Okay, I’m just going to kind of skip over last week. It was dull, I went to class, practiced a lot, and chilled in my house. We really do tend to have normal lifestyles during the week, and I was bit homesick, but then this weekend happened.
Friday I got up, showered, and packed my backpack full of clothes and my super awesome strap travel bag from Jenna full of things for my trip. I walked down the river to the a Torre Del Oro where the bus was to pick up our group, which consisted of 25 people from my school, a few Germans, older Spanish people from Malaga, young people from Ibiza, another smaller group of Americans from University of Massachusetts who are studying in Oviedo (Up North in Asturias), and were the most annoying thing in my life, and one adorable lone Japanese girl. Of course it was raining like crazy, and though we had all rushed to get there by 2:30, we stood in the rain and cold waiting for a solid hour.
We finally boarded and I sat with my friend Sam on the bus. The ride was about 3 hours long because we had to go the whole way out to Cadiz to pick up one woman. The whole ride, all we could hear was the dang UMass kids talking loudly and ignorantly about every annoying topic imaginable, from videogames to politics and arguing religion with little to no insight. It was all I could do to keep myself from making a scene, but I didn’t. Eventually Sam had had enough. She turned around and said, “Could you guys like, stop?” It was blissfully quiet for an entire 45 seconds before they were at it again, and they spent 10 minutes discussing what she had said. The nerve. She put in her headphones. I knew I had no music on my phone, but I put mine in anyway and listened to all of my old recordings I make when working on a cello or piano piece. They were repetitive and a bit lackluster, but anything was better than hearing those kids talk, and my Bach Suite wasn’t as bad as I remember. I really hope I haven’t lost my ears…
We finally got out at the port, but we weren’t there for more than 2 minutes before our one program director, Virginia (Veer-he-knee-uh), had realized we were at the wrong port and made a few calls. We all ran back onto the bus, which sped down the winding roads to the right port. Half hour later, we were out and running through the ferry complex with our bags. Luckily, the boat had waited for us. It was incredibly fancy, with a café bar, TVs, and a variety of seating styles. I ended up upstairs by the windows at a table with some of the other girls. Nobody really felt like talking, but we tried to entertain each other to take our minds off of the long ride and the rough ocean waves. I hadn’t thought to pack a bocadillo, but my friend Andie graciously gave me one of her sandwiches, and I had packed some granola bars, too.
Within an hour, we were back on land in Ceuta, which is technically part of Africa, but is still Spanish territory. It’s quite beautiful, but it was dark and rainy, so we didn’t get to see much as we ran through the rain to the bus with our soggy bags. Andie and I sat in front of Virginia, and I spent the majority of the 2 hours it took us to get from the ferry and through customs to our 1st hotel, talking with her. We talked about our dogs, families, and jobs. It was sometimes hard to understand because I couldn’t see her mouth, and girl talks super fast, but it was fun.
Por fin, we got to the hotel. The tour company had kind of screwed up everyone’s rooming assignments, and I ended up with Briann from my lit class, and her friend Sinead. We didn’t really have much to talk about, but they were nice enough. The hotel gave us soup and chicken, which was decent, and flan (YUCK), for dinner, and then everyone went to bed.
The 7am wakeup call was way too early, and we were all disoriented since Moroccan time is an hour ahead of us. I got dressed and repacked my things. We went downstairs to have our breakfast of breads, coffee, and fresh orange juice. It was pretty good, but the view was better. Nobody had realized in the darkness of the previous night, but we were literally right next to the ocean. We ate quickly so as to have time to go out and snap a few photos.
Virginia asked me to join her on the bus, which was the best thing that could have possibly happened. We road another 3 hours through the beautiful Moroccan mountains. We felt a bit bus sick, but luckily, we had infinite things to talk about. It was cold and a little drizzly when we got to the blue city of Chefchaouen. Our real tour guide, Achmen, (No idea how to actually spell that), handed the reigns over to this other Arab man who was old, tiny, and whose voice was the strangest thing I’ve ever heard. It almost sounds like he swallowed his own voice box. He was very kind and funny, but didn’t really give us any useful information as we walked through the hundreds of tiny streets. The walls are literally all painted blue, and it was great for taking pictures, but there is also clearly a lot of poverty here.
