Sliding into my 2nd week back here in the Middle Eastern sandbox and I'm feeling at home, again. I feel I'm fairly acclimated- so much that I can tell that the weather this September is slightly 'cooler' than last September... By cooler I mean 100º F instead of 110º F on a daily basis...
It helps to just jump back into life where you left off, which I have. Work started up immediately. Ladies who Lunch started up immediately. The running club started up immediately. My glorious trips to Lulu Hypermart started up immediately. Cussing while driving started up immediately, etc.
Also, vacation planning started up immediately. Within one week of boots on the ground in Bahrain, I had myself a round-trip ticket to Nepal for next month's Eid holiday :) Who would have thought? So, yes, my return to the desert has been smooth. Even the jet lag isn't terribly inconvenient. Of course, the kitties make everything better at home, even though Sami Bey must be kept away from all fabric... He has the jaws of fashion-death- or the saliva of fashion death more appropriately.
As I lay in bed typing my thoughts though, I am reminded of 9/11. I was reading some posts from friends in America and it occurred to me that it was 9/11 yesterday... It escaped me. I knew it was there in the back of my mind, but distance distracts. Actually, as I work out the math right now, it still is 9/11 in America (Friday 7:30am here = Thursday evening 6:30 pm in Hawaii).
It got me to thinking more about it as I read more memorial postings online. It's fascinating for me because this is a collective American 'soil' experience (of course this is a collective worldwide experience), that I didn't experience on American 'soil.' I was traveling in the Sahara Desert at the time. I was in Merzouga, Morocco. My singular experience (I was the only American where I was) was of ... detachment I guess is a decent word to use. I couldn't fathom the intensity of the situation at that point. Perhaps I was in shock and that absorbed my emotional turbulence.
What I recall was that the day passed in a slow-motion Ken Burns-effect kinda way. It was so surreal. I wanted to go out into the desert and ponder life, but here I was in this situation where my hosts (North African Tuareg Berbers) wanted to shelter me and keep me comforted. They were so raw and honest in their manner with me. They kept me in their open-air style living area where there was a tv broadcasting the news (just outside was a large satellite dish). I was receiving the news before any of my friends back in Hawaii did as they were still sleeping. I was in a room of strangers- except my travel companions (Christian the German, and 'Yo' the Korean kinda drag queen) that I had met weeks earlier on a ferry boat traveling from Algeciras, Spain to Tangier, Morocco.
These so called 'strangers' wormed their way into my mind and heart. I kept thinking that I didn't need comforting. I just wanted to be 'normal', yet they kept insisting that I open my heart to their desire to heal me. At some point I could no longer object. I gave in to their nurturing ways. I felt like a fledgling that got left behind by the rest of the pack. They hovered over me like a pack of vultures and showered me with food and tea! They gave me space. They asked me questions. They wanted to know if I needed to get a ride into the nearest village to find an internet cafe so I could let my family know I was safe. I had to laugh as I thought to myself, "This is the safest place in the world to be right now. Certainly safer than America presently."
Morning turned into afternoon turned into evening. There was a constant flow of traffic throughout the day. Perhaps everybody had heard that there was an American at the hostel, I'm not sure. People came and sat in the living space with us. We were all huddled together. Even the women were with us. The children were running all around unaffected by the televised chaos.
Some men took it upon themselves to start packing my carpet up that I had just purchased days before nearby. They suggested that it would be better to pack it out with me when I left, instead of sending it off at the post office. I remember very clearly one man that spoke English said to me, "This is not us. We are not terrorists. People are people. Governments are governments." He looked me hard in the eye. I understood. He knew I understood.
As nighttime descended, I remember going up to the roof and staring at the stars. Just staring into space, thinking. Trying to think of what the sentiment of America was in those moments. Obviously I had an idea, but...
