#YOGMO: Marrakesh

Oh, crap... This is where Is tart panicking becasue like I said, I did not keep up with blogging whatsoever.... Oh well, here is to a valiant attempt to do the rest of my Moroccan adventures justice in less than a week when I also have to study for exams...

So, A couple blogs back, you read that I was pulling an all-nighter writing because I needed to stay up all night so I wouldn't sleep through an alarm. Well, that's how my journey to Marrakesh began. Another trip with the Explorers' Club, it wasn't meant to be a typical trip, we were going to go ziplining and do a ropes course outside of Marrekesh. When you're doing physical activity like ziplinging and trying to balance over the ground while standing on a rope, I advise you not to make the same decision I did when the only sleep you'll be able to have is on a bus full of Moroccan college students pounding the alarm with Nicki and 2 Chainz at 4 a.m. while running up and down the aisles of the bus. Needless to say, happy-go-lucky Emily was surpressed by everyone's favorite diva, Tiffany. After what probably seemed like hours of relentless complaining that was actually executed through jibberish suffered by Anamaria, my bus buddy, I shut up and went to sleep. Later, when I woke up again, and the same thing was happening she shut me up by playing 10 Things I Hate About You. Which, literally made my year. FYI, if you haven't heard me incessantly whining about not watching it in 2854 years, I've really been wanting to watch it since I saw it at the Folger Shakespeare Library in DC this spring, and then, someone took it from the LCWS office. Rude. Then, to keep from whining more like a sleepy toddler (it was a REALLY long bus ride), Anamaria handed her iPad over to me, and I got hooked on Sherlock.

Finally, we reached where we were suppose to be outside of Marrakesh, kinda.. The road to the restaurant was to rough for the bus, so we were dropped off on the side of the road, and began trekking over a hill because we're the Explorers and Nothing Stops Us... The climb wasn't too bad, just rocky, nothing close to Bin El Ouidane. My inner mountain goat was chewing his cud while tackling this one. Finally, we got to the top, and walked along some nice rows of trees that just reminded me of what I imagine Italy to look like. Speaking of Italy, I REALLY need to go, like who goes to Slovakia and Morocco before Italy? But, I'll need like a month to see everything I want, so yeah, sad news for the college kid. Anyway, we had lunch in this adorable little tent-like structure with Moroccan style decorations.

After the typical meal of tagine with fruit to follow as a dessert, it was time to get over to the ziplinging site. Of course, I was pumped, who goes whitewater rafting in the Swiss Alps and rappel off of a castle wall in Wales without being down for some zipline in Morocco? We had to learn the typical zipline material, like what to do if you get stuck on the middle of the wire over the canyon, etc. which, was a little concerning since the instructor was speaking French, but good thing we were on a trip with a bunch of people who spoke English. Then, it was go-time. First, was a swinging bridge across one of the canyons, and after watching the Jack Black remake of King Kong the weekend before in Casablanca, I was ready to own that. But, ya'know... safety and stuff, made me wait... that "one at a time" deal. Then, I finally got to the bridge, which was not nearly as stable as I thought it would be. I would LOVE to see Jack Sparrow run across that bridge gracefully while escaping a cannibalistic tribe. Lesson #1 from Morocco: Hollywood Lies Shocker! Right? That was actually the most nerve-wracking thing I had done because the bridge kept swaying.

Luckily, the actual ziplines weren't that bad, probably because there's nothing you can really do besides having to stop yourself or sloth-shimmy back to one side if you get stuck. It was truly one of the many times I wish i had a GoPro in my life, because soaring over the ravines was amazing. I totally had my childhood dream fulfilled of feeling like a spy. As I was going across on the last zipline, I just thought, "I'm in Morocco on a zipline, zooming over a cactus filled gorge. And just a few years ago, I was crying over chemistry and trigonometry homework."

After zipping, we did a ropes course, which I'm not sure was more difficult because I was sleepy or because I'm just horribly uncoordinated. Totally not my favorite part of the day, but there were some mini-ziplines which made up for it. However, it was practically dark when we finished there, so getting back to the bus was complicated because it was so dark. Going down a rocky hillside with some diva queens (and for once, it wasn't me), was probably the most upset I had been in awhile. Of course, I had given my phone to a friend to carry in her bag, and somehow got stuck behind a bunch of people taking there time down the hill. Once we got down from there, only a few of us had flashlights, and everyone else was gone. It became really stressful, as there was a small forest and village between us and the road where the bus was parked, so there was major debate about which way to go. Eventually, we just decided to keep walking, and came to the village, when I stormed to the bus. I just wanted to be on the bus. Sleep depravity makes for an even worse situation when Emily is frustrated and lost.

