jeudi 19 mars 2009

You know you live in provence when...


1. Your idea of a balanced breakfast includes equal amounts chocolate, espresson, and bread, maybe a shot of orange juice.
2. You get several short breaks during each lecture so your professor can run outside and bum a cigarette off a student.
3. You can count at least three old women in large fur coats on any given street at any given moment. In April.
4. There is a national strike at least every other month, during which the trains and the postal service stop running.
5. You eat 5 baguettes a week.
6. You are the only person in sight not predominantly dressed in black, and think that wearing navy blue is a bold color move.
7. you can pick and eat figs on your way to class.
8. you believe that the only way to drink coffee is out of a thimble sized mug.
9. you can study english at the lycée for five years and not speak a word of it.
10. You cant take three steps out of your door without stepping in a big pile of dog 'merde', but after all- thats a sign of good luck, so who cares?
... and last but not least...
you can look out of your window and see monte saint victoire, and you realize that you just might live in the most beautiful place in europe.

mercredi 18 mars 2009

semi marathon

When I came to France, I had never run more than two miles at a time. I'm still am not entirely sure how running became such a large part of my life. But I came here looking for new experiences, and the semi marathon in Paris was certainly unlike anything I have experienced before.

I used to jog occasionally in Bloomington, but it was always sporadic and I never went for more than 20 minutes. Early last semester I started jogging with a couple of friends in the program.
Our first group run included myself, Katie, a girl with our program who coached her cross country running team in highschool, Frank, also an experienced runner, and our Polish friend Bart, who lived on the edge of Poland and Germany and actually used to run across country borders.
The route led to a park not far from our dorm. 20 minutes in and they had just started warming up on the track, while I was drenched in sweat and breathing like I was about going into labor. I guess my pride dented, because after this embarrassing first run, I started going on my own more and more frequently, and after a couple of weeks (and several gallons of perspiration), I started going on longer runs with my friends. After all, Aix is a beautiful city, and there are two lovely parks just a short jog away. And when everything in your small town is closed evenings and sundays, what else is there to do?

Some of our runs include the road to the mountain, a path along a ridge which offers beautiful views of the mountain and aix, and a road leading to venelles which takes us past quaint vineyards and provencal cottages. We even startled a couple of quail in a feild on the venelles run.

Several weeks ago this new hobby( or obsession) culminated in the semi marathon in Paris. My friend Katie had also signed up to run. We took an early morning train to Paris. We decided to treat ourselves and booked a hotel rather than a hostel. The day before the race we carbo-loaded, mapped our route, and went to bed early. The next morning we got onto the subway to find our car already full of determined looking men in windbreakers. They all carried duffel bags and wore expensive looking running shoes. Some of these sneakers looked like they were designed and tested by NASA engineers, with more springs and support than a mattress factory. I felt underdressed in my sweat pants, t-shirt, and sneakers from Pay-Less.
We got off of the subway at Chateau de Vincennes. I really enjoyed watching all of the runners standing in line to take the escalator out of the metro.
There were already thousands of people at the race start. We made our way to check in, where we got our number, a goody bag, and an electronic chip which we tied into our shoe-laces to record our time. The goody bag was... interesting. There was an energy drink with enough electrolites for a fleet of kenyan runners, some testosterone scented dude-shampoo, and an innocent looking tube of cream. I didn't know what this was at first, but my innocence was shattered when i saw at least half a dozen middle aged men with their hands up their shorts applying it. Anti-chaffing Cream.
That brings me to the other runners. There were about 22,000 runners from all over the world, ranging from 17 to 70. I was especially amazed at the number of older men running. There were also other students close to my age, but the over 40s were definitely the majority.
and the work out gear! holy crap i've never seen many skin tight short shorts! in every color of the rainbow, plus some nineties neons. There were windbreakers, fancy socks, sweat bands, and - my favorite- utility belts. holy water-capsule grenades batman.
The crowd began moving towards the track around 8:30. It was forecast to rain, so there were black trash bags available near the exit of the conference, and many people were taking advantage of these make-shift ponchos.
Katie and I wandered towards a crowd of runners who were warming up near the start line. They were being lead by two jazzercise instructors on a platform. It was an incredibly surreal moment- following jazzercize instructions in french in front of a medieval castle. I was nervous. I was confused. I was giggling rather hysterically.
We took our positions around 9. Runners were organized in groups based on goal-time, with the faster runners starting first. Katie was several groups ahead of me, so we agreed to meet at the finish line and separated.
And then I was off, being carried across the start line by a wave of sneakers. Within minutes runners were breaking away from the pack and off into the woods to piss. Nerves?
Within the first kilometer, I started tripping over black trash bags which runners had torn off as they got hot.
The sidelines were lined with people holding signs, blowing horns, cheering, or just sitting outside of their houses and shops watching. There were live music and speakers blaring music every few kilometers. I was excited and feeling good!

