Sunday Soiree

A couple of months before we left for our trip, I read an article in the New York Times about a phenomenon called the Sunday Soiree here in Paris. It began many years ago and was a time for artists and thinkers to get together and eat and drink and talk and exchange ideas. There are still a few long-running Sunday soirees following in this tradition here in Paris. One of the most well known, is at Jim Haynes' house in the 14 arr in Paris, quite close to where I happen to be staying. So, I made reservations and Scott, Allison, Carolyn and I made our way to Jim's house to meet him and 46 other strangers to share dinner and exchange ideas. It was a lot of fun!

There were a few very odd people, a handful of "regulars," people from all over the US, France and some other European countries. The "official" language of the night is English, so it was easy for us all to talk to the guests and I enjoyed chatting with quite a few. Some of our new friends made their way with us to a bar afterward in the shadow of Notre Dame cathedral.

While there, I was talking to a couple of guys sitting next to us at the bar, and then noticed a big commotion just to my right. I turned and saw a woman lying on the floor in the midst of a seizure. It seemed no one knew what to do, but (surprisingly), my First Aid training came back to me almost instantly, even though I haven't had a refresher course in years! I have to hand it to those American Red Cross classes...they really do prepare you for these situations. Luckily, the ambulance arrived within 5 minutes of someone calling, and the woman was beginning to come out of it already. She was upset and scared and I did what I could to reassure her and remind her that she was in a bar and had had a seizure. Her boyfriend was with her and seemed so grateful for the help because I think he had a bit to drink and was a little in shock on top of that.

After the girl was taken away in the ambulance, we realized that the Metro had stopped running, so we were stuck with either walking home, or taking a cab. Before deciding, Carolyn and I decided that the end of a very crazy night called for a crepe. However, no such luck, as even the late-night creperies were closing. We did find a Greek place, still serving up french fries and shwarma though. And, with our love of the French fry, we settled on that, then found a cab to take us back home, marking the end of a very strange night, Paris-style.

The Irish diet

Now in London, Carolyn and I made our way through Dublin in a few short days and I don't feel like I have to go back there. I liked it well enough, but really, how many French fries can one person eat in a 24 hour period? Well, I think I now have an answer to that question. After eating "chips" at breakfast, lunch and dinner, I have fulfilled my lifelong dream of consuming my body weight in French fries. Sweet. However, to offset all of that fat, I tried to eat away at it with alcohol, and consumed a comparable amount Jameson Irish whiskey. I'm now an "official" Jameson taster, with a certificate and everything. I went on the Jameson tour and was one of the lucky few picked to taste the differences between scotch, Irish whisky and American whisky. I lied and said the Jameson was the best, even though I'm a Jack Daniels girl to the end.
Carolyn has her own stories about black and white pudding...which is not actually pudding consistency, but that's really the least of your worries when consuming it! At least in London I've had a few vegetables (and less whiskey, but not necessarily less booze.) Now that we're on our way to Paris, I forsee the Jameson to be replaced with red wine. It's chock full of antioxidents and therefore, qualifies as a health food in my mind.

Budget airlines

My newest travel obsession is European budget airlines. We don't have such a thing in the states and since I haven't spent much time in Europe, I've only used them occasionally. However, now that Carolyn and I are finally getting around to planning our itinerary, I can't believe the deals I've found. I just booked flights for us from Barcelona to Marrakesh, then from Tangiers to Milan for ZERO Euros each for each actual flight. Seriously. ZERO!!! Nada. Zilch. Nothing for the flight. There is a slight catch of having to pay booking fees and for any checked luggage. However, even after that, when converted back to dollars, each flight is only about $28 each. That's ridiculous.



We're paying less than a tank of gas for each flight to go from Spain to Morocco, then Morocco to Italy. I have no idea how they make money and as long as we (and our luggage) get there okay, I don't really care. Maybe they're using the plane as a really big drug mule. Or to transport nuclear waste. Maybe they're shipping prisoners from Gitmo to some other secret location. Who cares? This is what's making it possible for us to see so many places and stay for so long on really limited funds. Sweet. Maybe I won't have to pimp out Carolyn after all.

