A strange country

I boarded the train, in Switzerland, and everyone was speaking French. I got off the train an hour later, still very much in Switzerland, and everyone was speaking German! Weird! There are actually four official languages here - French, German, Italian and one I've never heard of and now can't remember. Something like Romantich. I just thought that was kinda random and weird.

Ah, Geneva

Rainbow in Geneva
Originally uploaded by mercoop.

I'm in the Alps! And it's cold! Quite a change from the tank tops of Barcelona. I've gone from spring break to winter vacation!

Geneva is a beautiful city. My pictures won't do it justice (though I quite like this one) because it's been raining and cloudy. But my view from the plane was amazing: the city is situated around a large lake, and beyond the city are snow-capped mountains. Incredible. It's expensive, though. The window shopping is all Prada and Armani (and of course Swiss Army Knives and watches on every corner!). But it's safe and friendly.

Last night had an Asian theme. I had been craving Chinese food, and when I found a good Chinese restaurant, I couldn't resist. Yumm. Makes me miss China! (Note: the restaurant was playing musak versions of American songs, including one of my personal favorites, "If You Leave Me Now" by Chicago. Dude.) After dinner, I saw my first movie in a theater since leaving the States. And it was in English (with subtitles, of course - but still, a very rare find)! So I saw "Memoirs of a Geisha" - quite good! And it was cool because I recognized places I'd been in Kyoto! It was a nice quiet night after a week of partying with all of the spring breakers in Spain.

From here I'm on my way to Interlaken, a small town nestled in the Alps. I hope it's not raining there, too!

I´m off to ... Switzerland!

As lovely as Barcelona is, I can´t stay here another two days! The time it is a-ticking. So I found a cheap flight to Geneva tonight. I´m basically bypassing France ... but perhaps I will swing through later, on my way to Britain :)

The past two nights I went out with a group of Germans from my hostel (by far the best hostel I have stayed in so far). It was funny last night we were talking about words that are really American, like "cool" and "awesome." I said one word I use a lot in the States but not so much since leaving is "dude." Dude. What a wonderfully expressive word! Anyway, this conversation led to one of them, Sebastian, saying that his favorite use of "dude" is ... drumroll ... in "The Big Lebowski!" My favorite movie of all time. "Meine dispatcher says there´s something wrong wit deine cable ..."

Anyway, sorry to ramble. Off to Geneva ...

Strike that!

I went to the train station today to figure out what time I could leave tomorrow for France. I waited for about 15 minutes before getting to the window, only to have the lady tell me I can't go to France tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next. Because the train employees are on strike! D'oh! (Side note: I said "d'oh!" in front of Shane, this English boy I met in Marbella, and he laughed and asked me if all Americans use that word. I said "yes, it's even in the dictionary!" Ha!)

So now I'm not sure what to do. But I'll keep ya posted.

Speaking of post ... Did anyone receive post cards from Thailand or India? I'm afraid they might not have made it ... But be sure I'm thinking of ya!
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The Egyptian taxis were right!

Two nights ago, at a bar in Barcelona, I met three girls from Redlands.

Last night, in another bar, I met a guy who goes to the University of Delaware with my sister. What's even more amazing is that he actually knows her!

See, it's a small world after all!
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Flip-flop faux pas

I've entered the world of the fashion-conscious. A world where shapeless Egyptian shirts and, apparently flip-flops, just won't do.

I was out of clean socks yesterday and opted for sandals for a day out in Madrid, thinking nothing of it. As soon as I set foot in the metro station, though, I started to notice people looking at my feet. Feeling a bit self-conscious, I started to look at THEIR feet, and to my astonishment, I noticed I was the only one wearing flip-flops. Actually I was the only one wearing sandals at all. Everyone else had on heels, or boots, many of them knee-high, or cute little flats, or sneakers, including Converse but not running shoes - only very trendy sneakers, like Pumas.

So I was looking around at everyone's shoes, feeling inadequate (but certainly not enough to change!) and I realized my entire outfit was like my flip-flops - very uncool. It might have actually been OK, except I've been wearing the same thing, or a variation on it, for 2 1/2 months. Blah!