Obviously, I didn't eat everything because not even
 Morocco can break me from my picky habits.

Coming into Marrakesh, it felt like a "Moroccan Vegas," which is actually how it was described to me. When we got to our hotel, I would have been totally content in just laying on my bed, and not getting up until the next day, but my friends encouraged me to get my sleepy, exhausted butt up and go out for dinner. We decided to go to the square in Marrakesh, which is absolutely crazy, especially at night. Daily, food vendors set up makeshift restaurants in the square, and it's a jungle of couscous and tagine. I found this video of Andrew Zimmerman's Bizarre Foods visiting Marrakesh, which pretty well sums up what the square is like. ( click to see madness in Marrakesh) As we were walking around looking for a place to eat, vendors attacked the white kids with the Moroccan, begging us to come to their restaurant and eat. Eventually, one guy told us what we were basically wondering, "It's all the same shit." Out of principle, I wouldn't sit down at any of these places, because I just don't appreciate harassment, but eventually, we found one that had learned this critical lesson in Business 101. While there, Ihad an amazing chicken couscous that AUI could never do justice.

After dinner, we explored in the marche next to the square, where I finally found my teapot and glasses. Although I was being super indecisive about the tea glasses, as is second nature to me, they were basically the closest thing I had in mind (because I still don't even know what I had in mind), and I haven't really been able to find anything that I would like better. After a very long day for me and everyone else, we all decided to go back to the hotel, where the Moroccan students were getting their second wind to go out for the night, after Halloween, mind you!

The next day, was all about being more touristy and shopping in Marrakesh. We took a taxi which dropped us off at the Mosque, where we walked around to take pictures, then went into a garden. The mosque in Marrakesh is actually very old, but has been rebuilt as new kings claim that it doesn't truly face Mecca. Regardless, the site is pretty awesome.

One of the many "ferocious" dogs I was warned to stay away from while in Morocco.
Oh, the terror!

Making our way back to where we were the night before, we came to the square, which was completely stripped down. All that was there were a couple of snake charmers and henna artists. Oh, and the monkey guy. Why is there ALWAYS a monkey guy that just shows up in Morocco? Obviously, I stayed far away from the cobras, and it finally occurred to me how ridiculous it is to have snake charmers. Literally, that snake could snap and slither it's way over to me and do whatever makes snakes so terrifying to me. Slithering? Biting? The possibility of being killed? Literally, I do not care how "charming" you are. That is a safety hazard.

Next, we went across the square to some backstreets, where we went shopping for souvenirs. I had ran out of cash after buying some pants (which was probably my funniest bargaining story in Morocco. After settling on a price, I only had about half as much in Dirhams. Instead of losing a sale, they just decided to give them to me). So, my shopping was cut short for the day.

Then, we went to an old palace, which was pretty awesome. It reminded me a lot of Hampton Court since most of it was just courtyards and walkways, but nonetheless, there was some beautiful tilework and stone carvings.

After the palace, there was some shopping in another area, where the prices were fixed. I was slightly disappointed that I had ran out of money, because I really wanted a lantern, and there were several shops there reasonably priced, but it's Morocco, and I knew I would find more.

Before heading back to the hotel to get on the bus for Ifrane, we stopped for falafel, well everyone else did. Still not that into compromising my picky nature. It was all aboard the AUI express.

Take Me HO-HO-Home: Holidays Abroad

I'm going kind of out of order with this post, but I just wanted to express what's going on in my mind with not being in America for the "best time of the year." It probably won't be too long, just enough to make you think about my poor soul while you're watching ABC Family's 25 Days of Christmas while procrastinating Hell Week and finals and I'm using Boy Meets World to forget about packing, papers, and finals.

To start off, I had already been prepared for missing Thanksgiving-at one point, I was even willing to miss Christmas to travel around Europe between Morocco and Belgium next semester-one day, I really will spend Christmas in a European city and New Year's in Paris. But, as the holidays were coming closer, I was getting more and more upset that I wouldn't be blasting Hip-Hop Nation in my car for two-and-a-half hours down I-81 from Roanoke or up all of Wednesday night baking or watching the parade with my little cousin the next morning, finishing up handmade nameplates (a tradition for the baby of the family), not even sorting through the remainders of Black Friday sales. Thankfully, though, the faculty here at AUI plans a Thanksgiving for the international students every year.

