Marrakech

Thanksgiving weekend I flew to Marrakech with four of my girlfriends. It was a lovely trip full of exotic sights, good food, and shopping. Haggling in the markets was surprisingly fun and I came home with some gorgeous jewelry. As a sucker for anything pretty, I was constantly agape at all the beautiful colors and patterns. The toothless old men in the souks loved me and made it difficult to leave their stall without purchasing something. I was the quintessential tourist.

Five white women walking through the streets of Marrakech is not such a rare sight. This city gets a great deal of tourism and so I felt quite comfortable most of the time. However, there was quite a bit of cat-calling. Some of my favorites included, "Nice ass! Sex for you!", "Fish and cheeeeps!", "Are you two sisters? No? Beautiful, beautiful. Smooch, smooch" (that one by a ten year old boy), "Guapa! No? Beautiful! No? Guapa!" Most of them couldn't tell if we were British or Spanish. I suppose they don't get as many Americans in Morocco.

My first foray into a third world country was sobering. Yes, Marrakech is full of happy tourism, catcalls and bargaining, but there were moments of acute sadness as well. Toward the end, I was buying presents and jewelry with very little haggling--just enough to make the men feel like they'd gotten a good deal. I felt like a jerk with my fancy clothes, healthy teeth, and pampered skin. The toothless old women begging for food or money broke my heart. The children swarming for bonbons and selling us our tea reminded me how fortunate my pijo students really are. I want to go back to Morocco, I want to learn more about the customs, the generosity, and its nature. Like many places in our world, it's a country in crisis and I want to help in some way.

The interior of Yakshi's riad.

The main Place, or Plaza. This man is towing a cart behind him. In the background is one of the horse drawn carriages that are all over the city--towing tourists.

The last voyage of my red Chucks. They stayed in Marrakech, hopefully to adorn some lucky kid's feet.

The view of the Mosque in the sunset from Cafe Arabe.

The same.

Lights above one of the souk in the main place.

Susan gets some henna done. The woman told her, "mucho amor, mucho sexo!" Susan is still waiting for that to pan out....

Animal innards. Buckets of animal innards were left around the city. Not sure why, but the feral cats sure loved that habit.

Botanical garden.

Baby palm tree struggling against ancient tiles.

Slave boy tea cozy. Very politically correct. *cough*

Not much graphitti in Marrakech, but in the botanical gardens any cactus or bamboo close to the railing was covered in names and professions of love.

These flowers were all over the city in oranges, reds, and pinks. So beautiful!

Yakshi in her riad. Ours was not nearly so beautiful, though just as cozy and clean.

Typical tea service in Morocco. The mint tea was incredible.

The main Mosque.

I don't want to know what this cat is eating, nor do I want to know what turned him magenta.

In the market. Our riad used this style of pottery for our breakfast dishes. Fiestaware has new competition in my book!

Jen and Yakshi walking through the market. It was very polluted and often they burned fires in the street to roast sheep heads or some other more tasty fare.

Part of the pollution problem comes from the wide use of bikes. There are some bicycles, but most people ride these little motor bikes. They burn fuel very inefficiently. Our noses and eyes burned most days. I won't go into the color of my snot, but it was appalling.

Our riad.

Breakfast at our riad.

Jen and Susan at the night market. The food was disappointing, but maybe we didn't pick the right stall.

I didn't scrounge up enough courage to try the snails.

Night Market.

Jen loves Morocco, but not enough to stay in her headdress for long. This guy was very stubborn and wouldn't let her buy the scarf for less than 250 durum. However, he let me buy the same exact scarf for 150 durum saying, "I like your smile. I like your eyes. You get special democratic price." Yeah, whatever dude.

Thanksgiving

Living far away from close friends and family, holidays take on new meanings. They become more potent, full of memories and wistfulness. The trappings of holidays slip away, the pilgrim hats and family drama, and leave behind a solemn note of gratitude.

I am thankful for my life. I am thankful for the forgiveness of my friends and family. With so many new changes in my life I often struggle to find time or energy to keep contact with the people I love. I am thankful for the patience and understanding of my friends and family. Unsent letters, missed phone calls, droning on excitedly about my new life: sometimes I can be terribly self-absorbed. I am grateful for every one of you.

I am thankful also for the support I receive here in Spain. Melissa and her constant affirmations, Susan and her unwavering loyalty and wisdom, and all the little enthusiasms of Joseph, Anna, Olga, Ana, Alea, Emelia, Allie, Miguel, Eric and Cheryl and everyone else. I am fortunate to be surrounded by intelligent and compassionate people who love me.