So I did what any self-respecting girl would do - I went shopping! I would need something cute for Barcelona, right? I found this great store, Zara, it's like Banana Republic, with Gap prices. I got two new tops and a purse, but made myself stop before buying any shoes - no room!

At the metro, on my way back to the hostel, I saw a guy on the other platform wearing (gasp!) flip-flops. And I thought to myself, "Ah, he must be a foreigner."
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Aah, Spain!

It's wonderful. I'm in a small beach town called Marbella and couldn't be having much more fun! I came here with two Welsh people I met on the boat from Morocco and we found a nice hostel near the beach. We went out last night with two other people from the hostel and drank for hours and hours (we finally came home at 6 AM!) at a couple different bars. At the last one, even I was dancing like mad. My Welsh friends had to pull me off the dancefloor so we could leave! But I was having too much fun, dancing with a Spanish girl who was teaching me how to move to the Spanish music - it reminded me a lot of the Moroccan stuff I heard at that club in Casablanca.

Today we lazed on the beach and hung out with everyone on the roof of our hostel. Laid-back. Tidy (Welsh slang for "cool").
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The wedding party

It all started with an unexpected second visit to Casablanca.

I'd made a friend there, Isham, who, due to car complications, wasn't able to meet me in Marrakech. So I decided to make a quick stop in Casa on my way from the hippie beach town of Essaouira to the northern city of Fes.

My bus was a rickety thing that made so many stops - many in the middle of nowhere, dropping men off in the fields - that it took seven hours to get, well, not very far. I quickly regretted not buying food during our only pit stop, about two hours into the journey. By the time I got to Casa it was almost 8 and all I really wanted was food.

Isham picked me up at the bus station and I was feeling less than glamourous. It had been a long ride. Before I had a chance to ask him if he'd eaten, he said we were due at his friend's house in an hour - for a wedding!

I immediately panicked about my wardrobe - I didn't think my black pants, pink V-neck T-shirt and zero makeup would cut it. Isham assured me that I would be fine, but luckily I had at least a little time to dig through my bag for something more suitable. I settled on a long-sleeved Moroccan shirt I had bought ygr week before and my sarong, floor-length. I did my makeup and put on my black flats and although I felt a little wrinkly (I could have used an iron!), I was ready to go. I gave myself bonus points for wearing Moroccan earrings, bangles (I got them in India but they are very much the in thing here, too), and having had my hands henna'd the day before.

The arrival: We got off the elevator and were immediately faced with the deejay, who was pumping Moroccan tunes. Then the brother of the groom, who led us in. Then the mother of the groom, who hugged and kissed us both and practically shoved me into the living room, where the wedding party was sitting around the edges, the bride and groom against the far wall. It was a small party, and the room was well-lit, and I sat down in one of the two available seats as quickly as possible because I was drawing more than a few stares. It couldn't have been my outfit, though - I wasn't wearing a beautiful dress like most of the women, but I think I fit in quite well! And after a few songs, to which I clapped along with everybody, the staring stopped.

I met the groom, Isham's friend, and squeezed out a "felicitations!" He, like the other men, was wearing a nice suit. His bride, however, was decked out! A beautiful Moroccan dress, with a belt made entirely of silver, and a huge necklace, earrings and a crown! Her hands and feet were, of course, tattood with henna.

At about 10 PM, all of the men left the room (they did this periodically) and came back with what looked like a marriage certificate, which was presented to the couple. The bride then left the room and returned 20 minutes or so later with a new dress on. Beautiful blue. Then a platter was brought out and presented to the couple, while many of the women sang an indescribable song of joy, which was repeated throughout the night. On the platter: sweets - dates filled with nuts - and small bowls of milk (Isham said they drink milk as a prayer for fertility, or more literally that the woman will always be able to create milk). Also on the platter were the wedding rings, along with a stunning diamond necklace and bracelet.

