Ding ding ding went the bell

While on holiday in Marrakech and Casablanca, Shannon and I discovered that the beautiful-ness of Moroccan men is not limited to those in Agadir. If anything, that beautiful-ness is increased the further north you go in Morocco. (I can't f-ing WAIT to go to Tangiers!)

We needed to communicate to each other the various sightings of said beautiful-ness, but we decided it would be indiscreet of us to walk around panting and groaning all the time. And believe me, at times, that beautiful-ness invoked a physical ache. Anyway, we developed the Beauty Bell System. One ding for a hot man, two dings for a super-hot man, and so forth.

After the first hour in Casablanca, I couldn't hear the voices inside my head because the Beauty Bell was ringing so loudly and so frequently. Not too long after that, the Bell completely broke for the continual ringing and dinging.

By the end of the week, Shan and I were spontaneously combusted piles of ash on the ground. Too much visual stimulation and our poor brains just couldn't take it any more.

All my single girlfriends, get your asses to Morocco.

The difference between taxi drivers...

...in Agadir vs. taxi drivers in Marrakech:

In Agadir, taxi drivers want to take as much of your money as possible. In Marrakech, taxi drivers want to rape and pillage your pocketbook, and they haven't the least bit of a guilty conscience about it.

Know when to admit defeat

Okay, so I haven't had much time for the sitting down and blogging about the rest of the trip. Have been working fairly steadily since we got back because we're having an "Open House" on 6th May at school. A LOT of work to get done before then. Publicity, fixing up the classroom, setting up the other classrooms a little bit... tired.

Am determined to get sat down at some stage this week and get all the photos from Marrakech and Casablanca online. At least then you can see what I did, even if you don't get to read about it. Gosh, I'm so organized and efficient. Doesn't it just make you sick sometimes?

In other news, another Christian holiday has passed here without incident. I said Happy Easter to Shan, and mad props to Jesus. Mom emailed me Happy Easter. That was pretty much it. I was working against a deadline to finish a brochure for the school. Exciting.

We had a surprise birthday party for Shan on Saturday. She was surprised. We had cake and Tajine Chicken Tikka Masala (a Denise creation). Here are a couple of photos from the night. We love the phonetic misspelling of Shan's name.

Marrakech -- Day Two

After our late night the night before, day two of Marrakech got off to a late beginning. Like I said, we would happily have stayed holed up in that beautiful apartment watching TV for three days solid were it not for the fact we were in Marrakech and couldn't in good conscience do that.

So.... after a lie in and some breakfast we headed to the Acima supermarket to pick up rations for the next couple of days. Didn't want to break the bank before even getting to Casa. More taxi man problems, and ended up back in the apartment watching movies 'til about 6, when we decided to venture out for some sunset photos.

We had examined the map pretty closely and figured it would take us about 20 minutes to walk to the nearest bit of the ramparts, for which Marrakech is famous. It has the best preserved ramparts in Morocco. Inside these ramparts lies the medina, or the really old part of the city. Crossing through the ramparts, the day-and-night differences of Ville Nouvelle and the old medina are immediately apparent.

The new part of the city is like a ghost town in comparison to all the hustle and bustle in the medina. People in cars and on motorbikes blare their horns through the busy, narrow pedestrianised alleys, which are lined on either side by all manner of shops and cafes. Butchers, fish mongers, clothing stores, jewelers, and so on and so forth, all clamoring for your attention, each shop owner trying to entice you inside as you walk past. Men sit outside in closely clustered groups, leisurely drinking mint tea and discussing the latest gossip. Women try on djellebas and jewelry or quickly usher their children home for supper.

We met a young man calledYoussef who wanted to practice his English and helped us practice our Tashelhit. He's young, perhaps 19 or 20. He gets up early each morning to travel to his job working in a garden 20 km outside of the city. At night he entertains in a posh touristy restaurant. He's a fire eater, the first I've ever met. He directed us through the maze of alleyways and showed us how to get to the "Big Square," as it's called -- Place Jemaa El Fna. We hadn't imagined that we could walk there from our hotel, but all told it only took us about an hour to get there, and that was at a slow meander.

