Ok time for a sweet story about our day trip to Essaouira. From our first taxi driver to multiple storekeepers to Kyle's friends to Becky's book, everyone said we should take a day trip to Essaouira, a small coastal city that is increasing becoming a resort destination for western travelers. It's located about 2 hours from Marrakech, and we took a taxi there (we got ripped off obviously, but it cost 90 euros there and back and the driver waited there for us). As soon as we got in the taxi, the driver started trying to convince us to go to the mountains instead. He claimed the king was coming through that day, and we would be stopped in the road for hours. We assumed that he was just trying to scam us somehow, trying to make more money by driving us elsewhere or by getting our business for two days. We insisted on going to Essaouira.
As we drove along we realized the driver may have been right about the king driving by. All along the road and on every building there were Moroccan flags. Everywhere you imagine a flag hanging we saw one. There was also a soldier approximately every twenty meters on either side of the road. As we approached the first town outside of Marrakech, we could hear the commotion on an otherwise quiet road before we could see the town. Both sides of the town center (along the main road) were packed with people lined up to see the king. Policemen and soldiers were blowing whistles and setting up gates to keep the people off the road. Bands were playing with band members dressed to impress. We watched in awe as we drove through the first town, and continued to be impressed with each upcoming town. However, our ride was smooth sailing without stops until about 45 minutes from Essaouira. In a tiny little town consisting of about ten small family shops on either side of the road, a mosque, a school, and more animals than people, our taxi was pulled over to the side of the road and parked in a field. Realizing we had no other option that to wait, we joined the crowd on the side of the road. As soon as we reached the crowd, everyone turned to stare at us. This small town must not see foreigners very often, b/c we were stared at the entire time we were there.
A few minutes after our arrival, Dan Liza and I decided to seek out a bathroom. Unfortunately every shop in town was closed for the king's arrival. We finally found a nice local man who took us way back off the road to a local school where he let us use the squatty potties. Apparently students who have to travel from far away stay at the school during the week so they don't have to commute every day. We asked the man what time he anticipated the king's arrival, imagining that it would be less than 1/2 hour. He replied 3 pm. It was 1:15. And so we waited. We tried talking to some of the locals, but our attempts were pretty unsuccessful. Finally just before 3 o’clock, after several helicopters flew over and lots of whistles were blown, Mohammed 6 arrived. His car barely slowed down as he drove through, despite the crowd. He cruised through at about 30-40 mph, but he did appear out of the sunroof to wave to his people. And although we missed most of our day in Essaouira, it was totally worth it, b/c we saw the king.
Finally, around 4 p.m. we arrived in Essaouira and agreed to meet our taxi driver at seven. We headed first to find something to eat, as we were on the water, we chose seafood. Very fresh seafood. The restaurant was a little outside stand with a display of fresh, whole fish. There was no menu…we simply went up to the display and picked the fish we wanted. We asked the man what Liza could eat, since she’s a vegetarian. He thought for a second, and then pulled out a fish, and said “She can it this one. It’s a vegetarian fish, it only eats plants not animals.” We laughed and thanked him for his suggestion. Ten minutes later our fish arrived, skin, heads, tails, and all. Even though Kyle and I weren’t looking forward to eating the creature on our plates, we sacrificed the gross factor for the sake of experience and dug into the fish. It was decent tasting, but definitely worth it for the experience.
After eating we tried to profit from the rest of the sun on the beach. We played in the sand for a while, and even dipped our feet in the freezing cold Atlantic. We also wrote “I love you” in every language we knew in the sand (we had over ten languages!). After beach time we headed into the city and explored the market there. It was pretty similar to the Marrakech market, though much smaller. However it did have some interesting different products, including some cool shirts which Becky bought. Dan also managed to find the hookah he’d been seeking there.