The German (a flying doctor) came back into the camp that night. He was heading out in the morning. Would he give us a lift to the nearest town/bus station? Of course. He had a Landcruiser and looked like an aging Lawrence of Arabia, wearing a traditional Tuareg Shesh (blue cloth turban). What ensued was an amazing all-day journey through dusty roads with tracks (no 'road lanes' per say as there was no road). Many stops at wells to take water- always checking for snakes hiding underneath rocks first. The landscape was so soothing. It was a moving picture show. We were driving so fast actually with only occasional passings of other cars in various states of needing repairs, camels, donkey carts, etc. At every pit-stop came a collective of children swarming the Toyota wanting pens, watches, coins, anything. The day played out like a symphony that I was partially following on a conscious level. I remember we stopped at some point at this ritzy hotel and had tea. We were all dusty. It didn't matter. The German was someone of importance that everybody in the country seemed to know. I thought back to a week earlier when he took me out into the desert one night deep in the sand dunes so we could just chat and watch the stars. I'll always remember that night. We were enveloped in the dunes. We walked to their crests and rolled down. We were children. We had no worries in the world.
...And then just like that the Toyota drove out of our lives. We 3 stood outside the ritzy hotel waving goodbye to The German. We collected our belongings and walked down the street to the bus station.
Showing posts with label Algeciras. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Algeciras. Show all posts
11.16.2012
some serious Jedi Mind Tricks going on down here in the Fertile Crescent tonight during the midnite hour...
Yea, subject line explains it pretty succinctly (haha).
It's the glorious end of a long, sometimes painful work week, but you know what, in the end it was great. I've come to some realizations. Most importantly that I'm not an army. Nor do I want to be an army- unless it's an army that only does battle with chocolate raspberry cake...
Anyhow... okay yes I continue on with this thought before I lose it once and for all. So, I think to myself, "just do it Holly. Just do it. Just re-adjust the kaleidoscope and let things fall into place as they tend to do if you just leave things alone and stay positive. With this in mind, it was an awesome week and I learned a lot. To boot, the weather has been fabulous. I'm almost thinking I could get in some lanai sun-soaking tomorrow (this) morning. A morning that is fast descending upon me right now in fact. I mustn't dawdle anymore. Let's get to the juice of this blog post- which wassssss....... I know I wanted to bring up Morocco- which came into my mind as I was ready to delve into my new research project. Shhhhh, but it's on a little-known (if any) archaeological site in the Cappadocia region. I'm not sure exactly as it might even be closer to Aksaray than Göreme. So this, of course, reminded me of Morocco 11 years ago...
I remember when I was on the ferry from Algeciras- at the tip of Spain and right next to Gibraltar. I had just started my journey a week before as I landed in Madrid. Hawaii to Madrid is a shock (although not as shocking as Hawaii to Antarctica I'm sure), and after a week I was freaking out and needed some open space- wanting to just have my mind blown. It was my first trip into Africa and it certainly set the pace for me- concerning the Maghreb countries anyway. The whole thing blew my mind.
My initial destination was Tangier- the main port city (I believe). I had no other plan beyond that. So on the ferry I decided I should meet up with some travelers. Immediately our motley crew was formed. Christian, the German med student/martial arts dude, was talking to ? from LA. She was moving to Fez to attend university and study Arabic language translation. Yo (real name) Kwan and I somehow drifted together and I believe we all met waiting for a taxi outside the port. So Yo Kwan's story: he was this Korean-American drag queen from.... Anyway somewhere in America. He was currently living in Paris studying to be a mime (I shit you not. S/he's prolly reading this right now in fact. I hope so!) We do correspond every once in a while. Prolly last time was finding each other on Facebook (haha what a cliche). Anyway, a fashion designer in London now I believe. Christian I sometimes Skype with. The last time must have been when I was living in Tunisia... I'm not sure. He is a (flying) doctor and was in east Africa for a few years out in the bush. He was headed back to Germany last I heard. Sometimes I see his Skype light on. I'm going to chat him up next light-up and see what he's been up to. LA girl I never heard from again. Never say never...