When I had first heard of it, we all were extremely excited, and I invited my Moroccan friend, Ghizlane to the dinner also, and she offered to let us use her kitchen to make food. The next couple of weeks, we were all buzzing about how we missed home; all of our families traditions, from what we ate, to what time we ate, to what we wore, and any particularly unique customs; as well as what we were planning on making. I decided to go with Halusky, a Slovak dish I fell in love with this summer, because it's really easy to make-usually. Leading up to Thanksgiving, Ghizlane invited us over to her house on Wednesday for a sleepover so that we could cook the night before. The dumplings for the halusky weren't sticking together to boil, then, we must have made them to large because the next day when I opened up the container, they had turned the color of bruise (literally, best way to describe it-purple, blue, brown?). Just not good to be serving to 150 people. I was really upset, because nothing I ever make ever turns out as a failure. Allison and I tried stremaing the parade the next day, but the wi-fi at AUI is pretty terrible, and we could hear parts of it with a frozen screen, or commercials for the latest Elmo toy. Aside from the dumplings,  I was also already upset because my professor had scheduled a last minute make-up class because he's going to be gone this week, and he expected all of us to come (the class has seven students, five are American) for a workshop on how to write a paper. I was planning on just not going, but my friend, Kat, eventually talked me into going for the thirty minutes before Thanksgiving started, and I hesitantly complied, but still think it was unfair and useless.

However, Thanksgiving with all of the internationals and Moroccan guests was so much fun. There was so much food granted, the mashed potatoes were more like slimy baby food, but if I had to miss Thanksgiving at home, I would be glad to do it with these people again. Thanksgiving really made me realize how lucky I am with just this experience alone. Yes, I do have much more to be thankful for like a home, car, loving friends and family, etc, but really, there are three major categories of things I had to be thankful for this year:
    1) Being a student at Roanoke college, which I have a fairly substantial scholarship to; has given me the most encouraging professors; challenging courses to build my thought process; the best friends anyone would be lucky to have, who have encouraged me with everything I have decided to do in the last year and who are literally there for me through everything; has given me four huge opportunities, which I'm sure I would never be able to have at any other institution: Washington DC, May Term, Morocco, and Belgium; and is probably the most beautiful campus I could imagine attending (we'll disregard the Kregger Center construction for right now). Undeniably, I am so excited to be going back in August because I miss my "home away from home" so much, but I would be so upset with myself if I hadn't taken all of these opportunities.
   2) A supporting family who goes along with my globe-trotting schemes. From supporting me to find my favorite thing in the world, traveling with two People to People trips and supporting my dream career, never trying to talk me into something more "normal," but letting me pursue what I want. Moving me out in freezing rain last year in Roanoke, to packing all the same stuff back up to move to DC in the Polar Vortex and rain three weeks later. Coming to see me for my birthday and swimming through Kara's vomm. Coming to move me out in April and squeezing my belongings into every square inch of the car. Driving back and forth to Dulles to drop and pick me up from Dulles within three weeks when I went to Slovakia. Supporting me going abroad for a year, even when I thought about spending Christmas abroad, or when hysteria about Ukraine and planes were crashing left and right this summer, or even when Ebola coverage keeps saying "western Africa," implying Morocco, or even just because it must be excruciating to be without me for four months *Tiffany emoji hair flip*. And now, coming to spend time with me in DC while I apply for my Belgian visa in three short weeks.
   3) The amazing experience of coming to Morocco on its own. Granted, DC and Slovakia taught me so much, but Morocco has taught me not only how to be a functioning person, but a functioning person in a different country, completely foreign to my own culture. Of course, I knew what it was like to be outside of the US, but had no idea what to expect coming to a non-western country. It truly has been an exquisite opportunity to learn about a different part of the world and gain new experiences. Obviously, to learn the lessons I have, there have been some negative consequences tied to them, but the good of the experience and learning a lesson certainly outweighs the bad. I've also gotten to see some awesome things: Volubilus, Mosque Hassan II, Barcelona, Chefchaouen, ziplinig, etc. Additionally, I have made such wonderful friends here. It's truly gong to be upsetting at the end of the semester when we all go back our separate ways to every region in America and continue with our lives, having no idea where they'll take us in the next couple of years. Luckily, we live in the twenty-first century and can stay connected pretty decently.