At seven we piled back into the taxi and headed back to Marrakech, listening to another chorus of “I told you so” from the taxi driver.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Marrakech, the first few days
We arrived in Marrakech Thursday night around 7, after a 7 hour train ride and 2 hour flight, and promptly got ripped off by a taxi driver (we paid 200 dirham, when standard daytime fare to the airport is 50-60). It wouldn't have been so bad, had we arrived at our hotel. However, he dropped us off at the edge of the medina, claiming that taxis couldn't drive through the square and the market. He insisted we would find it easily, if we just headed straight straight straight until Cafe France and then took a left. My words and my photos cannot possibly suffice to describe the chaos that is Jemma el fna. It's lively and colorful and crowded with tourists, Moroccans, vendors, restaurants, rentboys, etc. Luckily for Liza and I, the Moroccans were incredibly nice to us, and after asking four men for directions, a shopkeeper enlisted his younger brother to take us to the hostel.
Liza and I were ecstatic to finally find the hostel, and although we were starving when we arrived, we were too overwhelmed to leave the room for an hour and we sat on the bed and took pictures and make video documentaries and ate Nutella and thought about how this vacation was shaping up to be Puerto Viejo Part II (city in Costa Rica where we got all our stuff stolen). Finally we got up the courage to leave the room, and headed out to the main square, noting a million landmarks along the way so we could find our way back. On the main square there is a huge area that fills with food vendors at night, and after observing a bunch of displays of the same food, we let one boy sell us on his cuisine. Every vendor has a large team working there: cooks, waiters, men who assemble the food, and boys who try to attract people to eat there. We saw some great acts by the Moroccan boys, including one who talked about Grey's Anatomy (he won us over) and another who sang "I scream you scream we all scream for ice cream" once he discovered we were American (his vendor did not sell ice cream, for the record).
Back to that first night. Liza and I were sitting alone in awe of everything around us. Liza was wearing her hijab to prevent her red hair from drawing too much attention. There were two Moroccan boys seated next to us, and they were clearly talking about us for several minutes before they started talking to us. They only spoke French and Arabic, and the tiniest bit of English and Spanish, so poor Liza was pretty left out of the conversation. My buddy told me all about Morocco and his travels and his home in Casablanca and how he'd like to be a film-maker some day. He showed me pictures of film sets he'd visited (too bad I hadn't seen, and often never heard of the movies). We did manage to relate a bit about Brad Peet. Finally he told me his mother made the world's best couscous, and invited us to his house in Casablanca to try it anytime. Apparently his house is our house and we are always welcome. Then he asked to take us on a walk around the square. We begged off, insisting that our male friends were arriving soon at the hostel, and we had to get back. Sketchy encounter number one with overzealous Moroccan men completed.
We returned to the hostel to await Dan and Kyle and by 2 a.m. when neither had arrived we went to sleep. Dan was excepted aroudn 11 or 12, and Kyle around 3. With no cell phones or ways to contact each other, we were pretty nervous about their arrival. That night one of us woke up every half-hour, only to keep discovering that the boys weren’t there. When we woke up at 9:30 the next morning, there was still no sign of the boys. We headed to an internet café, where I had an email from Kyle saying he arrived at 5 and the hostel owners wouldn’t let him in the room and he wandered around all night but he’d come back to the hostel later, and if nothing else, he’d meet Becky at the airport and find us with her at the second hostel. We replied and headed immediately back to the hostel, hoping to find him there. To our surprise and relief, we returned to find Dan sitting on the bed, and Kyle walked in 5 minutes later. Yay for Middkids finding each other in Morocco. We spent the rest of Friday wandering around the Medina (old section) getting our bearings until we met up with Becky at the second hostel.
Liza and I were ecstatic to finally find the hostel, and although we were starving when we arrived, we were too overwhelmed to leave the room for an hour and we sat on the bed and took pictures and make video documentaries and ate Nutella and thought about how this vacation was shaping up to be Puerto Viejo Part II (city in Costa Rica where we got all our stuff stolen). Finally we got up the courage to leave the room, and headed out to the main square, noting a million landmarks along the way so we could find our way back. On the main square there is a huge area that fills with food vendors at night, and after observing a bunch of displays of the same food, we let one boy sell us on his cuisine. Every vendor has a large team working there: cooks, waiters, men who assemble the food, and boys who try to attract people to eat there. We saw some great acts by the Moroccan boys, including one who talked about Grey's Anatomy (he won us over) and another who sang "I scream you scream we all scream for ice cream" once he discovered we were American (his vendor did not sell ice cream, for the record).
