2014-2015 Review: Get Out of Town!

It's like...we moved to the middle of nowhere, and, all of a sudden, I had so much free time that I was going everywhere!

Our "years" begin and end in the summer. Every time I've tried to do a "real" year-in-review at the end of December, I always feel halfway through whatever we're doing. I've just always been on a school year schedule; my parents were both teachers, and our life refreshed and restarted every summer.

I don't think I can really count all the days I went to Paris this year, but I blogged about most of them, and you can read about my museum and wander days here.

Marc may have been bored and unemployed in La Fère, but we took advantage of his free time and he went to two destinations he'd been wanting to see his entire life: Berlin and Athens. Berlin exceeded his expectations and Athens was a disappointment. But he's glad he got to decide for himself and now all he talks about is going back to Berlin!

The only travel plans I really had for this year were Spain for Christmas and I was hoping against all odds that I'd finally get to do my Iberian Insanity (#ibin2014) trip that I started planning way back in 2012. There was also a hint of "perhaps Morocco" when my college friend, John, moved there in the fall, but nothing was for sure, or even a priority.

These quaint little ideas ended up exploding into glorious travel dreams all over my calendar!

A Week in the Netherlands

Every August, I get to do a volleyball camp in the little, but well-connected, town of Wassenaar. Between coaching volleyball and eating strop waffles, I made it to the Mauritshuis museum in Den Haag, Corrie ten Boom's home in Haarlem, and a local castle in Voorschoten.

A Night in London

When the Eurostar train goes on sale, it must be bought! For 69 euros each round trip, we sped under the English Channel for a night out at the theatre. Conveniently, my uncle and aunt also happened to be in town (this has happened to us twice now, in London and in NYC!), and we enjoyed drinks at the Savoy after the show.

Two Weeks in Spain

It was only supposed to be about 9.5 days, but an EasyJet airline strike grounded our December 31st flight until...January 3rd! What began as our already grand trip of Madrid, Toledo, Granada, and Málaga, became all of those places plus Córdoba, Ronda, and Gibraltar! My Iberian Insanity trip was now only missing Seville and Portugal!

An Evening in Belgium

We chugged up to Belgium in the team minibus for my first European friends to finally meet Marc! It was the first time I'd been back since 2011, and it was wonderful to communicate in French with so many of the people who opened up Europe to us.

Four Days in Morocco

John's move to Morocco did end up working out for me after all! It's really nice having friends who live in cool places. It was my first time in Africa, my first time in a predominantly Arab country, and the most interesting trip of my life.

Four Days in Sweden & Norway

I'm now old enough that the teenagers I coached are studying their master's degrees abroad. Maggie was based in Sweden for 6 weeks, and we had sadly given up hope that we'd get to see each other. But a canceled practice and a plane ticket later, and #Swagandinavia was up and running!

Two Weeks in Portugal

My ultimate year in travel finished with my ultimate vacation destination. My time in the south of Portugal was pure and organic and perfect.

Our 4th Year in France

But how can I forget my adopted home?! Aside from my Paris jaunts, we cracked open an entire new section of France to us in the Picardy. I have to say that the best 3 things were castles: Château Mennechet, Pierrefonds, and Coucy-le-Château. We also were able to spend some time in Bayeux for our friends' wedding.

We don't know everything about where we'll be going next year, but we do have our return to Europe planned for a visit to Scotland! I feel like I definitely maximized my time in Europe this past year, and right now I think I'm ready for a more laid back travel schedule for next year.

I mean, I feel that way today, but I may change my mind come September!

Thankful for all the learning and mind-opening experiences that travel has brought me because of volleyball. These years have been golden and grand, and I know we will continue to shine wherever we end up!

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My Morocco, Part 3: Places & Plates

I could talk about Morocco forever, but I'm going to control myself and make this blog my last entry. I was able to enjoy Casablanca, Fez, and Rabat during my four days there.

Are you ready for all of the photos?!

Casablanca

You already know how I feel about the nightlife scene in Casa. We spent a lot of time walking through the Habous market area, both during the day and evening, and it always smelled like a wonderful mix of barbecue, fruits, spices, olives, and animals. John knew all the foods for me to try: cactus fruit, walnuts, sugar cane juice, snails with their faces, avocados without seeds, nougat, and flavored chick peas.

At night, we went back to the Habous and had incredibly tasty dromedary "burgers." A lot of food is served family-style, so these burgers were really two huge plates of meat cut into strips, ready to be shared by our party of five. The burger meat comes with huge bread rolls to be torn apart and used to pick up the meat, a plate of tomatoes and onions, and bowls of classic Moroccan seasonings of sea salt, red pepper, and cumin.