We passed by many street venders, people followed us around trying to sell us things, which was something that continued to happen all weekend. There weren’t many women out and about, because Morocco is an officially Muslim country, and the women you do see are mostly covered. I saw some little girls peering down at us through upper story windows, and some shouted hola. The little boys ran around all over the streets. How fair is this? We went into a workshop where they make blankets by hand. We got to see all of the different kinds, and a little of how they are made. We were told that if we wanted anything like that, to buy it here, since everything in the streets are cheap Chinese knockoffs.
We walked a while longer, the mountains looming overhead. We then had an hour of free time tin the big main plaza to do some shopping. There were so many little venders all selling the same things. You have to bargain with the venders, which is a terrifying process when you have no idea what anything is actually worth. A group of us walked into some and around. It was pouring down rain, though, and all of the people were just watching us, hoping that we would come buy something from them. Yet, their prices were ridiculous. They all have so much junk, and I just wonder how any of them can possibly make a living. It’s heartbreaking.
We went into the hotel for lunch where we had a random salad plate of different veggies like carrot, pepper, potato, half an egg, olives, etc. I ate all but the olives. Then the main dish came out. There were 2 big Arab ceramic serving dishes for our table of 10. In it were long pieces of carrot and maybe some kind of squash? There was also beef, warm, stringy, mouthwatering beef. It was kind of like a brisket, I think. I loved it, and the vegetables, too. Yeah… I’m turning into one of those losers who actually likes vegetables. And for desert… Flan. Ugh.
Back in the cold rain, we got on the bus to drive to the hotel in the next city. It was a long way, but to be honest, the bus rides with Virginia were my favorite parts of this trip. She’s 4 years older than me (Well, in a week or so it’ll be just 4), and she has to be one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. She’s actually best friends with Isa, which I didn’t realize! She didn’t think we’d have time to do our walking tour of Tanger, because the traffic was so slow, but we did!
They let us out near a big plaza that had the Mezquita, which was close to the Catholic cemetery, and next to the Arab markets. Hooray for coexisting! I love it. Most of Morocco is apparently pretty good about that, and with the new young Sultan, his majesty Muhammad V, who is improving life for women and workers, opening the doors to foreign projects, and allowing foreign African refugees with papers to live there legally, it is getting even better. WE saw some significant buildings, and then went into this huge, windy hallway where there were dozens of venders with meat stands, fruit stands, olives, nuts, cleaning supplies, etc. Had we come here when I first got to Spain, I’m sure I would have been entirely freaked out by all of the hanging meat. But now, it’s casual. We went back outside and through another similar place. We saw an American residential area from the outside, and continued through to a huge authentic store to buy handmade touristy gift things. I bargained with a guy and got him to go down from 15E to 10 on a particular item. Avoiding the people following us to sell their wares, we headed toward the harbor. We had to wait for the bus there instead of going directly to it, because apparently men like to hide under them to try to sneak on board or snatch things. That’s comforting, isn’t it?
We went to the hotel, deposited our things, and went to the hotel restaurant. Dinner was another random veggie plate, bread, fried fish, French fries, and gracia a Dios, fruit for dessert. That may have been the sweetest orange I’ve ever had. From where we sat, I could see at least 5 Moroccan flags outside. There are flags EVERYWHERE. I’ve never seen so many. I think they may have a bit of a nationalism problem. The flags are very pretty, a red background, representing the blood required to protect one’s country and family, and a green star in the middle, symbolic of hope and the 5 pillars of Islam. Pretty dang cool. Virginia was under the impression that we have flags everywhere like that in the US, since whenever you see a tv program or movie, there are always flags. It’s interesting the misconceptions that occur.
Once upstairs, I showered and got ready for bed, careful not to get any tap water in my mouth. It’s not that Morocco’s water is dirty, it’s just not mineralized and purified quite as vigorously as in Spain and the US, and our systems aren’t accustom to it. I got tired of brushing my teeth with a water bottle real fast. I didn’t sleep much that night. One girl had had the heat on before bed and I was sweating. The beds were hard as a rock, and the city was terribly noisy for someone with attentive ears.
