Moving on...

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What If?

The Great Wall of China is over 4000 miles long, and while amazing, you cannot see it from the moon. I found this while just browsing through pictures this morning, thinking of where I have been and the things I have seen. I had a dream last night about travelling again, and of course, some parts were obscure, but I couldn't help but wonder what my dreams would be like if I had not seen anything past the city limits. In no way do I intend to project my ideas on travelling to those who haven't, or guilt or bad feelings about being in one place. I just don't know how that would feel, or how different my life would be.

My speculation leads be to believe that some things would be easier. Ignorance is not bliss, but it doesn't require reflection or action. Sometimes I feel like a walking contradiction when I think of my kids in Africa. Why should I have so much, and they so little? Should I sell everything I have so that I too, only have little? This is not the answer, but a question that plagues me. The only thoughts presently are that the things I have seen motivate me to compassion and understanding. I don't want to "fix" everything, its not the messiah complex, but perhaps more of a rubiks complex. I want to understand why things don't work there, to solve the puzzle. Unfortunately, I am not God, and doubt that I will ever come close to an explanation that my brain will accept. So what then, you ask? I trust that He does understand and is capable of more love and compassion than I can fathom. My job is not always to do, but to trust, not lose faith, and be willing to say, "I don't know."

Leaving Casablanca

I failed to write about Rick’s Café and leaving Casablanca, so I will add a little supplement now. Rick’s was everything that we had hoped for. The décor was as true to the film as we could hope, and we found out that it was built by many actors in Hollywood giving a small amount so that a Rick’s Café could exist.
Getting out of Morocco was quite an adventure. We were on time getting a taxi to take us to the train station, which would then send us to the airport. It became obvious to us that the driver did not speak English, nor did he understand at all what we were trying to say. The map we showed him probably would have helped, but he must not have been looking closely. Instead of dropping us at the train station, he had us get out by the “Twin” building. Similar sounding, yet very different In meaning, right?

At that point, we asked a security guard what the best idea would be to get the airport. He said to hail a petit taxi and it would bring us there. It did not. Instead the man tried to leave us at an airport that was no longer in operation. Now I realize that things are different in Morocco, but I am still confused about why he would bring us there knowing that we were taking a plane home.

I don’t wear a watch. It’s never been my thing. I had looked at Chris’ watch, not realizing that it was on Madrid time, an hour later. When we finally got the situation straightened out, I thought that we were flying out in twenty minutes rather than in an hour and twenty minutes. I had almost begun to spaz on the outside, much like my brain was on the inside, but not quite. I am usually pretty go with the flow when it comes to these things, but this was even close for me. We reached the airport in the nick of time and made our flight to Madrid. For a minute there, it really felt like we were all those poor people stuck from the movie in Casablanca, unable to go home, or anywhere else. Whew. Thank God for His mercy.

We also feel that it is important to note that while Royal Air Maroc is the WORST airline we have ever dealt with, they have the best food. It’s up to you, I guess. If you’re willing to lose your luggage for a week, the quiche and yogurt can’t be beat.

"Man, those hookers must be cold." -CW
Overall the weather has been wonderful, but tonight was a bit chilly as we were walking back to go to sleep. Don't worry, these ladies of the night are working nowhere near our hostel. Actually, they work on Gran Via, which reminds me of Nicollet in downtown Minneapolis. They are really overt about their profession, which is something that you just don't see in the U.S., especially in good parts of town.

Today was packed full, as everyday before has been. We found a cafe this morning for breakfast, and had cappuccinos and croissants, it was picturesque. After, we ran around Madrid trying to find H&M to get a few more shirts for Chris since his luggage is still gone. We also found him a hat because his forhead is turning about as red from the sun as the imitation Dolce and Gabanna jeans from Casablanca turned his legs blue from the dye. And his legs were BLUE.

After finding him some clothes, we walked through the El Retiro park, which translated, is a park that is much like Central Park in New York. We were on our way to El Prado, an art museum that people make special trips to Madrid just to visit. It was amazing. Out of the 56 masterpieces, we were only able to view about half before the museum closed at eight. We may make another trip there tomorrow to view the rest, or there is a lesser known museum called the Thyssen-Bornemisza, which began as a private collection, worth around 1 billion dollars, but was purchased for the bargain price of 350 million. It should be pretty impressive.

We would highly reccommend Spain, and specifically Madrid as a vacation spot. The metro is really easy to understand, the language barrier is not hard to overcome and the culture here is worth seeing. We are however, excited to get home to our bed since the one at this hostel is about as soft as the cobblestone street below us.

The Mosque

The Hassan II Mosque is quite a sight. The mosque sits on the Atlantic Ocean, near the Casablanca port, and is the second largest mosque in the world. We were, for obvious reasons of faith, not allowed inside, but were able to walk around the courtyard. In some ways being there made me think of Babel. There were tourists from all corners of the globe, speaking different languages. I have been in Godless countries before, but Morocco is different. Aside from the few children that were playing soccer in the street, there is little joy. After talking to the locals in the old city, which is not tourist oriented, they have shared that everyone is working an angle. In some ways, we feel bad for them, most things here are dirty and the apathy towards life is evident as you meet the town.

We will post more tomorrow, we are presently using a trial of the internet at a bar/cafe in Madrid. CW loves it here already. Today was a bit too much of an adventure AGAIN, but we are here and happy.

New places, New faces

These are my new friends! I don’t really know their names, but after purchasing curry in their shop, they wanted me to take a picture with them. Look at me, making friends wherever I go. CW had his first experience with that eclectic insanity that is a souk. We actually just happened to stumble upon it while we were exploring the city. It was there that we met Picaso. Evidently he thought we were interesting and thus followed us around for over a half an hour just chatting about the city and all of the murals he had painted. The curry we bought is perfuming our room and Chris is wearing the imitation D&G jeans that we bought due to the fact that his luggage is still missing and evidently since its Saturday, the airline is closed?

We had fresh squeezed orange juice, espresso, and bread with marmalade for breakfast. The hostel is really unique. The owner is incredibly friendly, but difficult to understand. The patio on the roof looks out over the port, which is less than a block away. All in all, it’s great.

After we were done exploring old medina, we rested our feet and headed out to a restaurant that served as the fortress protecting the port. It was built in the late 1700s and had cannons in place as they had been when in use. The actual café itself was on the roof and was open air with canopies of living vines, tropical foliage, and white umbrellas. The only lights sat on the tables in the form of votive candles. We had chocolate fondue and fruit (Laura, you would have LOVED it.) and the native tea, which begins with a lemony spark and has nice mint leaves in it.

The cultural differences are interesting, and seem to stand out more to Chris since this is his first time in a third world country. The disparity between the haves and have nots is overtly visible. The architecture is beautiful and we spent a good amount of our time while walking around, talking about what this place must have been before the streets were littered with waste and the buildings left to decay. It’s a strange place where most people wear imitation couture yet live in poverty.

What?

You would think we would be wearing happy faces since we are on vacation, right? Truth be told, these are posed angry faces, but valid nonetheless. Our flight to New Jersey got delayed four hours, making us miss our connection to Madrid. This in itself is sad, until you realize that by missing our connection to Madrid, we also missed our flight to Casablanca. Boo.

We ended up getting routed through Amsterdam, so while it was a pain to get jostled around, and finally arrive in Casablanca at around midnight without Chris' luggage and two pairs of shoes stolen from mine, he did get another stamp in his passport. His luggage should arrive tomorrow, and we are safe and sound at the Hotel Central, in Old Medina, Casablanca. This is turning out to be quite an adventure, but at least we're together and still laughing, right?