Overall, the experience of being in Morocco has certainly been able to make up for missing Thanksgiving, as well as everything I have been missing this semester like Pres Ball, Bojangle's weekend brunches with my two best friends, birthday celebrations, even countless hours of goofing off in a New Hall common room.

After Thanksgiving, I was also upset that I am currently missing the lead-up to Christmas: garland, tinsel, Christmas lights, music playing in every store, peppermint, going home to wrap presents with coordinating bows, wrapping paper, and gift tags, decorating the tree, as well as going to my cousin's Christmas party at school, and baking and decorating cookies with her and my grandma. However, I went to the non-denominational Christian service with my friend, Anamaria tonight, and got to celebrate the beginning of Advent by hanging boughs around the apartment service is held in and decorate a small tree. Afterwards, we had a delicious dinner and just talked for a long time. Typically, I am not that religious-even going as far as saying I may spontaneously combust by simply walking into a church. However, it was truly nice to spend the evening just singing Christmas carols and listening to what everyone remembers of Christmas back in the US, since the only signs of the approaching holiday are the 35 dirham trees in Carrefour. I am slightly upset that I'll be getting back to the US with only five days until Christmas, not nearly enough time to cram in all of my favorite traditions: BMS lights, baking, wrapping, shopping, etc., but just like Thanksgiving, I wouldn't trade the experience I am having for anything.

I also found out this week that when I get back to America, my first few days are going to be spent in Washington DC applying for my Belgian visa, inshallah I will receive it. But, I get to spend pre-Christmas in a city for the first time in my life! I'm so excited to visit all of my favorite places in DC, since I truly fell in love with the city last semester, as well as see all of the Christmas-y hype like in Union Station. Besides that, I really only know about the tree at the Capitol if any NOVA friends have any suggestions.

With that being said, I wish a Happy Holiday season to all of my friends back in America, please make the most out of it and cherish every moment this winter with your family, because in reality, we're all getting old and adult-y (scary, right?), and you may soon have to experience a Thanksgiving or Christmas without your family either being stuck at work or a train station or airport or halfway across the world.

Coffee, Cats, and Churches: Casablanca

Because my time is coming to an end in Morocco, and I have been REALLY slacking on the blogging end of studying abroad, I have decided to devote all the free time I have this week due to my professors being away at conferences (mostly in DC) and back in the US for Thanksgiving (I know, really sad) to catching up on writing down my adventures. I warned everyone in the first post how much I hated keeping journals and stuff like this... But I'm sure I'll be glad I did it when I'm old and senile and all that good reasoning for doing this and such....

Anywho, after spending two weekends on campus to calm down from Barcelona and recover from midterms, I needed to travel, and the opportunity presented itself as other students were planning to go to Casablanca for a marathon. Needless to say, you have to be a pretty dedicated person excited to run in a marathon in Morocco without really training. Needless to say, I am not one of those people. I prefer writing blogs reflecting on my travels and cultural experience, and we see how well I keep up with that. But, hey, it was a trip to Casablanca, so YOGMO. It's also important to remember that these plans were made around 10 p.m. on a Thursday at  Aggy's. My control freak has really been beaten out of me.

So, Friday, after classes, the group of people I was planning on traveling with and I left for the grand taxi station. After arguing that the whole car should be a certain price, and being told we would have to wait for another person to lower the total cost (a lot of sense since an extra person is worse for gas mileage). However, an AUI student showed up, and all six passengers crammed into the car. That's right-seven people total in a car built for five. Things get a little warm and close in Moroccan taxis.

About an hour later, we arrived in Meknes at the train station, where I departed on my first Moroccan train. It wasn't too bad, just very hot and stuffy. When we finally got to Casablanca, we had to find our hostel at around 9 or so, all I can remember was it was in the dark. But, no issues until we were trying to check in, when someone had forgotten their passport back at AUI. In Morocco, you have to hand over identification to check-in to hotels, and for foreigners, this often means showing your passport-sometimes even surrendering it for the key. After making up several lies trying to avoid having to go to the police station, she ended up having to go to the police station, where she endured a very traumatic experience. When I went to see her after she got back, she was still in tears, but at least she wasn't on the street sleeping.