I overslept by 15 minutes and hurried to pack. I had 2 coffees at breakfast to compensate, but it’s not nearly as strong as Spanish coffee. It also doesn’t help that we switched our clocks for daylight savings that night and lost an hour. Plus the difference between Spain and Morocco, which we then had to switch back coming back to Spain. Totally confusing. Boarding the bus, I saw that another girl had stolen my seat, and I reluctantly went to the very back row where I sleepily squeezed into the corner between reclining seats, the wall, and a snoring Spanish man.
I tried to stay away for the panoramic bus tour, but I could hardly see out the window, anyway. I remember the “American Forest,” and the palace where Saudi Arabian officials stay when they visit, but that’s about it. As wonderful as our guide was, he talked a ton, and always spoke in Spanish first, then English. Sometimes it served as a nice comprehension check, but I got frustrated hearing everything twice. On the bright side, I’ll probably never forget anything he said when I was paying attention.
We got down to take pictures along the coast, but we didn’t stay out for long in the rain. Luckily, it had stopped by the time we got to the camels! There were 4 of them to be ridden at a time, 2 just chilling there, one very sick one, and 2 little babies. I got a big angry when people kept trying to take selfies with the camels and freaking out when the camels weren’t happy about it. Come on, people. You can’t expect to just casually approach a creature without acknowledging it, stick something in front of its face, talking loudly, and making skittish movements. They were so amazed how much the camels ‘liked me.’ I didn’t do anything super special, just let it know I was there and check me out, and scratch its ears and neck, because I’m not a total moron. I guess I can’t blame people too much if they’ve never been around them, but it’s kind of common sense. And camel selfies? Vaya por dios.
Some people were quite upset with the prod that the owner was using. But honestly, he wasn’t hurting them. He only used it hard enough that they could feel it, and this work isn’t much for an animal designed for carrying weight in the dessert. They were fine. The sick one did freak me out a little, but hopefully my 2 euros will go toward caring for that man’s animals. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. I rode on the 2nd to last round. I had been patient, but when the guide started rounding us up, I was there and ready. I didn’t want to miss out. It was fun, and similar to a horse. When I got down, the one baby camel ran over to be with mom, and I about died. So much cute!
One more hour next to sleepy, and we were in Tetoan. Some people went to buy pastries in a big famous pastellería. I looked, but wanted to save my money. Plus, they’re known for their almond pastries, and I’m not really into almonds. I was standing with 2 girls from my program and a guy from UMass. Virginia came to stand with me, and the idiot from UMass asked who she was. We said our professor, (Ha, she technically isn’t, but it’s easier than explaining, and she got quite a kick out of being “La Profesora” all weekend), he greeted her and then asked if she was “Español.” She said, “Si, Española.” And he says, “Oh yeah, I’ve been trying to figure out all weekend if you’re American or Spanish. I mean, I heard you talking, but I didn’t really know.” Okay, granted that she does have lighter hair and blue eyes, you cannot hear her talk for more than 10 seconds and not KNOW that she is a Sevillana. I mean, come on. I told her she doesn’t speak English. And he kept trying to speak to her in English. Moron.
We walked through the Jewish and Arab quarters, stopping for explanations of what we were seeing. It was pretty cool. There was a lot of poverty here, too, though. It is hard to see. We then went to this legitimate pharmacy where they use herbal medicines and make completely natural products. The guy who did the presentation was super funny and nice, speaks like 7 languages (as did many of our guides/presenters), and he showed us and let us sample a bunch of different things like creams for different purposes, natural perfume, an herb that clears up your breathing issues, and their specialty, Argon oil products. It was really neat, but everything was pretty expensive. After some more walking and a final shopping opportunity, it was time for lunch in a pretty fancy restaurant, which made me feel even worse about the economic chasm between us and the people here.
We had bread with olive oil, which I will forever call ali-oli, even once I return home, more of that salad stuff, and chicken cuscus! It was delicious and reminded me a little bit of quinoa. There was also traditional music being performed by a drummer and a man with what looked like a guitar/sitar/pipa hybrid, if that makes any sense. Everyone was getting henna tattoos done by one of the only women in the city with the natural paint that won’t irritate your skin. I’ve never gotten a henna, and I wasn’t going to until Virginia and some other girls peer pressured me into it. I got it on the bottom side of my forearm so that it’s less obnoxious. It’s a floral design and my name written in Arabic. Okay, so pretty fool for only 3 Euros. I did manage to smear it a little in the first few minutes, but it’s fine.
