Behind the Times Part I

In an attempt to get close to a point that is acceptably far behind, I have made the executive decision to compile several posts into one. On top of that, there will be several compilation posts until we are sufficiently up to date.

Considering the length of this post I am including an Index. If you really only want to commit to one part I suggest IV "Compact Living".

I.   The Crystal Palace in Miravet
II.  Oh My Gaudi
III. An Aptitude for Friendship
IV.  Compact Living
V.   A Taste of Normalcy
VI.  ...And We Went to Marseille
VII  It's All(ah) You Need to Know

Part I: The Crystal Palace in Miravet

We hit the tarmac in Barcelona just as we came down off of our 'I can't believe they gave us a complimentary lunch' highs. We shuffled to a bus that delivered us to the airport's train station and that's roughly when the problems began. We informed the teller about where we needed to go 'Mora La Nova'. She very confidently gave us our tickets and itinerary. We were to get on the train here and get off at 'Barcelona Sants' (a second station), then we would wait for our train to Mora La Nova. When we arrived at Barcelona Sants we began scanning all the monitors to see which platform and which train to get on. After plenty of scanning we couldn't find our train, so naturally we ask someone and they tell us which, when, and where. We waited on our platform and since we could only go by what we were told the only way to verify our information was to ask more people. So after taking several polls, all of which ending with the same information, we confidently got on our train. That confidence continued until a ticket checker came by and told us that we were on the right train but tonight the train will not be going to Mora La Nova, instead it will only go as far as Reus. Luckily a man on the train was willing to let us borrow his cell-phone and equally as lucky our hosts were willing to pick us up in Reus, a solid 60km drive for them from their home and our next location Miravet.

This was the beginning of our stay in Spain with Maria and Mathieu. A little background on our two hosts. Mathieu was a retired consultant for a company that he created. Also, he was born in a Dutch colony in South America (Suriname, to be specific). Maria is Dutch as well but just from Holland.  She is/was(maybe) a psychologist and is also a spiritual healer (we found out upon arrival).  And they have thirteen indoor cats.

In our stay with them we did some interesting things. We picked olives and took them to a mill to have the oil harvested. We went to a small concert to see a tango band from Argentina. We went into another castle. We saw a great country side with mountains, rivers and gorges. Lastly we ate wonderful food prepared by Mathieu. They are good people (probably) but I'm not sure the stay could have been much more uncomfortable for all of us.

This was the first time that we weren't able to form a connection with our hosts and I don't believe it was from lack of effort. Truly we are people that couldn't have been any more different. We disagreed on Theology, Politics, Ideology, and probably every other polarizing topic. The only true problem about our differences is there was never a real opportunity for an open dialogue about them. I truly enjoy challenging ideas. It can contribute to a lot of growth if it's facilitated properly. Unfortunately we spent most of the time trying to fill our interactions with small talk, and even that was hard to be on the same page.

With the 20/20 vision provided by hindsight there are some things I would have done differently. Unfortunately foresight has only provided me with the visual acuity of a bat.

To summarize, we spent 10 days in paradise with the wrong people. Here are a few pictures anyway.

Part II: Oh My Gaudi

With voodoo, crystals, and severe misunderstandings of what energy is at our backs, we ventured into Spain's second largest city, Barcelona. Without calamity or intrigue we found our hostel and grabbed a map of the city.

I'm going to prevent an exhausting and maybe unnecessary exposé about our trip. Instead I'll sum it up with a few bullet points and pictures to prove we were there. You'll thank me after you've gotten through all of this post.

• We walked, a lot, again. 
• A surprising large chunk of the city actually does commit to an afternoon siesta. 
• Gaudi, a famous architect, is kind of a big deal here (I didn't know either). 
• Lastly partying until 3 A.M. is taking it easy.

A Gaudi Building 

Another Gaudi Building  

 An Arch

 Heather and I at the top of Guell Park

Part III: An Aptitude for Friendship

Two buses later and a country further Heather and I were in Apt, France. The moment we stepped off the modern land transport vessel a new brilliant connection was made. Jo flagged us down with flailing arms and a fantastically wide grin. She took us to her lovely home and we formally met our soon to be friends. Paul and Jo are husband and wife and have two amazingly well spoken daughters Emilie and Juliette. Our experience here was a wonderful opposite to our stay in Spain. Instead of pushing peas around a plate through awkward meals full of sputtering small talk, we had an ease of communication. Every night after dinner and the girls were in bed we would spend hours conversing, with the encouragement of a drink or two. As our chats rolled along we dipped into everything from light anecdotal talks to well thought discussions of theology, philosophy, politics, etc. I really can't express how great the time we spent with this family was, well at least not any further than I already have.

Oh yeah, and we picked olives and painted a house.

