Lady Lancers

The Lady Lancers were a blast to watch at the ISSA tournament. Most of the girls had not grown up playing soccer and it was great to see how much they had learned in just a year or two. It made me miss playing and I'm trying to convince the ultimate frisbee crowd to switch over to soccer for a week or two. It could happen! The girls placed third in the tournament and we're all very proud. Some of my pictures have one of my favorite students in them. She had never played soccer before this year and scored two goals in the tournament. Go Team!

Cumpleaño

I have a love-hate relationship with my birthday.

I love my birthday: love the day, the fact that it's in spring, I love alliteration of the numbers in the date, I love being an Aries, I love the drives to the tulip fields in Mt. Vernon, the proximity to Easter.... I love how the day is all for me, how it somehow always ends up being sunshiny and everyone seems to be in a good mood. The entire day is supposed to be great and I can get away with anything, be completely self-indulgent.

I hate my birthday: I build it up way too much. I get really uncomfortable with too much attention. I hate opening presents in front of a crowd, I don't like the pressure of blowing out candles, and I never know what to do with myself when everyone is singing and staring at me. If I give a party for myself, I feel like I have to personally make sure that every guest is having a good time and if it feels awkward I start to panic. Because, of course, my birthday is supposed to be the best day of the year. Everything is magical on my birthday. And I feel like everyone's birthday should be monumental.

One year I tried to ignore my birthday. It was my freshmen year of college and Facebook didn't exist yet. No one would know if I didn't tell them. I looked forward to the day being blissfully perfect because I wasn't jacking up my expectations. Yeah, uh huh, right. I ended up crying in Red Square because I knew my brother was unhappy and he wouldn't tell me why because he didn't want to ruin my birthday. See why birthdays suck? Too much anticipation--even when you're trying not to expect anything.

However, now that we're in the crazy world of social networking and I live half a world away from family and my oldest (and arguably, best) friends, I struggle even more with my birthday. But do you know what the brilliant thing about my birthday yesterday? There was no cake, no candles, no song. Okay, so my students sang to me, but somehow when twelve year olds do it it's a little easier to stomach. And just about every one of my favorite Madrileños showed up to see me at my little casual gathering at the mercado. I have to admit, I still have this ex-geek fear that no one will show up to a party that I throw, and seeing all the people I admire come to honor me on my birthday.... Phew! What a joy.

Facebook surprised me. As much as I think its addictive qualities are mind-numbing, having so many people from so many crazy episodes of my past wish me a happy birthday made me feel so very loved--especially because I live far away from my roots. And I didn't have to shout to the world that my favorite holiday, the Me Day, was coming up. I had people stopping by my classroom to say Happy Birthday without any self-promotion. Thanks Facebook. You made my birthday a warm fuzzy ball of puppy love.

And yeah, thanks everybody on Facebook. From my mom to my brother's ex-best friend's older brother to my band-camp crush, ya'll made April 7th great.

Fes, Chefchaouen, Tangiers

From the rooftop of our pension in Chefchaouen.

Zach and I flew away to Morocco for Semana Santa. We began by meeting my dear Molly in Fes. We then took a bus to Chefchaouen and finished with a brief stay in Tangiers. Molly is in Morocco with the Peace Corps and I'm hoping to visit her site in September--away from the tourists and bustle of the cities.

This was Zach's first time in Morocco and I think it made a great first impression. The food is incredible, the people friendly, and he especially loved the tea (green tea with mint and lots of sugar). I enjoyed traveling with a man and in smaller, more european cities--almost no harassment in the streets this time.

This gentleman was the definition of dapper.

When shooting from the hip, I occasionally get lucky. I'm not sure this guy knew I was taking his picture.

Beautiful details of the entryway of a mosque in the medina.

We visited the Tannery. It was smelly, interesting, and ancient. I bought beautifully made shoes.

Lying out the skins to dry.

