tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90715680782621291342024-03-06T00:50:08.038-06:00Alison Stump's Sketch BlogExploring the concepts of art, design, web, and social media. Their connections and how they can help us better integrate with our world.Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.comBlogger114125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-34435686786274958962013-04-05T18:25:00.002-05:002013-04-05T18:25:42.051-05:00A Trimet App for That<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://trimet.org/mobiletickets/" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3MheYRSg4MvvspUF_KpJjJXl2xU2B1DTlk5hMps6YpRHHyDXgwWjuR1disw0nNxBFf18YzL6lYJxj8bhwrF3hcOrMt-3RshlRt_g3r7BegkDshfGZ7igJPyi4NfcjLgo0Am7_BCjjYabG/s640/TriMet++Mobile+Ticketing.png" width="640" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://trimet.org/mobiletickets/" target="_blank">Beta Tester Applications will be accepted through Sunday 4/7/2013</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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If you are a Portland resident than you have heard of the <a href="http://www.oregonlive.com/roadreport/index.ssf/2012/08/trimet_boosts_most_fares_start.html" target="_blank">massive changes to Trimet</a> that fully went into effect at the beginning of the year. These changes followed a change a few months earlier of the removal of unstamped ticket packs from the Trimet ticket machines, requiring riders to now pre-purchase packs of tickets from grocery stores or the Trimet ticket office at Pioneer Courthouse Square.<br />
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Aggravating doesn't even being to describe it.<br />
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However, finally, Trimet is doing something right. Today I read in METRO, Trimet will soon begin beta tests for a new mobile app where paper tickets will be a thing of the past. Soon all of us with smart phones will be able to buy and use trimet transfers right from our phones. I'm very excited, <a href="http://trimet.org/mobiletickets/" target="_blank">I've even applied to be a beta tester.</a></div>
Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-62763004263722035012013-04-02T03:32:00.001-05:002013-04-02T03:32:37.806-05:00Mac Device Vectors<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Put together a few vector files of an iMac, an iPhone, and an iPad. There is something so very satisfying about getting your gradients just right.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin9manylHNXCEG5uW1sfx4GBCYVX33Sh_ODz08cVVcpdtRV56JqBZMuxnI42KrqMpKST1p3wgSQcVKrOikerqCz-saPEqi7o20cz4vb5QsBtF1SYodBNqRyhdhfbdE3MBFX6vz0YzQdib7/s1600/AppleDevices.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin9manylHNXCEG5uW1sfx4GBCYVX33Sh_ODz08cVVcpdtRV56JqBZMuxnI42KrqMpKST1p3wgSQcVKrOikerqCz-saPEqi7o20cz4vb5QsBtF1SYodBNqRyhdhfbdE3MBFX6vz0YzQdib7/s320/AppleDevices.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://alisonstump.com/Downloadables/AppleDevices.ai" target="_blank">I feel like sharing, so feel free to download the .ai file here.</a></div>
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-10166226340085518722013-03-07T04:57:00.001-06:002013-03-07T04:57:10.434-06:00SQL queries vs iterating through PHP<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I was playing with code today. A very common loop in PHP is the foreach loop, which is especially useful for iterating through arrays. However, when dealing with more complex multidimensional arrays, like those you get from an SQL query they are big and bloaty so I figured there must be a better way to get the exact information I wanted from the database in one SQL query.<br />
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Here is what I started with..<br />
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<pre>$getArray = get_results("SELECT ID FROM dbns1.field WHERE fid='3' AND field_value='true'");
$prefix = '';
foreach ($getArray as $Array){
foreach($Array as $getID){
$IDList .= $prefix . $getID ;
$prefix = ', ';
}
}</pre>
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This is only the first of three table queries. I stopped here because I would have to call another database query using the $IDList as a modifier. Than another query based on that... and so on. <b>Silly and unnecessary</b>. I figured there must be a better way so I spent about two hours researching the interwebs. Here is the solution I found that gets me all my database tables in one beautiful query.<br />
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<pre>SELECT *
FROM pictures
JOIN gallery ON (pictures.id = gallery.previewpic)
JOIN field ON (gallery.id = field.pid)
WHERE field.fid = '3' AND field.field_value='true'</pre>
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<a href="http://www.w3schools.com/Sql/sql_join.asp" target="_blank">Join</a> & <a href="http://www.w3schools.com/Sql/sql_join_inner.asp" target="_blank">Inner Join</a> commands make SQL queries a lot easier to handle. In my research I also learned about <a href="http://www.akadia.com/services/sqlsrv_subqueries.html" target="_blank">subquries</a> which I also want to learn more about as well.
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-67046674884170277402013-02-04T14:14:00.003-06:002013-02-04T14:16:49.549-06:00Interactive Comic<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
So I have finally made the first draft of a documentation video for the Interactive Comic I created for my senior exhibition in 2008. This is not a final version. I am still learning how to use the video and audio equipment and how to edit them. For a first timer however, I'm not dissatisfied. <span id="goog_280427121"></span><br />
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A note on the video content itself. This video was taken with the application using a very buggy version of the WiiFlash server for Mac. I am currently working on a new version which uses <a href="http://www.osculator.net/" target="_blank">OSCulator </a>and <a href="http://www.todo.to.it/blog/oscar/" target="_blank">Oscar</a> to allow an Actionscript file to use data from connected Wii-motes.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/EdAJfGytPbI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-52340775390839676692013-02-01T12:46:00.000-06:002013-02-04T14:15:25.173-06:00Type<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You should care about type. Whatever your job, if you are working in a field where you are sharing content with others, you should care about type.<br />
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Why? Type can be one of the most unobtrusive design choices you make on a project, or one of the most distinctive. Either way, it will define your work whether you and your audience are thinking about it or not. <a href="http://blog.templatemonster.com/2012/05/16/font-psychology/" target="_blank">In fact there is a whole psychology to it all.</a><br />
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If you don't already have a love affair with type, this can be a fairly intimidating proposition. I know it has been difficult for me. Type has a very steep learning curve and those who are already deeply involved with it can speak of it with a passion that can be overwhelming.<br />
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But not to fear! This is the internet and easy resources are available.<br />
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<a href="http://type.method.ac/#" target="_blank">KernType</a> - This <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kerning" target="_blank">kerning</a> game is not only fun, its educational and lets you have practice in playing with letter spacing is a supportive environment.<br />
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<a href="http://www.google.com/webfonts" target="_blank">GoogleFonts</a> - offers a number of free fonts that you can use not only in your documents (watch out some don't print well) but on your web pages as well.<br />
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<a href="http://www.lynda.com/search?q=typography&x=0&y=0">Lynda</a>.com - While there is a small monthly fee for access to these tutorials it reflects their quality and I highly recommend them.<br />
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For additional resources check out <a href="http://www.1stwebdesigner.com/freebies/learn-typography/">1stWebDesigners article on learning type</a>.<br />
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If you are more the book type I would recommend starting with <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Non-Designers-Design-Type-Books-Deluxe/dp/0321534050" target="_blank">The Non-Designer's Design and Type Books, Deluxe Edition</a></div>
Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-36701731367284630512011-11-06T21:48:00.001-06:002011-11-06T21:50:34.817-06:00Triple Creek Brew<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Some of you may know, my father is a very talented amateur beer brewer. He has an imperial stout and an irish red ale that are particularly stupendous. For his birthday I designed the first of what I hope to be a series of initial label designs for his brand. The wolf stands for Grey Wolf Stout and Triple Creek is representative of the area of Beaverton in which we reside.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNXGirDQDy62OiWHMgTMwUUk4wismAxK3v8_Iv06F_9ZyAEn6GNMMx284H6HoGmdFYWPcPo75Drgzd3u4vxo2dNNvB_IA2vKG00nnOpI_tqb8kL_nhm7OjCMCUoB9JHtycstMNYCPwUWN/s1600/web-wolf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkNXGirDQDy62OiWHMgTMwUUk4wismAxK3v8_Iv06F_9ZyAEn6GNMMx284H6HoGmdFYWPcPo75Drgzd3u4vxo2dNNvB_IA2vKG00nnOpI_tqb8kL_nhm7OjCMCUoB9JHtycstMNYCPwUWN/s320/web-wolf.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br /></div>Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-30988390304884972432011-04-14T03:54:00.003-05:002011-04-28T13:25:26.770-05:00BotanyOver a year ago I asked my friends on Facebook to name their favorite flowers and I would create an art piece from their inspiration. The scratchboard and watercolor piece I created just a few weeks later is one of my favorite finished works I've ever done. The problem was that that Christmas I ended up giving it to my parents as a gift before I had had the opportunity to document it.<br />
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Well, finally I have taken it off their wall and got it photographed. I apologize for the quality. I'll try to find a larger scanner soon to get a copy that doesn't have the glare. But here it is.<br />