Once we got back into the square, we had a look at a few of the musicians and other entertainers before catching a taxi back to the hotel. It was only about 8 when we got back, and I can't remember exactly, but I think I went to bed fairly early that night. We had decided we would have an early morning the next day, in hopes of seeing the Jardin Majorelle, the souk, and the tombs, all before having to meet our boss at 3:00 in the afternoon.

Marrakech -- Day One

Last Saturday morning (the 25th) we headed out on a bus to Marrakech. It's 4 hours through the Anti-Atlas mountains, so I was dreadin' car sickness. But it turned out to be okay. We didn't get any photos of the mountains this time, which is a shame because as you get closer to Marrakech the mountains are higher and snow-capped, reminding me of the Rockies. It's pretty beautiful.

We arrived in at around 5:30 and got a cab to the hotel, which was a four-star aparthotel dealie. Our boss has a timeshare on the apartment and let us have two of his nights free. The place was awesome -- upstairs and down, a private veranda, tile floors, two bathrooms, kitchen, sitting room. Just generally HUGE and ALL FOR US. Shan went around taking photos immediately upon our arrival before we had a chance to screw up the beautiful thing that was this apartment. We were really really tired and decided we could happily die here. Or, at the very least, happily stay here watching TV for the entirety of our three days in Marrakech. Which was very nearly what we did.

We took a much needed nap before forcing ourselves into much needed showers and then heading off to Place Jemaa El Fna, the famous square where all the fortune tellers, musicians, monkeys and snake charmers lure the tourists into paying two euro for the privilege of taking a photo. At night the square is packed from top to bottom with throngs of sweaty people. The local boys take sport in brushing against the milky white tourist women in the crowd. One doesn't often hear Shan raise her voice, but on this night she bellowed at one particular fellow, "BACK OFF!!!", as he had circled back through the crowd for his third chance to press against us. Pervert.

But still we had a good night. We sat at one of the dozens of barbeque stands to eat our dinner of meat kebabs, and for some reason didn't argue when they charged us for everything ala carte -- bread, sauce, fries, kebab, salad, drink. Outrageous! Only because I know they wouldn't DARE do that shit to Moroccan customers. Still, we were the saps who paid the bill. If we had argued we could easily have gotten it for half the price. But I was too distracted by all the lights and sounds and people to notice much. And, the fine men. Did I mention the fine men??

This must come in another post, but Morocco has got some FINE men. Like, seriously. Morocco has got the market cornered on fine men. Big time. Nearing monopoly proportions. But I digress.

So that was our first night in Marrakech. Pretty cool. And more later. Blogging time for today now over, unfortunately.

So much blogging to do, so little time...

I'm baa-aaack. I have put myself on a strict(er) timetable since we arrived back from Casablanca last Saturday. Too much shit needs to get done and too much I want to do between now and the end of the school year, and I ain't the best at self-motivatin'. So I have purchased a diary/calendar thingie, in which I've scheduled in times for school planning, exercise, language study, music, creativity, etc. And blogging. Allowing myself four hours a week, so hopefully will get quicker and more efficient at the writing. Ha!

This afternoon Shan and I have a meeting with our boss regarding promotion for the next school year. We're planning a mass mailing to all the rich people in town, and we have to convince them they want their kids to learn English instead of French. No contest, right? Except that French is the language of business in Morocco. Our goal is to get at least 30-40 students enrolled for next year, and three classes.

But that's all boring stuff. Our holiday in Marrakech and Casablanca was fantastic, and I have too many stories and ideas whirling around in my head right now. Need to organise my thoughts so I can get stuff posted up here. And it will take a few days to get the photos all up on PhotoBucket. Will do my best, within the constraints of my four-hour blogging limitations.

Casablanca sunburn