The men put the skins in the pits and agitate the mixture with their legs. Hard, stinky work that can't be easy on your skin.

Molly and me, enjoying the sour smell of the tannery. Molly has her mint at hand to provide relief from the smell.

The white pits are lye, I think. The others are dyes and other chemicals.

One of the women at the bus stop is in camouflage.

Turkish toilet. Kind of a brilliant idea, actually.

Summer palace within the medina. Beautiful gardens and a museum full of artifacts.

My new shoes.

From the terrace of Cafe Clock--bohemian hangout of Fes.

Minaret of a nearby mosque.

Rooftop of our hotel in Fes.

Molly taught Zach and I how to cover our heads. I looked remarkably convincing as a Berber housewife (sorry, no picture of that one). It was so lovely to giggle and joke with Molly in addition to the arabic phrases and cultural wisdom she shared with us.

Berber woodworking in our room in Chefchaouen.

Out the door of our pension.

In our pension, looking up through the interior.

Morocco's very popular king, Mohommed VI.

Pigment for paints. I think they mix the pigment with plaster and paint their houses with it, which helps create the frosted-cake effect.

Abraham invited Zach and I into his shop to show us his wares. This man knew how to make a sale... flattering, pontificating, talking really fast, and administering creepy besos every now and then... But we did get tea out of the deal.

Abraham gets inappropriately close. He loved the way I smelled. I hadn't had a proper shower in three days. Eeeew.

Abraham points out the "jiggy-jiggy" herb. "No one, no two, no three... FIVE TIMES.... I have fourty-four years and I do it every way." I've never been so embarrassed in my life.

Beautiful mosque.

Sunset on the roof. I helped Zach take this shot with my camera. He got to learn the magic of SLRs on this trip. Teaching photography is magical.

The young women, especially little girls, are cooed over by their fathers, brothers, uncles, and friends. It melts my heart to see the fathers chatting away with their daughters, hand in hand, as they stroll along. In a country where women are often uneducated (especially in the rural areas) and given few options for their futures, it's good to see the smiles and laughter and womanhood without the stigma of a muslim nations beating down their women. You don't have to be in a muslim country to find domestic violence, nor do you have to be in a christian country to find happy families. I need a reminder now and then that happiness has thousands of definitions--and seeing the linked arms of brothers and sisters, mothers and sons, or the jokes between husband and wife are the best kind of reminders.

Children's theater in the street.

Zach looks fetching in his Berber desert garb.

Chefchaouen cemetery. You can see the wall of the city in the distance.

Market day in Chauen. Women sat along the walls selling mint and cilantro, re-used bottles filled with milk, and various vegetables from kitchen gardens.

Smurf-tastic cousins.

Everyone thought we were married, which actually worked out well for me. There were fewer crude remarks when I was with Zach. And he's a great travel buddy--he laughs at my stupid jokes and is up for anything.

Apple soda is delicious. Especially with a chopped meat sandwich--turkey, onion, cilantro, cumin, cinnamon, hot sauce, and cayenne pepper on a fresh baked roll or flat-bread.

I love stray cats.

The soundtrack of Morocco is punctuated by the yowls and hisses of the real rulers of the streets. Basking in the last moments of sunshine for the day on a rooftop terrace, the haunting sound of the call to prayer would echo through Chaouen's valley, each mosque's sing-song voice layering over the others in a strange tapestry of sound. We'd watch the women hang laundry on rooftops nearby, or the men slip off their shoes at the entrance to the mosques, and it wasn't difficult to imagine the city as it was hundreds of years ago.

The most beautiful bus ride ever: the mountains and greenery, roadside pottery stands, roaming shepherds and soccer matches, and the sun slowly sinking before us.

Rif mountain town.

Tangiers skyline at sunset. Tangiers was pretty lame in comparison to Chaouen and Fes, and we were only there for one night. But driving through it was fascinating--it gave a whole new definition to the word "teeming."

Shukran, Maroc, Bismallah.