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You can also see the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-6WzKdJ8jPw-IZB_d7cT96wWbImqrwPp3y42R8vF6tpytHDNBOmJFpRaHhX-pdUNxUWtJo9w7uUKYXemDrab-Zgpmpq31zLrP_YkryHGDsIOaxqes8N0FUi9WZUuB2YGzqTw_B6aCEsHJ/s1600-h/web.jpg">original planning sketch here</a>. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_5XniEayv3l-SXba91OG4zUqHUqOs0d4aKIDoQPRqxSsIbZgNcaeR9pxHmKPkQaICQ6HNKLe0NaMHTIUN8wMhmnEATaw5A5j0gBrQqPngVqJ57dqAZSs1ki8xDMBlaGEYPj59JAvv36-/s1600/botany.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="247" width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd_5XniEayv3l-SXba91OG4zUqHUqOs0d4aKIDoQPRqxSsIbZgNcaeR9pxHmKPkQaICQ6HNKLe0NaMHTIUN8wMhmnEATaw5A5j0gBrQqPngVqJ57dqAZSs1ki8xDMBlaGEYPj59JAvv36-/s320/botany.jpg" /></a></div>Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-3591601117287114572011-04-11T03:56:00.001-05:002011-04-28T13:25:46.273-05:00Demon Hunter ScratchboardFor my first update in months I thought I might share some little side projects I've been working on. Scratchboard<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8Nfbc8wjw67REIai8qsi36suLyWTG4Jr_YwERyYdv0S-k5PqddvPt8IbCRN-i98X0YznN4iaSwav8jiV_j7LzuofxL6ugrDwZ978abwuglykHnZONv2W-4n7CHjeZU9yWspIONbExgvb/s1600/demonHunter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style=""><img border="0" height="320" width="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8Nfbc8wjw67REIai8qsi36suLyWTG4Jr_YwERyYdv0S-k5PqddvPt8IbCRN-i98X0YznN4iaSwav8jiV_j7LzuofxL6ugrDwZ978abwuglykHnZONv2W-4n7CHjeZU9yWspIONbExgvb/s320/demonHunter.jpg" /></a></div>Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-21036226223829354722010-07-21T13:39:00.000-05:002013-02-04T14:15:44.030-06:00Paris alone and happy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Taking a deep breath, it's time to explore alone once more. Finding confidence in yourself and moving on knowing that all I have is myself here is a challenge that I am afraid of but willing to face.<br />
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I stepped out of the hotel room, my cold gone for the most part. I started walking. The sun and the blue sky are beautiful in Paris. The feeling in the air had both the rush of New York and the deep connections of Portland.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Se8CTxD0ai7YsX7mvYLh7DTNpgLHqsUN0dMY7Fa4Khawce523seibVkxkl8HrKVi3UkIySKTlNSYqP8TZwo8ba1ct_CChsAZydrOMbEXLlXKYqt2z7Tna-ecaIbGflMV_CjZ7nu9WCCr/s1600/IMG_1424.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Se8CTxD0ai7YsX7mvYLh7DTNpgLHqsUN0dMY7Fa4Khawce523seibVkxkl8HrKVi3UkIySKTlNSYqP8TZwo8ba1ct_CChsAZydrOMbEXLlXKYqt2z7Tna-ecaIbGflMV_CjZ7nu9WCCr/s200/IMG_1424.JPG" width="150" /></a>I was in Paris, of course I had to go to the <a href="http://www.louvre.fr/en" target="_blank">Louvre</a>. What a place. Extremely grand, there were so many astounding pieces of beautiful art it was overwhelming and as everyone says, there is so much security and human bodies around the Mona Lisa it is hardly worth seeing in person. I much prefered looking at some of Leonardo's other works there like <a href="http://www.louvre.fr/en/oeuvre-notices/landscape-two-men-sitting-near-coppice">Landscape with Two Men Sitting near a Coppice</a>.<br />
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The following day I walked to the <a href="http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/home.html" target="_blank">Musée d'Orsay</a> which I was really looking forward to. I spent hours looking at the paintings and standing with the grand statues. Seeing <a href="http://www.musee-orsay.fr/en/collections/index-of-works/resultat-collection.html?no_cache=1&zoom=1&tx_damzoom_pi1%5Bzoom%5D=0&tx_damzoom_pi1%5BxmlId%5D=001181&tx_damzoom_pi1%5Bback%5D=en%2Fcollections%2Findex-of-works%2Fresultat-collection.html%3Fno_cache%3D1%26zsz%3D9" target="_blank">Monet</a> in person was... indescribable.</div>
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The most beautiful thing I think I did in Paris however was to walk among the graves at Père Lachaise Cemetery. I felt surrounded by creative spirits. Not only of the dead but the other visitors as well. There were not to many of us but enough to build a sense of community as we walked, in personal meditation, thinking of those who are gone and of our own hopes and dreams.</div>
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-68012982983312510152010-07-18T13:01:00.000-05:002013-02-04T13:02:44.961-06:00Paris alone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My days with close friends came to an end. It was almost worse saying goodbye to Aydin the second time for I already knew what missing him felt like. <br />
Paris seemed duller without friends I knew with me. Duller and frightening. I only knew three words in French and those I spoke with a terrible accent. I was unsure of where to go and CouchSurfing was exploding at the seams with tourists. <br />
<br />
I had made reservations at a small hotel that promised wifi but when I arrived I found it situated up a creepy alley and lacking internet. I moved on. <br />
My search for a place to sleep for the night led me through the area around Socre Cour to another little hotel near a fountain and a number of restaurants and pubs. The main room was open and clean and the man at the front desk, kind. I booked a single room for several nights and was overwhelmingly happy to find it also included superfast wifi and better yet, my own lovely shower.<br />
<br />
I woke the next morning feeling ill. Acy and sniffly and grouchy. I lazed in bed for the day planning all the adventures I could have in Paris..<i>Update: May, 2011</i><i> but, and I can admit this now, frightened to leave the security of my little room. </i>Finally as darkness fell I explored outside for a little shop and bought myself some bread and wine for dinner and went back up to my room.</div>
Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-31700725748725724742010-07-15T12:58:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:59:23.462-06:00Paris with friends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Paris with Aydin and his parents was indescribably lovely.<br />
The waves of old culture and new exploration mixed with the security of being with people I deeply care for was pure joy. It was an experience I will never forget.<br />
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-25318002546595073492010-07-14T12:48:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:59:42.782-06:00First morning in Paris<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Paris is one of those cities you never forget. It feels so wonderful and old and splendid. Far to splendid for the likes of me but whatever. I was here and they could just deal with me. <br />
<br />
One thing to note, if you are a traveler heading into Paris do not do what I did and show up without a reservation or knowing anything about where you are going to stay for the night. Especially in summer. I always enjoy a good adventure but I think my knack for finding good luck is the only thing that got me through this trip so very unscathed.<br />
<br />
Stepping off the overnight train I wandered aimlessly through the station, getting my barrings. The best deal, if you are staying in the city for several days, is to purchase the metro pass then add a 1 week credit to it. It'll give you limitless travel on the Metro for a full week without the pain of little tickets. Give yourself thirty minutes or so for purchasing though because the pass requires photo id. You can get your photo taken in one of those little photo booths right at the station which will print out a whole sheet of photos on sticker paper for about $5. <br />
<br />
Then I was on the metro and on my way into the center of the city.<br />
<br />
I ran into a bit of a hurdle almost immediately when I became confused by my extremely bad map and my lack of any knowledge of French so I go off several blocks early and was completely lost in a residential area of paris on the south east side of the river. It was awesome.<br />
<br />
There should be a blues song for the 20-something traveler, wandering through a strange city, looking for free wi-fi. Though to more accurately fit my my mood at the time perhaps an perhaps an indi metal would have be more appropriate. <br />
<br />
I enjoyed a nice long wander through the streets and parks and across the river. I passed several little pubs and shops that looked so interesting I swore to myself I would come find them again but I never did.<br />
<br />
My surprise then, when I stepped around a corner and find myself surrounded by tourists and walking west on Champs-Élysées was quite enormous. I felt a bit bashed about by the dichotomy between the peace that had surrounded me and my big blue backpack all through the rest of Paris's small shops and lovely signage that melds perfectly into the whole ambiance of the city and the Champs-Élysées which feels quite a bit more like walking through downtown New York. <br />
<br />
To further my surreal experience, the first shop I happened to walk by down this swarming thoroughfare was an enormous glass corner shop for Iran Air. I felt such a strange sense of relief seeing it. I knew that everyone would greet me as the same strange annoying American as any of the other French citizen would but at least I speak more Farsi than I do French. It was a centering point for me. That this other culture who had welcomed me in the past was here as well and maybe I wasn't as completely lost as I felt. I felt an urge to go inside and hug someone or got buy a ticket straight to Tehran. <br />
<br />
But ahead I could see another familiar sign. A Starbuck's welcoming green lady with her arms outstretched. Promising one and all beneath her frightening corporate shadow that here they are sure to find caffeine and wifi.<br />
<br />
It cost me almost $10 but I got my first medium latte in over a month. It was delicious caffeinated heaven.<br />
<br />
My luck was to continue though for to my surprise who should be online but Aydin. And he was in Paris too. And I would be more than welcome to stay with him for a few days. Living situation solved.<br />
<br />
And it was only 11am.</div>
Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-53736263854963620782010-07-12T11:12:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:17:20.334-06:00The night on Las Ramblas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The night of the world cup was the kind of experience that I truly lack the right words to fully describe.<br />
A city wide explosion of celebration so loud and enthralling that even those of us new to the game were caught up in it and on that day I was the biggest football fan in the world. The world rolled with emotions, with screaming and crying. From one end of the city to the other bodies rolled and rocked and danced in waves of humanity. For you could not see the city streets for the bodies that celebrated on La Rambla that night, from the northern edge of the city the street party danced all the way to the sea.<br />
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The people milled and laughed and talked, then you would hear a crackle and fireworks would explode into the center of a group. The crowd leapt back, laughing, the trickster gods were in full swing that night and no one seemed to mind. Dance circles formed and dissolved like waves. Circles of a hundred people, all strangers, laughing and enjoying what life had to offer. Then the dance party would meld back into the sea of people and we would wander further down the street and the cycle would begin again.<br />