As for Apt itself, it's a fairly small provincial town in France. With a market every Saturday that filled the town center with the hustle and bustle of commerce. The terrain itself was interesting. Peaks and valleys were present nearly everywhere. Emilie and Juliette even attended school on what any 'flat-land-Hoosier' would recognize as a mountain.

Unfortunately we don't really have any photos, just memories. We were too in the moment to capture it but I'm sure there will be another opportunity.

Part IV: Compact Living

This story begins while we were still in Apt. Due to some insufficient communication, our host following Paul and Jo fell through leaving a cozy eleven day gap in our schedule. Paul and Jo offered us the chance to extend our stay with them, but they themselves were packing up to go to the UK, England, specifically. We very gratefully accepted any time we could get. This shortened our eleven days to a slightly more cozy seven. So we had to come up with a very cheap accommodation for the week, or as cheap as we could make it. After loads of deliberation we came up with a plan, rent a car. So this became our home for seven-ish nights.

This spacious Fiat like most European vehicles has a manual transmission. Since the only manual transport I've driven is a motorcycle we started the night with a few practice laps, more or less successfully. Once I was able to move forward and backwards sufficiently we hit the town.

Hello Pertuit (Per-twee), what do you have to offer? Apparently many similarities to the Midwest. We drove around for a little while, not too much though because we didn't want to burn through all of our fuel. Eventually we found a nice parking lot outside of a small dining facility you may have heard of, McDonalds. I know, 'They travel across the world to go to McDonalds?' As it turned out, the golden arches became somewhat of an operations base for the week, and really a lot of our travels. It isn't the food. Though we have seen some interesting/different menu items, we haven't partaken in as much as a bite. The reasons we station ourselves at Fort McD's are:

1) There's always free wifi and it's always a better connection than other places.

2) Free water

3) Bathroom

4) We've never been kicked out for loitering because even in other countries the teenagers                        behind the counter still don't really care that much.

Thank you McDonalds.

We woke up chilled from our first night in the car and checked out Pertuit in the daytime. We found a center for tourism and received more reaction than info. The lady working behind the counter couldn't fathom why we would come from the U.S. to Pertuit. We gave her the schpiel about our travels and she gave us a map.

We hit the road again. On the way to our final destination, Toulon, we had to drive through Aix-En Provence. The significance being that in the fifth grade I was in a foreign exchange program and stayed with a family there. So we thought it would be a good idea to find a nice parking lot there to spend the evening. Turns out it was not as good of an idea as we had hoped. We arrived in the city at rush hour and it was a bit of a nut house. We felt a bit like we were sucked into the Tasmanian Devil's whirlwind and spit out.

Being the remains of a WB tornado, we continued on to Toulon which, like Aix, we hit at rush hour. This time, though, we somehow found a prime free parking spot downtown in front of the harbor. There the car stayed for the next four nights, we were sure if we moved it we wouldn't get a spot again.

The view from our luxury resort.

The first night we wandered a bit to gain bearings. We found a hotel that had a lobby bathroom to take sink showers in, yet another McDonalds that we could use to connect to the internet, and a shopping mall that has a supermarket in it (which is quite common in France). After our first Toulon-trot we headed back to our first class accommodation for some nearly adequate sleep.

The next morning with a substantial amount of chill on our bones we unfolded ourselves out of the car and headed to the hotel lobby for a nice hobo-bath. With a fresh face I exited the lavatory and was presented with opportunity. We had learned that you need a room card to get to any floor above the lobby level, but the staircase door by the restrooms was left ever so slightly ajar. Heather stepped out into the hall and before she had a choice, I dragged her into the stairwell. I eased her confusion with my maniacal plan, a heist of the ages. She was apprehensive at first but then the instinct of self-preservation kicked in. We went up to the second floor and like a scene out of "Ocean's Eleven" we swiped a sheet off of a maid's cart and walked coolly away. We stuffed it in our day pack only to find out later that it was not a sheet but instead a duvet cover which has the insulation of two sheets! That night was warmly celebrated in the car with a split baguette, store brand cheese and a bit of chorizo. All of which was held privately thanks to our travel towels hanging up as curtains in the car.

After three nights/days in the car Heather put her foot down for a much needed shower and proper night sleep. I cannot fault her. Anyone who has gone on a road trip is probably very familiar with the coating of grease one can only get by spending hours and hours in a vehicle. So we found the cheapest hotel, not the same one as mentioned before. We both took three or four showers and sprawled out on the bed. The next morning we slyly continued our life of crime and nicked a sheet. This time was less 'Robin Hood' and more 'Heather always hogs the sheets.'

After that, we spent one more night car-bound in downtown Toulon. The last two nights were spent at a truck stop. It had showers. Also, the truck stop was next to another mall with a supermarket and an Ikea, we spent more than enough time in both. Ikea did have some neat concepts for small spaces but nothing quite in the realm of a Fiat 500.

Lastly, we dropped off the car and were on our way to our next adventure.

Lastly, lastly, this is the first time Heather's parents are finding out about this (her idea). No worries though since everything worked out fine.