Back to that first night. Liza and I were sitting alone in awe of everything around us. Liza was wearing her hijab to prevent her red hair from drawing too much attention. There were two Moroccan boys seated next to us, and they were clearly talking about us for several minutes before they started talking to us. They only spoke French and Arabic, and the tiniest bit of English and Spanish, so poor Liza was pretty left out of the conversation. My buddy told me all about Morocco and his travels and his home in Casablanca and how he'd like to be a film-maker some day. He showed me pictures of film sets he'd visited (too bad I hadn't seen, and often never heard of the movies). We did manage to relate a bit about Brad Peet. Finally he told me his mother made the world's best couscous, and invited us to his house in Casablanca to try it anytime. Apparently his house is our house and we are always welcome. Then he asked to take us on a walk around the square. We begged off, insisting that our male friends were arriving soon at the hostel, and we had to get back. Sketchy encounter number one with overzealous Moroccan men completed.
We returned to the hostel to await Dan and Kyle and by 2 a.m. when neither had arrived we went to sleep. Dan was excepted aroudn 11 or 12, and Kyle around 3. With no cell phones or ways to contact each other, we were pretty nervous about their arrival. That night one of us woke up every half-hour, only to keep discovering that the boys weren’t there. When we woke up at 9:30 the next morning, there was still no sign of the boys. We headed to an internet café, where I had an email from Kyle saying he arrived at 5 and the hostel owners wouldn’t let him in the room and he wandered around all night but he’d come back to the hostel later, and if nothing else, he’d meet Becky at the airport and find us with her at the second hostel. We replied and headed immediately back to the hostel, hoping to find him there. To our surprise and relief, we returned to find Dan sitting on the bed, and Kyle walked in 5 minutes later. Yay for Middkids finding each other in Morocco. We spent the rest of Friday wandering around the Medina (old section) getting our bearings until we met up with Becky at the second hostel.
back to Paris routine
Returned to the Paris routine today. School, test, note-taking, sandwiches on the go for lunch, etc. Same routine but totally different Paris. The city has completely transformed since I've been gone. I used to look out my balcony and see the gardens, but now all I can see is treetops (not too bad). It's also hot in Paris. Well, not quite hot yet, but very warm...almost 80 degrees today. I discovered that my gym doesn't really have air conditioning, or at least they don't think it's hot enough to turn it on. The only good part about this was that for the first time in my stay, almost everyone in the gym was sweating, even just a little bit. Some people were actually sweating profusely, something I have very rarely seen.
Tonight the fam and I ate dinner outside on the terrace. Despite its incredible length (nearly two hours...finishing at 11:20 when I realized I needed to start working or something like that), the meal was great. It's nice to be back with the Beguins. Earlier this evening M. Beguin knocked on my door (super awkward since I was in a towel and couldn't really express this to him). However I answered anyways and he was standing there with the baby just to say hi. It was super adorable. The whole crowd was there for dinner, except for Jean who was off with his girlfriend, and we had company. The baby cried a lot during the meal, and it was amusing to watch Marie and Julien talkabout/take care of him. I haven't been around new parents that much in family contexts, but it's very amusing to observe them. They are like big kids with a baby, especially Julien, who whines and complains lots about him. Not in a bad way, just in the complaining way that seems typical of the young French. I wish I understood his comments well enough to translate them, but he's super difficult to understand as he mumbles and talks super fast. He's super argumentative and loves to debate and share his opinions. Tonight the conversation went to politics, of course, and then Julien and Mme. Beguin got into a debate about religion. She said she's not a believer (that's a direct translation...I'm not sure what the nuances of it are and if she simply is not religious) but she thinks people should raise their children with a church for the ritual, social experience, opportunity, etc. Julien, from what I could grasp, was not at all in agreement and totally opposed to the church. I zoned out of the conversation after a few minutes, as did the rest of the table. The guest, a friend of Mme. Beguin, kept conversation going with me and M. Beguin and was very interesting to talk to (she's traveled all over the world and has lots to say in general). She told me that her and Mme. Beguin met through the parents association at the high school down the street, and apparently Mme. Beguin was the PTO prez for several years. She informed me however, that there are two parent associations at the schools: one for politically left parents and one for the right (Mme. Beguin was prez of the right-wing association). I asked her why the association was divided like that, and she didn't really know herself...all she said was that everything is political in Paris. Seeing as all I have heard about since I got home has been the elections, it kind of makes sense.
