Days 341 to 345 – Making our way to Greece while the sun shines

Day 341 – (Wed) This trip was totally spontaneous and only happened in large part thanks to Nakita’s strong desire to go somewhere warm before she went home (and my strong desire to go back to Greece).  After a couple of days of procrastination (read: searching for cheap flights to cool places) Nakita found us cheap return flights to the Greek island of Kos – somewhere I’d not really heard of, and not one of “the” Greek islands on the must do list but it looked lovely on the tourist websites and would be a bit cheaper thanks to its lower profile. Only problem – we had to fly in and out of Brussels!!! As loyal readers may remember Brussels is the hated travel destination of most exchange students, and we were headed to the terrible and ‘remote’ Brussels Charleroi airport. Nonetheless, we (being me, Nakita from Sydney and Ally from Canada, whom you may remember from the Faro, Portugal post :P) were stoked to be heading for 4 nights of sun, sand and Greek food!!


First glimpse of Greek islands!

We got in late at night so there was really only time for dinner. We stayed at the Koala Hotel (which I almost didn’t want to stay in because of the name) but it was a great deal for a triple share room (a bit hard to find – and Greece doesn’t really seem to ‘do’ hostels, kind of like Bali because the hotels are so cheap to begin with) but the hotel ended up being great. It was run by a couple of Aussie-born Greek blokes who were really helpful, friendly and down to Earth. They recommended a place for dinner down the road so off we went. About half an hour later (after walking down a mildly dodgy feeling street with no street lights – a sign of austerity?) we were seated at a table covered in different meals to share, cold beer/wine and good company J

first dinner

From the moment we landed it was just so nice to be in Greece. It was definitely in the top 3 of my favourite countries (which rotated frequently between Greece, Croatia and Germany). The air was warm, no cardigan necessary, able to wear a dress without leggings, a nice breeze, not too humid… perfect beer and swimming weather. And speaking of swimming, if we leaned out over the balcony of our (air-conditioned … haven’t used that stuff in a while) hotel room (probably a bit further than was safe) we could see the beach J The landscape was quite arid and really reminded me of Australia, gum trees included! We got a good look at it on a bus ride from the airport in the centre of the island of Kos to Kos town on the north-east end.

One of the strangest things about this place though is that it was almost mini-Maastricht… but with better weather. The first sign that we were actually heading to a Dutch island was the abundance of Dutch people on the plane and airport bus. Other signs included restaurant menus in Greek and Dutch (not English), signs to hire things in Dutch, Greek waiters greeting restaurant guests in fluent Dutch and… the biggest giveaway… the bicycles on every corner (including signs in Dutch to hire them!). We were told by locals that because the island is mostly flat and has always had a pretty good cycle network with good bike paths etc its become quite the popular destination with the Dutchies. Still it was enough of a change of scenery for us!

our bikes and the scenery

Day 342 – (Thurs) Our first day was spent taking it pretty easy, starting with an orientation walk of the area, from our hotel down to the beach, along the water and around to a marina. Dotted around Kos town are random areas of cordoned off old ruins and of course the cycle paths. It was quite hot already though so we made a bee-line back to the hotel to hire bikes nearby which made getting around a whole lot easier – and more fun. There was a great breeze as we whizzed back to the marina for a bit more of a wander and a look around some of the squares, stalls etc. The rest of the day was spent lunching and lounging on the beach swimming and (unfortunately for me) getting a ridiculous tan line that lasted the rest of the trip! We found a restaurant/bar on the beach with free lounge chairs and indulged in cocktails (Nakita, do you like piiiiina colaaaaadas?!), Greek nibblies and dipping into the water right in front of us. By June the water had time to warm up a little but it was still quite fresh. Eventually we cycled back to the hotel and, after a quick stop off at the shop for more bottled water (lucky it was cheap but I wouldn’t suggest drinking the water on most greek islands, very salty… as is the sea water around the place – think crispy skin after coming out of the water!) we headed out for dinner again. The plan was to avoid the really touristy places, anywhere with pictures of food or a hawker out the front (or definitely both) was out of the question. Eventually we found an unassuming place one building back from the main road along the beach with a nice waiter who didn’t hassle us – perfect. The food was really good, nice and authentic, well cooked and fresh. I had moussaka and the mascot of our trip – the obligatory Greek salad.

