I intend to use this same blog for future travels, but until then - here is my farewell.
All good things come to an end. My flight from Istanbul, KLM 8380 marked the beginning of that end. My final day was spent enjoying the present and pondering the future, the evening before, in contemplation of the time that has passed.
Last night I went to the Hamam again, as I wrote in a prior post, and there I contemplated the next steps in my larger all encompassing journey. When I return, I will be committing nearly all of my time to finding a full time position with a firm. In preparation of that, I shed the mountain man appearance I had acquired this morning with a straight razor shave and a haircut. Renewed (you can actually see my face without pushing around hair that had grown quite long these past months) I took a final walk, heading to the Blue Mosque. I have been there a few times, just to sit in the majesticness and enjoy the solemn nature of the Mosque. Today, was different. It was bustling with loud tourists, obnoxious tour guides, and rude people. There was little respect for the Mosque or those who had come for reasons other than to take pictures. I departed quickly, finding no peace to enjoy my final moments. I walked back up towards Cemberlitas, which is near my hotel. I had a pickup at 12:00 noon. I decided to keep walking, and found myself in a new neighborhood, with a large mosque. I wandered in to discover the peace and quiet I was looking for. It was nearly as large as the Blue Mosque, and yet only one other person was there. I sat on the red carpet, and basked in the solitude. When I felt peaceful, I stood up, took my shoes, and headed to the hotel to check out.
From the hotel, a taxi took me to the airport where after waiting on a long line, I finally checked in and made my way to the gate. I slept the first portion of the flight to Amsterdam, missing the meal, and instead was given a Banana that wasn’t quite ripe yet. I read some James Bond, and then started to put my thoughts down. Below I have summed up my adventures. Call it the executive portion.
I arrived in Casablanca after a connection through Amsterdam in late June. I nearly had missed my flight from New York when I missed the train to JFK, and had to take another. However, the company of my final farewells and coffees were quite worth the anxiety of running through the airport, walking onto the plane and hearing the doors shut behind me.
In Casablanca, I took a taxi to the train, and then a train to Marrakech. My first experience in Marrakech was a group of unruly children brining me to my hotel. They each wanted a tip. A kind girl across from the Riad Davia, where I was staying, invited me in to sit until the owner could be summoned. There was some confusion on the date I was checking in.
My first days in Morocco were hot, confusing, and pleasing to the senses. The food was alright, the smells were delightful, and the souqs were pure tourist traps. Luck fell into my lap in the final evening when the family of the owner arrived to stay, from Paris, and I was invited to go out with them. We left the Medina, the tourist traps, and went to a night club where we stayed until very late. It was a completely different Morocco from the place I had come to know. The following day, I was invited to come with them again and we went to more traditional souqs where we were served tea, invited to try things, and not pushed to buy things simply to buy.
That evening I went to the train station, where I met up with Susannah and Genna and a friend of Susannah. We traveled to Rabat where we stayed one night, and then on to Fez. Fez was very different, very beautiful, and just wonderful. I imagine I owe much of that to Susannah, who guided us away from touristy places and into little special area. At Café Glock, I had my first, and only, camel burger. It smelled like camel, but was otherwise quite good.
We visited many things I would never have known about just walking by myself such as the tannery, the weaving area where we saw large looms, and an herbalist. We had stopped at an herbalist in Marrakech, with the French. They had been speaking in Arabic and French for a while, and eventually someone had turned to me, “we are discussing how we are going to cure you of being American” he explained. Through Susannah, I told them I was having some trouble sleeping and heavy breathing (Genna who is a light sleeper had trouble sharing the room the nights previous in Rabat) sometimes snoring. He asked many questions about different parts of my body and other habits I have, paints and discomforts, he then prescribed a remedy that included eating 11 dates before breakfast, and drinking large amounts of water, and apple vinegar, that will take 40 days to get the various cycles in my body back into sync. It was all amazing, but not the most amazing part.
The most magical part was when Susannah invited me to join her host family for meals. We were treated as royal guests, and given a feast each time we came to dine. The couscous was incredible. We tried many different dishes.
The second most amazing thing was Hamam, the Moroccan bathhouse. We went for the luxury spa version. It was incredibly cheap, and amazing. I was twisted, scrubbed, rubbed, washed, bent, cracked, stretched and many more things. I left feeling cleaner than I had ever felt, my skin radiant, my smile from ear to ear. From Hamam I was introduced to Fez fruit salad, a wonderful mixture of avocado and other fruits. Delicious.
Before the Hamam, we got dirty going for a hike in a nearby mountain, to really feel extra clean comparatively.
I left Susannah and Genna and headed to Tangiers. I wish I could spend more time there, what I saw was not nearly as magical as what I had experienced prior. I suppose I had hit the high points of my trip in the meals with Susannah’s host family, and Hamam. I tried to recapture one final Moroccan meal at a restaurant, and left more disappointed than I thought was possible.
The boat to Algeciras was very peaceful. I chatted with a family from the Midwest, and upon arriving, went to wait for my train. From Algeciras I spent five hours looking at olives. Five hours of olive trees and I arrived in Madrid. It was very late in the evening. A series of metros, busses, and trains (a girl on the bus tried to ask me to go dancing) and I arrived at CTY. The site director’s fond memory of my arrival was me bouncing in, introducing myself, and apologizing for any smell after such a long journey.
