot tangine comes in--served nice and hot!
View from the terrace
El Fna at night
Nathan, decked out in his new Moroccan scarf
A Mosque--one can hear incantations periodically throughout the day, including as early as 5AM
Moroccan tea = very, very good.
Good thing the snake charmer didn't see me take this. I wouldn't want him to sick his cobra on me or anything.
The finish line! There was also a giant inflatable teapot, but they deflated it before I could take a picture. It looked a lot like the actual teapot pictured earlier, only about one million times its size.
Simply Orange.
Koutoubia Mosque, which you can see from almost any point in the city.
A typical road sign...
Where we stayed!
One thing is for sure: we ate well. Even if we weren't sure about the utensils.
Spoon, or pipe?
The food kitchens set up at night on El Fna
Andy and Nathan on a magic carpet ride
Eirik, on the roof of the hotel
Nathan!
Up on the roof (Track #1)
The streets of Marrakech
Koutoubia Mosque again
Freshly squeezed orange juice--unbelievable. Especially after a half marathon.
A hat vendor in the souks
The souks!
Yes. Fatty and delicious.
Nathan, digging in.I also got a new haircut this week. Actually, about three hours ago. In Erich's hallway. Salons are so overrated these days.
Peace, love, stray cats and King Mohammed the VI,
Amanda
Peace, love, stray cats and King Mohammed the VI,
Amanda
2 comments:
Goodness, you have so many adventures!! We all miss you over here across the pond. You don't get back until the middle of the summer do you? :-( Y'all will have to road trip out and visit me wherever I end up. Miss you and have a great February!
Okay, so disclaimer--I DID enjoy Morocco, despite the sarcastic tone--I've gotten comments on that...EVERYONE should go to Morocco! Just not alone if you're a female. That's all I'm sayin'.
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