our view for lunch

a dip after lunch

Day 343 - (Fri). This whole day was spent on the water. We’d booked a trip the day before on a sailing boat to head out to three nearby islands. A 9am start and it was already hot under the sun (unfortunately this meant a bit more unwitting sunburn – it seems my Australian sun radar was a bit out of whack… I figured they have Ozone up there, she’ll be right… not so much … but lesson learnt for the next trip to, Croatia, I assure you). After about an hour and a half of relaxing cruising out into open waters we came to the first stop, Platti. Bascially it was a little cove with a flat white sand beach and some really cute classic blue and white buildings a bit back from the beach. We didn’t have long, about a half hour by the time we got down from the boat but it was enough for a quick dip. Back on the boat it was time for lunch – everything you’d expect; lamb skewers, rice, salad, tzatziki, bread etc etc. Was delicious and clearly home made (well, boat made… but with lurv :P). The crew on the boat were great; our captain Georgie, we called him, his wife and daughter in the kitchen by the looks of it, and … the entertainment… Kosta, the boat clown effectively. This guy was trouble – typical cheeky Greek sense of humour and only took it too far on a few occasions :P

relaxing on the boat


our 'mate' Goergie!

After lunch we puttered off to Kalymnos where it was SO stinking hot that all we could do was find the nearest geltai shop to the boat and sit in the shade and watch the harbour. It was bloody good gelati tho (I spotted an old guy nearby who had a fresh looking fruit salad and gelati so I copy-catted that). After about an hour it was back on the boat (where we were treated to some home-made delicious Greek donut thingies OMG SO good!) and then full-speed ahead for the last stop – Pserimos. This was a tiny little alcove where we could jump off the boat into the water (which I convinced Nakita to do and then we both paid for it for a while after with water up our nose!) and then just walk up around the bay or explore a little church above the rocks. Somehwere along the way we also saw some dolphins and Gorgie slowed down for us to have a look. The best part of the whole day though was simply the warm wind in our hair and that reassuring motion of the boat over teeny waves. Eventually it was time to head back to Kos Town. Dinner that night (we’d worked up an appetite swimming and lazing around all day remember!) was on the edge of a lovely little plaza in the middle of the old town. Really we just ordered a collection of starters; dolmades, lentil patties, the obligatory Greek salad etc. I was surprised to find I like dolmades these days (maturing taste buds and all that). We sat in the warm evening air with a light breeze and watched little kids run around the square. The only downer of the night was the waitress telling us we were ordering too much! Ha! We told her we were on holidays and we’d eat what we wanted!!

Nakita and I celebrating surviving jumping off the boat

'hanging out' at the front of the boat

Platti

Kalymnos

Pserimos

Day 344 – (Sat) Our last full day in Kos and we decided to hit up the hot springs for which the island is apparently famed. They did not disappoint. Usually I imagine hot springs these days to be concrete pools dug out of the ground with hot water being pumped in, completely commercial and charmless. What we were greeted with when we arrived at the beach (after a great bus ride up a slowly ascending hill, affording amazing views of the cobalt blue sea and swish resorts on the hillside) was literally some sand dug out of the ground, a few big rocks placed on the sea-side of the dug-out to stop the ocean waves coming in and a trickle of really, really hot water coming in from the cliff side up the beach. There was a smell of sulphur immediately and we could see little bubbles rising in the water. Foolishly, our first entrée into the hot spring was in the hottest side, where the fresh hot water comes in, so it was really bloody hot. It took quite a while to adjust and was honestly pretty uncomfortable at first, but after we adjusted I could see how it felt nice. Later we discovered if you sit on the ocean side, a little of the cooler ocean water seeps in and makes the temperature more bearable. The rest of the afternoon was spent lying on a sun lounger under a palm frond umbrella, reading a magazine, a quick dip and then back to the bus stop. It was a steep walk back up to the main road from the beach below, and at the top we were greeted by a real mountain goat… who decided he wanted to eat my shorts!! Thankfully an ice cream vendor was on hand to deftly shoo him away :S

Hot springs


Cliffs on way to hot springs


Goat trying to eat my shorts!! (and a great shot of dodgy arm tan line!!)