I am thankful for my youth and health. Every day I see bent old men and shrinking ancient women navigating the craggy sidewalks. I cherish my strong legs and flexible spine. I should really buy better shoes.

I am thankful for the relative health of my family. My parents work very hard and I am grateful for each day of energy and productivity they offer the world. I am proud of their dedication and work ethic but also can't wait to treat them to the fun and relaxation they deserve when they visit me in Spain.

Finally, I am thankful for my self-confidence. The older I get, the more at peace with myself I become. I'm still self-critical and working towards improvement every day, but I no longer feel like I don't deserve the good things in life. We all deserve the simple pleasures of companionship, warmth, and goodwill. The adolescent feeling of inadequacy has finally banished itself from my thoughts and I am able to navigate life with much more ease. Thank goodness.

Firenze, Florencia, Florence

Florence is the city of renaissance dreams. So many beautiful works of art in such a small city; I was enraptured. The Academia museum was incredible--they were showing one of my favorite photographers, Robert Maplethorpe, alongside Michelangelo. And the David, well, nothing prepares you for the real thing. The food was good, the cappuccinos heavenly, and the people were friendly. Gracie, Italia. Oh, did I mention that I was there for an international school conference? Haha... forgot about that bit.

Oh, the Vespas. Yes, they have scooters in Spain--and lots. But Vespas? They scream Italy.

I really liked this restaurant. The waiter is arguing with the husband of one of my coworkers. Aaah, Madrileños... never peaceful.

Me and the River.

The Ponte Vecchio is a very beautiful old bridge to the other side of the river. I liked the other side of the river a little better--less touristy. The bridge itself is entirely encrusted with jewelry shops. A little overwhelming and very fascinating.

On the Ponte Vecchio there is a monument with an iron fence surrounding it. On the fence lovers attach locks with their names written on them. They throw the key into the river, symbolizing their everlasting love. Hundreds of locks adorn the fence--I thought they were abandoned bike locks. Shows how romantically minded I am...

I spent a rainy afternoon wandering around the Medicci house pretending I was one of them--the most influencial and powerful family of the Renaissance. I had also visited the Medicci chapel at San Lorenzo church. Each tomb had a real Michelangelo sculpture or two atop the sarcophogi. Intrigue, wealth, and ART. I stole these two pictures from their salon.

That's the Duomo in the distance.

I have never fallen in love with a cathedral before, but I think the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore (known commonly as the Duomo) has won my heart.

The floor of the Duomo.

Holy crap--deep fried artichoke! Soooo good. No one prepares artichoke like the Italians. The first night I had thinly sliced fresh artichoke with lemon and thin slices of parmasean as an appetizer. INCREDIBLE.

i

Every MAIS conference has a Gala Dinner. A great excuse to dress up pretty and get a little funky on the dance floor. Everyone agrees that no one parties like the American School of Madrid. We scared scores of people of the dance floor--more room for us! These are two of my favorite people at ASM. Who doesn't like a man who can dance?

Rogue environmentalist.

I love street altars.

This shop fascinated me. It's called "Save the Queen" but has the skyline of NY and a fake Indian headdress. Weird.

My new friends, Leonardo and Guisseppe. Guisseppe even taught me how to pronounce his name correctly. Leonardo makes lithographs from antique plates and then hand paints the colors. Some are quite good. I stumbled upon his shop by accident and ended up staying for about an hour talking with him and his friend. They were shocked that I was so friendly--I was shocked that they understood my spanish (Guisseppe lived in Madrid for a while).

Uffizi Museum at night. Some of my favorite Renaissance art lives within its walls (Artemesia Gentileschi, Carravaggio, Michelangelo, Botticelli).

Susan and Rachel peeking out on our long climb up the dome of Basilica Santa Maria di Fiore.

Duomo dome painting. The bottom is purgatory (with flaming pits to hell that devils push the damned into), the middle is the world of men, and you get more and more angelic as you go up. The most important angels and Jesus reside at the very apex of the dome. Gorgeous and freaky. One of the best purgatories I've seen.

Falling in love with the Duomo. So beautiful. They had little walkways that circumscribe the dome at intervals so that you could view the beautiful paintings from close up. Of course, that's when my camera battery died. More pictures from Susan and Rachel's cameras later.