Not so my kilometer 11, when it started to rain. True, the live music and cheering crowds were exciting. but i was in pain and still had 10 km.

There were also several stands along the way handing out water and gatorade. Two of these tables also had volunteers handing out banana and orange halves. Wanna see something funny? watch thousands of runners slip and slide over a carpet of banana peels for about 30 feet, then resume their game faces as they try to pretend nothing happened and keep trucking. This is the stuff cartoonists dreams are made of.

kilometer 15: I find myself behind a man dressed as a smurf and painted blue from head to toe. I will forever have the phrase 'ALLEZ LE STROMPH (french word for smurf)' tattooed on my brain, because I had to listen to crowds chanting that for the most painful 6kms of my life.

By the last few kilometers I was wet, cold, and in considerable pain. My left foot and my lower back hurt with just about every step. And I wanted to kill the stromph in front of me. All I could think was 'did i seriously pay to do this?? this isn't fun!'
But I managed to sprint over the finish line... I think it may have been simultaneously the proudest and most miserable moment of my life.
Mika's 'Relax' was playing and people were cheering. I was told to put my foot on a stool so they could cut the timing chip out of my shoe laces and handed a medal. I started stumbling back towards the conference center. I don't even know if I grabbed any water.
I was incredibly relieved when I saw Katie at the conference center. Both of our cell phones were checked with our stuff, so this was a weak point in our plan. We picked up our coats and started making our way through the large room towards the exit on the other side.
I was almost- ALMOST- too dazed to notice that people were changing in the middle of the conference room. I understand that many Europeans think that Americans are prudes when it comes to nudity, and I am no exception. I saw one elderly gentleman stripped down to... well... his running socks... fumbling in his bag for clean clothes, cool and calm as though he were in the privacy of his bedroom. After that I kept my eyes on my shoes (how the hell did i get that much mud on them??) and hoped that I wouldn't bump into anyone.

Katie and I spent the next- very miserable- hour walking to our metro stop, standing on the metro (it was full), then walking to our hotel. the clerk was nice enough to let us use the bathroom in an empty room to shower and change, and had i not been so wet and disgusting i might have hugged him for this. Then we gathered our stuff and it was back on the metro to a much cheaper hostel on the other side of town where I would be spending the night.
Again, more walking, this time with all of our stuff. And we still hadn't eaten. And I was still in pain. but I was too tired to complain.
We checked into St Christophers hostel, dropped our stuff, and finally, FINALLY, went to get food.
I ate an entire pizza. topped with ground beef and a fried egg. and i washed it down with a watery milkshake.
food has never tasted better.
Kate left that evening for Aix, I stayed the night at the hostel (I was in bed by 9) and spent the next day exploring Paris alone.
It involved a lot of walking, and a lot of pain, but its hard to be grumpy in Paris and I thoroughly enjoyed myself. However, due to a slight delay on the subway, I ended up sprinting through the station with my bag to catch my train, one of my sacks burst sending my stuff flying across the station, and by the time i boarded I was panting, sweating, and every inch of my legs and back ached.
I was ready to go home.
(though there was still a 35 minute walk home from the bus station in Aix)

lundi 16 mars 2009

Morroco- final chapters!


Day 6

We ate a fantastic (and free!!!) breakfast at our hotel- soft boiled eggs, apricot jam, bread that was something between a crepe and naan, dannon yogurt, and of course- coffee and hot milk. Then sheryl and brendan went to the train station to get tickets for that night, and i head to the public gardens behind the Katouba. The Katouba is a 12 century tower which was used to call people to prayer. It is in remarkable condition, and still one of the highest points in the city. the sun was bright and the garden was filled with lovely orange trees and benches. I wrote in my journal until the others joined me. I do still try to keep an old fashioned ink and paper journal during the longer trips, and not just so i have an excuse to take periodic café breaks along the way. Its very satisfying to see your own adventures recorded in your own handwriting.