Our original plan for the day had been to cycle to the beach, but we soon changed our mind when we found out how steep it was to get up there. By the time we got back on the bus to Kos Town it felt like 100C (I think my aussie internal thermometer had been turned down during a Dutch winter and I was feeling it a bit more than usual). Sitting on the bus also gave us the chance to take in the views.

The evening consisted of a swim in the hotel pool and cocktail hour with one of the hotel guys, Angelo, who made us cocktails! He also recommended a place for dinner, a little way down the road along the beach in the opposite direction to the Marina where he said locals eat. We cycled there and pulled up to a place that was LITERALLY on the water – as in there was our table, a little wooden fence and then the beach. We could see Turkey out in the distance (Kos is only 20 minutes from Bodrum on the Turkish east coast) and there was, again, a lovely breeze. Don’t know about the locals eating there though – we ended up at a table next to some Dutch people we met coming off the plane! Again there was plenty of food for dinner; the highlight of my meal – a piece of chargrilled octopus that looked like a hand!

Angelo's crazy cocktails

My octopus 'hand'

Day 345 – (Sun) Time to go home. I started our last day with a little solo cycle in the opposite direction for a bit of an explore. Later we lunched at the Museum Restaurant, recommended to us by a fellow exchanger where again we ordered A LOT and again the waiter told us it was too much. But we showed him! Lunch was followed by a stroll in the Marina to buy a few paintings as souveniers and then a sweaty walk to the airport bus stop with our luggage. Once on the plane it was announced  that we would be stuck on the tarmac for 20 minutes. But it was OK, we passed the time staring at a gorgeous baby and his equally gorgeous Greek dad (flying solo) in the row in front!

Arriving back in Brussels “le shit-hole” Charleroi Airport (as we have now dubbed) it, we entered into the nerve-wracking process of procuring a hotel in jumbled English-French to take us to the expectedly dodgy hotel we’d booked for the night seeing our flight arrived at 10.45pm and there were no trains running back to Maas til the next day. We had low expectations of the place given its reviews but I was actually pleasantly surprised. Don’t get me wrong, it was VERY basic and a bit grimy, with that faint smell of cigarette smoke that never really goes away. But it was generally clean, the guy at the front desk was surprisingly helpful and it had wifi and even breakfast included (those chocolate croissants I have now decided I love!).

Day 346 – (Mon) Up early and back to Maas by train. While other parts of beligum are really picturesque (think Bruges of Antwerp) but Brussels and especially  its outerlying areas really aren’t. Most of the time you just feel unsafe and dirty! Although I am going to miss good train travel….

These times they are a changin'

Just takin' some time out to put down a few observations of late.
This blog comes slightly out of order, in that I’ve just got back from 2 weeks holidays with the lovely Brett (which I will blog about soon I promise but its looming as a massive undertaking for another day) but I’ve noticed a few things which I wanted to share.


Spring has finally sprung in Maastricht. I’ve been waiting for it for so long because I got here in time to see the trees change from green to autumn colours to deathly black sticks and I’ve been so looking forward to seeing all the leaves and flowers come back. Now don’t get too excited, the signs are only small at the moment – but the promise they hold is making everyone here noticeably more happy. Little daisies are starting to sprout in the green lawns now that they’re no longer suffocated by snow, and rows of yellow or purple flowers are popping up in random clumps in large patches of grass (for example there’s a rectangular sort of section of flowers out the front of our guesthouse building in the middle of a whole field of grass). Japanese blossom trees are flowering and there are daffodils in people’s front gardens. (All of this bodes very well for our planned trip to the Netherland’s largest display of tulips and other flowers up north in about a month’s time).

     

(a taste of the Keukenhof flower gardens - maastricht doesn't quite look like this yet!)

