Bonjour!
I don't speak French. I have had literally no desire in all my 22 years to learn anything about France, or the French language. I know I like french toast, french fries, and saying moi when I am being stupid. I know France colonized Morocco, and therefore French is one of the 3 official languages (along with Arabic and Berber). But, having this information did NOT inspire me to learn anything before traveling there. Boooo on me.
Again, I say it: I do not speak French. Nor do I understand it when it is spoken to me. This is a fact that I attempted to ignore in myself when trying to buy train tickets from Casablanca to Rabat. I greeted the man at the ticket counter with a Bonjour! like a freaking idiot, because he then assumed (as is his natural inclination) that I actually spoke French. (see above.) This inadvertently caused me to request 1st-class tickets on the train for about 3 times the price. Boo on me again.
However despite the 55 Dh (8 dollars?--7.5 dirham in one USD means I am doing estimation math in my head all the time...no wonder I spent like $300 more than I planned on. Boo. again.) as opposed to the...maybe 20 Dh we spent in 2nd-class, it was SUPER nice, and there was actually room for our backpacks, and we could sleep comfortably, or we could have if the ride had been more than its swift hour. All in all it was wonderful! It was also a little stressful, because we DO NOT UNDERSTAND FRENCH, meaning: We did not know where our stop was, and also had no idea if we had a transfer or not. We were hoping for not. The only thing we could do was strain for the name of our stop: Rabat Ville, which thankfully did eventually come up, and we got off the train with little drama.
The train station is in downtown Rabat, which looks like downtown LA, according to Elena. I have not spent enough time in LA to make such an assessment. We refer to a map in our travel guide Africa on a Shoestring (which our wonderful friend Megan left with us when she went back to home in December, because we had no other info on Morocco). Anyway, we decide that the Auberges de Juennes (Youth Hostel) is UP the street from the station, and we turn out to be wrong, so we head back DOWN toward the Medina (old city) and eventually arrive at our Hostel, which was lucky as my left shoulder was beginning to threaten to fall off.
There we meet Lydia. Lydia is a wonderful Muslum woman, probably in her 40s, and is in charge of the hostel during the day, and seemed a little lonely. She spoke quite a bit of English, and was probably the cutest hostel-mom ever. We decided to just get beds in the dorms, because they are cheaper than rooms, and we set our stuff down, paid Lydia, and went out into the madness to find an English bookstore, (and therefore a French dictionary) which, according to our guide did in fact, exist. After literally 2 hours of wandering around looking for it, I was beginning to doubt this fact very much.
Eventually, after employing the help of at least 7 different Moroccan men who spoke English in varying degrees, we found the bookstore. Just as it was closing. We begged for just 5 minutes so we could find a better guidebook, and a French-English dictionary, and luckily the man obliged, and after 5 minutes and 180 Dh (27 USD) we were out, and hopefully a little more prepared for our adventure.
We then got food (pizza again...) and then wandered around in the Medina, I bought a really cute shoulder bag made of wool, and Elena got a backpack, and then we went back to our hostel where we froze to death in our sleeping bags and the provided wool blankets piled high on top of us.
The next day, we went to the Royal Palace, which was BEAUTIFUL, and then went to the Kasbah (an old fort once used to defend Rabat against enemies, now home to many people) where we were convinced to get Henna tattoos on our hands, and paid WAY too much . (We each paid 100 Dh, when it should only be like 25 for one hand--when Lydia found out she was scandalized.) and then wandered the Kasbah, got a mint tea, and then went back to the Medina, where we were followed around by these creepy Rasta guys, escaped--thanks to Elena's quick thinking and very convincing performance as a white woman from Ghana who spoke only Twi (hahahahahah!) and then found sanctuary in a pastry shop where I got a Cafe au Lait and this little maple cake that I could not finish. But it was wonderful all the same.