Part V: A Taste of Normalcy

From our most meager accommodation to an entire house to ourselves, this was the easiest job yet. We house sat and got to look after this awesome guy for two weeks.

Drake.

This was the closest thing to a regular life we have experienced on our trip. We walked the dog, cooked dinners, bathed regularly, etc. It was really kind of an extreme juxtaposition to living in the car, and we lived it up to the fullest (we made freakin' cookies). It was great for us but I don't think it is much to write about so instead just assume our days were similar to yours just in a different place. To help your imagination here's what that place looks like.

The view from where we walked Drake.

Freakin' New Years cookies!!

Quick make out session with Drake.

Part VI: ...And We Went to Marseille

Marseille is a nice coastal city with some keen architecture. Other than the general interest in the city, we don't have too many neat stories about our visit. When things go well, it's a good memory. When they go poorly, it's a good story. Unfortunately everything went swimmingly. Nevertheless here are a few pictures.

Our tiny apartment. Yes, that's all of it.

Part VII: It's All(ah) You Need to Know

Our exchange in Morocco was teaching English, and that was really all we knew going in. We were met at the airport by another volunteer that we would be working with for the next three weeks, Seamus. As soon as we stepped outside, we became very aware we were someplace unlike any other area we've traveled. Seamus began rattling things off, most of which fell on deaf ears but what we did catch and learned right out of the gate was how to choose your taxi. The airport is surrounded by a fleet of taxis all trying to catch new arrivals. As we walked past nice clean shiny Mercedes he pointed to the one we would be taking. It also was a Mercedes but a decade or two older and a bit less shiny. He explained the other taxis are traps for money, the one we were taking was the cheapest and local way. The taxi already had three passengers so naively we thought we would have to wait for the next one, but we were wrong. It is very routine, for what are called "white taxis" (because they are white), to have six passengers and one driver. Don't worry you only have to sit on a stranger's lap most of the time. It sounds a bit crazy but this is definitely a good way to go from town to town. The fare is a flat rate and the drivers continuously drive the same route. That's why they pack them as much as they can. Well that and typically practiced rules and regulations enforced on the road in other countries are merely very mild suggestions in Morocco.

Upon our arrival our host, Harim, sent us out for dinner with Seamus. The first Moroccan food we had was delicious. A roasted chicken, some bread, and various goop that was rather tasty.  The first night was a bit of a whirlwind. We met the other volunteers of which there were several. Then we were dragged off to where we would be staying. It was an entire apartment floor with nothing but a mattress in it and above us was Harim's sister and her family.

The next day Harim took us to Casablanca with two other volunteers, Pamela (American) and Cox (Dutch). We had a fantastic day exploring the city with Harim. Since he was local, he had a great deal of insight on where and what to eat and information on tourist places we visited. He was really a superb host and this was just the first of a few outings.

Mosque in Casablanca.

Spiced coffee

A goat

 We had a great time in Morocco and so many new experiences that I wouldn't trade for the world but at the current pacing this story will become a chapter book... Here are just some of the high notes.

The students we taught and worked with were great. They all had a strong desire to learn and most of them worked fervently to attain that knowledge. On one occasion Heather, Seamus and I were invited to have dinner at two of the students' home with their family. The meal we shared with them is definitely within the top five best meals we've had while traveling.

On a different student outing, we took a bus to Toubkal Mountain and Marrakesh. This was a really long day but well worth the effort. It was the first time many students had ever seen snow (the Mountain) and the first time I had ever seen a snake charmer (Marrakesh).

Marrakesh snail stand

We made lots of friends, both with the local people and the other volunteers. They are too numerous to all be named, but if any of them are reading this know that we have thought about you.

...and here's what this post is expected to be about.

Living in a theocratically-governed country is very different from my home in Indiana, not to imply complete secularism in our local and federal government just more so. The country is mostly Islamic, and very clearly so. A large population still wear traditional clothing like jalabas. It does seem though that the youth is breaking away from tradition and becoming more "westernized". Still every day you can hear the call to prayer six times a day blaring through loud speakers.

Super awesome at six A.M.

Now to confront the stigma of Islamic nations, or at least this one specifically. We never felt unsafe. The people in Berrechid, where we worked, are very kind and helpful. In fact, Heather and I hitchhiked to work most days from our apartment in the neighboring city Darwa. Most the Moroccans we met seemed sincerely concerned with improving their image with westerners. I cannot tell you whether they treat each other well, but I can say they treated us very nicely.

To summarize, Morocco has been my favorite place to experience to date. It challenged me culturally, theocratically and intellectually. It did not persuade me to follow their ideas but I have a stronger understanding of myself and my own beliefs because of our time there. I am very thankful to our host for giving us the opportunity.

Heather, Harim, and me on our last night there.

There will be more to come shortly and eventually we'll be caught up and write a little closer to the present.