The weather also has pulled its finger out – it got to a whopping 16C yesterday! (although the average has been more like 13C during the day and about 4C at night.) Still, there’s sun, oh glorious sun. It was actually warm in the sunlight, like ‘break a small sweat if you were mildly physically active in said sun’ warm. My new roomie even hauled a chair out on to her balcony (which I don’t think anyone else has used since I’ve been here) to read a book in the sun. And it won't be long before Nakita gets out those shorts she's been longing to wear (and so whinging about) for months! When we first got here all the Aussie gave these Euro wimps crap for ripping off their tops and dining alfresco as soon as the weather tipped above 10C but after months of sunlight deprivation and night falling as early as 4.30pm we know understand. When Brett and I left here 2 and a bit weeks ago it was about 5C, gloves, scarves and hats were necessary. On my return I find I need only wear 2 layers now and I can even get away with cycling without gloves. I don’t even need the 5 pairs of woollen socks I’ve accumulated. Over the last few days I too, like some deprived European sunflower, have begun turning my head to the sun every chance I get (although I argue it is still a bit too chilly to sit outside to eat).

I am most pleased though at the extended daylight hours – it’s now light until at least 6.30pm which means less riding home in the dark. AND its lighter earlier in the mornings which, yep, you guessed it, means less riding TO uni in the dark. All in all the weather over the past few days has reminded me a bit of home, those days between summer and autumn where its no longer beach weather but its perfect for a drive with the window down or a walk on the beach (but not a swim).


However, I am weary not to get ahead of myself. We have had bursts of nice weather before (say a week of 8C days in between weeks of frost and fog) and even during one day the weather can turn – you leave the house without a scarfe, hat or gloves because you think it won’t be necessary and end up coming home an ice cube. So I refused to be suckered in completely. But it is officially spring here and the signs are good for a gradually move back to that elusive European summer I experience for just a few weeks at the start of my trip.



And on another note, I know I've been a bit slack with your Dutch lessons (although I've still been going to mine) so here's some Dutch I've learned:
"Helas pindakaas!" = "that's crap!"
spijkerbroek is the Dutch word for jeans (go firgure)
and a cute one... krumeltjes = crumbs! :)

Days 167 to 171 - SUNSHINE my long lost friend (courtesy of Morocco)

Day 167 (Sat) - A 'flying' start to the year! (get it...? get it...? :p)
I spent the first day of 2011 all up in the air - literally. After about four hours sleep I dragged myself out of bed and was walked  dutifully to the airport bus by my two Socttish tour guide mates. At Edinburgh airport I randomly saw an enormous billboard with the Sydney Harbour bridge on it - our taxes hard at work! From Edinburgh I flew to London and faced my first challenge at negotiating Heathrow airport and its multiple and sprawling terminals. I'd like to point out that I CAN read maps, I DIDN'T get lost or lose any luggage and I made my flight on time! From London I flew first to Casablanca (of film fame) and then finally to Marrakech - although oddly we didn't get off the plane at Casablanca, we just landed, let some people off, picked up some more and took off again. Notably there were HEAPS of Italians on the flight there - perhaps a popular Italian holiday destination? Mum and dad met me at the airport and boy was I glad to see them waiting there. Apparently they had a horror time getting there (manic traffic and people everywhere for New Year's Day). We taxied to the hotel Mum had booked and then had to walk down this crazy winding dark alley on foot – mum and dad apparently knew where they were going and looking back on it now it makes sense but at the time I was thinking where the hell am i?! All of a sudden we stopped and knocked on this big dark door with a proper knocker and a nice young Moroccan man answered the door with a “hellooo” and a smile like mum and dad are long lost friends! The hotel, or ryad as they’re known, was as I’d hoped – built up around a central courtyard (as traditional ryads are) with mosaic tiled floors, coloured walls, wrought iron furniture but with pillows and lounges, a little pool (not for swimming just for looks) and a fountain, and curtains draped everywhere. There were orange trees growing up through the courtyard with big fat oranges hanging on them. We were on the third floor, 3 single beds in one room – yay! The room was a bit cold because of the cement walls and huge gaps between the door and the walls! but nothing like Maastricht or London cold! The bathroom had a red clay kind of alcove shower and "moroccan rose" soap :) After such a long day travelling and a shower in what felt a bit like a cave (in a cool way) I was ready to crash in my single bed - earplugs at the ready (sorry Dad Xx)