Tonight the fam and I ate dinner outside on the terrace. Despite its incredible length (nearly two hours...finishing at 11:20 when I realized I needed to start working or something like that), the meal was great. It's nice to be back with the Beguins. Earlier this evening M. Beguin knocked on my door (super awkward since I was in a towel and couldn't really express this to him). However I answered anyways and he was standing there with the baby just to say hi. It was super adorable. The whole crowd was there for dinner, except for Jean who was off with his girlfriend, and we had company. The baby cried a lot during the meal, and it was amusing to watch Marie and Julien talkabout/take care of him. I haven't been around new parents that much in family contexts, but it's very amusing to observe them. They are like big kids with a baby, especially Julien, who whines and complains lots about him. Not in a bad way, just in the complaining way that seems typical of the young French. I wish I understood his comments well enough to translate them, but he's super difficult to understand as he mumbles and talks super fast. He's super argumentative and loves to debate and share his opinions. Tonight the conversation went to politics, of course, and then Julien and Mme. Beguin got into a debate about religion. She said she's not a believer (that's a direct translation...I'm not sure what the nuances of it are and if she simply is not religious) but she thinks people should raise their children with a church for the ritual, social experience, opportunity, etc. Julien, from what I could grasp, was not at all in agreement and totally opposed to the church. I zoned out of the conversation after a few minutes, as did the rest of the table. The guest, a friend of Mme. Beguin, kept conversation going with me and M. Beguin and was very interesting to talk to (she's traveled all over the world and has lots to say in general). She told me that her and Mme. Beguin met through the parents association at the high school down the street, and apparently Mme. Beguin was the PTO prez for several years. She informed me however, that there are two parent associations at the schools: one for politically left parents and one for the right (Mme. Beguin was prez of the right-wing association). I asked her why the association was divided like that, and she didn't really know herself...all she said was that everything is political in Paris. Seeing as all I have heard about since I got home has been the elections, it kind of makes sense.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Home in Paris
After two weeks of traveling Eurafrica, I finally made it back to Paris at 8 p.m. this evening. I was supposed to leave at noon and be home by three, but there was a five hour flight delay out of Italy and I spent many many hours in the Bologna airport with lots of Italians and my European Union notes. Aside from a not-so-fun ending, Italy was amazing.
BB and I arrived in Venice at 5 last Thursday, completely exhausted from Morocco and ready to do nothing but pass out. Except we had arrived in Venice, one of the most beautiful cities I have ever been to. We took a taxi from the airport, which then dropped us at the water to get on a water taxi. Turns out all the Venetians get around using water taxis or their own boats...a very cool way of transportation. We were starving when we got there, and immediately sought out pizza. Upon arriving at the restaurant, BB and I realized it was the first time this semester that we had traveled to a place where we couldn't speak the language at all and had no one with us who did. Luckily for us, Venice is very touristy and most people (at least waiters and shopkeepers) speak English. It was a sad feeling though not knowing how to say the simplest phrases like please and good evening to the people we met. We vowed to start learning Italian as soon as we met Adam and Kevin.