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Every statue had people hanging from it waving Spanish flags. The sheer joy in the night, to think of it even now I could cry from the remembrance of the happiness that night.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tl9Omxbyay_BVkz7KiXSascG0M-ocrJ0J7S7MewKa4My0BWmUA0frMdEsA-YLewMpcAgmhtjzMfSpzFLRUsnuFTyOALH8mQWlSDyW7P99wxS1tA6O4qzqD1Q3eIUoCSe9EvkIN_ckmWT/s1600/IMG_1334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="Party on LasRamblas" border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tl9Omxbyay_BVkz7KiXSascG0M-ocrJ0J7S7MewKa4My0BWmUA0frMdEsA-YLewMpcAgmhtjzMfSpzFLRUsnuFTyOALH8mQWlSDyW7P99wxS1tA6O4qzqD1Q3eIUoCSe9EvkIN_ckmWT/s200/IMG_1334.jpg" title="Party on LasRamblas" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWK0BaIP5WcXf7_MsjB5OkiljSdh7dteqxAWY6qaH2lUM5ESTDsAkNw1NUsGFew1IRSFyFBzKEclhht4uytE3OAfXmSo71QMFf9y0027LmmyERcn14J278e6VOazzGosETral_-Ka_dQv/s1600/IMG_1331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTWK0BaIP5WcXf7_MsjB5OkiljSdh7dteqxAWY6qaH2lUM5ESTDsAkNw1NUsGFew1IRSFyFBzKEclhht4uytE3OAfXmSo71QMFf9y0027LmmyERcn14J278e6VOazzGosETral_-Ka_dQv/s200/IMG_1331.jpg" width="200" /></a>
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-11006206546172107512010-07-11T00:00:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:17:51.123-06:00Barcelona Day 1 and 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Barcelona was not as impressive overall as I had hoped. There were a few notable events, namely Spain winning the world cup for which I will dedicate a whole post, but overall it was touristy and boring.<br />
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Upon arrival I found my couch surfing host and settled in. I was so exhausted from my bus trip I slept pretty much the whole day. In the evening I met my two fellow couch surfers, two lovely sisters from France. We made dinner together and talked about our travels. In the late evening we went out for a few beers at a local bar and played fosball but by 11pm, early by Barcelona standards we were all exhausted and crashed out.<br />
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The next day I headed out on my own. I found the Picasso museum and wandered the shops of las ramblas. <br />
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The Picasso museum was memorable for me, it showed not just Picasso's more famous works but also a large collection of the work from his early teens and the sketches he did while he was in school including a work book that he had sketched all over. It reminded me a little of some of <a href="http://tallsean.blogspot.com/">Sean's</a> sketchbooks. What I saw was more of the real person who was Picasso, I saw his uncertainties in early work, mistakes and lines that weren't quite right. It made me think about how critical I am of my own work. I have expectations of where I think I should be without having committed the years and years and years of bad drawing that I still need to finish. It helped me relax a lot and afterwards I found myself inspired to fill pages and pages and fill my first sketchbook so I was forced to go searching for an art store in Barcelona a few days later.<br />
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After the museum I found a little bar off of Las Ramblas called the Travel Bar which catered specifically to backpackers. There was free wifi and a ton of other travelers where you could just sit down with a beer and talk about your various journeys. While I was sitting at the bar a rather cute 20-something guy walked up to the bar and asked the bartender if she knew how to solve a computer problem he was having. She said she had no idea.<br />
I was only half paying attention to their conversation as I was trying to solve my problem of having no couch to sleep on and no hostel to stay at when I arrived in Paris but I understood his problem with his camera and fixed it for him. He was very thankful and asked me if he could buy me a beer. <br />
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I was only partially paying attention to him and had gone back to what I was doing so I just shrugged and said, 'no, I'm good'. <br />
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He looked confused for a second then asked, "Are you sure, I would LOVE to buy you a beer."<br />
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I said no again.<br />
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It was only after he wandered away looking a bit defeated that I realized he had been trying to flirt with me. Oh well.<br />
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I finished up my work at the Travel Bar, having sent out numerous emails asking for a place to stay and went back to my hosts house to meet up with the French backpackers to get ready for the World Cup game.</div>
Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-43178029697168304482010-07-09T17:54:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:16:59.921-06:00Gibralter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Hey Look! I'm still alive and well. Sorry all, I'll try to get up to date as soon as possible.<br />
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At 6am I woke up with my hosts and shoved everything in my backpack and then slept the one hour car ride down to Gibralter.<br />
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Gibralter is a little tiny sorta country on the tip of Spain. What ammounts to one of England's few remaining colonies. You have to flash your passport as you drive past the border and the only way from Spain to Gibralter is to cross the Gibralter airline runway which begins and ends in the ocean. I watched a plane take off and land while traffic waited meters away behind a flimsy wooden gate. It was amazing but I am quite positive that eventually the precentages of the universe are going to make that airport go very very wrong.<br />
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Because Gibralter is British territory, despite being surrounded on one side by ocean and further along, Morocco and on the other three sides by Spain, they speak only English and use the British Pound for currency. <br />
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The city is small. I started at one of the furthest most points at the hotel that Gina and Mario worked at. I had coffee in the lounge as the sun rose over the ocean. I don't remember much about the first hour or so, its been a long time since I've woken up that early and I remmeber more of a fuzzy contented sleepy blearry buzz until the caffine started working. <br />
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Upon awakening enough energy to move I left my backpack in the hotel baggage room and started walking into downtown. I found out later there was a nice bus system around the town but so early in the morning I didn't mind the fourty-five minute walk into the city center where I had a more complete breakfast and some more coffee than another thirty minute walk to the trolly station that took people up to the top of the Rock of Gibralter. <br />
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The Rock of Gibralter is the only big tourist attraction. Legand has it that it was placed where it is by Herculese durring his trials. It rises out of the ground so tall that it shades the entire east side of the peninsula by five or six in the evening. Leaving hopeful sunbathers quite in the dark.<br />
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At the top of the rock are troops of wild monkeys. Many tourists visit the rock to see the 'adorable monkeys' in the hour I was at the top of the rock nothing I saw about these creatures could be deemed adorable. <br />
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One woman had her makup bag stolen and ripped to pieces, one woman was bitten and I had a money walk right up to my leg and try to grab my bag out of my hand. I am no ashamed to say I hissed at the little bugger and kicked at him. These monkeys are very wild animals but they have absolutely no fear of people at all. They are fed daily in an attempt to keep them at the top of the rock and to discourage them from wandering down into the city but it is still not uncommon to hear about small troops of them down in the city. <br />
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For me though, by 11:00 am I was quite finished with Gibralter and ready to head out. <br />
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I took a 30 minute bus back to Algeciras where I had originally arrived in Spain and then booked my bus all the way to Barcelona... a full eighteen hour bus trip from 18:30 - 12:30 the following day. <br />
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Random note, I don't know if I've mentioned this but they use twentyfour hour clocks everywhere in Europe. It takes some getting used to but after that it makes telling time much clearer.<br />
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-16133229587875377292010-07-07T13:29:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:05:22.950-06:00Estapona<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I arrived in Estapona at 9:45pm and my couchsurfing hosts Gina and Mario picked me up at the bus station. <br />
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In arranging my stay I had assumed that Mario was a boys name and had never paid attention if details otherwise had been mentioned so I was quite pleasantly surprised to find myself picked up by a very lovely lesbian couple. They were from Switzerland and Ireland I believe and very kind. We went back to their house, in a smaller town about 20 minutes outside of Estapona and enjoyed some wine and sweets before heading to bed. <br />
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In the morning Mario had left for work in Gibralter but Gina and I woke up late and enjoyed breakfast on the terrace. We went to the beach together and spent a very lazy day out on the sand soaking up the sun, reading and wading in the surf. <br />
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In the evening we went to the grocery store and I picked out the ingredients to make Indian curry from scratch. In my messages to Gina on Couch Surfing I had offered to make curry partially as a bribe in an effort to ensure I had a place to stay. It really only occurred to me when we arrived at the store that it had been over two months since the last time I made curry and I did not have Internet access to check recipes. <br />
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Arriving back at their place I completely faked my way through a curry and Mario arrived home just as I was finishing. She announced that it smelled fantastic. The food did live up to its scent and I can give all the credit to Anna and Evan for the fantastic culinary education I have received over the past two years. <br />