So we all made a plan (LA girl's plan actually so we all hitchhiked onto her plan): Hurrah, we're all going to Fez to see LA girl off to grad school. Since the port was far from the bus station we all shared the taxi and that is how HERstory is made...
The train was long and slow- just how I like it. There is so much to trip out on just sitting down and watching the scenery dance by. The different sounds, the passengers walking by. The weird scam artist dude that came into our little cabana thingy and was showing us pictures of da kine and asking us if we wanted to get off at Agadir instead and he could show us around. He had the dark glasses on and everything- like a serious photo album. Anyway, I immediately thought to myself undercover police trying to kidnap/ransom us. No, I didn't really think that, but it sounds good to read- doesn't it?
So, we avoided 'him' the rest of the journey. He must have found some other starry-eyed travelers to scam oregano on them.
We got to Fez and yep- my mind was blown. The central outside area of the Medina. The people walking, biking, crawling all over. The smoke from the meat cooking, the orange juice sellers. Oh my goodness- THE ORANGE JUICE SELLERS! Dream city. We somehow managed to find our way through the haphazard kaos that was vibrant life teeming around us. It was so thick, the life, that it just dripped all over us.
We, I guess, were led into the Medina maze and found a hostel.
NOTE: break in story here. I really hope I'm not lazy and actually break from this typing and get my external hard drive and retreive the scans of those pictures and post them here. Make sure to give me total hell if you don't see any pictures near the end of this- okay?
So this place was amazing (my budget was definitely NOT amazing). I remember in the taxi in Tangier we stopped at a bank on the road to get some cash from the ATM. Now I believe this was the first time that I relied on a bank card to get cash out of foreign countries (haha). I was thrilled that it actually worked. What liberation for a traveler let me tell you. MAJOR.
NOTE: Fireworks are going off right now. Typical Gaziantep evening. Random. (not sure why I said that)
So, We had a 3-bed dormroom. We relaxed. Showered. Oh, the shower. So this was the first, and only, time that I took a shower where the shower was also the place that you shit. So you make damn sure that both your feet have even displacement on the foot stands above the water line with the large hole in it below... Yoga came in REALLY handy for that one. Honestly, the only worse bathrooms that I have ever seen was in Marseilles- which is my favorite city in France. I just adore the grittiness of it.
But, as always, I digress. Back to Marrekesh. Oh wait, what happened to Fez. I didn't finish with Fez. We were there a few days and saw amazing shit, then went further south- down into the edge of the Sahara Desert. Christian had a hankering to get to Merzouga. I don't know what it's like now, but 11 years ago it blew my mind. Yes it's true. We did it up right. Saw a village wedding. Danced at a village wedding. Yo Kwan got to hang out with me in the girls area of the wedding. There was singing and dancing. No other foreigners. The medina was cool there. Going out at night and eating was mind-blowing. Going into the medina and buying kohl eyeliner with Yo Kwan was amazing. He bought this cool Tuareg Berber kaftan thing. It was royal blue with gold piping. It was regal. We got hennaed. We got lost in the medina and had amazing adventures.
We went into the desert interior with the guys from the hostel we were staying at. There was this Lawrence of Arabia guy that was a flying doctor and was going into Algeria to do surgery for a few days. He took us around in his safari jeep and so was Lawrence. Everything from stopping at the wells at various areas in the road- which wasn't a road but open hardpan landscape. There was even a scorpion under a rock next to the ladel that was there always for weary travelers to wet their lips when they, inevitably, ran outta water... And then the 5 star hotel he took us to and we drank really expensive beers- that he bought. He was ready for an audience and we were captive listeners. He gladly bought our rounds. Then there was the trek into the desert for the moonrise. I'm talking camels and all. We walked and I remember bartering my Swatch Watch for some cool fabric from our new Berber friends.