My own stimulus plan...

I came back to the states in mid-November, after spending a great 8 months overall in Morocco, to the worst economic crisis of my life. Sweet. I got to enter the job market as someone who hadn't worked or networked in a year, up against some stiff competition and unsure of what I wanted to do with my life, career-wise. After hitting up every online resume site and spamming everyone I knew with a plea for a job through whatever means necessary, I realized it just wasn't going to happen. I went on a handful of interviews and found that I was way over-qualified for every job offer I received. I was looking for something to do with my life, some way to have meaning, and was just getting depressed and feeling worthless. I was rejected from pretty much every job I actually wanted and also didn't get into the graduate program at Tufts that I applied to. So...what to do now.

It was around that time that I was driving to the gym with my cousin, Carolyn, when I asked her if she was interested in going away on a trip after her forthcoming college graduation. Carolyn and I have been spending a lot of time together lately, since I returned home from Morocco and she's fantastic. I can easily imagine myself traveling with her, as we get along so well and I really love her company. So, we decided then and there that we'd leave for Europe shortly after her graduation and I would find a job post-haste that I could work in the interim to earn some much needed cash. I was stressing before about just taking any job that I knew I would hate and falling into the same situation I was in before I left my last job. I imagined I would take some position that was way too easy for me, that I found boring, that I would get stuck in and my drive to excel would leave. Now though, when I had a plan and plane tickets to leave in the near future, I could take a job...any job, and do something besides apply to all of these jobs I knew I didn't want, while I worried about getting older and still not doing anything I could be proud of in this world.

So, now I have a job at a well-known patent law firm in downtown Boston, where I make decent money, covering for someone on paternity leave. It's just database management stuff and pretty dry, but at least I have a reason to get up every day and SOMETHING to look forward to in my life.

Our plan originally was to go for two months and make up our journey as we went along, going from place to place on a whim and seeing where we ended up. That's still mostly the plan, although a list of things I want to do and see has taken shape over the last few weeks. Also, I decided that maybe 2 months is not really long enough. Maybe I'll stay over there indefinitely. Why not? Me, a backpack and some great company for a couple of months, then hopefully meet some new people and check out some cool places after that on my own. Right now, I'm trying to remain flexible and just take each day as it comes. C'est la vie and all that!

post-Ramadan updates

Much has happened since last I wrote. For one, Ramadan has finally ended and along with it, fasting. Hooray!! To celebrate, I went to Spain for a few days with some friends for a few days. School was closed for five days, coinciding with the holiday at the end of Ramadan, Eid al-Fitr.

We stayed at a couple of hostels in Madrid, a new experience for me. So, call me spoiled, but I'm in love with the idea of having an actual toilet within the confines of my hotel room and the concept of bunk beds for adults is not something I understand. These two things seem to be the entire reason for hostels to exist. Granted, at an average of 20 E a night, the price was good for a single traveler. I was with a bunch of much younger kids, and I don't think they caught onto the idea of pooling money to get a nice hotel room and sharing it (without strangers) for the same price we each paid at said bunk bed laden hostel. I, personally, would have gladly paid more not to share my bedroom with unknown wackos. I prefer sticking with the wackos I already know.