The next morning we planned to leave Rabat to go to Meknes. Like Casa, it was beautiful, but also a little boring...and also a little too ritzy and expensive. At breakfast (provided by the hostel) a Moroccan man was sitting at the table and we went to join him, where he proceeded to talk to me: In French. (see beginning of 1st paragraph) I tried to make him understand that I did NOT understand him, but he spoke no English and maybe he thought I was just being coy or something? So...I was talked at for no less than 30 minutes by this man who seemed to think that if he just repeated what he said over and over, louder and louder, with somewhat frantic hand gestures I would eventually understand what the hell he was saying to me. Shockingly, I did not. Although, out of sheer frustration and resignation I began to smile and nod and pretend I could nearly follow the flow of the conversation. I got very little actual breakfast-eating done.
We left Rabat feeling like we were slightly more prepared for Meknes, as we boarded the train. The adventure was only beginning.
I love you.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Update on the boring and ridiculous.
Wo ho te sen??
I will begin by saying I am crawling out of my skin right now. Campus is boring, I can't go anywhere in Ghana because all hotels in major cities are booked because of the Nations Cup, (CAN 2008) and I don't have the money to go to another Francophone country right now. Francophone countries like Togo, Benin, and Cote d'Voire are at least twice as expensive as Ghana...and when you have grown accustomed to paying only 60 peswas (60 cents) for a meal, paying like 1000 CFA (3 dollars...I think) is awful. I can just imagine how I'll be when I get back to the States. Sigh.
So, I am frustrated. I feel like I should be doing something. But I am not. I feel accomplished when I cook food or do my laundry and am trying to use up the time by reading The Mists of Avalon which is 900 pages and only mediocre. I have decided I will reward myself for finishing it by letting myself read The Poisonwood Bible for a second time. Seriously, if you haven't read it DO IT, right now! Its incredible and parts of it are so incredible in the way they describe the problems facing Africa historically and in contemporary times. READ IT! It cannot be said enough.
In good news, the rats are gone. Presumably dead. Our neighbor Markeida found a dead rat on her balcony, so...yay! I am a vegetarian and I believe in animal rights, and I believe that things like rat poison are harmful to the environment...but...if I could do it again, I would still poison the little bastards. I would also poison the biggest rat in the entire world--which I saw 2 nights ago. I was on the phone, and I looked down at the ground floor of my dorm, and saw a black thing winding its way through the shrubbery. My first thought was: "What is that dog doing?" And then as it came out in the open, I suppressed a gasp as I saw its TWO-FOOT-LONG TAIL. The biggest rat in the world!!!!!!!! This thing has to weigh at least 20 pounds! Oh my god, oh my god oh my god! If that beast ever gets caught on MY balcony I will unleash the fury of 1000 boxes of rat poison. I swear it. Groooooooooosss.
Ooooh, I got my grades back. Well almost all of them. Betty, the advisor from Satan still has not returned my 46 page special study project, but other than that I got 2 As, 2 A-s, and a B+. Not too shabby considering I had little idea what was going on most of the time.
I attended one of the Nations Cup games. Actually 2...I saw Morocco get beat (what????) by Guinea, and I saw Ghana play a terrible game against Namibia, who they should have beaten by like 6 to 0, but ended up with only 1 to 0. The fans were pissed. Rightfully so, it was a really bad game--I mean, just take a shot! Thousands of your country men and women used their hard earned money to see YOU play, just TRY and make a goal! Try!!!!!. But Ghana plays Morocco on Monday, so they better step it up if they want to make the quarter finals. In happy CAN 2008 news, Cote d'Voire is still kicking ass! Yay Elephants!
Okay, those are my Ghana updates, I will post this separately from Morocco stories, because then blogs get tediously long, and I don't want to create tedium. Okay, I will write about Morocco and then I am off to Champs Sports Bar to eat mediocre veggie fajitas. I dream about Mexican food lately...gotta get a fix somewhere...even if it is a cheap imitation of real fajitas.
I love you.
I will begin by saying I am crawling out of my skin right now. Campus is boring, I can't go anywhere in Ghana because all hotels in major cities are booked because of the Nations Cup, (CAN 2008) and I don't have the money to go to another Francophone country right now. Francophone countries like Togo, Benin, and Cote d'Voire are at least twice as expensive as Ghana...and when you have grown accustomed to paying only 60 peswas (60 cents) for a meal, paying like 1000 CFA (3 dollars...I think) is awful. I can just imagine how I'll be when I get back to the States. Sigh.