After the others joined me in the garden, we walked to the medina and the kasbah. At which point we had an odd realization- none of us actually knew what a kasbah was. We all had some vague notion of old crumbling walls- but was the kasbah an old fortification, the term for the tower or gate, a generic term for the old part of town, or something more specific still?

so to clear up any lingering confusion-

The Casbah (French) or as transliterated from Arabic Qasba (from qasba, قصبة, 'citadel') is specifically the citadel of Algiers and the traditional quarter clustered round it. More generally, kasbah denotes the walled citadel of many North African cities and towns.

So we werent too far off, though we had visited several without realizing it.

We wandered around the kasbah for awhile, and then went back for one final tour of the souks. I dont think i could ever get bored of them, though i would certainly go broke within a week. We had dinner with our friends at 114 again, and then Sheryl and Brendan left for the night train to tanger. they would spend one day and one night there before flying back to marseille early the next morning. I went back to the hostel and to bed.


Day 7
I decided to spend my solo day on an afternoon tour with Sahara adventures. I met the bus at 9 and we headed in the direction of the Ourzuka falls. My travel companions for the day:

Patrick and Linda- a middle aged british couple on holiday. Patrick was a hypno-therapist. A young couple about to leave on their honeymoon- she was morrocan, he was from Cyprus. The young mans parents were there too.There were also two belgian girls travelling together- one was a physical therapist, the other a travel agent- both spoke several languages, and i was able to have a conversation with them in french.
our van head off, stopping as usual for the occasional photo shoot. Our first visit was to a beautiful building in the atlas mountains where there was a large pottery studio. The shutters and doors were all painted a vivid blue, the exterior walls were hung with red and orange carpets, and the terrace and yard were full of unpainted clay pots. I talked to one of the craftsman who was making clay lamps. He told me he could make thirty in a day. Judging by the clusters of clay objects covering every square inch of floor and shelf (and making turning around with a purse very dangerous!), he had been at it for years. The stop was followed, as always, by a chance to buy souvenirs. I dont think anyone bought anything.
Our next stop was a garden. A tour explained the medicinal and culinary uses of each of the plants in their garden. They had everything from lavender, wormwood to several variations of mint and aloe.
this was-again!- followed by a sales pitch. you could buy medicinal creams and ointments and cooking spices from the gift shop, where our tour ended. This did give me a chance to talk to patrick. I told him i was a psychology student, and he seemed very willing to talk about his work as a hypnotherapist. He explained that he didnt necessarily cure people, he just created an atmostphere in which the brain was able to heal itself. It was fascinating, but as with the herbal medicines, im not sure ive been convinced.
Our last stop was the waterfall. We paid a guide to lead us from the small town by the river to the actual fall, it was about a half hour walk through a rather poorly marked trail. Several guides offered there services, we went with the cheapest, and found out later that he didnt show us all that he could have. live and learn i guess. It was still lovely.
During the return bus ride, I talked to the father of the young man from cyprus (would that make him a cyprisian??) He told me he thought capitalism was coming to an end just as communism had ended. The next order would be divinely inspired. I was glad to get off the bus.

That evening in Marrakesh i visited the Sadiaan tombs, then had dinner once more at 114. I started talking to another young couple at my table. She was english, he was from new zealand. Every year this couple took an extended motorcycle adventure in a different part of the world. This time they had been on the road for three weeks already, and had just come from timbuktu! huh, so it is a real place. I asked them, out of all the places they had visited, which were the most interesting? response- istanbul and estonia.
At one point during our conversation i looked down and saw that shakespeare, the server, had given me a glass of mint tea and i hadnt even noticed! he brought some for my friends as well! again, the people here amaze me.
I listened to some live music in the square before bed. It was sad to leave morroco, though it had been an exhausting week. I wouldnt have wanted to stay longer by myself. I desperately want to go back someday- I want to visit Fez and Rabat, spend more time in the atlas mountains, explore the coast more. But more than anything i want to know this place in a role other than that of a tourist.

I got up early the next morning and saw the square empty for the first time. Not even the vendors were up yet, and the wild cats had full rein. I got a taxi to the airport and started the next stage of my journey.

mercredi 11 mars 2009

Morroco contd.


Day 4


We got up very early and had a berber breakfast- a type of flat bread that was half naan, half crepe with apricot jam and butter, hot milk, hot coffee, orange juice that was really tang. Then it was back on the bus.