After a lovely dessert of a sugary date cookie and minty Arab tea, we hurried back to the bus. Virginia told me to come back up with her. I didn’t want to make the other girl upset, but she was pretty persistent, and I was happy to oblige. We were pretty sleepy, but it didn’t take too long to get back through customs.
We sat in the ferry building waiting for a little while, being harassed by natives to buy their same tourist products. We got our passes, and boarded. This ship wasn’t quite as fancy as the last, but it was nice. Virginia, Ashley (A lovely girl who was here fall semester, too), and I sat at a table near the café. Virginia wanted me to get café with her, but I was out of Euros. She bought one for me and said I can pay her back by buying hers when we go to a café some afternoon soon. I love her. I may have loved the café con leche more, though… it’s kind of a toss-up.
The boat ride was quicker, and soon we were through security, though it is much harder getting to Spain from Africa than vice versa. Virginia spent the ride back to Sevilla teaching me all of the colloquial Sevillan/Andalusian words and phrases that she could think of. My mind was on the verge of exploding, but man do I have some good new vocab! I think I smiled and laughed more than I have in a while. That was probably my favorite part of the trip.
We arrived back at the Torre Del Oro around 10:30pm, and ginger Kaitlin and I walked speedily to Triana before the storm that was brewing hit. When I got home, Carmen was here and Brittany was eating with the kids. I had my soup and croquetas, impressed Carmen with my new phrases, and went to bed around 2.
I woke up at noon today and showered. I was working on this entry when Carmen’s daughter called me out for lunch. Antonio was at the table!!! I was so glad to see him, but Brittany told me last night that the neighbor said he has Alzheimer’s, and that it progressed really rapidly in the hospital. I’m not sure if he knows who we are, but I welcomed him home. He isn’t eating or saying much, and he’s lost a lot of weight. It took him a minute to remember his grandson’s name when he came in. To be honest, I’m quite worried. I don’t want anything to happen to Antonio. I like him so, so much, and his family just adores him. But if things keep getting worse, I am afraid of what will happen to us. I guess we’ll wait and see.
Now I need to finish reading my novel for class tomorrow before choir. Happy Monday!
Friday I got up, showered, and packed my backpack full of clothes and my super awesome strap travel bag from Jenna full of things for my trip. I walked down the river to the a Torre Del Oro where the bus was to pick up our group, which consisted of 25 people from my school, a few Germans, older Spanish people from Malaga, young people from Ibiza, another smaller group of Americans from University of Massachusetts who are studying in Oviedo (Up North in Asturias), and were the most annoying thing in my life, and one adorable lone Japanese girl. Of course it was raining like crazy, and though we had all rushed to get there by 2:30, we stood in the rain and cold waiting for a solid hour.
We finally boarded and I sat with my friend Sam on the bus. The ride was about 3 hours long because we had to go the whole way out to Cadiz to pick up one woman. The whole ride, all we could hear was the dang UMass kids talking loudly and ignorantly about every annoying topic imaginable, from videogames to politics and arguing religion with little to no insight. It was all I could do to keep myself from making a scene, but I didn’t. Eventually Sam had had enough. She turned around and said, “Could you guys like, stop?” It was blissfully quiet for an entire 45 seconds before they were at it again, and they spent 10 minutes discussing what she had said. The nerve. She put in her headphones. I knew I had no music on my phone, but I put mine in anyway and listened to all of my old recordings I make when working on a cello or piano piece. They were repetitive and a bit lackluster, but anything was better than hearing those kids talk, and my Bach Suite wasn’t as bad as I remember. I really hope I haven’t lost my ears…
We finally got out at the port, but we weren’t there for more than 2 minutes before our one program director, Virginia (Veer-he-knee-uh), had realized we were at the wrong port and made a few calls. We all ran back onto the bus, which sped down the winding roads to the right port. Half hour later, we were out and running through the ferry complex with our bags. Luckily, the boat had waited for us. It was incredibly fancy, with a café bar, TVs, and a variety of seating styles. I ended up upstairs by the windows at a table with some of the other girls. Nobody really felt like talking, but we tried to entertain each other to take our minds off of the long ride and the rough ocean waves. I hadn’t thought to pack a bocadillo, but my friend Andie graciously gave me one of her sandwiches, and I had packed some granola bars, too.
