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Wow.
Okay, so it might be I'm not cut out for long trips. This might be because of any of the following reasons:
A) I end up living like a poor person (Example: Eating a cheese sandwich in front of the grocery because it costs money to sit down)
B) I don't sleep. (Example: Twelve people in a room. Odds are, at least one of them snores. Loudly.)
C) I don't have a nail clipper one day. Or shampoo another day. Or a toothbrush another day. Right now I don't understand why I'm being asked for money, beggars should be handing me dirhams.
Marrakech is incredible and so so different. From anywhere I've visited I mean. The people act differently, the back-and-forth of selling/buying rolls differently, the air smells differently (mostly donkey shit). It's really exhausting just to keep my eyes open for all of it.
Also, Moroccans seem to live life on the edge. That is, the edge of being run over by a moped. There's all these motorcycles and things careening down the street. And when I say street, I don't mean demarcated lanes for traffic in and out along with crosswalks and sidewalks. No, by street I mean strip of dirt. This ranges from the size of everyone passing comfortable to so narrow that a donkey and a moped are likely to cause pileup.
I think all the stress of travel has hit me because I'm exhausted and would like nothing more than a bed at home with a bottle of iced tea clearly marked with a price. It didn't help I spent an hour or so today either convincing people I wanted to buy their shit or I didn't want to buy their shit. Some people get pushy. Like, aggressive pushy. One guy actually put a fabric over my face and was surprised and upset when I was surprised and upset.
But this hotel has really been a saving grace. It's 8 bucks a night and I have my own bed overlooking the street from a few stories up. In other words, I can flop around, sleep and eat and nothing will bother me. It helps that the guys that run it are super nice. Within minutes of checking in they told me to come with them to the construction site of their new hotel and eat tagine. The tagine, by the way, was incredible, zucchini, tomato and chicken. After a week of eating ham and bread, this was manna.
So my plan is to spend a day here and then go on an overpriced trip to the desert. We'll see. Anyway, more to come, I'm sure, unless I get run over by a moped or garrotted by an angry scarf salesman (That's for you, mom).
Okay, so it might be I'm not cut out for long trips. This might be because of any of the following reasons:
A) I end up living like a poor person (Example: Eating a cheese sandwich in front of the grocery because it costs money to sit down)
B) I don't sleep. (Example: Twelve people in a room. Odds are, at least one of them snores. Loudly.)
C) I don't have a nail clipper one day. Or shampoo another day. Or a toothbrush another day. Right now I don't understand why I'm being asked for money, beggars should be handing me dirhams.
Marrakech is incredible and so so different. From anywhere I've visited I mean. The people act differently, the back-and-forth of selling/buying rolls differently, the air smells differently (mostly donkey shit). It's really exhausting just to keep my eyes open for all of it.
Also, Moroccans seem to live life on the edge. That is, the edge of being run over by a moped. There's all these motorcycles and things careening down the street. And when I say street, I don't mean demarcated lanes for traffic in and out along with crosswalks and sidewalks. No, by street I mean strip of dirt. This ranges from the size of everyone passing comfortable to so narrow that a donkey and a moped are likely to cause pileup.
I think all the stress of travel has hit me because I'm exhausted and would like nothing more than a bed at home with a bottle of iced tea clearly marked with a price. It didn't help I spent an hour or so today either convincing people I wanted to buy their shit or I didn't want to buy their shit. Some people get pushy. Like, aggressive pushy. One guy actually put a fabric over my face and was surprised and upset when I was surprised and upset.
But this hotel has really been a saving grace. It's 8 bucks a night and I have my own bed overlooking the street from a few stories up. In other words, I can flop around, sleep and eat and nothing will bother me. It helps that the guys that run it are super nice. Within minutes of checking in they told me to come with them to the construction site of their new hotel and eat tagine. The tagine, by the way, was incredible, zucchini, tomato and chicken. After a week of eating ham and bread, this was manna.
So my plan is to spend a day here and then go on an overpriced trip to the desert. We'll see. Anyway, more to come, I'm sure, unless I get run over by a moped or garrotted by an angry scarf salesman (That's for you, mom).
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