So... after all the fun. One morning I woke up to screams. Ali came running to my door shouting that New York City was on fire. Yes folks, here is where this story takes a turn. I was on the Algerian/Moroccan border camping out underneath the stars at some Tuareg Berber stronghold at the edge of the desert when 911 happened.
Anyway, all surreal. I'm still here to type about it. Let's continue on to Marrekesh. Honestly, Marrekesh was last on my list of places that I liked in Morocco, but what does that really mean? I loved every minute of it.
NOTE: just had a balcony break. Gaziantep sleeps and I'm observing. The new age-y minarets in the distance that have their neon green lights banded around them- well the lights are off, but I always love it when the lights are on. It looks so space-agey. But it was a good break because I remember the reason for this blog. There is this little shop deep in the Çarşı downtown G-tep, and they sell clove cigarettes- real clove cigarettes. Apparently, as the story goes, there is this little old man in an otherwise empty store. He is sitting on a stool. When my friend inquired about where this place is that sells the cloves, he said, "right here" and lifted up the fabric and underneath the stool was 1 box of cigarettes. You couldn't buy just a pack. You had to buy the entire 10-pack. So my friend did. Anyway, I don't really ever smoke cloves, but I remember I did when I was traveling through Morocco. So that is the mystery folks. Solved.
Back to Morocco... I think I'm done here actually.
I did check the hard drive, and couldn't find the pictures, BUT I will leave you with some random photos from a series that is 'ARCHAEOLOGY CHICKS THAT ROCK" (I just made that up actually). This also has a subcategory of our fans (actually just friends outside the profession that somehow enjoyed our company). I realize that is a stretch to think we were some kinda wild women (wink), but look at the facts people: we lived the man's world. We rocked the construction sites. It was like being inside a commnando game and we were the mistresses of corporal punishment. Total Swiss Family Robinson syndrome. This includes all ex-boyfriends and other highlights that are now family and have to love me even though I post weird stories about them, Simone... But anyway... enjoy
It's the glorious end of a long, sometimes painful work week, but you know what, in the end it was great. I've come to some realizations. Most importantly that I'm not an army. Nor do I want to be an army- unless it's an army that only does battle with chocolate raspberry cake...
Anyhow... okay yes I continue on with this thought before I lose it once and for all. So, I think to myself, "just do it Holly. Just do it. Just re-adjust the kaleidoscope and let things fall into place as they tend to do if you just leave things alone and stay positive. With this in mind, it was an awesome week and I learned a lot. To boot, the weather has been fabulous. I'm almost thinking I could get in some lanai sun-soaking tomorrow (this) morning. A morning that is fast descending upon me right now in fact. I mustn't dawdle anymore. Let's get to the juice of this blog post- which wassssss....... I know I wanted to bring up Morocco- which came into my mind as I was ready to delve into my new research project. Shhhhh, but it's on a little-known (if any) archaeological site in the Cappadocia region. I'm not sure exactly as it might even be closer to Aksaray than Göreme. So this, of course, reminded me of Morocco 11 years ago...
I remember when I was on the ferry from Algeciras- at the tip of Spain and right next to Gibraltar. I had just started my journey a week before as I landed in Madrid. Hawaii to Madrid is a shock (although not as shocking as Hawaii to Antarctica I'm sure), and after a week I was freaking out and needed some open space- wanting to just have my mind blown. It was my first trip into Africa and it certainly set the pace for me- concerning the Maghreb countries anyway. The whole thing blew my mind.