So, I am frustrated. I feel like I should be doing something. But I am not. I feel accomplished when I cook food or do my laundry and am trying to use up the time by reading The Mists of Avalon which is 900 pages and only mediocre. I have decided I will reward myself for finishing it by letting myself read The Poisonwood Bible for a second time. Seriously, if you haven't read it DO IT, right now! Its incredible and parts of it are so incredible in the way they describe the problems facing Africa historically and in contemporary times. READ IT! It cannot be said enough.
In good news, the rats are gone. Presumably dead. Our neighbor Markeida found a dead rat on her balcony, so...yay! I am a vegetarian and I believe in animal rights, and I believe that things like rat poison are harmful to the environment...but...if I could do it again, I would still poison the little bastards. I would also poison the biggest rat in the entire world--which I saw 2 nights ago. I was on the phone, and I looked down at the ground floor of my dorm, and saw a black thing winding its way through the shrubbery. My first thought was: "What is that dog doing?" And then as it came out in the open, I suppressed a gasp as I saw its TWO-FOOT-LONG TAIL. The biggest rat in the world!!!!!!!! This thing has to weigh at least 20 pounds! Oh my god, oh my god oh my god! If that beast ever gets caught on MY balcony I will unleash the fury of 1000 boxes of rat poison. I swear it. Groooooooooosss.
Ooooh, I got my grades back. Well almost all of them. Betty, the advisor from Satan still has not returned my 46 page special study project, but other than that I got 2 As, 2 A-s, and a B+. Not too shabby considering I had little idea what was going on most of the time.
I attended one of the Nations Cup games. Actually 2...I saw Morocco get beat (what????) by Guinea, and I saw Ghana play a terrible game against Namibia, who they should have beaten by like 6 to 0, but ended up with only 1 to 0. The fans were pissed. Rightfully so, it was a really bad game--I mean, just take a shot! Thousands of your country men and women used their hard earned money to see YOU play, just TRY and make a goal! Try!!!!!. But Ghana plays Morocco on Monday, so they better step it up if they want to make the quarter finals. In happy CAN 2008 news, Cote d'Voire is still kicking ass! Yay Elephants!
Okay, those are my Ghana updates, I will post this separately from Morocco stories, because then blogs get tediously long, and I don't want to create tedium. Okay, I will write about Morocco and then I am off to Champs Sports Bar to eat mediocre veggie fajitas. I dream about Mexican food lately...gotta get a fix somewhere...even if it is a cheap imitation of real fajitas.
I love you.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Morocco chapter 1: Casablanca
Hellohellohello,
So I have now been back in Ghana for 5 days (I got back at 5am Friday morning) and am now attempting to update all on my adventures in Morocco. Its been kind of a pain to get this done as campus is still closed and I am a little afraid to venture into Accra because the African Cup of Nations is in full swing. FYI: Ghana won its first game, yay! And my second choice (and probably more likely to go all the way, sadly) Cote d'Voire beat Nigeria last night in a really good game. Tonight Cameroon and Egypt battle it out, which should be pretty intense, and if I can just avoid this total gangsta man I met and who decided we were meant to be while watching the Ghana game on Sunday, everything is gonna be alright.
Also, to make my life a little more ridiculous, Elena and I's room has been attacked by not one, two or three, but FOUR rats starting Saturday night, when I got up to go to bed to see a RAT in my open window, threatening to JUMP INSIDE! Screaming ensued. As did a completely sleepless Saturday and Sunday night, and a trip into Accra to purchase rat poison, which was ALL GONE this morning when we woke up from a much more rest full sleep. Eww, ick, eww.
Alright, Morocco.