The tour did involve a lot of bus time, but we were driving through such marvelous country side that I never felt bored. And there really was no other alternative- it allowed us to penetrate deep into the country and see things we were never otherwise have found.

Our first big stop was at a small town, where we were led by a local guide through a feild into the heart of the village. We were joined by a bunch of local kids who walked with us, offering us little woven palm leaves in return for pencils. sadly, i didnt have any with me!


In town, we were invited into a local home. We were led into a small room covered- floor, ceiling, walls- with woven carpets. There was a loom in one corner where a woman worked preparing wool. A man introduced himself and served us tea. Then he introduced the woman as his sister- she didnt speak english. He then explained to us how the carpets were made, and the signifigance of the colors.


The lesson was followed by a sales pitch and a very awkward silence- none of us was interested in buying a carpet, but no one wanted to say so. The tension was finally broken with a question, and we were all rather glad to leave.


Back on the bus! Next stop was lunch and a walk in another gorge. Sheryl and i got another lesson in berber and arabic from a friendly local. (again, phonetic spelling!)

ismee elizabeth - my name is elizabeth

musharafin- nice to meet you

bus, again, and then a stop at a fossil warehouse for a quick stop. Turns out that area used to be underwater, and there are a lot of fossils (i think they said devonian period, lots of trilobites).

We arrived in the dunes of merzouga a few hours later. Abdullah introduced our guide for the evening, Mustafah, and the two of them helped each of us tie our scarfs around our faces as turbans. Then we mounted camels and went for an hour long ride into the dunes! Camels= not that comfortable. But the dunes were beautiful- the sand was so smooth it looked velvety, disturned here and there by odd black beatles. The sun set behind us just as we arrived at our camp. We were spending the night in tents.

We tried sandboarding a little down the dune, but it didnt work that well, and climbing to the top was too much work.

Dinner seated on the ground around a low table, with nothing but a propane lamp. there were wild- looking cats circling outside of the light, i even saw one run over the roof of the tent. they rushed in after we finished eating and scattered chicken bones everywhere.

We sat around the fire while mustafah taught us rhythms on the drum. its a lot harder than i thought! then we lay out and looked at the stars. One by one we either fell asleep where we lay or went into the tents.

That night it was freezing- i stayed curled on the sand in the fetal position most of the night, wearing every peice of clothing id brought and covered in the blanket that id sat on while riding the camel. didnt get much sleep.


Day 5

Woke (so i guess i got some sleep) before sunrise, rode the camel back to the van and breakfast in the guest house. hot milk and coffee never tasted so good.

Spent most of the day in the bus heading back towards Marrakesh. We stopped for lunch, and for evening prayer. I spent most of this time sleeping to make up for the cold night.

We arrived at marrakesh around 6, and said goodbye to our fellow travellers. We had to find a place to stay for the night, since we'd originally planned to spend that night on the tour. We ended up at the Riad- a hotel connected to the tour program. They gave us a great discount since they had changed tours on us.

It was absolutely beautiful! the first thing we did was shower. It had been a few days, and we all smelled rather like camel... When i got out of the shower, i picked up the pile of clothes id left on the floor and a roach fell out. I shook them out very well before i put them away, and then put the rest of my stuff on the table. Oh well.

We had dinner back at stall 114 in the square. The servers remembered us! after our meal, we started talking with them. They taught us how to make mint tea! we hung around until they were starting to close down ( we hadnt gotten there until almost ten, so this wasnt that long) and the servers offered to share their evening meal with us, even though they had already fed us! I was continually amazed at how generous the people in morroco were. I completely lost track of the amount of mint tea i was offered. our friends at 114 talked to us about morrocan politics and travellers theyd met. They all spoke english, though none of them had learned it in school. theyd just picked it up on the job. One guy said itd taken him 12 years to learn! It was remarkable.

went to bed late and exhausted.


lundi 2 mars 2009

Morroco


The université de provence has a one week break in february, vacance d'hiver. I decided to use this time to explore Morroco. It was the trip of a lifetime!
I travelled with two other americans, Sheryl from indiana and Brendan ( knickname Beej) from Wisconsin
Day 1: Friday
bust to airport at 5 in the morning. ryan air flight to tanger. we arrive and it is gorgeous and sunny, palm trees everywhere and sparkly blue ocean.
taxi into town. we were tired after our early morning so we napped on the beach. I woke up from my nap to find camels crossing the beach not 5 feet from where im sleeping. I dont think i've been more disoriented, if it werent for the photo sheryl snapped id have thought i was dreaming it.
We bummed around tanger all day. there isnt all that much to do there, but the weather was lovely, so we relaxed and explored. In the afternoon we had our first Morrocan thé à la menthe, or mint tea. Its fantastic and usually comes with springs of fresh mint. We took a petite taxi to the kasbah, where we looked accross the strait of Gibralter. You could just barely make out Spain. then ate a big morrocan dinner, the first of many Tagines. Delightful. and we got a lesson on Morrocan carpet making. There are different regional styles and traditions.
we went back to the train station that night to catch a night bus to Marrakech. The night train was wonderful! our own private compartment with really comfy cots and a sink.