Our ryad courtyard

our room on the top floor

Mum and Dad on the top balcony of our ryad

Day 168 (Sun) Introduction to chaos

After the cutest breakfast at the ryad (with this delicious fig (or was it quince?) jam, fresh bread and moroccan mint tea) we ventured  out into the sunshine (yes, SUNSHINE) towards the "big square" as the locals call it when directing tourists. Luckily it was a straight walk pretty much and then all of a sudden the fairly narrow "street" (more like a pedestrian way with the odd bicycle, scooter or donkey led cart crashing through and nearly taking someone down) we emerged into the large open square (where we would come to spend quite a bit of time). The square was teeming with snake charmers, guys with monkeys on leashes, dudes dressed in crazy red hats banging cymbals, fresh orange juice stalls, women painting henna tattoos and people shopping and eating. Within a few minutes of being there I had the second-scariest experience of the Morocco trip - a woman came out of nowhere, grabbed my right hand and was about to stick what looked, at first sight, like an enormous syringe filled with brown stuff into my skin!!!! Turns out she was a henna painter and the "Syringe" had not needle but was just an easy way to apply it. Unfortunately, she was also my first introduction into the persistence and aggression of Moroccan touts and hawkers. She would NOT let go of my hand, while spinning this tale (in English of course) about how if the henna went dark I would have "very good marriage". I tried to explain I hadn't asked for anything but it was futile. The woman wouldn't release her pincer grip and it would have looked dumb if she'd stopped halfway through anyway (given it lasts for days). After going to the lengths of sprinkling some glitter on the finished design she then demanded the equivalent of about 5 pounds from memory. Having just arrived, I had absolutely no Moroccan money on me so mum had to give her some change (not as much as she asked for but enough to get her moving anyway). So, my first lesson learned - don't let yourself be accosted! From then on, I kept a keen eye on who was approaching us.

'traditional' water sellers in the main square

my enforced henna design, i quite liked it though

Still, it was a lovely day, and we took a walk in the ... you guessed it ... sunshine! to the Koutoubia Mosque (one of the oldest in Marrakech from memory and probably the most well known) and then to the public gardens behind it. It was inexplicably wonderful to wander around in one layer of clothing (and a shawl of course), with a clear blue sky, a slight breeze and warmth from the sun :D We stopped at a place in the square to have lunch and Dad introduced me to the lemon chicken tagines he'd been eating for the 3 days before I got there! delicious. and continuing my suspicions about the Italians, it seems many of the restaurants serve really good pizzas too.

koutoubia mosque and BLUE SKIES!
Next we took a ride in a horse buggy, I suppose you'd call it (they're everywhere in the main square) out to the Jardin Majorelle - a mainly cactus garden, artfully laid out and encompassing a house which used to be owed by Yves Saint Laurent. Inside that house, now a museum, was a beautiful collection of his designs inspired by Morocco, which Mum and I visited. The designes stretched from the 1960s to quite recently and it was interesting to see Mum recognise so many designs and fabrics. The colours were just beautiful and you could definitely see how these designs came from the women we could see around us outside.
 

Jardin Majorelle

Unfortunately, we didn't take the hourse carriage back and got completely lost trying to walk back to the main square for dinner. The souks - the market streets - are an absolute rabbit warren and you can't see any sort of landmark by looking up and all the hawkers are telling you to go in different directions. The streets don't last for very long before they come to an intersection of split off in another direction. It was a miracle we eventually made it back out into the open! Once in the square again I busted out some of my high school French (NOT as good as I'd hope it would be after 5 years!) and we had coffee and croissants :) Later we had dinner at a balcony restaurant with a lovely night time veiw of the flat rooftops, the moon in the sky ... oh and satellite tv dishes everywhere! As for the food, all of it was very tasty, they serve these great semi-flat bread rolls with every meal and there was a pot of cumin on the table which I smelt and was instantly reminded of Houmus (although, sadly, this was as close as I got to houmus there, apparently its more a turkish thing). Only downside is the prices have skyrocketed since Mum and Dad both visited separately in the 70s.

rooftop dinner

Day 169 (Mon) BIRTHDAY!!