On another day, we ate at the fish market, and had lemon drenched oysters, octopus, bass, and another delicious fish with excellent teeth. That same evening, we ate at the fishing port at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant that only has two items on the menu: fish soup and a shrimp omelette.

I don't know very much besides this about what I ate. I just kept saying, "Yes," and "Okay," and everything tasted great. I don't really consider myself to have a "strong stomach," but Moroccan food and I thankfully agreed the entire time.

We ate at two other impressive places: Rick's Cafe and Cafe Maure. You may recall Rick's Cafe as "the place to be" in the classic film Casablanca. John had created a party of 8 between groups of friends, and the waiters all knew who "Monsieur Glass" was the whole night because they put us upstairs in the private dining room! The food was very good, indeed, and the piano tune of "As Time Goes By" was played quite often.

Cafe Maure is THE brunch place in Casablanca. It cost a total of 15 euros for an entire entourage of breads, pancakes, crepes, sauces, fruits, and vegetables...that fed both of us to the point where there was still food leftover. Definitely the best affordable brunch I've ever had; the best, but most expensive, brunch still goes to Angelina's.

I only took a few food pictures. Most of the time, we were in groups of people, and I didn't bring my iPhone because I didn't want to be distracted from the present. It was a really fun and authentic way to enjoy my experience in Casablanca even more by basically hanging out in John's life for a weekend.

Fez

I will never forget what I read on somebody's blog before I left: "Old Fez is a bowl."

Words to live by. Also, don't go to Fez on a Friday, unless you are like me and enjoy the emptiness of closed souks and didn't need to go to the tanneries.

But the Fez bowl: I knew if I was going downhill, I was still working my way to the center. As soon as I turned uphill, I was making my way out of the medina. I was lost most of the time, but I at least knew which direction I was heading! It also helps a lot to look up and catch signs that direct you to landmarks like the blue gate, some squares, museums, and so forth.

You know those plastic maze games with the little silver ball that you have to roll around walls to try to get to the end of the maze?

That's exactly how I felt in Fez. Except instead of seeing the maze as a whole, I was the little silver ball, with the walls of the maze stretching high above me. If the Fez medina wasn't a bowl, I might still be lost in there somewhere.

Cafe Clock was my savior, giving me time to relax on the riad rooftop terrace, soaking in the beautiful views, and enjoying the craziest tapas plate I've ever tried (and finished) and some incredible chocolate cheesecake. They also offer all kinds of cool cooking and cultural classes in both Fez and Marrakech, so check out their website in advance.

Rabat

The only thing to say is that Rabat was my favorite place in Morocco. I could have wandered the bright blue and white village above the sea for days. Every turned corner was another beautiful sight. Take the photo tour!

I'm very thankful that Morocco was my first African destination. I know people consider Morocco to be much more European than African. All I have to say to that is: tant mieux. It worked in my favor.

For the complete "My Morocco" series...
Visit Morocco! (Under Certain Conditions)
Part 1: Les Petits Taxis
Part 2: Breaking Beats

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My Morocco, Part 2: Breaking Beats

I think I've "gone clubbing" four times in my entire life. I do it my own way, dressed for comfort and ready to dance (read: sweat). I've had a mixture of experiences, none of which have been overwhelming epic in order to convince me that a "discotheque" is totally my scene.

That is - until La Corniche.

The biggest determining factor on whether a night out will be awesome or not is the group of people. That said, I don't know if I'll ever be able to recapture just how much fun we had at B-Rock and Bao that night. We were 3 American extras, crashing the Casablanca CrossFit party because John had taken the liberty to just keep inviting random people.

Ready to crash any wedding, anywhere.

Every time I've crashed a party, it's been rad. Once, I even crashed a wedding (thanks, Jenn).

B-Rock had a live band. A live band that played only songs I knew, everything from Elvis Presley to Pharrell Williams, and from I Love Rock n' Roll to Uptown Funk. But the music wasn't even the best part. People were dancing to dance.

They were moving their bodies to the beats and having fun with their friends. They were laughing while singing the words they knew to each other and letting the music lead them around the floor. All the while enjoying their alcohol and cigarettes (oh, hello, Morocco, and no laws against smoking inside public establishments!). If someone was there with their significant other, they danced close together. That was it. Nobody was gross, nobody was creepy, and nobody was out of control.

The best way I can sum it up for you is that is was fun and lighthearted like Taylor Swift's Shake It Off music video under a haze of cigarette smoke.

After our fun moments at B-Rock, we walked down the street to Bao. Talk about an experience that can never be repeated. This was a "real" African club: African rap music so loud we couldn't hear each other shouting, out of this world dance moves, and I was the only blonde person in the entire building.

It was the most deafening place I've ever been. I could feel the music pounding through my feet up to my rib cage. Real dancers kept crazy rhythms that I will never experience in my own body.

And then it happened.

