Fits and Dizzy Spells

This trip so far has been an exercise in patience and faith. Molly arrived in Paris three days after her expected arrival due to snow and Easyjet being ridiculous. She was slated to leave the day after that but her lovely family generously changed her ticket so that she could see more of Paris and have Christmas with me. Unfortunately, when she arrived in Paris I was on the verge of being seriously ill with a sinus infection. Sigh.... we still had an amazing time together and I can't wait to visit her in Morocco.

The day before Christmas eve we took these amazing pictures of Paris from above. After a failed attempt to get me a doctor's appointment, we ventured into the city to shop a little. I was a mess, dizzy inside the perfumed department stores, overwhelmed on the crowded streets. So we escaped to the roof of Printemps (France's Macy's or Corte Ingles). The view was incredible. We could see all the spectacular lights of Paris under a dramatic dusky sky.

Christmas Eve we got the time right for the doctor. I finally succumed to the fact that I was really ill. My sinuses were so sore that any sudden movement of my head was excruciating. Molly translated for me as my french is now officially absymal. The doctor pressed upon my forhead and I nearly burst into tears and I made some seriously pathetic noises as he prodded my sinuses.

Molly and I went to the pharmacy afterward and added three more medications to the two I was already taking and dropped by the patisserie to pick up our buche de noel and a little treat. I made the brilliant choice to walk home instead of accompanying Molly to the city. It was still too early to call anyone back home and I desperately wanted to talk to my parents. When 6:30am finally hit the Pacific Northwest I called my folks and literally fell apart on the phone. Snot and tears and a few coughing fits later and I felt so much better. We talked for around two hours--I love them so much. All I need is to hear their voices and I feel like I can conquer the world again. What more could you ask for in parents?

Molly came home later that night, her arms full of tulips and fresh vegetables, and fed me. She claims I was an entirely different person after just a few doses of antibiotic, nasal spray, and thai peanut sauce. Thank god for Molly and socialized medicine.

This first shot is one of many to follow of our Christmas walk though Villennes. It was quiet, hardly a soul to encounter. This is the 11th century church near the trainstation.

This swan never gave up hope that I had brought him food. I'm a terrible tease.

The Seine.

You can always count on Molly to add some fun.

Someday it might be fun to live in a house with turrets, gables, and spires. Just a thought.

The Pretty Lady.

Molly and I on our Christmas Day walk.

The Boxing Day wait for the train... so cold!

Villennes Sur Seine train station.

Molly and I spent her last day roaming the Musee d'Orsay. The building is a converted Victorian era trainstation. Molly's grandmother grew up in Paris and remembers catching trains from here.

I was giddy with all the french masters of the early modernist movements: Cezanne, Renoir, Matisse, Monet, Manet, Lautrec, Degas, and a few new or forgotten masters to write in my notebook. There was a visiting exhibition on James Ensor who I had only previously known through a They Might Be Giants song. His work was haunting and crass and absolutely delightful. I love skeletons and his were comic and colorful. Upstairs lived an treasure trove of art nouveaux, art deco furniture and decorations, and works too large for the downstairs area (not to mention a few original plasters of Rodin--which included the gate to hell I've been wanting to see for years). The epic Windslow Homers, the statuettes of Sarah Bernhardt, the picturesque views of the Siene from the sunfilled windows... it was such a surprise that the upstairs was just as enthralling as below. It was a lovely day.

This is a very famous cafe in Paris where great thinkers and artists would sit for hours penning their famous phrases or waxing poetic with their friends. Gaspard, Nicole, Molly, and I drank our seven euro (!) hot chocolate while imagining Modigliani and Picasso and Hemmingway sitting at tables nearby (back when this snooty cafe was merely seedy). The hot chocolate was delicious and plentiful enough that it might actually be worth seven euros.

The Louvre, beautiful at night.

I don't care if it is fuzzy, I still love this picture of Molly. Her last night in Paris. I am so lucky that I got her for a few extra days (thanks to the generosity of her grandparents and mom), that I didn't have to spend Christmas alone, and that through my sickness I had someone as generous and lovely as she to take care of me. With our ten years of friendship, I feel so at home with her near.

Bonjour Madame!

For two weeks, I am staying in a little village called Villenes Sur Seine. Just outside of Paris, Villenes has one road and a wonderful bakery. The first day and a half I spent at the house with the family, trying to be helpful and such with my dear friend Molly who was stuck in Madrid and had a grand total of three flight cancellations. I finally made it out to Villenes on Sunday for a quiet walk. This is the City Hall.

Olivia is totally bundled!

The family whose house I'm lending is incredibly gracious and generous. They helped me navigate the trains, took me grocery shopping, and fed me for the first few days. I feel so spoiled! And the sweet brother/brother-in-law helped me find my way home from the city in the midst of train strikes and chaos. Olivia and Celine (11 months and 4 years) are unbelievably cute children and so much fun! If I hadn't had this nasty cold I would have snuggled Olivia within an inch of her life. :)

Au Champs Elysee....

Government building near Champs Elysee.

Pont Alexandre (?)

The Seine

Montmatre could be in the running for my favorite neighborhood. It feels a lot like my barrio in Madrid--a little trendy in a funky sort of way with history and flower shops and old markets. Many movies were filmed here, including Amelie.

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.