Left ryad at midday (after viewing some truly fabulous birthday msgs/videos on FB) to then have the most awful experience I've had on a birthday (yes, even worse than having to spend 17 hours in a car driving back from Sydney one year). We were heading to a tannery off the beaten track and a guy latched on to us wanting to take us there for "no money, no money" which of course meant $$. We said no, he said no worries, we said no again, he wouldn't leave us alone - eventually mum had to bust out the "we'll call the tourist police" threat and then he just snapped, yelling at us in a mixture of languages, his eyes bugging out of his head and literally frothing at the mouth. Ugh, talk about unsettling birthday vibes. After that, I threw the 24-year-old equivalent of a hissy fit and announced that I wanted to get out of there pronto and go somewhere birthday worthy (preferable inside!).

And so we did - the Marrakech museum, much better with a cool courtyard out the front where I got a fresh birthday orange juice and even had a coffee (yes, look at me go) before venturing inside to see amazing mosaic celings and floors, cool jewellery (including necklace talismans with, I quote, "prohylactic" qualities! as in for safety protection though, not baby protection), pottery and ornate wooden carvings. It was very cool inside the thick walls and obviously no one hassling you like out on the streets. Next stop was an outdoor relic type building (best part of that was walking around int he sun having a look) and finally a theological college which featured the most inexplicably intricate moulded stucco ceilings and door archways, more mosaics, a calm pool in the middle of a courtyard etc.

Marrakech Museum mosaics

theological college couryard

Dinner that night in the square again before grabbing some birthday biscuits from a delicious little bakery on the way home. Back at the ryad we ordered fresh mint tea and sat outside on one of the balcony areas (yes, outside, at night - and we didn't freeze!) and had tea and cookies for substitute birthday cake :)

Mum and I gobbling birthday dessert

DAY 170 (Tues) Running for the hills
Due to mum's prodigous planning we were able to seek refuge in the hills today. A driver picked us up in a sedan and we spent the day stopping off along the way, heading into the hills/waterfalls and napping in the car on the way back! I started out speaking my admittedly terrible french to our driver Halid who spoke only some English. It was good at first, I could understand him and get some basic points across, and translate for mum and dad. But I hit a speed bump when mum started asking me to say things that I had no idea how to say in french (although on the upside, I realised how much I could have said in Dutch if the occasion had called for it!). And by the time we were on the way home, I was pretty knackered and didn't have the brain power to speak another language so it was a pretty silent trip home (excpet for the terribly embarassing 90s western music coming from the radio - think a cover of Lady gaga done by a community radio station :P)

bridge we crossed during our hills trip

During out trip we stopped off at a house of the Berber (village) people for some fresh made flat bread, honey and olive oil (which tasted completely natural) and fresh tea, as well as a look around their house. It all felt like a bit of a set up (they were obviously quite a well off family who got tips from everyone who visited) but it was still pretty cool to see their kitchen (still very rudimentary), where they kept the cows under the house(!) and the TINY alcove for the shower.

After a big day we had a low key dinner - mum and dad brought back an assortment of stuff from a place nearby and we had a sort of picnic out on the balcony again. I LOVE the salads there, they have spices and herbs on them that taste great and the meat generally melts off the bone. And the bread, oh the bread, warm and crusty mmmm. NO HOUMUS tho!!! devo