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After dinner we walked half an hour down the beach to a lovely little bar owned by a Spanish family to watch the World Cup game, Germany vs Spain. We sat at the back quietly, none of us spoke Spanish very well and the owners only spoke enough English to know we wanted beer. To arrive as three women with obvious norther European decent it was immediately assumed that our loyalty resided with the German team and our reception was... less than welcoming. However when Spain scored the goal our ecstatic cheering was met with grins and free beer and after that the whole bar relaxed and we all partied when Spain won the game. <br />
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In the evening we returned to the house and had a delicious dessert of Granada.<br />
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The next day I struck out on my own. I spent part of the day on the beach but also found a lovely little British pub where I ate lunch. As I sipped my coffee there two older men sat down at a table near mine with the cutest and most ill behaved puppy I have ever seen. I was caught sketching the puppy and they invited me over to talk.<br />
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They were both originally from England and had retired to the Spanish coast to enjoy the sunshine. The girlfriend of the man who owned the dog arrived soon after I sat down. We talked about Estapona and Spain and a little bit about technology and we engaged in a very nice conversation, for a while.<br />
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The gentleman with the dog and his girlfriend were very nice and his friend, though possessing of a terrible sense of humor was engaging with me and we seemed to be having a good time. As we went though the gentleman with the bad sense of humor became more and more aggravating. He kept redirecting the conversation towards himself. Though the rest of us were interested in talking about the dog he kept trying to talk more and more about himself, though everything he said was quite boring. The puppy was making an absolutely adorable nuisance of himself and was trying to go sniff the butt of a nearby dog. The woman asked, "why do dogs do that?" <br />
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Assuming that the question was no rhetorical I started to answer based on my reading. Bad Joke guy then turned to me and said, "you must be very boring at parties."<br />
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I said, "excuse me?"<br />
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He proceed to mock me. Joking about encyclopedias going to parties and then asking me other questions, the first two I started to answer honestly until I realized that his only goal was more mocking and then I just sneered at him and turned to conversation with the gentleman with the puppy.<br />
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It was of course at this time Bad Joke started hitting on me and asking if I had a boyfriend and if I considered myself "High Maintenance".<br />
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I think my answer was about as perfect as possible. Looking him straight in the eye I said, "Am I high maintenance? Mentally? Yes."<br />
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The woman laughed outright as Bad Joke stared at me blankly. I then smiled and excused myself. It was getting late and my host family was starting dinner.<br />
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Back at Mario and Gina's I was served a fantastic dinner of Vegetarian Plum dumplings that Gina made. They were fantastic and exotic and almost so sweet they could be a dessert. <br />
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We laughed and talked and then they told me the most amazing story about when they had been in South America they had actually been kidnapped and taken hostage while the thieves took everything they owned and how they were rescued by a police raid. What I found the most interesting about the story were the little details about the thieves. Mario said that they had been almost kind in some ways. Putting a jacked over Mario's shoulders when she started shivering. Making sure to give them back their passports, giving them the memory card from their camera so they wouldn't lose all the pictures, and telling them how they would leave them enough money for a bus ticket. It was interesting and very human. There was even a newspaper article about it that they showed me.<br />
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That night we went to bed somewhat early as we would all have to get up by 5:30 in the morning to leave for Gibralter as both Gina and Mario had work very early.</div>
Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-76007381259102492332010-07-05T17:20:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:04:20.078-06:00Granada<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Without Julia and Gustav Granada felt far bigger and far more intimidating. I had become used to being with people who I could trust and I lost some of my confidence without them. For some time I retired to my hostel room for some time, a prisoner of my own fears. <br />
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For a while I found excuses for myself. Blog posts to write, which I obviously didn't write, friends and family to skype with, and books to read. However, after twenty four hours without human contact I decided I did need to get off my ass and go out again. Checking through my books I found mention of a small bar that was supposed to have amazing Salsa nights.<br />
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The bar turned out to be right around the corner from my hostel but it took my almost thirty minutes of walking to find because it was hidden halfway down an alley between two buildings. It was worth it.<br />
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I have never found such amazing music before. They were not playing salsa but jazz, with instruments from India. There were two women sitting on the ground playing something akin to giant guitars (Yes, Aydin I know you told me the name but I can't remember it.) There was also a man with a flute and a man on small lap drums. The music sounded like it was from India and at first I thought they were playing from memorized music but as I watched the two men watched each other and lead the melody on a merry dance. The music rose and fell and jumped and skipped and everyone had a marvelous time.<br />
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When the concert was half way through I took a break from the sweltering heat. The bar was built entirely of stone and I believe was partway underground as it had to windows and only the one door. With so many people inside it was exhausting. Outside I met the bouncer, Miguel, who was very tall and very handsome and spoke English. Our flirtation continued until I went back inside for the rest of the concert. <br />
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After the concert was over musicians began to arrive to play impromptu salsa jam sessions and locals arrived to dance. I considered going back outside to flirt some more with Miguel but on the way out I stopped at the bar for a beer and met this older English gentleman who began engaging me in a spirited discussion on politics and society. Of course given the choice between possible romance and a discussion in politics I chose the politics and so my short romance with Miguel came to a close.<br />
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This man was a musician and seemed to be a bit of a local legend. Everyone at the bar knew him and greeted him as an old friend. We talked for hours outside the bar. We covered everything from history, to politics, to Spanish culture and music. I had an absolutely fabulous time. <br />
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As the bar closed we started walking back toward my hostel. At the corner where I would turn down the street toward my hostel I was completely caught off-guard when the man asked me to come back to his hotel with him. At no point the entire night had any subject relating to sex been brought up. I sort of thought he was joking at first so I smiled as I said no. When he asked again with a, "come on" as if we had both known this was where it was going I said no again and this time I was not smiling. He accused me of leading him on and said, "this is the problem with Americans." So I stated a very firm good bye and wished him a good night. Alone. <br />
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I got into my hostel quickly and found myself very thankful for the two heavily locked doors and a long stairway between my bed and the street. I was also very very angry. <br />
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How dare that man assume that just because we engaged in a conversation I was looking for sex. It is one advantage that men seem to have over women when they travel alone. They have the freedom to engage anyone, male or female, in random conversation without the other party assuming that they are going to have sex with them. Such an ending seemed to cheapen the entire night and I found myself critiquing my every action of the night, looking for anything I might have said or done that would have "led him on". <br />
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I spent half the next day sulking before I shook it off and headed out again. I found a park and drew people and ate pasta for the first time in weeks and I bought my bus ticket to head south again for Estapona and a couch surfer's house.</div>
Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-74529425780609155582010-07-05T07:36:00.000-05:002013-02-04T12:03:42.344-06:00Granada<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The next day Julia, Gustav and I walked back up the huge hills of Granada to Alhambra, the most well known sight in Granada. It is the ruins of what was the old fortress that the city of Granada was built around. Once kings, warriors, and great nobles walked the pathways of the now crumbling stone paths. <br />
The tickets to get inside the main part of Alhambra cost 12 euro so we decided not to go deep inside but even the outskirts of the city are beautiful. From Alhambra we walked further up a hill to a grove of olive trees and past to the very top where there was an old restaurant owned by a husband and wife and nearby an old stone wall where we sat and listened to old jazz on my iPod and watched the sun set over the city.<br />
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The next day followed the same pattern. We walked back up to Alhambra, we found an open terrace on a hill filled with vine wrapped columns. I painted the city and we talked and enjoyed ourselves. Sunday and most of Monday were also filled with lazy enjoyment, laughter, and fun. We walked most of Granada those few days and I couldn't have asked for a better time.<br />
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Monday afternoon Julia and Gustav grabbed a bus for Madrid and we said our goodbyes. I miss them and I am really looking forward to visiting them in Brazil as soon as I get the chance.<br />