One example of unknown wacko behavior happened to my friend Tia, who awoke to one of our roommates, a guy from Iran, stroking her face. Um...creepy anyone? Seriously, if I woke up to some crazy dude STROKING my face as I slept, there would have been some serious explaining to do (probably by me, after being arrested for attacking said face stroker). Who knows, maybe he did stroke my face, but got no response since that was the night I tried absinthe and was pretty numb to the world. (For those of you who don't know, absinthe became illegal in the US and most of Europe in 1915 and has only recently been legalized.) Some recent bottlers of absinthe claim 82% alcohol content and I'm would not have been surprised if I sampled from one of those bottles. I think I might have done some permanent damage to my throat, as apparently absinthe is made up of some otherworldly ingredients that have the ability to change the chemical make-up of your body, turning your throat into actual fire. Not just a burning sensation, but it creates actual FIRE in your body. I don't have any idea how those crazy Romantic poets from the 1800s like William Blake used to down the stuff night after night, but I found nothing romantic about it and have no plans for repeat performances, believe me!
While there, in between face stroking and absinthe drinking, I did most of the usual touristy things like visiting the Prado (by the way, Goya is a shitty painter), eating lots of Manchego cheese, chorizo (as there's no pork in Morocco for the most part) and drinking lots of non-Moroccan red wine. Ah, heaven!

Tia, Halima and I went to Toledo for the day on a high speed train (220 km/hr) and walked around the historic town on cobblestone streets, people watching. We also got into the habit of ending all of our nights (or early mornings) in true Spanish fashion of "chocolate y churros", melted chocolate (not hot chocolate...but mugs of PURE chocolate) into which we dipped churros, basically unsweetened tube-shaped doughnuts. Or, basically, the best way ever to end an evening.

Now I'm back in Rabat, away from those crazy folks in Spain. I'm only here for one more month and it's beginning to hit me that I'll be back in the states soon. That means looking for a job, applying to grad school, seeing my family and friends, sleeping in my own bed! So, a mixed bag.

This year has been a great experience for me and I've no regrets at all for quitting my job and taking off on this adventure. All of these experiences have changed me in permanent ways and I'm definitely not the same person now than when I left. For some people this might be a good thing, for others, seemingly not. Some of my friendships have not withstood this time away and my need to explore myself and my life. However, I've gained other friendships and formed a much clearer picture of who I am in my own mind.

Ramadan Chapter 3

I've been fasting for a week now and I'm kind of surprised at how easy it has become. I have no problem getting up at 4am to eat (as if I'd turn down the chance to eat) before going back to bed for another 4 hours or so. However, if I was doing something more physical with my day, like a labor-intensive job, I'm sure I would have a really hard time with fasting. I've heard about professional athletes who fast during Ramadan and still compete and I just don't know how they can go without water! That's definitely the hardest part. The first three or four days were the worst, as I was tired and light-headed for most of the day. Studying was grueling, as my brain did not want to fire any synapses and I gave up on trying to memorize my new vocabulary words. Nothing was sticking in my head. However, now things are much better and aside from having a dry mouth almost constantly, I'm fine with the fasting. As long as I don't have to read any long texts in class, I really don't even think about fasting. It's so strange how the body can adapt so easily to changes in environment. Of course, I'm probably totally screwing up my metabolism, as I'm completely inactive all day, then eat a bunch of high-fat foods, then go to sleep. Not really great for the health, but it's an experience.

The foods that we have for Iftar (the meal at night when we break our fast) are some of the least healthy foods I've had thus far in Morocco. It's pretty much fried bread (stuffed with meat or cheese sometimes), or different fried bread covered in honey and butter, mini pita sandwiches with tuna or ground beef, cookies (made from dough that is deep fried, soaked in honey then coated in sesame seeds), harirra (a Moroccan soup with the possibility of vegetables in it, but I'm still not clear on that), dates (sometimes soaked in honey) then sometimes a second soup, or like tonight, lentils. There is an astonishing lack of fruit or vegetables (surprising since they are so cheap here and really good) and almost no meat. It's pretty much sugar, flour, fat and more sugar. It's only been a week and I'm craving something green and vegetable tasting. So, even though I'm fasting, it's not like I'm taking in any fewer calories. If anything, I'm probably gaining weight on this little adventure. Great. Only in Morocco can I gain weight while fasting.

Before, I was looking forward to the end of Ramadan so I could have a damn drink, now I just want a carrot or something. My how priorities change. Ok, well maybe not that much. I'd still give up a carrot for a beer.

