On our way to Casablanca today, after a very bracing Tour de
Maroc. Who knew the winters here were so cold? I pulled out my Paris
clothes on day 3, while our hot-weather clothes lay stuffed at the
bottom in the hopes of slightly warmer in Spain. Had to buy a wool
hat, shoes (very sad after 2 years of sandals), scarf, leggings, and
could really use some furry gloves as well. My fingers can barely type
this. No indoor heating in this country, not even at our hotel, but
they give us many thick blankets. Meanwhile, so glad I still had some
seattle clothes with me...
Met up with our
friends and went directly to the Sahara: two nights in the desert (on
camels and in berber tents) and a tour of several river valleys (though
no water) and gorges (no flowers) -- still beautiful despite the
realization that Morocco has a winter season. Most harrowing moment:
on the way back over the High Atlas mountains, on the way to Marrakech,
we were hit with the first snow storm of the season. Horizontal winds
and a near white-out. It was the anniversary of our accident, and four
out of the five of us were members of that "double-flip" club, and
there I was sitting next to Jeff, who together we have the worst bush
taxi luck on record, and we don't want to say anything out loud because
already two others had had to pop some Xanax to get thru the pass. And
the only reason I am not freaking out is because the snow is only
piling up on the countryside but NOT sticking to the pavement. And
then it was.
But
we were okay. They closed the pass that very evening, probably while
we were on it. Then, we are almost to Marrakech, it's dark, and we
find ourselves behind an extremely inebriated driver. Probably one of
the scariest things any of us ever had to watch. He was literally all
over the place, off the road, back into the other lane, with headlights
and semis barreling down. When someone would dare to pass him, he would
follow them into the other lane of oncoming traffic, presumably because
he didn't know where the hell he was supposed to be. We were directly
behind him for awhile, not able to pass but really really wanting to
get as far away as possible, with still a long line of cars behind us,
and lots of oncoming traffic. He nearly hit someone head-on, the other
car coming to a full stop on the shoulder to avoid being hit and still
only being missed by inches, literally. We felt so helpless; we wanted
him to go into the ditch. When we finally passed however, jeff saw two
others in the car, which made the ditch fantasy less appealing. He
then not only followed us into the oncoming lane but sped up to try to
keep up with us, so he'd have someone to follow we guess. It was
absolutely terrifying. there is no way it ended well.
All
this on our anniversary. You can imagine the relief and the absolute
giddiness once we were safe in the hotel. We had a dance party in our
room til late late...
on that note, the trip
has otherwise been great. Still absolutely love it here (as do the
virgin visitors), and the midwesterners in the group were thrilled to
see snow-covered mountains. We just spent 3 nights in Fes and tomorrow
fly to Barcelona. I've just been informed it's 32 degrees windchill up
there. Bloody hell. But, we suspect there will be indoor heating, and
I think we'll get by what with the sangria, paella and tapas, oooh and
spanish hot chocolate?
It was great hearing
from you all, and from people I hadn't heard from in more than 2
years! Feel free to keep it coming -- I will check email again in
Spain....
love and kisses,
Laura Lou