The next day, some people doing the marathon needed to register, so those of us who enjoy the good things in life like bagels, sunshine, and puppies, decided to explore the city after having breakfast for 3 Dirham (~$0.30). It was really relaxed, just going along taking lots of pictures, so there won't be very many descriptions, just a lot of pictures. After walking by some official government buildings, we made our way to a pigeon infested square, and then, Sacre Couer-a Christian Cathedral located in Casablanca. And because I didn't see enough churches this summer in Slovakia, Hungary, and Austria, I had to go up and see the city.

When we left Sacre COuer, the day went on by going to another place of worship: the Grand Mosque, which you can see in the background, but I wanted to document the small, sassy child precariously walking along the wall. When he saw me take a picture, he demanded money, but I lied and pointed to the mosque. I should've really given him money, just to see him climb down from that wall.

Finally getting to the mosque, we spent quite some time just chilling outside taking pictures. It was simply one of the most beautiful places I've been, and probably what would represent everyone's expectations of coming to Morocco. Marble structures surrounding the huge mosque, blue and green tiles, carvings on the ceilings of walkways, fountains. And the best part was that it was right on the ocean, so the breeze is cool and relaxing, making the atmosphere even more peaceful.

There are specific times for tours of the inside of the mosque, and the next one wouldn't be for a couple of hours, so lunch was in the cards. Indulging myself in the ever classic panini quatre fromage and mint tea, we spent time at a restaurant a couple blocks away before returning for the tour. Of course, I was as ill-prepared to tour a religious establishment as ever (visiting St. Stephen's Basilica in Budapest with my tank top and ungracefully insulting St. Stephen's right mummified hand and getting kicked out), and had to borrow my friend's jacket, forming a cape to tour the mosque. It was definitely worth it though. The architecture was so beautiful. It's the largest mosque in Morocco, and over 25,000 people pray inside during Ramadan. The rood also opens for when it is too hot during the summer due to all the body heat. The coolest part was learning about the ceiling and the wood carvings, which all come from the area that I am studying in, where cedar thrives. It was very humbling to be inside, seeing the sheer massiveness. The awe-struck from the size outside definitely follows you inside.

Of course, what would Morocco be without cats? I would totally sleep here too. So peaceful.

After the tour, it was fun to watch some youths to jump off the wall into the ocean. Of course it was something I would probably never do, especially in Morocco, but they obviously wanted to put on a show. there were so many people just standing around looking over the ocean and watching the guys jump. Just a typical Saturday event it seemed like.

Next, we wanted to go to the mall-the largest in Morocco, which has TWO Starbucks. You heard me, TWO. Of course, my coffee addiction didn't start until I joined the adult world last semester when interning in DC, and certainly not overpriced Starbucks, but after a meeting on Penn Ave, I understood the obsession. Obviously, I had also been missing out on traditional fall goodies, and went straight for the pumpkin spice latte. I can't say I regret my decision. We also did a little shopping before realizing how late it was and heading back to the hostel.However, we couldn't find a taxi to take us all the way to the hotel, only to the mosque, which worked out wonderfully since we had discussed how beautiful it must be at night, and we were right.

You can see the thin light from the tower that points towards Mecca. I also absolutely love how this picture turned out, like the mosque is really connecting us down here on earth with a greater power.

The next morning was the big day for the marathoners, but I like to sleep, so Allison and I slept in, and ended up going back to the mall to have more Starbucks for breakfast. On the way there, we saw several of the marathoners-not our friends- running, and looking so distressed and lost. Poor souls, can't say I wish I would've been in their sweaty tennis shoes. Anyway, I had a delightful breakfast on the mall consisting of the second PSL in two days and a croissant fromage, although I was hoping desperately to relive Barcelona and have a bagel. Allison and I walked around the upper level of the mall-the rich part, where I was privileged to breathe the same air as people who can afford to shop at Louis Vuitton and Dior on a regular basis.

It was time to go find the finish line of the marathon to wait for our friends and cheer them on for being awesome human beings and believing in themselves. By the time we got there, all of the West Point kids had finished, unsurprisingly, so we went over to where we could see our friends finish to cheer them on. They all look exhausted, but in much better shape than I would have because running is sad and depressing to me- I don't believe that "it releases endorphines" crap. However, I simply can't express what superstars everyone who ran are; like really, you RAN a MARATHON in AFRICA. As we were waiting for everyone, an American came up to us, and we discussed studying abroad, running, and traveling. It turns out, his wife is planning to run a marathon on every continent-even Antarctica! 

