"Gidday James, uncanny timing"
"Hey Blair, Corey and I were just wondering if we should make a dent in the keg we brought back from Luxembourg"
"I'll be there in 15 mins" I replied as I threw on clothes and headed to the bus stop. Believe me - 15 mins is fast for London.
It was only meant to be a few quite drinks of the keg, but it quickly turned hazy and all of a sudden I found myself waiting in line at Ministry of Sound. What the hell?
Groove Armada were playing but I wouldn't know.
Had a BBQ the weekend after and mourned Amy Winehouse by screaming the lyrics to 'Valerie' at 3 in the morning.
Renee returned from the wedding, all smiles, winks and head nods. She arrived on the same day as my parents, who have come over for a foray into Europe and beyond. Queue London tourist bullshit; Portobello markets (again), Camden markets (again), Buckingham Palace (again), but we did manage to get to the Lion King stage show which was ace. There was alot of drinking involved as well, and Mum kept up! So, good work Mum.
Anyway, as luck and timing would have it, the week my parents get here was also the week we had lined up a trip to Morocco. When your girlfriend is a nanny, you have to take holidays when you can. We had locked in a 5 day stay at a 5 star (apparently) hotel, because that's how we roll. No worries getting into Morocco, until we hit the cab rank and they started telling us that it costs NZ$40 to get to our hotel, which we could practically see from the airport. Some serious haggling later and I managed to get the price down a little bit.
Then he drove us to the hotel - sound effects as described.
Brooooom (engine starting), Eerrrrr (peeling out of carpark), Eeeekekkk (pulling up at hotel).
I started laughing, hysterically, not because I thought my getting ripped off was funny, this was the laughter of anguish.
"Very far" I said, "Very very far, ha ha". I was mimicking his use of words said to us only 4 minutes earlier, sarcastically or course. We gave him 200 dirrum and asked for change, which he didn't have so he pointed me to the reception and asked me to get change, to which I swiftly grabbed the money, thanked him and strolled into the hotel, with little to no intention of heading back out to see him.
And I didn't. (hands on hips, head looking up to sky in Superman gaze).
The hotel was far from a 5 star, but we had really expected that, considering it was Africa that we were travelling through. It wasn't bad though. Possibly the biggest hotel I have ever stayed at. It was huge. It had two pools, a multitude of restaurants and bars, gyms, shops, and the reception was larger than a sheep farm you would find in the back country of the Wairarapa Bush. Our room was huge too. Dirty, but huge.
It was fairly late when we arrived, yet we still went into the city centre of Marrakesh to check out the night markets, which was less pleasant than an STI exam. You couldn't move without being fondled by some snarly shopkeeper with shifty eyes. In the end, I just had to start Jackie Channing their ass.
Renee still managed to buy some shoes.
The next day, we were up at the crack of dawn, for no particular reason. We noticed that we could jump in a van and head up through the Atlas Mountains, so we did. It was a welcome shift from the busy streets of Marrakesh. We headed through Berber country and ended up high in the mountains, dining on Tagine and contemplating whether we should do a trek into the forest to see a waterfall.
The headlines for the next day nearly read;
"Small tour group gets lost in Atlas Mountains. All were dangerously unprepared."
Its a bit of dramatization, yet we did have a nervous time up there. The reasoning? Well, as we were hiking up we started to hear thunder.
"Its OK" we thought "thunder must be common in these thar hills"
Then it started to rain lightly
"Its OK" we though "light rain must be common in these thar hills"
Then, in a matter of second, it turned into a grade 5 torrential downpour. I'm talking monsoon rain. I'm talking all of Gods wrath and fury. I'm talking about a rain that would put Noah's Ark to shame. Where the hell did it come from? Who knows. Then our little trek guide, a kid of all 14 years old, decided it would be good idea to trek even higher into the mountains. We shrugged and agreed - I mean, who were we to argue, this kind of rain must be common.
It wasn't until we were deep in devil territory and we saw the look on his little face, that we knew we may be in a spot of trouble if we don't decide to head down straight away. The river we were climbing was swelling fast, and the rocks were getting perilously slippery. The rain was relentless. My camera was tucked under my one light t-shirt, craddled into my right arm as I was using my left to navigate the path....
We made it. Hows that for cutting out an intense part of story! You didn't want to sit through it, trust me.
As we reached the bottom, the skies cleared up and glorious sunshine pelted on us. Typical.
We had drinks with Nick and Sam later on, a couple we met that day, and discussed the excitement of the trek.
The next morning, we headed back to the souks (markets) for a spot of daytime shopping. It was much friendlier by day. There was some crazy things to be found in those markets. It is Africa, mind you. We saw falcons and tortoises, chameleons and lizards, vulture carcases and baby alligators, as well as the standard plethora of scarfs, shoes, rugs, spices, and ceramics. We got some pretty good deals on a few items, and some not so good deals on some other items (like my handpainted bowls - god dammit, I just want to smash them now)
The rest of Friday was spent just chilling in the sun. I was looking forward to giving my white ass a touch of Vitamin D. By 5 O'clock I discovered that there is a limit to how much vitamin D you want to give yourself. My skin was aching; red and raw. The sun cut through me like last nights curry.
The Saturday saw us whimper away from the sun (and a good thing too - it got to 49 degrees!!!) and head out to the seaside town of Essaouira. It was a cool town, with more vowels in the name than you can shake a stick at. We strolled the less touristy streets and were amazed at the state of the produce industry. We finished the day off at the beach, with Renee giving in to the henna craze. That night, we had farewell drinks with Nick and Sam, before returning to our room for one last time.
So that's that. Morocco was cool, but definitely check out places like Egypt and Jordan if you want to get your fill of African / Arabic life. It was just too expensive (due mainly to do with all the European and British tourists and their strong (ahem) currencies.
This coming weekend we are off to Paris, for some baguettes and croissants. One last time to see the parents as well.
Stay posted. Blog posted that is.
Hahahaha