After spending Thursday night in an enormous dorm-style hostel with a million French teenagers (we ran into tons of French school groups) and getting very little sleep, we set off to discover Venice. We didn’t prepare for this trip, but a quick Google search the night gave us a basic idea of what to look for. We desperately wanted to take a gondola ride, but the 100 euro cost was slightly more than we were willing to spare. We went to St. Mark’s cathedral, possibly the most beautiful church I have seen, went to the top of the tower and had an amazing view of the entire city and the big square, saw an exhibit of ancient string instruments and walked through an old painting school. And we walked and walked and walked over lots of picturesque bridges. There’s not a ton to do there, but you could walk forever through the cute streets and canals. It’s a really neat city, because one minute you’re in a lively, touristy square and then two streets later you’re alone standing under a family’s laundry. The ability to get away from the crowds was wonderful. For lunch, we had our first Italian pasta, which was delicious even though the waiter was super-snooty. After lunch we souvenir-shopped and gawked at the beautiful, colorful glasswork until we hopped on a train to Ferrara.
We stayed in Ferrara for three nights with Adam and Kevin, friends from Midd. Ferrara is a small city between Venice and Florence that has more bicycles than people (I think the ratio is about 170.000 bikes to 130.000 people) and an ancient wall enclosing the whole city. It was super cute but very small. I spent two nights and one full day there, and I pretty much did the city. It was great to spend time with friends and live in someone’s home instead of hotel/hostel-jumping. Adam and Kevin have a cute little apartment and our first night they made us pasta with pesto. We also got to experience Nutella Americans-in-Italy style, meaning in excess and in all its glory. The Middkids in Ferrara once went through a 3 kilo (6.6 pound) jar of Nutella in 8 days. Very impressive. They’ve chilled out a bit since then, but we still enjoyed tons of Nutella and Italian cookies and gelato. Very tasty gelato. They invented the Nutella smore, which consists of two cookies, a glob of gelato and a glob of Nutella. Delicious.
Saturday morning we got up and headed to Florence, a treat for me since I thought it was too far to do in one day. The train ride down through Tuscany was incredible, and it allowed me to envision my life if it happened like Under the Tuscan Sun. Dreams. First thing in Florence we found a really cute restaurant and I ate the Italian version of mac and cheese, which definitely tops Kraft. We walked through the Duomo and then decided to forgo the two-hour line to see the David. We did however see the exact replica outside the building, which was quite satisfying. Afterwards, Adam had a “surprise” for us, which consisted of hiking up a massive hill. The sweaty trek in the sun up the cobblestones was totally worth it however, since we looked out over the entire city and all of Tuscany from the top. I took a million pictures, none of which do Tuscany justice, but the view from the hill was by far the coolest thing about Florence. By the time we trekked up and down we were hot and sweaty and exhausted and decided to call it a day in Florence (Adam’s been there a million times and BB & I were still wiped out from Morocco). I’m really glad I got to see the city, and I think I will definitely need to come back to Italy.
I know I totally skipped over writing about Morocco, but I wanted to write about Italy while it’s fresh in my mind, and I promise I’m going to spend this week backlogging about Morocco, since I have lots of amazing stories. I also have over three hundred pictures, plus all the ones I’m planning on stealing from my friends, and I’m working on posting those. By the end of the week, for sure.
Overall, absolutely amazing spring break. I got tan, spoke Spanish, fell in the love with Africa, ate pasta in Italy, and hung out with awesome LC and Midd friends. Best spring break yet.
BB and I arrived in Venice at 5 last Thursday, completely exhausted from Morocco and ready to do nothing but pass out. Except we had arrived in Venice, one of the most beautiful cities I have ever been to. We took a taxi from the airport, which then dropped us at the water to get on a water taxi. Turns out all the Venetians get around using water taxis or their own boats...a very cool way of transportation. We were starving when we got there, and immediately sought out pizza. Upon arriving at the restaurant, BB and I realized it was the first time this semester that we had traveled to a place where we couldn't speak the language at all and had no one with us who did. Luckily for us, Venice is very touristy and most people (at least waiters and shopkeepers) speak English. It was a sad feeling though not knowing how to say the simplest phrases like please and good evening to the people we met. We vowed to start learning Italian as soon as we met Adam and Kevin.