Within an hour, we were back on land in Ceuta, which is technically part of Africa, but is still Spanish territory. It’s quite beautiful, but it was dark and rainy, so we didn’t get to see much as we ran through the rain to the bus with our soggy bags. Andie and I sat in front of Virginia, and I spent the majority of the 2 hours it took us to get from the ferry and through customs to our 1st hotel, talking with her. We talked about our dogs, families, and jobs. It was sometimes hard to understand because I couldn’t see her mouth, and girl talks super fast, but it was fun.
Por fin, we got to the hotel. The tour company had kind of screwed up everyone’s rooming assignments, and I ended up with Briann from my lit class, and her friend Sinead. We didn’t really have much to talk about, but they were nice enough. The hotel gave us soup and chicken, which was decent, and flan (YUCK), for dinner, and then everyone went to bed.
The 7am wakeup call was way too early, and we were all disoriented since Moroccan time is an hour ahead of us. I got dressed and repacked my things. We went downstairs to have our breakfast of breads, coffee, and fresh orange juice. It was pretty good, but the view was better. Nobody had realized in the darkness of the previous night, but we were literally right next to the ocean. We ate quickly so as to have time to go out and snap a few photos.
Virginia asked me to join her on the bus, which was the best thing that could have possibly happened. We road another 3 hours through the beautiful Moroccan mountains. We felt a bit bus sick, but luckily, we had infinite things to talk about. It was cold and a little drizzly when we got to the blue city of Chefchaouen. Our real tour guide, Achmen, (No idea how to actually spell that), handed the reigns over to this other Arab man who was old, tiny, and whose voice was the strangest thing I’ve ever heard. It almost sounds like he swallowed his own voice box. He was very kind and funny, but didn’t really give us any useful information as we walked through the hundreds of tiny streets. The walls are literally all painted blue, and it was great for taking pictures, but there is also clearly a lot of poverty here.
We passed by many street venders, people followed us around trying to sell us things, which was something that continued to happen all weekend. There weren’t many women out and about, because Morocco is an officially Muslim country, and the women you do see are mostly covered. I saw some little girls peering down at us through upper story windows, and some shouted hola. The little boys ran around all over the streets. How fair is this? We went into a workshop where they make blankets by hand. We got to see all of the different kinds, and a little of how they are made. We were told that if we wanted anything like that, to buy it here, since everything in the streets are cheap Chinese knockoffs.
We walked a while longer, the mountains looming overhead. We then had an hour of free time tin the big main plaza to do some shopping. There were so many little venders all selling the same things. You have to bargain with the venders, which is a terrifying process when you have no idea what anything is actually worth. A group of us walked into some and around. It was pouring down rain, though, and all of the people were just watching us, hoping that we would come buy something from them. Yet, their prices were ridiculous. They all have so much junk, and I just wonder how any of them can possibly make a living. It’s heartbreaking.
We went into the hotel for lunch where we had a random salad plate of different veggies like carrot, pepper, potato, half an egg, olives, etc. I ate all but the olives. Then the main dish came out. There were 2 big Arab ceramic serving dishes for our table of 10. In it were long pieces of carrot and maybe some kind of squash? There was also beef, warm, stringy, mouthwatering beef. It was kind of like a brisket, I think. I loved it, and the vegetables, too. Yeah… I’m turning into one of those losers who actually likes vegetables. And for desert… Flan. Ugh.
Back in the cold rain, we got on the bus to drive to the hotel in the next city. It was a long way, but to be honest, the bus rides with Virginia were my favorite parts of this trip. She’s 4 years older than me (Well, in a week or so it’ll be just 4), and she has to be one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. She’s actually best friends with Isa, which I didn’t realize! She didn’t think we’d have time to do our walking tour of Tanger, because the traffic was so slow, but we did!
