Hi!
The school year is basically over, and that means a well-deserved vacation for the lecturers. After toiling away day in and day out for 10 hours a week average, and having finished grading exams, we can now prepare for the year ahead sit on the banks of the Loire river sipping wine and eating cheese.
Quick note from a sweet student:
 |
| Still working on singular/plural, but you get the gist. |
So since this is a travel blog (with only occasional tangents about the deplorable state of education and vitriolic diatribes about rude strangers), I will tell you about my short trip to Morocco.
Let's start at the beginning. One weekend in Paris, I was signed up to take a course that would result in my certification to teach Zumba. It was a 2 day course and I was coming from Tours that morning, and my train was late. When I arrived at the correct train station, I was shocked to find that the gym at which the training took place was not, in fact, in the train station. I had not planned on that. I sprinted, very, very late, from the train station and proceeded to wander around a gloomy, industrial area of Paris. I was in the midst of crossing a highway when I saw the Only Human Being in the area. She was easy to spot because she was wearing colorful gym attire. Before I could ask her for help, she asked ME if I knew where the Zumba training was. Yay! The only thing better than having an answer as to where to go is to have someone else lost with you. We eventually found the place and chatted throughout the conference. Her name was Lilka, and she was French but had since moved to Casablanca. Her employer paid for her to fly to France for the weekend to be re-certified. She invited me to visit her in Morocco, which of course, I did!
It was a fantastic trip, mostly because the sun was shining the whole time and this Texas girl was not built for French "spring." French springs are quite chilly and disturbingly similar to French winters, at least here in the northern part of the country. So we spent most of my time in Casablanca at the beach, which was absolutely glorious. Then one day, when we were walking back to Lilka's (gorgeous) flat, we saw two little boys playing soccer in the street skip past us, chirping, "Bonjour mesdames!".
Tangent: Walking around in Casablanca was crazy. I had asked if I would have to cover up, but Lilka said since I was obviously a tourist (I kept my camera around my neck just to belabor the point) I could wear whatever. I had chosen a flowy top and a knee-length, loose skirt. But I didn't remember the molecular abnormality in arab men's eyes that make that outfit, due to a warped fragmentation of light combining with said molecular anomaly, be transmitted to the optic nerve and then the brain as the following image:
 |
| Colors to scale. |
It was simply astonishing to count the number of men, most of whom were ACCOMPANIED BY THEIR WIVES, stop dead in their tracks and "compliment" Lilka and me. Like, if we crossed under a huge building, men on multiple floors came to their windows and shouted down and whistled at us. Cars were literally making u-turns to drive by us again. The funny part was, they didn't know which kind of European we were, so as long as we weren't talking they would try as many languages as they knew on us. So the exchange would go somewhat like this:
Young arabic men (15 feet away): "Woooooooow! Les filles! Incroyables!"
Us: Silence. Me laughing uncontrollably at the fact that said men look exactly like Danny and his henchmen in this clip (up to :38) except they are wearing tunics.
YAM (5 feet away): "Heellllooooo girlssss, how are you today?"
Us: Silence.
YAM (next to us):"Holaaaaa chicas!!! Bonitas!!!!"
Us: Silence.
Lilka: "Hmmm. You probably should have worn pants."
So. Back to the little boys. Did you think I forgot about them? Don't be ridiculous. So as they passed I was starting to relax my Don't Make Eye Contact strategy of ignoring nefarious comments, because they were rather adorable. Suddenly I felt a painful smack on my head. Had a stray soccer ball hit my head? No. I turned around and saw a gaping little boy, he must have been 8 or 9, looking me straight in the eyes. Then he ran away. Slightly dazed from the smack on the head, I looked at Lilka and asked, "Uh... what just happened?" and she, also shocked, eventually said, "Um... your sunglasses are gone!". That's right. The little boy had LEPT up behind me to snatch the fake Ray-Bans from my head, and gave me a smack on the way down to boot. After my shock subsided, I was able to appreciate the fact that my wallet full of cash and my camera were still with me. My next reaction was outrage at that little punk, and then sadness because his family had probably taught him to be on the lookout for white people wearing ray bans because that meant they were probably real. Sucks for him, I'm not that classy.
Anyway. Here are some pics.
 |
| First night: Lilka and Youssef hunt down some vegetarian food for me - I think they were slightly insulted. You can't see it in the pic, but Lilka is crestfallen that this meal doesn't have camel in it. |
 |
| Moroccan tea... scrumptious. |
 |
| Moroccon breakfast. The reason men hound westerners in the street is because no Moroccan woman can resist this breakfast, and immediately after eating it she becomes the size of a house. |
 |
| Pointed out which sauce is which (the best was an almond flower mixture). |
 |
| Oh hey! You guys! It's like the movie! |
 |
| Fountain at mosque. |
 |
| Da beach, with lighthouse in the distance. |
 |
| Me and Lilka, zumba girls! |
Driving to the airport jamming to arabic music.
Before Morocco, I went to London to celebrate an almost-3-year-anniversary with loverboy.
 |
| awwwwwww. The restaurant where we first met! |
In May, loverboy is going to visit and in June, I'm going to visit a fellow lecturer in Glasgow. Then it'll only be a few weeks before Kenya!
To tide us all over, here are some updates from Tours.
 |
| This is the view from my bed. Not near as nice as the outside looking in, though. Heyooo! |
The Loire is flooded a lot right now. That wooden thing in the water is a trash can next to a submerged walking trail. |
 |
| Living next to a river is glorious. |
 |
| Some of the people we met are very gifted musicians. For a joint birthday party, they gave us a free concert in (what else?) a cave decorated as a tropical island. |
This is a French band called "Boys in Lilies," and I think they rock. Seriously watch the video if you have a few seconds. This is their website and their facebook page.
This is a French band called Drop Machine. Again, beautiful voices and lovely songs. Website, facebook page.
 |
| The building behind the pink tree is my apartment. |
And, here is an easy to view handstand list!