Ramadan Chapter 2

I just finished my fourth day of fasting and am now sitting contentedly full, a huge bottle of water next to me and quite proud of myself for sticking to this. As I feared, the no water part of the day is the hardest, as I am used to constantly having a bottle at my side like a security blanket; even if I don't want to drink, I know I can and that is somehow satisfying.

The first two days were difficult, in that I was thirsty and kind of in a daze, making my studies even more difficult. I'm now in the Intermediate level course and it focuses on longer texts, which I have to read aloud. The more I speak, the more difficult it is to talk without water, reminding me of how thirsty I am. I did just find out today though, that I am allowed to rinse my mouth with water, or brush my teeth during the day, as long as I don't swallow any water. Just being able to swish some water around in my mouth was actually really helpful and made reading in class easier. I've been able to concentrate a little better over these past two days as well and think my body is adjusting. However, today was the first day that I've actually been really hungry.

I've been waking up around 3:30 - 3:45 in the morning to eat something and to drink as much as possible, to keep me going throughout the day and without doing that, I don't know how I'd make it. However, I have until the first prayer of the day to eat whatever I want. So, I've become attached to a website with the prayer times listed on it to have a general sense of when the call to prayer will happen. Since the prayer times are based on the movement of the sun, they are not exact, but are probably accurate to with in a couple of minutes. I've included a chart with the prayer schedule for Rabat at the bottom of this post, if you want to see what it looks like.

The first prayer of the day is called Fajr occurs at dawn, as the first light of the sun is seen. It occurs between 4:30am and 5:00am in the month of September this year and so up until the time I hear the call to prayer, I can eat and drink normally. Since I have become so accustomed to hearing the calls to prayer, I sleep through them and have had to set my alarm to wake up in time to eat something before I begin fasting for the day.

From the time of the Fajr prayer call until the 4th prayer of the day (called Maghrib), I cannot eat or drink anything. This prayer occurs right when the sun is on the horizon (dusk) and falls between 7:00pm and 6:15pm through September, getting earlier each day by a few minutes. On the one hand, I'm happy about that, as I can drink a few minutes sooner each day! However, this means that days are getting shorter and winter is approaching, my time here is getting shorter and I'm reminded of how much I still want to accomplish before I return to the states.

I have been looking forward to the Maghrib azan (call to prayer), because that means I can finally eat and drink! The meal in the evening is called "iftar" and means literally, "breaking the fast". My ate my first iftar meal with my host family and Joe and Monica, my next door neighbors who also go to my school. They're a married couple from Australia and Muslim also. My host family put on quite a spread (as is usual when they have company...in this case the company was Joe and Monica. I'm no longer considered company!). We ate traditional Moroccan soup called harirra, dates, dried figs, mellawi (unleavened, fried bread, not unlike Indian naan), schbakia (Moroccan cookies usually for Ramadan) and of course, tea. After eating, all the Muslims went to pray the Maghrib prayer (i.e., not me), then returned to eat more before the last prayer of the day. Supposedly they are two separate meals, but it was like one big, never-ending meal in my opinion. My host sister/mother, Fatiha brought out meat and rice, homemade bread and a fruit and vegetable salad. I wasn't expecting all of this food and was sooo full by the time we left, I could not imagine eating again. Perhaps this is why I was not hungry the next day!

I've had the other three IFtaar dinners, all at my school. They're pretty much the same, consisting of soup, fried breads (one stuffed with ground beef and spices, one stuffed with vegetables, one plain), and a pancake-like substance, very similar to Ethiopian injeera which is eaten with a mixture of honey and butter spooned over it. Also, there are the requisite figs and cookies and I'm actually getting tired of sweets ... and bread now that I think of it. I can't remember the last real vegetable I've seen and every IFtaar seems like a contest to see how much fat you can stuff into your body. This might be cool for a night or two, but I don't think I can take this for the entire month! I wish now I had done a before and after weigh-in. Oh well. We'll see how it goes. Wish me luck!

Here's a link to a prayer schedule for Rabat, Morocco: