Camel Ass

What you don't know the meaning of "camel ass"? That's ok, cause I made it up. It's the pain that stays with you around the rump area when you've ridden a camel two days in a row. One hour to your camp in the middle of the dunes where you get to sleep under the stars (with the giant black beetles) but you don't get to brush your teeth, and one hour back to the van that you've been sitting in for 12 hours a day for 2 days in a row. It's a lingering pain...or it was for everyone but me...since I was the only one without a handle on my "saddle" (or blanket draped over camel hump), I was forced to balance and therefore, avoided camel ass.


This is me the day before I climed a 400 foot sand dune. When I say climbed, I'd like you to envision me going straight up a cliff face Spiderman style...now replace the cliff face with a sand dune. I expect you to be impressed since I thought my lungs would collapse once i reached the top.

Look at that face...that face doesn't know what it has coming.





After the night in the dunes we shared a grand taxi (4 seater beat up mercedes that is supposed to seat 6...yeah right) with a British couple, Emily nd Tim for the 6 hour trip to Fez. Oy, was THAT an adventure. We got changed out of taxis three times, the second they shoved in another passenger despiret our broken-french protests (well, just mine since i'm the only one who spoke any french). It was there that Amy decided that Morocco was not all that she hoped it would be and decided to leave for home the next morning. I decided to keep traveling alone. This is the view from the auberge's roof top where I slept in a little open air room. The family was very sweet to me.


This picture is from day one in Marrakech. What you are meant to notice here is that there is a toddler holding on for dear life at the helm of the scooter. Apparantly this is the normal means of familial transport in Marrakech. At one point we saw a father, mother holding infant, and pre-teen daughter all perched precariously upon one similar scooter. It both amuses and shocks.





I stayed in Fez another night and then hopped a train and bus for another 12 hour day of travel across the country to the Atlantic coastal city Essouaria which I think I just spelled wrong. So far I'm loving it here. It's beautiful, relaxed, and I haven't yet been approached by a man thinking that the only possible reason I could be traveling alone is because I want a Moroccan husband. Yesterday brought many a "proposition" let me tell you. I also just ran into the two
German boys from my Sahara group coming into the internet cafe so I'm going to go have a drink with them. Mint tea of course...no alcohol during Ramadan. Yes, there's been withdrawl.

I think I'm going to cut my trip a few days short as well. As much as I love it here...this country is not meant for American BLOND (it's like a come-hither sign) women to travel alone. You might think you detect a little bitterness about coming home early...well, you'd be right. Anyway, more soon.