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-72737904959054480072010-07-04T07:29:00.000-05:002013-02-04T11:55:54.170-06:00Granada Day 1 + 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There is something about traveling by train that makes the whole world look new. It goes by so fast, yet you can see for miles and everything always looks fresh and green, you can almost pretend its unmarred by humanity. Sitting in our couch seats on the train on the five hour trip to Granada; Julia, Gustav and I had a blast. Our conversations ranged far and wide and we talked most of the five hours to Granada. I came to appreciate my pee-buddy once more when it came to the train toilet. Always remember when traveling through Europe to carry a spare roll of toilet paper and do whatever you have to not to touch the toilet in any way. I'm surprised I didn't get a life threatening disease. <br />
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This was the first time that my guide books came in handy. Let me explain first my travel strategy involving guide books. The common guide book is large, thick and obtrusive. I find the them annoying, cumbersome, and a blinding red target of TOURIST for thieves, crooks, and scam artists to try something as I carry it through a new city. My solution was to use an exact-o blade to cut out all the pages that related to things that I found important then rolling them all together into tubes. The resulting pages can still be easily read but I can also pull out only the four or five pages I'm interested in and read them from behind my sketchbook or in my lap. So Gustav, Julia and I unrolled my guide books for Granada and started reading through them. We found the names of several hostels and a map of the entire city along with some good recommendations for Tapa bars and clubs. <br />
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After arriving at the train station we walked with our large backpacks through the town until we found a hostel we liked for a good price, 20 euro for a single room with a personal shower. Really nice. We showered and changed clothes after our very sweaty day of walking and then hit the town for some tapas. I think we found the absolute best tapa bar in Granada, it was small but not seedy at all and had locals of all ages mixing with a few tourists. Their beers were 1,20 euro and each came with the most delicious variety of tapas I had my entire time in Granada. They were amazing and it was just around the corner from our Hostel. <br />
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I could direct you to it with a map but sadly I never learned its name. <br />
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Comfortably tipsy and laughing after our marvelous evening we fell into our beds at about 1am, early in Spanish time. <br />
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The next morning we took our time getting out of the Hostel. We slept late and woke around 11:30. Leaving our big bags behind we ran a few errands than as the city began to shut down around 1pm we began to walk north away from the city center into the steep hills guarded by a stone wall. The walk was nearly vertical and absolutely lovely. Even in the corners of the is little city you could find passion and heat. Graffiti layered the walls around us but it was beautiful, the act of true artists, not just names scrawled in spray paint. <br />
Weaving our way through residential streets we found ourself at the very top point of Granada, a small courtyard surrounded by bushes and looking down, a steep downward drop back into the cathedrals and markets below.<br />
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We sat up there for quite some time. Breathing in the flowers and enjoying the breeze that must have come down off the cold mountain peaks covered in snow we could see in the distance, I soaked up the sun and the beauty around me. I could see my new friends talking together, close lovers and friends, this was the experience I had been hoping for when I decided to make this trip. <br />
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Later we made our way down the hill again back into the city. There was a game that evening between Brazil, the record holding world cup champions, and Netherlands. Of course, being with two people from Brazil where, I was told, people are exempt from work for football matches, we had to go to the game. We found a small pub and ordered beers to watch the match. Brazil's loss was a savage blow and so of course what choice did we have but to console ourselves in a beer and tapas.<br />
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On the town that night we met two cool guys from England. Who were quite fun to talk to for a while. I got into a long conversation with them and Gustav and Julia said they were going to head back to the hostel. I waved goodbye, intent on my conversation. <br />
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It really is these sorts of split second decisions that get me into trouble. It was only after my friends left that I realized I wasn't entirely sure where I was, I didn't remember the name of the hostel, my friends didn't have a cell phone, and was a fool.<br />
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To make a long and ultimately boring story short. I met two very nice Spanish people spoke very little English but who walked most of the way across downtown Granada with me, I met the Granada police who didn't speak a word of English, it was suggested that if all else failed I could spend the night in the Granada jail, I walked passed the hostal twice and finally found it almost two hours later laughing with my new friend at my foolishness. We waved goodbye, Gustav and Julia were asleep, it was almost 3am and I went to bed.</div>
Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-34459958058124175432010-07-02T08:22:00.000-05:002013-02-04T11:47:06.583-06:00The low night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After waving goodbye to Aydin and passing through customs into the port I found myself with time to kill. My ferry across to Spain had yet to arrive but cars were already lining up to drive onto the ship. Near the parked cars I saw a European looking woman sitting playing with her two children. With nothing to do I decided that greeting this stranger would be a great first step in the greeting of the many strangers to come.<br />
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I greeted her with 'bonjour' and was pleasantly surprised to discover she actually was French and she spoke a little English. We talked about my coming trip and her children seemed fascinated by me. They spoke to me several times in flowing sentences of French and I would answer in English and we would smile at each other. The older of her two children, a little girl, occasionally would turn to her mother to translate something to me but for the most part we just enjoyed our Babel companionship. <br />
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An hour or more later the sun had set and the ferry arrived. I met the lovely woman's husband and their friend, maybe an uncle? They were going to drive onto the ferry so I was invited to meet them inside. It seems I was the only person walking on or off of the ferry. I felt the stirrings of unease in my stomach. With no one else walking on that meant that no one else would walk off. Everyone would have a car and somewhere to go immediately. Still I took a deep, breath, hefted my backpack and walked onto the ferry. <br />
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Though separated by language my new French family adopted me for the two hours that it took to cross to Spain. We shared smiles and coffee and I folded their little boy an origami crane that he flew through the ship. Later he came over to show me his video game and collapsed against my leg as he talked, trusting and taking it for granted that I would catch him and pull him onto my lap where he stayed until we arrived in the Algeciras port. I was certainly sad to see them go when we waved goodbye but I also felt I had proven myself capable of making good friends wherever I could need them even without language and I was ready to face my next challenge. <br />
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That next challenge came quite a bit quicker than I would have hoped.<br />
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Stepping off the ferry on foot alone I found myself in a ghost of a port. There was no one there. I walked alone through the hallways and was passed through customs with barely a nod by the lone officer who did not stop talking to his friend on his cell phone as he stamped my passport and waved me through. <br />
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I knew I was supposed to have met a Couch Surfer at 9pm in Algeciras but it was far passed that time. I wanted to call her but I didn't have a cell phone that worked or Internet access to email her. It was late. Passed midnight by the time I found the ticket offices, waiting rooms, and the entrance to the port that led out to the rest of Algeciras. Everything was closed and one thing became very abundantly clear that no one here spoke English. I was alone.<br />
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There were a few lone travelers, mostly men who were asleep on benches or sitting at empty tables in the cafeteria. I decided that my best course of action was to take a deep breath, let go of my anxiety and just sleep the night here. I found an empty bench on the second floor where I could sleep unobtrusively, tied my backpack to my wrist, laid out my travel pillow and fell asleep. <br />
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The following morning found me quite a bit more upbeat than the night before. The sun was shining, there were more people now, getting ready for their own travels to places unknown, and the cafeteria was open where I could get a croissant and a coffee. <br />
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Here are the three wonderful things I learned about Spain that day.<br />
1. Ordering 'una cafe' gets you a delicious cup of espresso even at the lowest class dining establishments<br />
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2. food in very very cheap. One coffee and a croissant baked that morning costs 1.50 Euro and is delicious.<br />
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3. an Internet cafe in Spain can be found in the same place where there are pay phones, an establishment called a Locotorio and they also sell Spanish SIM cards for mobile phones.<br />
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By 9am I had been able to check my email, post to Couch Surfing and get a Spanish cell phone that allowed me to call the Couch Surfing host who had expected me the night before. <br />
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As soon as I left the locotorio I called her and boy was she upset. I was informed that she had waited for me that night and that I had changed plans on her to often and staying with her tonight would not be possible. <br />