After spending Thursday night in an enormous dorm-style hostel with a million French teenagers (we ran into tons of French school groups) and getting very little sleep, we set off to discover Venice. We didn’t prepare for this trip, but a quick Google search the night gave us a basic idea of what to look for. We desperately wanted to take a gondola ride, but the 100 euro cost was slightly more than we were willing to spare. We went to St. Mark’s cathedral, possibly the most beautiful church I have seen, went to the top of the tower and had an amazing view of the entire city and the big square, saw an exhibit of ancient string instruments and walked through an old painting school. And we walked and walked and walked over lots of picturesque bridges. There’s not a ton to do there, but you could walk forever through the cute streets and canals. It’s a really neat city, because one minute you’re in a lively, touristy square and then two streets later you’re alone standing under a family’s laundry. The ability to get away from the crowds was wonderful. For lunch, we had our first Italian pasta, which was delicious even though the waiter was super-snooty. After lunch we souvenir-shopped and gawked at the beautiful, colorful glasswork until we hopped on a train to Ferrara.
We stayed in Ferrara for three nights with Adam and Kevin, friends from Midd. Ferrara is a small city between Venice and Florence that has more bicycles than people (I think the ratio is about 170.000 bikes to 130.000 people) and an ancient wall enclosing the whole city. It was super cute but very small. I spent two nights and one full day there, and I pretty much did the city. It was great to spend time with friends and live in someone’s home instead of hotel/hostel-jumping. Adam and Kevin have a cute little apartment and our first night they made us pasta with pesto. We also got to experience Nutella Americans-in-Italy style, meaning in excess and in all its glory. The Middkids in Ferrara once went through a 3 kilo (6.6 pound) jar of Nutella in 8 days. Very impressive. They’ve chilled out a bit since then, but we still enjoyed tons of Nutella and Italian cookies and gelato. Very tasty gelato. They invented the Nutella smore, which consists of two cookies, a glob of gelato and a glob of Nutella. Delicious.
Saturday morning we got up and headed to Florence, a treat for me since I thought it was too far to do in one day. The train ride down through Tuscany was incredible, and it allowed me to envision my life if it happened like Under the Tuscan Sun. Dreams. First thing in Florence we found a really cute restaurant and I ate the Italian version of mac and cheese, which definitely tops Kraft. We walked through the Duomo and then decided to forgo the two-hour line to see the David. We did however see the exact replica outside the building, which was quite satisfying. Afterwards, Adam had a “surprise” for us, which consisted of hiking up a massive hill. The sweaty trek in the sun up the cobblestones was totally worth it however, since we looked out over the entire city and all of Tuscany from the top. I took a million pictures, none of which do Tuscany justice, but the view from the hill was by far the coolest thing about Florence. By the time we trekked up and down we were hot and sweaty and exhausted and decided to call it a day in Florence (Adam’s been there a million times and BB & I were still wiped out from Morocco). I’m really glad I got to see the city, and I think I will definitely need to come back to Italy.
I know I totally skipped over writing about Morocco, but I wanted to write about Italy while it’s fresh in my mind, and I promise I’m going to spend this week backlogging about Morocco, since I have lots of amazing stories. I also have over three hundred pictures, plus all the ones I’m planning on stealing from my friends, and I’m working on posting those. By the end of the week, for sure.
Overall, absolutely amazing spring break. I got tan, spoke Spanish, fell in the love with Africa, ate pasta in Italy, and hung out with awesome LC and Midd friends. Best spring break yet.
Saturday, April 14, 2007
Massage, fish and chips, mint tea
Hello again from Marakech...it will take me days once I get back to write down everything that has happened here, but I just wanted to update quickly and jot down the cool things i have seen done and will write about in the future.
fish and chips - the moroccan pickup line that has been used on liza three times already
mint tea - everywhere and so yummy
McArabia - name for mcdonalds here
Tagine - yummy chicken stew that's the national dish
Snakes, henna, orange juice, spices - all over the big square with outgoing loud vendors
Massage - got my first ever one today, very enjoyable though slightly awkward since it was oily and getting my front rubbed without a shirt was slightly bizarre
shoes, teacups, teapot, gaucho pants, slippers................the beginning of a long list of things I want to buy from the market here...today we visited the souks where everything is made...super interesting
2 liters = amount of water I have drank today, which has cost me less than 50 cents but is awkward since bathrooms are tricky to find, esp. ones with toilet paper
tomorrow we head to a nearby city on the ocean that is suppposed to be beautiful... i'm super excited and i heart morocco!!