When the marathon was over, it was time to go back to the hostel, collect our things and head back to Ifrane. It was such a great, relaxed weekend. No panicking about what to do, just relaxing with a latte and taking pictures of perhaps one of the most beautiful, exquisite buildings I have ever seen on the ocean. Getting back to Ifrane, I was freezing, missing the warm weather in Casa, and just preparing for the rest of the semester's cold, drizzly rain.

Biddies in Barcelona

Since I am really behind on the blog, and I am going to have a couple of exciting weeks in Morocco, I should catch you up with my weekend in the west about a month ago before I forget about all the details-the highs and the lows...

So as everyone back in the US is enjoying a week of fall break this semester, I only had a few days, and luckily my only Friday professor even extended our vacation since the class is full of Americans who just want to travel. Anyway, for Eid (which is a Muslim holiday that a lot of people explained to me as similar to American thanksgiving, except with sheep-not turkies), some friends and I decided we wanted to go to Spain, specifically Barcelona, mainly because that was the easiest, cheapest flight to our neighbors to the north here in Morocco that didn't require a connection. Plus, sangria....

We made our way to Fez early on Friday morning, sitting in the airport for quite a bit of time, but my inner-control freak didn't mind being early versus late. Typical airport activities ensued-coffee for breakfast (because we were planning on our first AMERICAN meal since leaving the states at the Hard Rock Cafe once we got to Barcelona), security, passport control, etc. (AKA stuff that has gotten monotonous after travelling so much). BUT we got on our Veuling flight for Barcelona, which I was expecting to be much worse than what it was because it's budget. It just really goes to prove how easy and cheap transportation is when you're outside of the US. I had the pprivilegeof being responsible for everyone on the plane in case of an emergency, something I was thrilled about, but I'm sure if the rest of the passengers were better acquainted with me, they would be mortally terrified. But, hey, I'm still here writing this for your entertainment and my memories, so apparently everything went fine.

'Dat leg room...

 I finally realized that I was going back to the west when I saw a cruise ship in the Mediterranean out of the window. The European tourist expeditions finally weren't playing into orientalist, exotic wanderlusts.

It was a new world when I finally got off the plane. We actually had a little bridge thingy leading to the airport rather than walking straight out onto the runway, because that happens even if you aren't the President of Secretary of State in other parts of the world-shocker to me when I had initially landed in Casablanca back in August. We hailed a cab, which was much easier than I thought it would be-of course, probably because I have been doing it in Morocco for so long, where you have to negotiate prices and try communicating in three broken languages. Luckily, these driver knew enough English and had a GPS to get us as close to our apartment as possible.

We had rented an apartment in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona from a quaint little service called AirBnB, which I would suggest to anyone planning on traveling. We were suppose to meet the guy's friend, Gina, who we had to wait for and call Juan-Pablo (the dude with the apartment). But when we finally got in, it seemed like the perfect place to stay in Barcelona. There was only a slight problem with working the lock once, but besides that, perfect. It was tucked back in some back streets, and had balconies throughout the apartment, giving a modern day view of life set in old world architecture. Literally, my natural habitat. I know, my natural habitat is actually SWVA, but let's not be too technical here, perhaps in a past life...

I also apologize in advance for the  pictures. I am a complete spaz sometimes, and was looking forward to such a wonderful weekend that I completely forgot to pack my normal camera lens and SD card, so I was forced to resort to my iPhone for pictures...

Anyway, we eventually left for the Hard Rock, and I had the best meal of my life. It was great to finally be back in the west. It may have been so good because all I had since the night before was my cup of qahwa at the airport,  and I was starving. After having my first bacon in over a month and three very strong mini margaritas (to support breast cancer research, of course), we made our way to the H&M on Las Ramblas because my motto is that it is impossible to go to Europe without going to at least one. If you have, it doesn't really count.