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Ok. That changed things a bit. But what could I do? I apologized then hung up. I understood and I do not hold any bad feeling for her. It must have been quite frustrating from her point of view. <br />
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With no where else to go I headed for the bus station and promptly got lost. I found a kind old man talking to his friend and tried to get them to direct me to the bus station. They only spoke Spanish and I only spoke English so with gestures I asked them to draw me a map but instead the old man offered me a ride to the station and drove me right up to the door. I repeated my only word of Spanish 'muchos gracias' several times then waved goodbye and headed in. I knew there was another CS host who was expecting me that weekend in Estapona and figured I could stay with them early or find a hostel for a few days so I bought a four euro ticket to Estapona that left at 4pm.<br />
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Since by then it was only 1pm I decided to wander around for a bit. I asked for directions to a SuperMaket (not a spelling error) but was directed instead to an open market with stands and stands of the most beautiful fruit and vegetables I had ever seen. <br />
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All my anxiety and depressed feeling vanished as I found joy in this bustling mob of people and lives. Everything was so beautiful and so real, how could I be sad when all this beauty was around me and I could only look forward to more as I continued this trip.<br />
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Imagine my surprise when I hears, "ALISON!"<br />
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I turned around in surprise, and found myself staring into the grinning faces of the marvelous friends I had mad on the train to Tangier. Gustav and Julia were smiling from ear to ear and I joined them in laughing at our good fortune. They led me to a building that was part of the market where all the fresh fish and meat were sold. There among the meat stalls they showed me a tiny bar so small there were no tables or even stools. Just an alcove big enough for the owner and his wife to prepare tapas and serve beers while their patrons stood in the market's street laughing and watching the crowd.<br />
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Tapas are another thing that Spain does very very well. For each beer that only costs €1 - €1,50 you receive a small plate of food for free. These plates can be fish, or meat, or bread with exotic cheeses. Everything is good and as far as I can tell the tapa you receive seems to be at the whim of the owner, although that may have everything to do with my lack of Spanish. Still I will never complain to play such a delicious roulette. Gustav loves to talk and make new friends and it wasn't long before we were joking with the other four patrons of our little bar along with the owner. One man in particular was very very drunk and his foolishness was for the most part amusing and only occasionally fell into the realms of obnoxious. <br />
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One of the men was apart from the others. At first I thought he was quiet by choice before I noticed a shadow at his throat and realized that at some point in his life he had had a hole cut into his throat and he was unable to speak at all. I smiled at him and we began to try to communicate. Our conversation was stunted and I saw unbearable frustration in his eyes and anger at constantly being ignored by his boisterous companions. However I tried to talk to him and I tried to understand and listen and in the end, as we said good bye he kissed me on both cheeks and there were tears in his eyes. <br />
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As for Gustav and Julia, I felt comfortable with them, like old friends and when they mentioned they were planning on catching a train to a city called Granada at 3pm. I asked what was in Granada and they shrugged.<br />
'Alhambra'<br />
'What's Alhambra?'<br />
'Its supposed to be beautiful.'<br />
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I decided, 'sure why not'. My bus ticket had only cost €4 so I ditched it and bought a €20 train ticket five hours north along the coast to Granada with the plan to enjoy my time with my new friends and see what kind of adventures we could find.<br />
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-2614789645153702712010-07-01T07:59:00.000-05:002013-02-04T11:54:22.996-06:00Last day in Morocco<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I have been remiss my friends. To leave you so long without an update. My only excuse is exhaustion. When I finally find moments to sit down with my computer it is late and I am so tired I can barely talk, let alone write.<br />
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In a way I feel I have been unkind both to myself and to those who will read this by waiting so long. Each day has had its own variety, its own flavor. I have been up, down and all around but to write these posts after the fact seems to lose a bit of the essential essence that is everyday and rather paint over it with a broad brush of my current knowledge and feelings. <br />
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But it would be even worse to not write at all so I will start from where I last left off on my blog it was the 29th of June and I was still in Azrou. That night Aydin and I cleaned the apartment then moved a rug and blankets to the roof and sat talking late into the night. To fall asleep under the stars with the chill of the air and warm arms around me is a lovely experience. Though the night was cold I woke in the morning with rays of morning sunlight heating the blankets and encouraging awakening if only to push them off and lay open to the wonderful sun.<br />
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There was nothing else much to do that morning but pull ourselves out of bed. The packing had already been finished and so I just grabbed my things and we headed out. We grabbed breakfast at a little restaurant on the way. I must say, the restaurant food in Morocco is lovely the first few times but there are really only four or five foods to choose from and I sincerely feel for Aydin because after a few days they get very very boring and I was quite glad to head into Europe for some culinary variety.<br />
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Walking from breakfast we went to the bus station to look for a bus that would take us to Mekness where we would catch a train. However the next bus wouldn't leave until so late that it would have left us little time in Mekness to get to the train station so we decided instead to take a Grand Taxi. <br />
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Now I begin this next section specifically with a warning for my parents and those other wonderful people in my life with protective parental feeling for me, you may want to skip this next bit.<br />
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Grand Taxis are sort of like normal Taxis. They are normal five seat cars with one driver that go from point A to point B for a specific price. The differences are that Grand Taxis go further, usually from one city to the next and they won't go until all the seats in their car are filled. The other bit that makes it especially interesting is that Morocco does not seem to have any traffic laws anyone is required to follow, and the Grand Taxi drivers try to make as much money as possible by fitting as many people into their car as possible. The result was a two hour trip to Mekness with Aydin and I sitting together in the front passenger seat with four women crammed together in the back, and no seat belts. However, it wasn't until we were just outside Azrou and we stopped for gas without any of us getting out of the car or the driver turning off the engine at all, the entire time he refiled the gas tank that I began to try to find some god to pray to. <br />
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Once we were on the road it did not get any better. I spent the trip expecting the passenger door to fly open, or for the car to fly off a cliff as we turned round the bend. Or for a head on collision to occur as the driver sped around other motorists that he decided were going far to slow. <br />
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Oh who am I kidding you couldn't help but read that bit could you? :)<br />
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Despite the reckless and I admit somewhat exhilarating ride to Mekness we arrived in tacked and found the train station with ease. Because the American dollar is worth so much in Morocco it did not cost us much more to buy a first class ticket on the train so we indulged ourselves and I couldn't be happier that we did.<br />
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Though the train was almost an hour late we hopped on and made our way to our designated... room? I have no idea what they are called. In first class, each train car has several little rooms with six very nice comfortable seats. When we arrived, five of the six seats were full when we arrived but it seems that one poor man had found his designated seat in another room full and so had found an empty seat here. We kicked him out. I hope he found his seat.<br />
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In our room however we could not have been more fortunate for the people we sat with. There were two older business men who were quite nice but more interested in talking about their rich mundane lives split between London and Morocco than anything I found intriguing. However our other two companions must have been sent from the grand travel gods themselves. Gustav and Julia came from Brazil. Neither was an expert in English but they were creative and very friendly and their passion and intelligence shown through any barriers of communication. I could only wish at the time that I knew Portuguese to talk with them even better. Aydin and I chatted with them non stop the entire trip. The commonality Aydin and Gustav seemed to find in movies and music was uncanny and Julia and I shared more than one look together of shared amusement. <br />
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Our friendship built quickly and easily and we were already sharing the risqué jokes of close friends by the time we were halfway through our journey. Jokes we told behind our older companions backs and giggled like school children when they returned.<br />
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After a six hour train ride we arrived in Tangier on the northern tip of Morocco. We waved goodbye to our to older companions then turned to our new friends. They were heading to Spain as well but were taking a ferry to Tarifa instead of Algeciras like me. We hugged and exchanged emails and I looked forward to hearing from them in the future. <br />