Day 171 (Wed) Last day
First stop today was a Maison des Glaces (ice cream shop) on the square to satisfy Dad's craving :P Then we took our time wandering around the souk markets at a time of day when they weren't too hectic and it was actually much nicer. We saw stalls with towering piles of olives or fresh mint leaves, pig heads sitting on tagine plates!, leather and wood works, chickens in cages and some guy who yelled out that he could sell dad herbal viagra!!! I bought a shawl (with mums help) - a bright green on, surprise surprise, to liven up my black/grey/brown maastricht wardrobe. Our last dinner was an early one, again on the square (its the place to be) with a great view out over the action. Dinner was a good pizza, another lemon/chicken tagine, some grilled chicken shazlicks and salad, and more fresh OJ (i miss that now). And we were treated to a sound track of drumming from down in the square and even some fire twirlers (while being a safe distance from the monkey handlers trying to impose their tiny beasts on us!) We were also lucky enough to be in town for a Morocco v France soccer match, being held just out of town at Marrakech stadium, which we were able to watch on a portable big screen in the main square. It took us an embarrassingly long time to figure out which team was which but it became obvious after a while (judging by the crowd reaction), although it also became clear it was probably france's B-team. Topped the night off with another ice cream (wanted to make the most of ice cream weather given its freezing in maastricht but I don't have a freezer!) and then back to the ryad.

aerial view of the main square

browsing in the markets

Day 172 (Thurs) On the road again
Another full day of travel, from Marrakech airport, via Casablanca again, to Heathrow airport, where we stayed at a hotel near the airport grounds so we could all get our flights out the next day. Was a nice opportunity to have one last dinner and drink at the bar with Mum and Dad, look back over the holiday and say a proper goodbye.

Day 173 (Fri) See you in 6 months!
Early morning departure for me so Mum dutifully got up to have breakfast with me (but I don't blame Dad for needing his sleep!) Then it was a hug and a kiss goodbye before I jumped on the arport shuttle bus to make my way to Munich - the last leg of this mammoth break....

Epilogue: Forgive me now as I'm going to have a huge rant about Marrakech. Let me preface the rant by saying that I was very grateful to be able to visit Marrakech, I learned a lot, gained some life experience, got some sun and some tasty food and was able to spend my birthday somewhere exotic with my parents. However, it was tough to be there...
I was completely overwhelmed with helplessness at the poverty here. Theres this cycle of feeling sorry for someone begging, then annoyance and not wanting to give them anything, mixed with a bit of skepticism, then helplessness and hoplessness because even if I gave them 100 durhims (Moroccan currency) it still wouldn’t do any lasting good, so then this feeling that how can I really help anyone, and then anger at their government, why don’t they have welfare or health care, and realisation of the magnitude of the problem and the lack of future or likely change, how will it change and when and what must be done and will it ever be done, so then I end up feeling completely awful that I don’t give anything and yet I have so much myself and these things are so easy for me… but then I still don’t give anything because it won’t make much difference anyway!!!!Except then I see the little kids and all they want is an ice cream and it would make such a difference to their day … but then the skepticism creeps in again, if I do it for that kid, what about all the others? Its not fair for just one … but isn’t one better than none…. OH I just can’t face it, I ended up being cowardly because I just wanted to be away from it. I resolve to do something about it in my future, to volunteer, to support or start a charity … but of course that’s like saying I’ll diet… ugh the whole thing just make me so depressed … I actually almost cried…

Also the whole covering and men thing has really gotten to me … men make funny noises when you walk past, you can FEEL their eyes on you and they shuffle in your direction, one guy came round my back and made odd noises in my ear, others whistle or say “very nice” or some such things in the little English they know, or in French, others still might say nasty things but it all just made me feel so uncomfortable, so exposed, so insecure and self conscious. I looked down all the time, I avoided men’s gazes or try to get out of their way. I’m acutely aware of how close I am to them or where I can move to hide. But the odd thing is I AM covered, so much more so than in western society, but I feel more exposed because of their standards … and bc I’m foreign. I REALLY hope this is not what women in western societies who come from places like this feel like around us...

hrm... anyway... that's all I suppose. just wanted to get that off my chest.
actually, I got that off my chest at the time but its been a month since I got home and I'm only now completing this blog and looking back its already easier to digest - but I thought it was important to include my thoughts at the time when I was actually emotionally so affected by it.
Food for thought perhaps and a recorded reminder of my feelings for future reflection I hope...