So, our flight to Casablanca was scheduled to leave Accra at 4:30 Christmas morning, which FYI is most likely when my family was watching Scrooge, a Christmas Tradition I sadly missed out on, over there in the Pacific Standard timezone. We arrive at the airport at 2am, where we are forced to wait in line for about 30 minutes, then are told we must go through customs, no one seemed to understand that we were not tourists in Ghana. After customs which was a complete joke, as I could have stolen the Golden stool of the Asante and this poor woman who obviously hated her life would not have noticed. (2am, understandable)
Then, we go through immigration where it is obvious that all the men working have gone maybe longer than they would prefer without any human, and by human I think I mean female contact, because after Elena (who is pretty and blond and everyone loves her) gets through 10 minutes of mild harassment where she told Maximilian (one of the immigration officers) that she was married, Max wanders over to me, where he begins to question me about my marital status and Elena's too.
Max: "Hi."
Me: "Hello. How are you?" (man in charge of if I can leave/reenter Ghana...must be polite)
Max: "You are going to Morocco."
Me: "Yes I am."
Max: "Do you want to know how I know that?" smile and giggle are added.
Me: "I saw you talking with my sister over there." sister means friend, or sister, or that to Ghanaians think all white people look alike.
Max: "She said she was married."
Me: "She did? That's because she is. She's married." Not so quick on the lying to creepy Ghanaians at 2:30 in the morning.
Max: "Her ring is not very nice." (Elena has a silver ring with a flower on it that she wears on her ring finger and which no Ghanaian ever believes is a wedding ring when she tries to prove she is married with it.)
Me: "She doesn't like to wear her real ring her, because she is afraid it will be stolen. So she wears the other one to remind her." hahahaha.
Max: "How old are you?"
Me: "22."
Max: "Your sister is only 20."
Me: "Yes."
Max: "Why is your sister married and you are not, when you are 22 and she is 20?"
Me: "I guess I haven't found the right man yet."
Max: "Would you ever marry a black man?"
Me: "I don't think I really want to get married." This is a lie, mom and dad, I probably want to get married some day, just not to Max.
Man looking at my immigration form who has not talked to me at all thus far: "Rules are made to me broken." What?
Me: "Well, I still have lots of school to finish...I won't get married until I am done with school."
This statement seems to satisfy both men who continue to smile and make stupid jokes, which I continue to laugh stupidly at until I have my passport back, because that is just what you have to do.
After 2 hours of waiting, we board our plane which takes off and then lands 30 minutes later, in Lome, Togo, where about 60% of the passengers get off, leaving many empty rows, which Elena and I stretch out across and sleep in until breakfast is served around 8am.
While eating breakfast it becomes more and more obvious to both of us that we speak neither French nor Arabic, and this could be a kind of big problem in about 2 hours when we land in Morocco.
Land we do, and while waiting for our HUGE backpacks to appear on the luggage belt, we meet a 20-something guy from upstate New York who is a Peace Corps volunteer in Ghana, in the Eastern Region. He has a one day layover on Casablanca, and is planning on going to the same youth hostel as us, so we become instant friends. Sadly, John, as is his name, speaks about as much French as I do. Awesome.
We take the train from the airport to Casa Port Gare de Train (just a little Francais for you) after a small crisis where we needed to transfer trains, and luckily a few people around us spoke English and were able to help us in the right direction. We get to the train station and are given the BEST walking directions (down street, lane, NO! lane, NO! lane, left, YES!) by a good natured Petit taxi driver who gave us directions even after we did not choose to take a cab with him.
We arrive at the hostel which thankfully had rooms available, (do people often vacation to Morocco on Christmas? I do not know) and after putting on an extra hoodie--because most Mediterranean climates get cold in the dead of winter, a fact that Elena and I drastically underestimated--the 3 of us set out to the Al Hassan II Mosque, which can fit up to 120,000 worshippers. Damn, that would be an incredible religious experience, no matter who you are.
The Mosque, built in the last 10 years (I think...) was made by the former King, Mohammad V, in an attempt to give Casa a big attraction. Its gorgeous, and one of the only Mosques in Morocco where non-Muslims can enter (only certain parts, obviously). It is located on the ocean, so there is a beautiful view, and we got there around 2pm, so the sun was out and it was relatively warm. I took about 50 pictures. The whole thing is blue, green, white and gold and done completely in mosaic. Its truly incredible how much time and effort must have gone into it.