Day 2
Woke up early and watched the sunrise from the train. the stop at marrakech caught us by surprise so we rushed to get out of our pjs and off of the train. we caught another petite taxi into town, and found our hostel. It was in the middle of the souks ( famous markets) down a very confusing alley. still surprised we found it so quickly. dropped off our stuff and headed out to explore.
first stop- Djemaa El-Fna, a huge open square in the heart of the city. It is constantly changing, there is always something going on here. Snake charmers, trained monkeys, veiled women giving henna tattoos, street preformers, you name it and it is there.

we then had to run some errands- exchanging money and stopping at the tour office to pay and confirm

when this was out of the way we went to a restaurant where we ate traditional morrocan food on the terrace overlooking the square. washed it down with mint tea and lost ourselves once more in the hustling and hassling of the souks.

Dinner was at an outdoor stall in Djemaa El-Fna. It was completely transformed at night. In the center was a sea of tents selling snails, tea and pastries, lambs head soup, kebabs, couscous, tagines- the smell of it all was incredible. surrounding this were little islands of light where fortune tellers and musicians were seated on blankets around their propane lights. Crowds would form around one circle and then slowly disperse to reform around another. As we walked through this people called to us from every side trying to attract our attention and pull us into their stall or lamp lit circle.

We ended up at a barbecue stall, 114. the servers were all very friendly, they referred to us all as america, and made jokes about KFC of all things!! the guy who served us was called shakespeare and had an incredible unibrow.

we ended our evening with one more circuit of the square.





Day 3

We got up early and walked to the tour office. There werent enough people signed up for the 4 day 3 night tour, so we ended up getting a partial refund and going on the 3 day 2 night. We loaded into a white minibus and set off. I fell asleep almost immediately on the bus.

Our first stop- Ait Benhaddou Kasbah in Ouarzazate. It was used in the filming of lawrence of arabia, the mummy, and the gladiator. Its one of the best preserved kasbahs from the period.

back into the bus until lunch, when i got to know our fellow tour participants. There were two other americans, both of whom were living in paris. one was studying law there, the other was teaching english. There was a young guy from japon who had been travelling europe alone for several weeks, and barely spoke english, another japonese girl who was very quiet, two friends from tawaiin, and a middle aged chinese NGO worker named vincent.
back on the bus. we drove the rest of the day, making occasional stops at small towns or view points to walk around and take pictures.
We arrived in the Dadas gorge around 6, and checked into a small hotel right on the river. During dinner, we bonded by swapping travel stories . Vincent must have asked everyone at the table if they had been to cambodia at least 5 times. He then told the americans that they really should visit cuba. 'Very nice. I have contact there.'
After dinner abdullah and the hotel staff started playing the drums, a bunch of us actually got up and danced. Then they sat around smoking hookah ( or narguilé), and we talked, half french, half english. We were joined by the only other guests, two girls from manchester. One of them was a parole officer, though she was only 25. She explained that english parole officers are more like social workers.
By this point it was quite dark, and we decided to go up to the terrace on the roof to look at the stars. We brought our blankets- it was freezing! but i've never seen such brilliant stars. i cant think of a non cliche way to describe them- shimmering, brilliant, luminous- i was shocked my the sheer multitude of it all, framed by the sheer sides of the gorge.
abdullah and another one of the hotel staff, Ahmed, taught us some berber words.
i did my best to spell them phonetically:
Moon- Airure
shooting star (we saw three)- tamar wite
star- teetreet
river- assif
and we talked about berber culture. Morroco is about 80 percent berber, and even though their culture has been greatly influenced by the arab population and tourism, they still have a very strong sense of identity. They seem to enjoy educating visitors on their language, their food, their crafts. It was fascinating.
Eventually the cold drove us inside. There was no heating in the building, so it was a rather rough night.