My initial destination was Tangier- the main port city (I believe). I had no other plan beyond that. So on the ferry I decided I should meet up with some travelers. Immediately our motley crew was formed. Christian, the German med student/martial arts dude, was talking to ? from LA. She was moving to Fez to attend university and study Arabic language translation. Yo (real name) Kwan and I somehow drifted together and I believe we all met waiting for a taxi outside the port. So Yo Kwan's story: he was this Korean-American drag queen from.... Anyway somewhere in America. He was currently living in Paris studying to be a mime (I shit you not. S/he's prolly reading this right now in fact. I hope so!) We do correspond every once in a while. Prolly last time was finding each other on Facebook (haha what a cliche). Anyway, a fashion designer in London now I believe. Christian I sometimes Skype with. The last time must have been when I was living in Tunisia... I'm not sure. He is a (flying) doctor and was in east Africa for a few years out in the bush. He was headed back to Germany last I heard. Sometimes I see his Skype light on. I'm going to chat him up next light-up and see what he's been up to. LA girl I never heard from again. Never say never...
So we all made a plan (LA girl's plan actually so we all hitchhiked onto her plan): Hurrah, we're all going to Fez to see LA girl off to grad school. Since the port was far from the bus station we all shared the taxi and that is how HERstory is made...
The train was long and slow- just how I like it. There is so much to trip out on just sitting down and watching the scenery dance by. The different sounds, the passengers walking by. The weird scam artist dude that came into our little cabana thingy and was showing us pictures of da kine and asking us if we wanted to get off at Agadir instead and he could show us around. He had the dark glasses on and everything- like a serious photo album. Anyway, I immediately thought to myself undercover police trying to kidnap/ransom us. No, I didn't really think that, but it sounds good to read- doesn't it?
So, we avoided 'him' the rest of the journey. He must have found some other starry-eyed travelers to scam oregano on them.
We got to Fez and yep- my mind was blown. The central outside area of the Medina. The people walking, biking, crawling all over. The smoke from the meat cooking, the orange juice sellers. Oh my goodness- THE ORANGE JUICE SELLERS! Dream city. We somehow managed to find our way through the haphazard kaos that was vibrant life teeming around us. It was so thick, the life, that it just dripped all over us.
We, I guess, were led into the Medina maze and found a hostel.
NOTE: break in story here. I really hope I'm not lazy and actually break from this typing and get my external hard drive and retreive the scans of those pictures and post them here. Make sure to give me total hell if you don't see any pictures near the end of this- okay?
So this place was amazing (my budget was definitely NOT amazing). I remember in the taxi in Tangier we stopped at a bank on the road to get some cash from the ATM. Now I believe this was the first time that I relied on a bank card to get cash out of foreign countries (haha). I was thrilled that it actually worked. What liberation for a traveler let me tell you. MAJOR.
NOTE: Fireworks are going off right now. Typical Gaziantep evening. Random. (not sure why I said that)
So, We had a 3-bed dormroom. We relaxed. Showered. Oh, the shower. So this was the first, and only, time that I took a shower where the shower was also the place that you shit. So you make damn sure that both your feet have even displacement on the foot stands above the water line with the large hole in it below... Yoga came in REALLY handy for that one. Honestly, the only worse bathrooms that I have ever seen was in Marseilles- which is my favorite city in France. I just adore the grittiness of it.
But, as always, I digress. Back to Marrekesh. Oh wait, what happened to Fez. I didn't finish with Fez. We were there a few days and saw amazing shit, then went further south- down into the edge of the Sahara Desert. Christian had a hankering to get to Merzouga. I don't know what it's like now, but 11 years ago it blew my mind. Yes it's true. We did it up right. Saw a village wedding. Danced at a village wedding. Yo Kwan got to hang out with me in the girls area of the wedding. There was singing and dancing. No other foreigners. The medina was cool there. Going out at night and eating was mind-blowing. Going into the medina and buying kohl eyeliner with Yo Kwan was amazing. He bought this cool Tuareg Berber kaftan thing. It was royal blue with gold piping. It was regal. We got hennaed. We got lost in the medina and had amazing adventures.