The weeks that followed at the camp were a blur, save the beginning and the end. At the beginning, before the students arrived, the staff went out and had a lovely time. A group of us ended up spending the night getting to know each other between tapas bars and little restaurants. It was a great start.
With the arrival of the students, we became a little more serious and took to their safety and happiness. It was my first CTY, and for many of them, they had already done this many times. I often turned to them with questions. It is a camp of traditions. I have written many times about the lack of tradition in America as opposed to Europe, but I think summer camps are one place where tradition remains strong.
There were the usual frustrations of working for a new organization, learning the boundaries, defining relationships and getting to know everyone. It turned out that one of the other Residential Assistants (or is it Advisors, I have seen it both ways) was also from Swarthmore. We didn’t know each other at the start, but quickly became close – having many common shared experiences from Swat.
A little over a week in, groups of students began exhibiting the signs of sickness, and the beginning of a Swine Flu epidemic swept through. By the end, nearly 20 per cent of the students were infected, and the decision was made to close the camp early. I spent most of the last few days spending long hours with the quarantined students. It was clear to me that the problem was a lack of nutritional food, that their bodies were starved for vegetables and other nourishment. I had been shopping at the local place and feeding myself healthy food like at home, and wasn’t worried about getting sick.
With the last student gone, it became a question of what now. Many of the staff had plane tickets for the following week. I organized a small trip, taking 6 staff members with me to Valencia where there is a beach and Paella. After the long sojourn with the sickness, both sounded wonderful. We arrived, ate, and drank for a few days.
More farewells to most, and then Shiva and I took off for Barcelona. We arrived on the train and moved into our hostel. It was 16 beds in one room. We quickly sought alternatives. We went to a place called Travel Bar, where we happened to find an email address on the wall for a private room in an apartment. We ended up spending a few nights with Karenina, a wonderful Italian woman who opened her home to us. She gave me the master bedroom after another guest didn’t leave as expected, and I had a beautiful view up and down the street. It was also a chance to do much needed laundry.
From Barcelona I flew to Palma Mallorca, and then traveled to Deia, a beautiful Spanish town in the Balearics. I went snorkeling, and did a mud treatment with locals on a small beach. I walked one day from Deia to Soller, taking in breathtaking view after breathtaking view. I left, and joined Shiva in Ibiza. Ibiza I didn’t sleep. I put my small bag in his friends’ hotel, and we went to a club. There were only six thousand others at the club, a slow night I think for them. When we left at 6am, I grabbed my stuff from the hotel, and caught a bus to Formentera. An island of beautiful beaches, I spent the day speeding around on my moped I rented, and snorkeling everywhere I could.
Back to Barcelona, and then I traveled on to Venice.
What a beautiful touristy city. At this point, the momentum in my trip was picking up. I walked each day for hours, exploring new little areas, visiting museums, and eating lots and lots of Pasta. From Venice, I moved on to Florence – a city where it’s hard not to look at art. I saw many of the great masterpieces I have seen so many times before in textbooks. I also met up with Peta, a friend I had made in Barcelona. We went for dinner and drinks, and she showed me good food and very filling Gnocchi!
On to Pisa, where a not so impressive leaning tower stood… leaning. I moved on quickly to Rome, where Karenina had helped me set up another apartment stay with Maurizio. He was a very kind economist, who opened his home to me. From there, I explored the city, immersing myself into the classical history. I was treated by the guide from the synagogue to lunch, and met many families and couples and other travelers and locals just sitting at the dinner table, offering some wine or conversation.
From Rome I flew to Athens. In Athens I paused only long enough to catch a boat. On the way to the docks, a group of people convinced me to go to Milos instead. Bad idea. I headed from Milos to Santorini, where I was impressed in a mediocre manner with the mountain houses. I met many Parisian couples and travelers, some of which I had a splendid time going out with. I also met a very interesting girl who I stayed out talking with late from Kenya / UK.
And then back to Athens, this time to spend a few days, and further immerse myself into classical culture. I met a bartender who offered to bring me out for a drink away from the center of Athens, and in the same night, two girls traveling – one of which knew a friend of mine from High School. We went out the next day for a lovely lunch before I boarded my plane to Istanbul.
Istanbul was incredible. A clean city, alive and vibrant, it is filled with families. I arrived on the first day of Ramadan, and so most of the city it felt like had come out to the park in front of the blue mosque to dine together and picnic. The food vendors were harking their wares and all was amazing. I tried Hamam in Istanbul (disappointing after Hamam in Morocco in my opinion) and ate more Baklava than one should eat in their lifetime.
Paula, my aunt, had sent me her friend’s address who owns a restaurant in Istanbul. To say I was treated like a king or sultan, would do him no justice. He extended the greatest of hospitality to me opening his doors wide and treating me to culinary magic.
And so ended the trip, as all things should, with a splendid meal (two actually). It has been an incredible and magical experience. I have met so many wonderful people that shaped my experiences, that nudged me to do and try things I wouldn’t have otherwise. The culmination of these experiences spells a complete and utter success. I could not imagine a better way to have spent this final summer before I begin working.
If you were one of those people, thank you.