fish and chips - the moroccan pickup line that has been used on liza three times already
mint tea - everywhere and so yummy
McArabia - name for mcdonalds here
Tagine - yummy chicken stew that's the national dish
Snakes, henna, orange juice, spices - all over the big square with outgoing loud vendors
Massage - got my first ever one today, very enjoyable though slightly awkward since it was oily and getting my front rubbed without a shirt was slightly bizarre
shoes, teacups, teapot, gaucho pants, slippers................the beginning of a long list of things I want to buy from the market here...today we visited the souks where everything is made...super interesting
2 liters = amount of water I have drank today, which has cost me less than 50 cents but is awkward since bathrooms are tricky to find, esp. ones with toilet paper
tomorrow we head to a nearby city on the ocean that is suppposed to be beautiful... i'm super excited and i heart morocco!!
Friday, April 13, 2007
San Sebastian and Morocco
Hi everyone...sorry it's been a while since i have updated, but it's spring break and i'm in the process of traveling all around Europe. I spent the last few days in Spain with Liza and her friend in San Sebastian, a city in the northwest corner of Spain on the Atlantic Ocean in the Basque country. It was a cute city, pretty small and somewhat touristy, and not much to do at all. There was a beach and we spent several hours each day (whenever the sun came out) enjoying the sun and tanning. I got some color and Liza got some freckles and sunburn. Other than the beach, there wasn't a ton to do...we spent lots of time chilling in restaurants and eating and one day we hiked up a hill to see a statue of Jesus that looks over the entire city. We also saw the movie "because I said so" ( i believe this is the translation) in spanish...it was a chick flick with diane keaton and mandy moore and even though it was dubbed in spanish, i could understand.
and now I have to go bc i'm at an internet cafe in marrakech, which is an amazing city...so incredibly different from anywhere i have ever been before and beautiful and lively and yummy and not that expensive. i'm loving it. more details to come!!!
and now I have to go bc i'm at an internet cafe in marrakech, which is an amazing city...so incredibly different from anywhere i have ever been before and beautiful and lively and yummy and not that expensive. i'm loving it. more details to come!!!
Sunday, April 1, 2007
Foie Gras = gross
Today I went to the Paris Farmer's Expo with Mme. Beguin. M. Beguin and Laure were out of town for the weekend, and although she enjoyed being alone to work on her jewelry and she was plenty occupied with the baby, she definitely prefers being social - last night at midnight she heard me in the bathroom and talked my ear off while she worked on her jewelry. She was super-excited for the salon, with good reason, it was quite fun. It's a salon similar to the Agricultural Expo, except way way smaller scale, and apparently these happen every month. It's all local (at least French) vendors and most of the businesses are family run. Mme. Beguin has been doing business with some of these people for years, and they recognize her and kiss her and give her little additional gifts. The other day, the woman who sells Mme. Beguin her olive oil (which she buys lots of) sent over on olive tree for the terrace, as a way of thanking her for her business.
Like the agricultural salon, the main attraction for me was samples, except that I wasn't entirely thrilled to sample many of the offerings. Having tried fois gras last weekend, I have decided that I never want to put it in my mouth again, and despite Mme. Beguin's please, I refused to sample it, or the cassoulet which looked like lard a la nasty beef, or the magret du canard (which I have also sampled a few times and decided against). When we finally got to some more normal things, like jams and spreads, I was more than happy to sample those (Mme. Beguin has since teased me about my sweet tooth and told the vendors that I only like to taste sweet things. alors.) I tasted a delicious fig confiture, and black currant butter, and even black currant vodka (which was completely disgusting). At almost every stand we sampled food at, Mme. Beguin bought things, and I'm guessing she spent minimum 300 euro. Luckily she has one of those wheely bag-things that almost all Parisians have to transport their groceries in, but by the end even that didn't suffice.