We went into the desert interior with the guys from the hostel we were staying at. There was this Lawrence of Arabia guy that was a flying doctor and was going into Algeria to do surgery for a few days. He took us around in his safari jeep and so was Lawrence. Everything from stopping at the wells at various areas in the road- which wasn't a road but open hardpan landscape. There was even a scorpion under a rock next to the ladel that was there always for weary travelers to wet their lips when they, inevitably, ran outta water... And then the 5 star hotel he took us to and we drank really expensive beers- that he bought. He was ready for an audience and we were captive listeners. He gladly bought our rounds. Then there was the trek into the desert for the moonrise. I'm talking camels and all. We walked and I remember bartering my Swatch Watch for some cool fabric from our new Berber friends.
So... after all the fun. One morning I woke up to screams. Ali came running to my door shouting that New York City was on fire. Yes folks, here is where this story takes a turn. I was on the Algerian/Moroccan border camping out underneath the stars at some Tuareg Berber stronghold at the edge of the desert when 911 happened.
Anyway, all surreal. I'm still here to type about it. Let's continue on to Marrekesh. Honestly, Marrekesh was last on my list of places that I liked in Morocco, but what does that really mean? I loved every minute of it.
NOTE: just had a balcony break. Gaziantep sleeps and I'm observing. The new age-y minarets in the distance that have their neon green lights banded around them- well the lights are off, but I always love it when the lights are on. It looks so space-agey. But it was a good break because I remember the reason for this blog. There is this little shop deep in the Çarşı downtown G-tep, and they sell clove cigarettes- real clove cigarettes. Apparently, as the story goes, there is this little old man in an otherwise empty store. He is sitting on a stool. When my friend inquired about where this place is that sells the cloves, he said, "right here" and lifted up the fabric and underneath the stool was 1 box of cigarettes. You couldn't buy just a pack. You had to buy the entire 10-pack. So my friend did. Anyway, I don't really ever smoke cloves, but I remember I did when I was traveling through Morocco. So that is the mystery folks. Solved.
Back to Morocco... I think I'm done here actually.
I did check the hard drive, and couldn't find the pictures, BUT I will leave you with some random photos from a series that is 'ARCHAEOLOGY CHICKS THAT ROCK" (I just made that up actually). This also has a subcategory of our fans (actually just friends outside the profession that somehow enjoyed our company). I realize that is a stretch to think we were some kinda wild women (wink), but look at the facts people: we lived the man's world. We rocked the construction sites. It was like being inside a commnando game and we were the mistresses of corporal punishment. Total Swiss Family Robinson syndrome. This includes all ex-boyfriends and other highlights that are now family and have to love me even though I post weird stories about them, Simone... But anyway... enjoy
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| Me. One of the The 'Archaeology Chicks That Rock'--ed it a little bit too hard the previous evening- New Year's Eve- sometime about 5 years ago. Katie-girl (archaeology chick that rocks) and Lindsay (non-archaeologist chick that rocks it as a nurse) and I went backside Hana to Piero's place. We had so much fun (well I passed out at 11:45pm...) and woke up the next morning in sleeping bags outside of his house, nearly on the street (of course it is backside Maui so no traffic and total country... |
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| Rochelle le Belle and Lil'D: both archaeology chicks that rock. We rocked it a lot at their south side pad up in Maui Meadows. Miss dem gargoyles long time. |
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| going holoholo westside with katie-girl (same archaeology chick that rocks) and our 'hangers-on" (haha). We were headed to Honokohau Beach and somehow stopped at a house our friend was working construction on and totally scarfed up all their luscious mangoes! Heh heh. Resourceful we are. |
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| Lady-Di, moi, and Katie-girl (all archaeology chicks that rock). Katie wasn't it that weird dude that all got us those baseball caps for Christmas? Lady-Di is since married and with child so congrats to you my dear! Katie-girl is soon on her way down that road. And then there's me... Bye. Oh, apologize in advance for the absence of my senior editor-at-large. He is largely missing... Kolohe Kitty Kat RIP you sweet thing. Best kitty kat evah! |
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