A circle began to form around two guys. The music got even louder as we drew closer to see what was going on.

"OMG, a dance-off?!?!" I shrieked excitedly.

The first guy started his insane footwork. He did some okay "warm-up moves" (I've seen So You Think You Can Dance, I know what I'm talking about), and motioned to the other dude: "Your turn."

This dude didn't waste any time on courtesies. He made one quick step, then flipped onto his hands, and proceeded to (this is where my dance knowledge ends) bounce in a circle on his hands until he began spinning on his shoulders.

This dance-off was now a breakdance-off.

Thank goodness the music was so loud that nobody could hear my white girl screaming. I was freaking out in the best possible way - I could not believe that I was seeing this impromptu dance battle with my own eyes, just 5 feet away from me!!!

The battle kept going a few more rounds, but the first guy was way out of his pop-lock-and-drop-it wheelhouse as the second dude kept stepping up with even crazier feats on his hands and head. Yes. It was like whatever dance movie you are thinking about right now (I felt Stomp the Yard, personally).

I hope nothing ever beats my night out in Casablanca. I definitely won't be out trying to best it anytime soon! But I'm so thankful for such a fun and different experience that I can smile and talk about forever: the music, the dancing, and the insanity of it all!

For the complete "My Morocco" series...
Visit Morocco! (Under Certain Conditions)
Part 1: Les Petits Taxis
Part 3: Places & Plates

Continue »

My Morocco, Part 1: Les Petits Taxis

It's going to take me a really long time to wrap my mind around Morocco.

It was just so, so many new things constantly, all jammed into four days of interesting people, places, things, and ideas.

While everything was strange and exciting to me, 3 particular aspects of my trip really stand out as the craziest, most awesome, and incredible experiences I could never have imagined.

I didn't buy tons of stuff from the souks, I didn't ride a camel, and I didn't let anyone paint henna tattoos all over me. I think not doing these things contributed to my time in Morocco being relaxing and fun. But these other things that happened were possible because of the factors I listed in my previous post.

As it turns out, my favorite memories have to do with the taxis, the nightlife, and the food.

I will return to Morocco for these great moments, and to discover even more.

Let Petits Taxis

Until you can handle these taxi drivers, don't even bother coming to Morocco. I wasn't even sure if I'd be able to hack it, but I got the hang of it quickly enough to avoid being scammed. First of all, everyone drives like there are no lines, no lights, and no rules. Bring a blindfold if you're a backseat driver. It's just the way everyone goes from A to B, and it's exactly like a hectic car racing video game. Secondly, the drivers will know you're a tourist. Then they'll try to get as much money from you as possible. I took around 15 taxi rides, and only once (in Fez) at the beginning of the route did the driver make eye contact with me, point to the meter, and say, "This is your meter and how much it will cost." The rest of the time was not so simple.

Just keep your eyes on the sky!

Let's just list some of the ways of the taxi world of Morocco.

-The drivers of petits taxis (red taxis) can pick up other passengers if their destination is along the way.
-Conversation can get stuck on why you may not have children. "But you are married, and married women have children." "Not where I come from."
-"Five-tee dirhams" (was there an "n," so 15?) means 50 dirhams: ALWAYS. They'll say it like they don't speak English, but it's really just to trick you into paying too much. But, hey, 50 dirhams is only about $5, so that's a great deal! NO! In Morocco, a daytime ride should be 10 to 20 dirhams (about 1 dirham a minute)!
-Repeat back to them in French numbers to make sure of the difference: "quinze" for 15 (say CANZ) and "cinquante" for 50 (say SANK-ont).
-Good rule of thumb: daytime routes should start at 2 dirhams on the meter, and nighttime routes should start at 3 dirhams (night routes have a 50% surcharge).

Catch that red taxi! Most of the cars are really old, just check out these photos.

-I had one driver refuse to put on the meter. I jumped out of the cab the next time it stopped.
-The French is not what you'd expect. The drivers don't know the "vous" (formal you) conjugations, and everything ends up being in "tu" form. So you have to be very rude (by French standards) and boss the drivers around like they're children.
-One driver kept telling us he had to make a stop somewhere; turns out he had to make an actual pitstop and get the back tire changed.
-Demand the change from your fare. If you don't, then the cabbies just stop returning change to people. You can always tip them with the change they hand back to you.
-Stand on the side of the street that goes toward your destination. You have a slightly higher chance of not getting cheated. Also try to know what streets should be taken, or at least how long the ride should take.

But my best petit taxi moment was on my final route to the train station.

I hopped into a cab that already had another passenger. The meter read over 30 dirhams, and I assumed the other passenger had just come a really long way. About 3 minutes into the route, I asked, "What's wrong with your meter?" The driver lamented about how it had been broken for a really long time. Then he told me, "But don't worry, I will only charge you 24 dirhams."