After the mosque, we walked back to our hostel to get yet MORE warm clothes as we were all freezing. (We live in GHANA where the temperature was around 35 degrees Celsius=really hot) and then wandered through the Medina (old city, where all the souks and markets were) we bought postcards, which later became an addiction of mine, and THE BEST DONUTS IN THE WORLD!
The donuts were round discs of dough, deep fried in front of us, making them hollow in the inside. They are then cut open with scissors, filled with apricot jam (of my god! The apricot jam!) and dipped in sugar. They are then eaten to enter a state of euphoria. For 2 Durham (about 25 cents...I think) they were perfection.
We then got lost in the Medina, found a cafe, got our first of MANY Moroccan Mint Teas for about 1USD and wandered around until we were all too tired and cold to continue, and retired back to the hostel.
John left us the next morning to go meet friends in France (good luck with the French buddy!) and Elena and I spent our second day in Morocco wandering around in the RAIN! We were forced to buy hats and scarves and hid in a restaurant for about 2 hours watching Moroccan music videos and eating really good pizza. (It had been so long...) We also went to the creepiest Internet cafe IN THE WORLD where not only were cockroaches crawling everywhere, but the youth who set up the computers for us decided he loved Elena, and while I was hurriedly browsing the web, Elena was able to tell me (IN TWI) that the guy was a big creeper. (Uhhh...Andrea...obaa ye creeper paa!) I turn to see this 17 year old douche bag stroking Elena's face as she looks horrified. The only thing I could think to do was shout NO! at him which made Elena laugh at least...we quickly peaced it out of there. Poor Elena.
Casa was fun, but pretty ritzy...so we decided 2 days would be enough, and after MORE pizza for dinner and getting lost in the Medina, where a man who spoke NO English helped us find our way back. This was to become a recurring theme. The next morning we boarded a train for Rabat.
I love you.
So I have now been back in Ghana for 5 days (I got back at 5am Friday morning) and am now attempting to update all on my adventures in Morocco. Its been kind of a pain to get this done as campus is still closed and I am a little afraid to venture into Accra because the African Cup of Nations is in full swing. FYI: Ghana won its first game, yay! And my second choice (and probably more likely to go all the way, sadly) Cote d'Voire beat Nigeria last night in a really good game. Tonight Cameroon and Egypt battle it out, which should be pretty intense, and if I can just avoid this total gangsta man I met and who decided we were meant to be while watching the Ghana game on Sunday, everything is gonna be alright.
Also, to make my life a little more ridiculous, Elena and I's room has been attacked by not one, two or three, but FOUR rats starting Saturday night, when I got up to go to bed to see a RAT in my open window, threatening to JUMP INSIDE! Screaming ensued. As did a completely sleepless Saturday and Sunday night, and a trip into Accra to purchase rat poison, which was ALL GONE this morning when we woke up from a much more rest full sleep. Eww, ick, eww.
Alright, Morocco.
So, our flight to Casablanca was scheduled to leave Accra at 4:30 Christmas morning, which FYI is most likely when my family was watching Scrooge, a Christmas Tradition I sadly missed out on, over there in the Pacific Standard timezone. We arrive at the airport at 2am, where we are forced to wait in line for about 30 minutes, then are told we must go through customs, no one seemed to understand that we were not tourists in Ghana. After customs which was a complete joke, as I could have stolen the Golden stool of the Asante and this poor woman who obviously hated her life would not have noticed. (2am, understandable)
Then, we go through immigration where it is obvious that all the men working have gone maybe longer than they would prefer without any human, and by human I think I mean female contact, because after Elena (who is pretty and blond and everyone loves her) gets through 10 minutes of mild harassment where she told Maximilian (one of the immigration officers) that she was married, Max wanders over to me, where he begins to question me about my marital status and Elena's too.
Max: "Hi."
Me: "Hello. How are you?" (man in charge of if I can leave/reenter Ghana...must be polite)
Max: "You are going to Morocco."
Me: "Yes I am."