They let us out near a big plaza that had the Mezquita, which was close to the Catholic cemetery, and next to the Arab markets. Hooray for coexisting! I love it. Most of Morocco is apparently pretty good about that, and with the new young Sultan, his majesty Muhammad V, who is improving life for women and workers, opening the doors to foreign projects, and allowing foreign African refugees with papers to live there legally, it is getting even better. WE saw some significant buildings, and then went into this huge, windy hallway where there were dozens of venders with meat stands, fruit stands, olives, nuts, cleaning supplies, etc. Had we come here when I first got to Spain, I’m sure I would have been entirely freaked out by all of the hanging meat. But now, it’s casual. We went back outside and through another similar place. We saw an American residential area from the outside, and continued through to a huge authentic store to buy handmade touristy gift things. I bargained with a guy and got him to go down from 15E to 10 on a particular item. Avoiding the people following us to sell their wares, we headed toward the harbor. We had to wait for the bus there instead of going directly to it, because apparently men like to hide under them to try to sneak on board or snatch things. That’s comforting, isn’t it?
We went to the hotel, deposited our things, and went to the hotel restaurant. Dinner was another random veggie plate, bread, fried fish, French fries, and gracia a Dios, fruit for dessert. That may have been the sweetest orange I’ve ever had. From where we sat, I could see at least 5 Moroccan flags outside. There are flags EVERYWHERE. I’ve never seen so many. I think they may have a bit of a nationalism problem. The flags are very pretty, a red background, representing the blood required to protect one’s country and family, and a green star in the middle, symbolic of hope and the 5 pillars of Islam. Pretty dang cool. Virginia was under the impression that we have flags everywhere like that in the US, since whenever you see a tv program or movie, there are always flags. It’s interesting the misconceptions that occur.
Once upstairs, I showered and got ready for bed, careful not to get any tap water in my mouth. It’s not that Morocco’s water is dirty, it’s just not mineralized and purified quite as vigorously as in Spain and the US, and our systems aren’t accustom to it. I got tired of brushing my teeth with a water bottle real fast. I didn’t sleep much that night. One girl had had the heat on before bed and I was sweating. The beds were hard as a rock, and the city was terribly noisy for someone with attentive ears.
I overslept by 15 minutes and hurried to pack. I had 2 coffees at breakfast to compensate, but it’s not nearly as strong as Spanish coffee. It also doesn’t help that we switched our clocks for daylight savings that night and lost an hour. Plus the difference between Spain and Morocco, which we then had to switch back coming back to Spain. Totally confusing. Boarding the bus, I saw that another girl had stolen my seat, and I reluctantly went to the very back row where I sleepily squeezed into the corner between reclining seats, the wall, and a snoring Spanish man.
I tried to stay away for the panoramic bus tour, but I could hardly see out the window, anyway. I remember the “American Forest,” and the palace where Saudi Arabian officials stay when they visit, but that’s about it. As wonderful as our guide was, he talked a ton, and always spoke in Spanish first, then English. Sometimes it served as a nice comprehension check, but I got frustrated hearing everything twice. On the bright side, I’ll probably never forget anything he said when I was paying attention.
We got down to take pictures along the coast, but we didn’t stay out for long in the rain. Luckily, it had stopped by the time we got to the camels! There were 4 of them to be ridden at a time, 2 just chilling there, one very sick one, and 2 little babies. I got a big angry when people kept trying to take selfies with the camels and freaking out when the camels weren’t happy about it. Come on, people. You can’t expect to just casually approach a creature without acknowledging it, stick something in front of its face, talking loudly, and making skittish movements. They were so amazed how much the camels ‘liked me.’ I didn’t do anything super special, just let it know I was there and check me out, and scratch its ears and neck, because I’m not a total moron. I guess I can’t blame people too much if they’ve never been around them, but it’s kind of common sense. And camel selfies? Vaya por dios.
Some people were quite upset with the prod that the owner was using. But honestly, he wasn’t hurting them. He only used it hard enough that they could feel it, and this work isn’t much for an animal designed for carrying weight in the dessert. They were fine. The sick one did freak me out a little, but hopefully my 2 euros will go toward caring for that man’s animals. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. I rode on the 2nd to last round. I had been patient, but when the guide started rounding us up, I was there and ready. I didn’t want to miss out. It was fun, and similar to a horse. When I got down, the one baby camel ran over to be with mom, and I about died. So much cute!