The most amusing part of the whole thing had to be when we walked by the fur stand. Mme. Beguin has a weird (I think) fetish with fur (we have a nice deer head mounted on the wall from Xmas) and she had to stop and touch. I'm not sure what kind of animal it was...I can't remember the French name and I didn't recognize it from the pictures (maybe an otter? some sort of racoon-like creature that lives in the water). This stand sold everything from the meat made from the creature, to its fur, to its teeth. I was somewhat mortified; she was thrilled. We touched at least 15 pellets of fur, and she couldn't decided whether or not to buy one, and then she noticed a little bump on one of the pellets and the woman told her that it was a nipple, and this animal's young nurse from the back b/c it lives in the water and it's easier that way. Sold! Mme. Beguin bought two pellets and to her absolute delight, was given a keychain of a tooth as a gift. Hilarious. She made a great point at that moment (and five more times before we got home) that it is really neat that all the vendors are super genuine and are experts in whatever they sell, be it honey, jam, foie gras, or furs.
Anyways, the salon was great, and I got free tickets to go to the next one in May...if you want anything brought home from France (olive/sunflower oil, lavendar oil, honey, black currant anything, fig anything) just drop me an email since I'm excited to go back to the salon again.
The rest of the day was beautiful. The weather today was absolutely gorgeous and sunny and in the 60s. I went to the Picasso museum with some Midd girls, then on a run in the sun.
Finally tonight my friend Emily from Midd came over for a cooking class with her family, and I hung out with them during dessert. For all you New Yorkers out there, you'll be excited to know that Emily's dad lived in Merrick until he was about 10. Know any Goldsmiths?
Like the agricultural salon, the main attraction for me was samples, except that I wasn't entirely thrilled to sample many of the offerings. Having tried fois gras last weekend, I have decided that I never want to put it in my mouth again, and despite Mme. Beguin's please, I refused to sample it, or the cassoulet which looked like lard a la nasty beef, or the magret du canard (which I have also sampled a few times and decided against). When we finally got to some more normal things, like jams and spreads, I was more than happy to sample those (Mme. Beguin has since teased me about my sweet tooth and told the vendors that I only like to taste sweet things. alors.) I tasted a delicious fig confiture, and black currant butter, and even black currant vodka (which was completely disgusting). At almost every stand we sampled food at, Mme. Beguin bought things, and I'm guessing she spent minimum 300 euro. Luckily she has one of those wheely bag-things that almost all Parisians have to transport their groceries in, but by the end even that didn't suffice.
The most amusing part of the whole thing had to be when we walked by the fur stand. Mme. Beguin has a weird (I think) fetish with fur (we have a nice deer head mounted on the wall from Xmas) and she had to stop and touch. I'm not sure what kind of animal it was...I can't remember the French name and I didn't recognize it from the pictures (maybe an otter? some sort of racoon-like creature that lives in the water). This stand sold everything from the meat made from the creature, to its fur, to its teeth. I was somewhat mortified; she was thrilled. We touched at least 15 pellets of fur, and she couldn't decided whether or not to buy one, and then she noticed a little bump on one of the pellets and the woman told her that it was a nipple, and this animal's young nurse from the back b/c it lives in the water and it's easier that way. Sold! Mme. Beguin bought two pellets and to her absolute delight, was given a keychain of a tooth as a gift. Hilarious. She made a great point at that moment (and five more times before we got home) that it is really neat that all the vendors are super genuine and are experts in whatever they sell, be it honey, jam, foie gras, or furs.
Anyways, the salon was great, and I got free tickets to go to the next one in May...if you want anything brought home from France (olive/sunflower oil, lavendar oil, honey, black currant anything, fig anything) just drop me an email since I'm excited to go back to the salon again.
The rest of the day was beautiful. The weather today was absolutely gorgeous and sunny and in the 60s. I went to the Picasso museum with some Midd girls, then on a run in the sun.
Finally tonight my friend Emily from Midd came over for a cooking class with her family, and I hung out with them during dessert. For all you New Yorkers out there, you'll be excited to know that Emily's dad lived in Merrick until he was about 10. Know any Goldsmiths?
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