Max: "Do you want to know how I know that?" smile and giggle are added.
Me: "I saw you talking with my sister over there." sister means friend, or sister, or that to Ghanaians think all white people look alike.
Max: "She said she was married."
Me: "She did? That's because she is. She's married." Not so quick on the lying to creepy Ghanaians at 2:30 in the morning.
Max: "Her ring is not very nice." (Elena has a silver ring with a flower on it that she wears on her ring finger and which no Ghanaian ever believes is a wedding ring when she tries to prove she is married with it.)
Me: "She doesn't like to wear her real ring her, because she is afraid it will be stolen. So she wears the other one to remind her." hahahaha.
Max: "How old are you?"
Me: "22."
Max: "Your sister is only 20."
Me: "Yes."
Max: "Why is your sister married and you are not, when you are 22 and she is 20?"
Me: "I guess I haven't found the right man yet."
Max: "Would you ever marry a black man?"
Me: "I don't think I really want to get married." This is a lie, mom and dad, I probably want to get married some day, just not to Max.
Man looking at my immigration form who has not talked to me at all thus far: "Rules are made to me broken." What?
Me: "Well, I still have lots of school to finish...I won't get married until I am done with school."
This statement seems to satisfy both men who continue to smile and make stupid jokes, which I continue to laugh stupidly at until I have my passport back, because that is just what you have to do.
After 2 hours of waiting, we board our plane which takes off and then lands 30 minutes later, in Lome, Togo, where about 60% of the passengers get off, leaving many empty rows, which Elena and I stretch out across and sleep in until breakfast is served around 8am.
While eating breakfast it becomes more and more obvious to both of us that we speak neither French nor Arabic, and this could be a kind of big problem in about 2 hours when we land in Morocco.
Land we do, and while waiting for our HUGE backpacks to appear on the luggage belt, we meet a 20-something guy from upstate New York who is a Peace Corps volunteer in Ghana, in the Eastern Region. He has a one day layover on Casablanca, and is planning on going to the same youth hostel as us, so we become instant friends. Sadly, John, as is his name, speaks about as much French as I do. Awesome.
We take the train from the airport to Casa Port Gare de Train (just a little Francais for you) after a small crisis where we needed to transfer trains, and luckily a few people around us spoke English and were able to help us in the right direction. We get to the train station and are given the BEST walking directions (down street, lane, NO! lane, NO! lane, left, YES!) by a good natured Petit taxi driver who gave us directions even after we did not choose to take a cab with him.
We arrive at the hostel which thankfully had rooms available, (do people often vacation to Morocco on Christmas? I do not know) and after putting on an extra hoodie--because most Mediterranean climates get cold in the dead of winter, a fact that Elena and I drastically underestimated--the 3 of us set out to the Al Hassan II Mosque, which can fit up to 120,000 worshippers. Damn, that would be an incredible religious experience, no matter who you are.
The Mosque, built in the last 10 years (I think...) was made by the former King, Mohammad V, in an attempt to give Casa a big attraction. Its gorgeous, and one of the only Mosques in Morocco where non-Muslims can enter (only certain parts, obviously). It is located on the ocean, so there is a beautiful view, and we got there around 2pm, so the sun was out and it was relatively warm. I took about 50 pictures. The whole thing is blue, green, white and gold and done completely in mosaic. Its truly incredible how much time and effort must have gone into it.
After the mosque, we walked back to our hostel to get yet MORE warm clothes as we were all freezing. (We live in GHANA where the temperature was around 35 degrees Celsius=really hot) and then wandered through the Medina (old city, where all the souks and markets were) we bought postcards, which later became an addiction of mine, and THE BEST DONUTS IN THE WORLD!
The donuts were round discs of dough, deep fried in front of us, making them hollow in the inside. They are then cut open with scissors, filled with apricot jam (of my god! The apricot jam!) and dipped in sugar. They are then eaten to enter a state of euphoria. For 2 Durham (about 25 cents...I think) they were perfection.
We then got lost in the Medina, found a cafe, got our first of MANY Moroccan Mint Teas for about 1USD and wandered around until we were all too tired and cold to continue, and retired back to the hostel.