Excusez-moi?!

When you're prepared for a confrontation, arguing can be quite the fun sport.

I countered back with a loud, "NON! C'est pas possible, ça!" and told him I was getting out of the cab right away. He tried to smooth the situation over with, "Yes, yes, it's always 24 dirhams from this neighborhood."

I lashed back, "It is NEVER higher than 15 dirhams during the daytime from here!" He smiled like he knew I didn't know anything, and replied, "Okay, okay, you pay me 20 dirhams."

I threatened to get out of the cab again, saying, "It's only ever 20 dirhams in the evening, I know this!" He finally "compromised" and said it would be around 18 dirhams. At that point, I was getting rid of all of my dirhams at the airport, anyway, and 3 extra dirhams (30 cents in our world) wasn't going to be worth finding another cab and maybe missing my train to the airport. We both said, "We'll see."

The other passenger got out, and we started talking about the other neighborhoods in Casablanca. He said that the other passenger had agreed to pay him 15 dirhams for her route. I repeated my stance that 15 dirhams should be my fare as well. Why? "I know because I live in the Maarif and take this route all the time!" He smiled when he found out I "lived" in Casablanca, figured out that I also spoke English, and we talked about mixing languages and cultures for a few minutes. I mentioned another neighborhood, and this was enough to convince him of my residency.

We squeezed our way through a large intersection, and the driver complained about how the police just run through the red lights and do whatever they want. I looked him straight in the eye (yes, that's how much he was paying attention to the road) and said, "Yes, that's true, but that's what everybody does here, especially the taxi drivers!" ("I know this because I live here," I reminded him.) I continued, "But that's how everyone has to drive, or you'll never get anywhere."

He laughed and said, "C'est comme le zigzag!" (It's like the zigzag!) I took that comment and ran with it, "Yes, but isn't all of life one big zigzag?" He loved this.

"C'est la vie, le zigzag!"

Thirty seconds later we pulled up to the Casa Voyageurs train station, and I took out my wallet. I gave him an annoyed look and said, "Okay, how much? You want 18?" He smiled back and replied, "How much you say you normally pay?"

"15 dirhams."

"Yes, okay, for you, 15 dirhams!"

Remember how I said you have to be prepared to play by their rules?

And all of these taxi experiences happened in only four days.

For the complete "My Morocco" series...
Visit Morocco! (Under Certain Conditions)
Part 2: Breaking Beats
Part 3: Places & Plates

Continue »

Visit Morocco! (Under Certain Conditions)

I've been in Morocco 48 hours.

It's the most unique place I have ever been.

It may be the most unique because it is the most unlike any other place I've been.

The sun is setting, and I hear the Islamic prayer call echoing from across Casablanca through my open window.

I feel more comfortable when wearing my sweatshirt hood or my scarf around my head. It makes me a little less obviously blonde, and my sunglasses hide my blue eyes. It's not that I'm afraid; it's that I don't want to stand out from the crowd even more than I already do.

Most of the Moroccans think I'm French. Their own accents and vocabulary have as many eccentricities as mine. So "I will never be French" - except in Morocco.

There are very rich people and very poor people; the exquisite mosques contrast deeply with the crumbling shacks. Everything is so cheap here that the expats and tourists can live and eat like kings.

The roads and markets are pushy, full of colors and scents (both pleasant and not so pleasant), and noisy in their needs.

My experience so far in Morocco has been heavily influenced by 3 crucial factors.

1) Living in France has exposed me to French. I can speak with and understand the taxi drivers, shopkeepers, and other locals. I'm actually enjoying arguing with cabbies.

2) Living in France has introduced me to Arab and African athletes, students, coworkers, and friends. My moments with Moroccans have been overwhelmingly positive, and impacted which African country I would go to first all along.

3) Most important factor: I may be flying solo, but I am in Casablanca because my friend from college, John, lives here. He has tons of Moroccan and expat friends, and has brought me to some awesome in-the-know places that I'll talk about later.

I could not have done this trip 5 years ago. I don't even think I could have done it 2 years ago. I definitely couldn't have done it without the help of a friend-turned-local.

If you can accept the dirty chaos of a developing country, only then are you able to see past the bad differences to enjoy the good differences.

At this point in my life, I can finally accept Morocco as a tourist, but I don't think I could handle it as a place to live.

Should you come to Morocco? Yes, but...

Yes, but with the right person/people.

Yes, but with a wide open mind.

Yes, but do your homework in advance and know what to expect.

Yes, but be prepared to play by their rules.

Yes, but don't come until you are ready.

For the complete "My Morocco" series...
Part 1: Les Petits Taxis
Part 2: Breaking Beats 
Part 3: Places & Plates

 

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