The now-married couple left the room and everyone danced, especially a few characters who couldn't hey off the dancefloor. One woman, I'm guessing a crazy aunt, shook her hips a lot, swung her hair around (only about half of the women had their heads covered) and stomped to the beat. Two men, who were very funny, spent a lot of time wiggling their bums and bellies. Ha. It looked a lot cooler than it sounds!

At around 11:30, it was time for dinner (mind you, I hadn't eaten since breakfast!), and the men once again left the room. I sat with a bunch of women around a nice table, waiting for the eating to begin. The first course was a large seafood and rice pie, set out in the middle for all to grab from. Delicious! Then came the rack of lamb. Many dishes in Morocco are eaten with your hands. It was sort of strange to see women in beautiful dresses reaching out and pulling meat off the bones with their hands, though! The last dish was full of fruit. Yummy. And we drank mint tea - good, but sugary.

When the men returned, there was more dancing, and when the couple returned, the bride had on another new dress - this one gold. The wedding cake, three layers, was brought out and everyone sang "Happy Birthday." Yeah, you read it right. "Happy Birthday." Isham said it's to celebrate the birth of the two of them as one. Makes sense.

Shortly after the cake, around 1 AM, we left, and all ll I could think was, "What an unexpectedly fun night!"
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Added to my itinerary: Slovenia

I never would have thought to include it, but after spending the past few days with a super cool Slovenian couple, Katjia and Matej, I've decided to visit their fair country. Hey, I'll be in the neighborhood! A perk: Matej is a licensed tour guide for all of Europe - so I'll have a professional to show me the sights!
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Marrakech, I think I love you

Clear blue skies. Palm trees. Parks. Snow-covered mountains you can see because there isn't any smog. Souks, souks and more souks. Really good coffee, but no Starbucks. Beautifully tiled walls, even in my cheap hotel. Clean streets. Narrow alleyways that aren't scary. Super-soft leather slippers. No reason to hurry.

Yep, I'm in love.
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Sleepless in Morocco

For my last night in Casablanca, my crazy but cool Tunisian roommate and I went out to a nightclub with her Moroccan boyfriend and his brother. What a night. We left the hostel at around 11 PM - just before it closed for the evening. Houda's boyfriend picked is up in his old car that refused to start about half of the time, requiring the boys to hey out and push it in the rain that had just started. When we eventually made it to the club, by the beach, I paid $10 and the others paid $30(!) to get in, because they don't drink.

The club was like anything you might find in the US, except they had hookas and set fire to the dancefloor! I was probably the only Westerner in the place, but it wasn't a big deal. The music was mostly dance-y remixes of American, French and Arabic songs. And the DJ was pretty good. The coolest part of the night, though, was watching people dance. The men dance a lot more here than in American, for sure, and I was convinced that the girls at the table next to us were belly dancers - normal people can't shake their hips like that! During the last hour before closing (3 to 4 AM), they played a number of traditional Moroccan songs and the dancing turned from Western-influenced to festive. I loved it! So cool!

When we finally made our way back to the car, it was 4 AM, and we ended up sleeping in the car, in the street, because the hostel didn't open again until 8. I fell asleep curled up in the backseat, cold, listening to the pounding rain on the roof and praying I wouldn't need to use the facilities. What a night! When we returned to the hostel, I got my things together, had breakfast with my South African friends, and headed to the bus station for a 4-hour ride to Marrakech. Woo hoo!
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Thinking en Francais

Bonjour, le Maroc! Or is it la? Je ne sais pas!

I'm loving Casablanca, or Casa, as the locals call it. My hostel -- the only one in town -- is right in the middle of the medina, which is super cool. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something about this city that makes me happy :) And it's not joining the local women for a shower (though I did do that).

One thing I do know I love -- everyone here speaks French! I haven't used it in years, but it's slowly coming back to me. I can actually feel the vocabulary seeping back in. Very cool!

Until next time, au revoir!

Hurrah for photos

Flying high
Originally uploaded by mercoop.

I have a bunch of Egypt and India pics up now :)

In Luxor, we took a hot-air balloon over this temple, built by Rameses II. Super cool! You can't feel that you're floating or anything. A very unique experience.