John left us the next morning to go meet friends in France (good luck with the French buddy!) and Elena and I spent our second day in Morocco wandering around in the RAIN! We were forced to buy hats and scarves and hid in a restaurant for about 2 hours watching Moroccan music videos and eating really good pizza. (It had been so long...) We also went to the creepiest Internet cafe IN THE WORLD where not only were cockroaches crawling everywhere, but the youth who set up the computers for us decided he loved Elena, and while I was hurriedly browsing the web, Elena was able to tell me (IN TWI) that the guy was a big creeper. (Uhhh...Andrea...obaa ye creeper paa!) I turn to see this 17 year old douche bag stroking Elena's face as she looks horrified. The only thing I could think to do was shout NO! at him which made Elena laugh at least...we quickly peaced it out of there. Poor Elena.
Casa was fun, but pretty ritzy...so we decided 2 days would be enough, and after MORE pizza for dinner and getting lost in the Medina, where a man who spoke NO English helped us find our way back. This was to become a recurring theme. The next morning we boarded a train for Rabat.
I love you.
Friday, January 11, 2008
I guess thats the problem, huh?
bonjour from Morocco!
So I will preface the following with the statement that I am typing on a keyboard meant for french and arabic but not english and I cannot for the life of me figure out where the apostrophe is, so forgive my contractions their lack of apostrophe, please.
I found out today that my wonderful grandpa died on Wednesday evening. I found out via myspace message from my little sisters myspace and that is strange. But how else could I be reached. My Ghanaian phone does not work in Morocco and my family has no idea where I am staying, mainly because I dont know where I will stay until I am at the doorstep.
I wish so much that I could talk with my family, my mom especially, but I cant figure out how to call the states from a pay phone here, and it will be like 20 dollars, which I need to eat with, and this one moment is so frustrating because I have so many plans to run away and travel and explore but what about all the people I LOVE who I leave behind. In the case of my grandpa we all knew it was coming, and I am very thankful that he isnt in pain any more, because he was, for so long, but what about all the people HE left behind who are in pain, and I am halfway across the world not being able to comfort them or go the funeral or say goodbye one more time, and I hate that so much.
Is this the sacrifice I make by seeing the world? What a terrible bargain. On the other hand you cant live your whole life afraid something horrible will happen when you leave for a while, right?
Fear is such a cage, but I guess love is too.
By the way, Morocco is wonderful, and very very cold. I have a novel of stories in the works, which will be up eventually, most likely when I have a computer I understand back.
I hope you all are safe and well. As Chris Walla says, Take care of each other.
I love you.
So I will preface the following with the statement that I am typing on a keyboard meant for french and arabic but not english and I cannot for the life of me figure out where the apostrophe is, so forgive my contractions their lack of apostrophe, please.
I found out today that my wonderful grandpa died on Wednesday evening. I found out via myspace message from my little sisters myspace and that is strange. But how else could I be reached. My Ghanaian phone does not work in Morocco and my family has no idea where I am staying, mainly because I dont know where I will stay until I am at the doorstep.
I wish so much that I could talk with my family, my mom especially, but I cant figure out how to call the states from a pay phone here, and it will be like 20 dollars, which I need to eat with, and this one moment is so frustrating because I have so many plans to run away and travel and explore but what about all the people I LOVE who I leave behind. In the case of my grandpa we all knew it was coming, and I am very thankful that he isnt in pain any more, because he was, for so long, but what about all the people HE left behind who are in pain, and I am halfway across the world not being able to comfort them or go the funeral or say goodbye one more time, and I hate that so much.
Is this the sacrifice I make by seeing the world? What a terrible bargain. On the other hand you cant live your whole life afraid something horrible will happen when you leave for a while, right?
Fear is such a cage, but I guess love is too.
By the way, Morocco is wonderful, and very very cold. I have a novel of stories in the works, which will be up eventually, most likely when I have a computer I understand back.
I hope you all are safe and well. As Chris Walla says, Take care of each other.
I love you.
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