One more hour next to sleepy, and we were in Tetoan. Some people went to buy pastries in a big famous pastellería. I looked, but wanted to save my money. Plus, they’re known for their almond pastries, and I’m not really into almonds. I was standing with 2 girls from my program and a guy from UMass. Virginia came to stand with me, and the idiot from UMass asked who she was. We said our professor, (Ha, she technically isn’t, but it’s easier than explaining, and she got quite a kick out of being “La Profesora” all weekend), he greeted her and then asked if she was “Español.” She said, “Si, Española.” And he says, “Oh yeah, I’ve been trying to figure out all weekend if you’re American or Spanish. I mean, I heard you talking, but I didn’t really know.” Okay, granted that she does have lighter hair and blue eyes, you cannot hear her talk for more than 10 seconds and not KNOW that she is a Sevillana. I mean, come on. I told her she doesn’t speak English. And he kept trying to speak to her in English. Moron.
We walked through the Jewish and Arab quarters, stopping for explanations of what we were seeing. It was pretty cool. There was a lot of poverty here, too, though. It is hard to see. We then went to this legitimate pharmacy where they use herbal medicines and make completely natural products. The guy who did the presentation was super funny and nice, speaks like 7 languages (as did many of our guides/presenters), and he showed us and let us sample a bunch of different things like creams for different purposes, natural perfume, an herb that clears up your breathing issues, and their specialty, Argon oil products. It was really neat, but everything was pretty expensive. After some more walking and a final shopping opportunity, it was time for lunch in a pretty fancy restaurant, which made me feel even worse about the economic chasm between us and the people here.
We had bread with olive oil, which I will forever call ali-oli, even once I return home, more of that salad stuff, and chicken cuscus! It was delicious and reminded me a little bit of quinoa. There was also traditional music being performed by a drummer and a man with what looked like a guitar/sitar/pipa hybrid, if that makes any sense. Everyone was getting henna tattoos done by one of the only women in the city with the natural paint that won’t irritate your skin. I’ve never gotten a henna, and I wasn’t going to until Virginia and some other girls peer pressured me into it. I got it on the bottom side of my forearm so that it’s less obnoxious. It’s a floral design and my name written in Arabic. Okay, so pretty fool for only 3 Euros. I did manage to smear it a little in the first few minutes, but it’s fine.
After a lovely dessert of a sugary date cookie and minty Arab tea, we hurried back to the bus. Virginia told me to come back up with her. I didn’t want to make the other girl upset, but she was pretty persistent, and I was happy to oblige. We were pretty sleepy, but it didn’t take too long to get back through customs.
We sat in the ferry building waiting for a little while, being harassed by natives to buy their same tourist products. We got our passes, and boarded. This ship wasn’t quite as fancy as the last, but it was nice. Virginia, Ashley (A lovely girl who was here fall semester, too), and I sat at a table near the café. Virginia wanted me to get café with her, but I was out of Euros. She bought one for me and said I can pay her back by buying hers when we go to a café some afternoon soon. I love her. I may have loved the café con leche more, though… it’s kind of a toss-up.
The boat ride was quicker, and soon we were through security, though it is much harder getting to Spain from Africa than vice versa. Virginia spent the ride back to Sevilla teaching me all of the colloquial Sevillan/Andalusian words and phrases that she could think of. My mind was on the verge of exploding, but man do I have some good new vocab! I think I smiled and laughed more than I have in a while. That was probably my favorite part of the trip.
We arrived back at the Torre Del Oro around 10:30pm, and ginger Kaitlin and I walked speedily to Triana before the storm that was brewing hit. When I got home, Carmen was here and Brittany was eating with the kids. I had my soup and croquetas, impressed Carmen with my new phrases, and went to bed around 2.
I woke up at noon today and showered. I was working on this entry when Carmen’s daughter called me out for lunch. Antonio was at the table!!! I was so glad to see him, but Brittany told me last night that the neighbor said he has Alzheimer’s, and that it progressed really rapidly in the hospital. I’m not sure if he knows who we are, but I welcomed him home. He isn’t eating or saying much, and he’s lost a lot of weight. It took him a minute to remember his grandson’s name when he came in. To be honest, I’m quite worried. I don’t want anything to happen to Antonio. I like him so, so much, and his family just adores him. But if things keep getting worse, I am afraid of what will happen to us. I guess we’ll wait and see.
Now I need to finish reading my novel for class tomorrow before choir. Happy Monday!