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Aydin and I had to travel by taxi again, a normal one this time, to the older port several miles away from the train station. As we drove I felt my spirits lower and tears come to my eyes. As I watched the beautiful landscape drift past us all I could think of was all the things I would miss about Morocco, Aydin most of all. Those wonderful people in our lives who lift us up and encourage us to become more than we thought we were, those are the people who should always be treasured in life.<br />
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-69932630199421648242010-06-29T19:57:00.003-05:002011-04-28T13:30:31.621-05:00Last night<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdqLIxqPRi9hfpEeSJV-tIidEx58ujFOqYHlXMkl80upFEAVd8n7HXBRCLk_dDIB9mAyzXALSyQ8O5pHB1_ti5MCTA2YZw5fQ9YwJd42URaF2ONA4DdbZnou_hlwuVvd4cMbqvdZVZulF/s1600/img_0988.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFdqLIxqPRi9hfpEeSJV-tIidEx58ujFOqYHlXMkl80upFEAVd8n7HXBRCLk_dDIB9mAyzXALSyQ8O5pHB1_ti5MCTA2YZw5fQ9YwJd42URaF2ONA4DdbZnou_hlwuVvd4cMbqvdZVZulF/s200/img_0988.jpg" width="200" /></a>Looking out over Azrou tonight. I feel a powerful mix of anticipation and sadness. Though I was close with so few here it has felt a little like a home away from home and I know that I will miss it. I will miss the old woman, diligently out selling snails every night. Who always has a smile for everyone, even as her eyes glaze over in exhaustion. I will miss the little brother and sister who play soccer in front of our door step after every wold cup game. I will miss the funny waiter at the caf<span style="font-family: Times New Roman,serif;">é</span> down the street who is always calling out names of American movie stars as an inside joke with Aydin that I have never understood but I like his crooked smile. I will miss Abdu the carpet seller and his father. Neither speak very much English but they make everyone around them feel warm and welcomed and I wish I could give them both enormous hugs. I will miss the beautiful black cat who lives in their carpet shop and her three little kittens including the runt who is half the size of the others but makes up for it in passionate ferocity for life. I will miss Zakaria and Khadisha. Most of all I will miss Aydin.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMopC0ejQZc6j4WmndjOi4DaYY6y6185mf86Md6T0FQN4uRmWSM3cBk0ALAXbSBGvCaIT4X9kaAEwx97vKJmGPFkkeRE-HRgO4x2xgEHejT3bnOIAEdnQ4LKHWh2JZp2rvzWjHYaQlcoG/s1600/img_1007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVMopC0ejQZc6j4WmndjOi4DaYY6y6185mf86Md6T0FQN4uRmWSM3cBk0ALAXbSBGvCaIT4X9kaAEwx97vKJmGPFkkeRE-HRgO4x2xgEHejT3bnOIAEdnQ4LKHWh2JZp2rvzWjHYaQlcoG/s200/img_1007.jpg" width="150" /></a>The stars are so beautiful here and the sky is so big. I feel closer to myself and find my thoughts somewhat easier to grasp than normal. Some days I find myself so frustrated with my own emotions. It is a constant struggle for me to form my ideas into coherent words that others can understand. My thoughts constantly seem to spin like a tornado of color and flavor and indescribable <b>feeling</b><span style="font-weight: normal;"> to pluck a single threat from the mass and draw it into language is sometimes more exhausting than I can handle and I let myself fall back into just floating within my own head. </span> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">But here, in these last few weeks, it has seemed easier to form language from the storm and I can begin to think ahead to what is in store for me soon. </span> </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><br />
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</div>Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-10794272036652085952010-06-28T09:10:00.002-05:002011-04-28T13:31:48.217-05:00Life in Morocco moves so much slower than it does in the states and I think I could grow to like it. Without a car and with everything organized in mini villages around courtyards with the same shops every few blocks. Each business stays open because people here are not loyal to a specific brand they are loyal to the business owner, the people that are around them.<br />
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You really feel your own place here. You feel time move by slowly like currents down a lazy forest stream. There is always time for conversation with a friend or introspection over lazy hours and a single cup of nouse-nouse (Moroccan Late).<br />
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Last Tuesday Aydin and I left for the Gnowa music festival in Essuara on the southwest coast of Morocco. I had never heard of Gnowa music before but a huge number of Peace Corps volunteers would be there and who could pass up what promised to be an epic beach party lasting from Wednesday to Sunday.<br />
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Our bus was scheduled to leave at 9:30pm so of course by Moroccan time we left just past 10:00pm. We drove through the night, switching from the fancy CTM buses to a normal, groty Suk bus in Marakesh around 6:00am. We arrived in Essuara around 10:00 am Wednesday morning. Taking long bus trips like this is normal here but it is still a fascinating experience for me. I take flights for granted but there is something almost wonderful about having so much Time to just sit with no pressing concerns, nothing to do, just to look out the window and watch mountains turn into fields, turn into desert and then into coastline.<br />
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I finished the first of what I hope to be many books during the trip. A prequel to Frank Herbert's, 'Dune' called, 'The Butlerian Jihad'. This is not a book that I would recommend to most people unless, like me you are simply in love with the entire wold of Dune, enough that you can put up with terrible writing. The book was written after the death of Frank Herbert, by his son. It is one of the first books written by Brian Herbert based on Frank Herbert's notes and the book has about the structure and focus of a Dune fan-fiction and not the best of fan-fiction at that. Brian does go on to write better stories in the future but 'The Butlerian Jihad' and its sequel 'The Machine Crusade' which I am now reading are not examples of them. That all being said, I'm still in love with the world and cannot bring myself to move on to another book until I finish these.<br />
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On to Essuara, it was a madhouse. People come from all over Morocco and Europe to spend time at the Gnowa festival. I knew nothing about the music before I arrived, though I had heard it was supposed to be a fusion of traditional Moroccan music with Spanish Flamenco influences. However what I found was a sound very similar to Reggae music. The sound was certainly enjoyable to dance to but it also attracted a crossover of reggae fans who brought with them not just their awesome hair and extravagant clothes but also a strong drug culture.<br />
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This festival is also so large is causes the population of Essawara to explode and draws not just fans from all over the world but professional thieves from all over Morocco.<br />
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We stayed with the Peace Corps people in a house/apartment building within walking distance of the festival but because there were so many of us there was always someone at the house so we didn't have to worry to much about thieves stealing from our rooms. Having been warned before hand though about pickpockets at the concerts we left <b>everything</b> behind at the house including our keys and just relied on the people staying at the house to let us in later. It is a good thing we did because I have never been felt up so many times in my life.<br />
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Teams of young boys would run through the crowd. The first ones patting targets down then signaling the the boys behind them who had valuables who then slipped hands into pockets and darted away. Because of our planning ahead we had nothing to worry about and just danced and enjoyed the spectacle. I personally had time to marvel at their technique though I do wish I had had the foresight to write inspirational messages in English on the pieces of paper the approximate size of dollar bills. It would have taken them a while to translate them, if they bothered to at all, because English is the last language anyone expects you to use here but I still would have found the joke hilarious. <br />
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My favorite means of relieving tourists of their valuables were probably the groups of Moroccan teenagers that hung out near the beach who would invite tourists to dance with them.<br />
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One of the Peace Corps people I met in Essa, a very attractive gay man named Jeramey, described his experience with these guys at the Gnowa festival last year. He had been approched and asked to dance and like most of us unsuspecting westerners when approched by a group of very very attractive men had redilly agreed and had the time of his life.<br />
After a very enjoyable impromptu dance the men waved goodbye and wandered off. It was only after they had gone that Jeramey realized that he had been relieved of <b>everything</b>. His cellphone, money, keys, cigarettes, and even the lint in his pockets had disappeared and like his attractive dance partners, never seen again.<br />
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My friend Khadija was invited to dance by a similar group of men this year but she was carrying everything in a backpack over her shoulders that she had then wrapped in a sarong around her shoulders so there was no accessing the bag at all. Apparently they danced for a long time and eventually Khadija had stopped and waved goodbye. The one of the dancing thieves had started to stop her but then he and his friends conversed for a second among themselves and waved her off. It just wasn't worth it. <br />
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Both Jeramey and Khadija told their stories with a laugh and a smile because really what else could you do? And at least these thieves had had the courtesy to give you a very enjoyable show before taking everything you owned. <br />
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I myself experienced the legal thievery of the exhibitionist prices the shop owners in Essawara had set just for the festival. Unless you learned to haggle you could easily expect to pay at least twice what anything you bought was actually worth. Despite my lack of knowledge of any language commonly spoken in Morocco I headed out on my own several times to wander the markets and learn to haggle successfully. And if I do say so myself, with a little more practice I could become quite proficient at it. Though I know I still go ripped off I did not spend nearly the amount that even many of the more experienced Peace Corps volunteers did. Among the things I bought were a pair of new sandals that are quite nice. I paid 179 durums for them which would equal approximately $20 US Dollars.<br />
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I also spent all of Thursday lounging on the beach with Aydin and Khadija and swimming in the remarkably cold ocean waters. Oh it was so beautiful. The sun was so bright everything seemed to glow and the water sparkled like diamonds. The sand was elegantly soft and I couldn't help but fall asleep for an hour in the warm sunshine. I also forgot to completely cover my back in sunblock and paid dearly for it. The sun burn is now starting to fade but it has yet to peel thanks to a very liberal application of aloe-vera lotion several times per day for the last several days. I've learned my lesson but still I regret nothing.<br />
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Aydin and I left Friday and headed back to Azrou ahead of the crowds that would begin to leave Saturday afternoon and to make sure we had enough time together before I head out for Spain on the 29th. Which is tomorrow... wow.<br />
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I think I am going to miss Morocco so much. I am not going to miss the toilets or the street animals that hang out on every corner but I will miss the relaxed atmosphere and the people i have met and more than anything I will miss Aydin. <br />
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It will be at least a year and a half before I might hope to see him again but we both have our own journeys ahead of us and I am looking forward to keeping in touch as past partners and good friends. It is always important to know you have those people out in the world, no matter how far away they are, who you know love you and keep you in thier thoughts. Just as I keep you in my thoughts my friends and my family.<br />
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Though I am looking forward to this next month of travel I can not help but also look forward to its ending and the people waiting for me back home. I can not wait to hold you in my arms again.Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-37190695738450973042010-06-28T08:06:00.002-05:002013-02-04T11:51:27.019-06:00<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Did you know they sell stomach lining served with white beans as a common lunch meal here? Trust me it is not something I would recommend to anyone except the very very daring. I only tried a little bit of Aydin's ( he likes it ). Do you know the smell of a petting zoo? That very very animal smell? The one that fills your nose and smells like wild, dirt, and hair? Yeah that's about what stomach lining tastes like.<br />
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But its not the worse thing I've ever tasted. It still rates above New Zealand Vegimite.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiXNHvG1x3Oe6Qq6zYzSFuTgUfx9aXeYCKDy1__IrCgpDvNoG5ESejtaC8PcfMdmX4jaslItNhEkF-lHZ03-Es6hJYW3lrTtwVBW_ApBI_1uBgzbFT42HSS-JEi2Rw6vx-cBBMDedAnHe/s1600/img_0982.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-bottom: 10px;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJiXNHvG1x3Oe6Qq6zYzSFuTgUfx9aXeYCKDy1__IrCgpDvNoG5ESejtaC8PcfMdmX4jaslItNhEkF-lHZ03-Es6hJYW3lrTtwVBW_ApBI_1uBgzbFT42HSS-JEi2Rw6vx-cBBMDedAnHe/s200/img_0982.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
Zakaria</div>
I have made several new friends here that I have really enjoyed spending time with.<br />
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Zakaria grew up here in Azrou. He is very smart, knows how to speak German, English, Berber, Arabic, and French. He is a tour guide for tourists looking to hike through the mountains around Azrou. He is well known in the region and thought very highly of, he's even listed on Lonely Planet. He's a lot of fun to hang out with and has a great taste in music and movies. He is the person that could most inspire me to learn Darija ( Moroccan Arabic ) because though his English is quite good I know my conversations with him could be so much more interesting and deep if I could speak with him in a language he is more familiar with.<br />
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Khadija</div>
Khadija is another new friend of mine. She is a student from Florida on a summer volunteer scholorship that she is using to explore Morocco. She is passionate, clever, and sassy in a way that makes her both easy and fascinating to spend time with. She and I have spent many hours in impassioned discussions about people, society, animals, and the state of politics in third world countries. She has an air that attracts people to her and I've enjoyed seeing her throw herself into deep conversation with strangers in a way that reminds me of Aydin.<br />
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The four of us, Khadija, Zakaria, Aydin and I have spent a lot of time together talking, watching movies, and enjoying the cool summer breeze that makes Azrou so attractive. Aydin found a resturant that he refers to as "the meat infusion". One order gets you a piece of flat bread stuffed to bursting with a huge pile of grilled spiced beef and a side order of frys. Its the kind of meal that would send any American health expert running for the heart attack meds and could take care of your beef needs for a year. We've eaten there three times. :)<br />
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Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9071568078262129134.post-38460335266129031622010-06-19T08:15:00.001-05:002011-04-28T13:32:04.605-05:00Day: 4, 5, and 6<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjzfv8BxcdACDi7y2jV1Cvk1Zebx8RSYFLzkhyDsLo0vm4z-BA-S0OA4DIKHVE8No-GvB5s8vcBjv70dhRxMLgmKGkuvvXBA7DZFy-cWsc0PI37Qufx0DXWiI6piYGdznl-KppIhpHyoRe/s1600/img_0967.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjzfv8BxcdACDi7y2jV1Cvk1Zebx8RSYFLzkhyDsLo0vm4z-BA-S0OA4DIKHVE8No-GvB5s8vcBjv70dhRxMLgmKGkuvvXBA7DZFy-cWsc0PI37Qufx0DXWiI6piYGdznl-KppIhpHyoRe/s200/img_0967.jpg" width="200" /></a> Azrou is the kind of city a Minnesotan would dream of... at least in the summer. It's warm with cool breezes and very few insects. The only bugs I have seen in any number are flies that surround the inside of the dirtier cafe's that are open to the air but it is part of life here and no one complains so why should I?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIVzyiz_JKsR_qOhRFcylpTXjoh9KQ9cBYNuFa5wCPsfJ0TJ1IQJJ71bSciXgQv39gfmRI68CTMWHMWr30GQ0FUxX4HkZq6n-oEZER7v9u6x7F2lGHmcRrj5YK4H40_HCLNoVAttlDd7B/s1600/img_0958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrIVzyiz_JKsR_qOhRFcylpTXjoh9KQ9cBYNuFa5wCPsfJ0TJ1IQJJ71bSciXgQv39gfmRI68CTMWHMWr30GQ0FUxX4HkZq6n-oEZER7v9u6x7F2lGHmcRrj5YK4H40_HCLNoVAttlDd7B/s200/img_0958.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
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The landscape is beautiful. Surrounded by mountains and farm land and I have never seen more beautiful sunsets than in Azrou. In the center of town is the Mosque from which the calls to worship emmenate five times a day. The courtyard of the mosque is enourmous and along the walkway trees rise which are constantly filled with large white birds that screech at each other all day. But beware walking below them, the ground is littered with missed aerial attacks and I barely managed to dodge an aerial attack myself.<br />
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Azrou is definitely a walking city. Every block has its own pastry shop, its own snack shop, the man on the corner who sells cigarettes either by the pack or one at a time, and at least two cafes. Getting tea at a cafe in Morocco is enough to make any dentist in the states cry. They put at least three cubes of sugar in each eight ounce glass. At lease in some of the cafes I've visited thus far they are familiar enough with tourists to only offer the sugar cubes on the side. The same goes for any coffee drink you order. The orange juice is good as is their wide selection of coke products. There is also a really nice fresh mint tea that they make which I think is amazing. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI3jZ8uyaHLmXTAA15KbfK3Wk2dwczl4dObVf6yHqMoC4LOY3WYkEbF7m_dLU4SgbMvzUghKHGlsIensja-MaXkmW_qSNBtTEDb-kGZ3GCxOW4-XTENhgjqxii6mX2Pg3C1_JzQ0WFyjMX/s1600/img_0942.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI3jZ8uyaHLmXTAA15KbfK3Wk2dwczl4dObVf6yHqMoC4LOY3WYkEbF7m_dLU4SgbMvzUghKHGlsIensja-MaXkmW_qSNBtTEDb-kGZ3GCxOW4-XTENhgjqxii6mX2Pg3C1_JzQ0WFyjMX/s200/img_0942.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOM7zxeL5YupgoE_XDfuiUWK24Uy3ahm_SD-_K51j0FHgi5EQd7sPw50QSdDyIUQ_m6zNuvZ7zzyq4LrK8ISRJSOody-RbcNBNv8I3zmNNKX3_eIR6hOoUhsva9ueWBjcmny0lPGVA-kHJ/s1600/img_0943.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOM7zxeL5YupgoE_XDfuiUWK24Uy3ahm_SD-_K51j0FHgi5EQd7sPw50QSdDyIUQ_m6zNuvZ7zzyq4LrK8ISRJSOody-RbcNBNv8I3zmNNKX3_eIR6hOoUhsva9ueWBjcmny0lPGVA-kHJ/s200/img_0943.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPDktHn5yiTXjVipEQFNyon8aYcS_TbgoU00NL5ALKb5eYY1u4PqQbvURh-kmTvVtMLbfhaiX271D_rm8LS4hWTUmwz43eHJ31vh2WhJuisDBU-OZr37S5p1EImZ7L-dtym7xaOdzMQomz/s1600/img_0944.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPDktHn5yiTXjVipEQFNyon8aYcS_TbgoU00NL5ALKb5eYY1u4PqQbvURh-kmTvVtMLbfhaiX271D_rm8LS4hWTUmwz43eHJ31vh2WhJuisDBU-OZr37S5p1EImZ7L-dtym7xaOdzMQomz/s200/img_0944.jpg" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwsm80k4H0AtdsuT54FvTqarYvsmOIsiOliCt7OHAzgagDFNgiQIexZbyvnn1y2mjJkNN6K8BtLsY3rTX0XI8x5SmBF0Bvu0PGbeIJa2ywYnKjxL7YC_g5ku_tyFQWNDlISFPyIDyd7aMp/s1600/img_0956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwsm80k4H0AtdsuT54FvTqarYvsmOIsiOliCt7OHAzgagDFNgiQIexZbyvnn1y2mjJkNN6K8BtLsY3rTX0XI8x5SmBF0Bvu0PGbeIJa2ywYnKjxL7YC_g5ku_tyFQWNDlISFPyIDyd7aMp/s200/img_0956.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr1Ncg025Uc78SYGZr0u9w18rAjKWJC-CKbqH0N82KpU7ubiKO2Htd-PgFZwg1R0ZZoAd6DLcKhGMCYYvSk5PJntH2DNk1FrUAjMYRleFCCVD_OLeO6vOITVKZRzyjmPflPdYYzJNV0E8t/s1600/img_0962.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr1Ncg025Uc78SYGZr0u9w18rAjKWJC-CKbqH0N82KpU7ubiKO2Htd-PgFZwg1R0ZZoAd6DLcKhGMCYYvSk5PJntH2DNk1FrUAjMYRleFCCVD_OLeO6vOITVKZRzyjmPflPdYYzJNV0E8t/s200/img_0962.jpg" width="150" /></a> On one of the side streets, through a doorway you can find yourself suddenly in the middle of a market. There are people on all sides of you selling grain, meat, fruit, and vegetables. Everything here is fresh, seasonal, organic and you know its right off the farm down the road because to import something costs far more than most of the people here will ever make. Aydin and I picked up some fresh melon, nectarines, peaches, and cherries just reaching the perfect ripeness. We've been snacking on them for days to offset our daily outings to explore the cuisine of Azrou. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_zWM5ls79e2Ko2UmH0UXYPM_wgsH7Uw_pmHXl1BSx5Ou3BuhwuSH3u-KDr5sUluzuIofdeyZ10mxHvqBIIC2uWeqgHujxq8_rC0y_VrJu4it0ApI5yKHEiAFCndBQ0pY8YAQIoWi_rEaS/s1600/img_0968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_zWM5ls79e2Ko2UmH0UXYPM_wgsH7Uw_pmHXl1BSx5Ou3BuhwuSH3u-KDr5sUluzuIofdeyZ10mxHvqBIIC2uWeqgHujxq8_rC0y_VrJu4it0ApI5yKHEiAFCndBQ0pY8YAQIoWi_rEaS/s200/img_0968.jpg" width="200" /></a>Alihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11809904035266912283noreply@blogger.com2