Continuing down the street, we came across La Bouqeria, the oldest open air market in Barcelona, and one of the oldest in Europe. Since it was kind of late, there wasn't much left, plus I had just gorged myself at Hard Rock. I really don't think anyone can beat that little bit of western indulgence after being out of the US for a month-if you're ever feeling homesick abroad, just hit one up. You'll feel like a tourist, but overly satisfied afterward. We decided to go back the next morning, and cut over onto a side street, planning just to explore on the way back to Juan-Pablo's. However, we ended up in a cute little square, which was filled with old Europeans on holiday. We saw a line for a flamenco show that we decided to go to, but the show we could get into wouldn't be for another hour, so we swung back around the corner and got gelato because we were out of Ifrane, off of AUI, and needed to indulge our food poisoned systems. Then, we sat down at a sidewalk cafe and ordered our first Spanish sangrias, where my friend got an extra, free shot of vermouth in her churros con chocolate. How can you hate a place that just throws some free alcohol into your cup of melted chocolate?

The flamenco was cool, but definitely a tourist trap. I was pretty sure that at a couple of points, the performers weren't even saying words, just mumbling. But the dancer was amazing. The show couldn't have lasted more than 30 or 45 minutes, but I was definitely glad that I got to experience it.

That was about it for the night besides scoping out more of the city's side streets on the way back to the apartment. Just about half an afternoon and one night in, and I had already fallen in love with Barcelona. It reminded me of so many different European cities I have been to, and would for the next couple of days. Too bad I don't speak Spanish or Catalan... However, I did get to experience just a little bit of what I'm sure will come full force in December when I go back to America for a few weeks before heading back to Europe: reverse culture shock. I've already been warned by Roanoke as well as ISEP to expect this upon going back home, but I really didn't expect it. I guess it's because when I have been abroad before, it has only been for 3 weeks at a time, and in largely westernized areas, even Central Europe. But I was shocked by the old world, gothic style of the city, the people, the free-flowing alcohol, couples on the corner making out, etc. Things that I hadn't been accustomed to for about a month. Not that I am upset or don't like Morocco, I really love it, and know I will miss it, but it was nice to experience the west for just a weekend. Anyway, my sappy sentiments will be saved for another blog closer to Thanksgiving or leaving Morocco...


The next morning, the plan was to have some more western indulgence, and hit up a Starbucks. Sadly, there weren't any PSLs (Pumpkin Spice Lattes for anyone who has been living under a huge pile of fallen leaves in America for the last few autumns), but I GOT A BAGEL. It was magical, and I don't want to relive it because it will make me sad in bagel-lacking Ifrane... But here's a picture because I am basic and Instagram my #Starbs.

 We went back to La Boqueria to explore and get wonderful, colorful pictures. I also learned that despite flying up to Barcelona, we had failed to escape the sheep slaughter of Eid, and saw multiple sheep heads-something living on a farm hadn't even fully prepared me for. But luckily, you can get that gruesome image out of your head, and enjoy some of these beautiful treats found in La Boqueria!

Afterwards, we did some shopping in the square where we were hanging out before the flamenco the night before. I indulfed on some headbands, because that's what Emily does. Then, we went back to the apartment for lunch before heading out to see the major sites of the city. First on the stop after conquering the metro system was Parc Guell, the park designed by the famous Gaudi, where after ascending to heaven, and a couple stops in purgatory on the way, we got to take in the whole city, overlooking the Mediterranean, obviously reminding me of Sacre Couer in Paris after winding the streets to get to the entrance transported me back to Vienna this summer.

Rooney enjoyed the view too

I also learned that barcelona is pretty annoying with tickets and time slots, and we couldn't get in to see the mosaics at the park for another two hours, so we decided to go back the next day bright and early to take in Gaudi's unique taste in architecture, although we still got to see some pretty amazing aspects of the park without forking over some euros. 

Next, we went to La Sagrada Familia, but once again, we were going to have to wait in line for awhile to get tickets, and then be rushed through the church, so we decided to get tickets for the next day. Afterwards, we really didn't have any plans besides paella for dinner and obviously, sangria. So, we just walked around the neighborhood and came across the Passeig de Gracia, where another one of Gaudi's projects is located, the Batllo House. unfortunately, the outside was being reconstructed, but they had the awesome, fake outside covers up to give the illussion we were actually looking at it. Since there really weren't any other plans for the day, we decided to go in, a pricy tour of twenty euros, but it was definitely worth it just for the view at the top. Since it was late in the day, we had a gorgeous view of the sunset splashed behind the urban city rooftops. I could have spent the rest of the time up on the roof looking over the city until I got kicked out, but I am glad I went downstairs to see the rest of the home, as I felt like I had stepped back in time. Of course everything is atypical to the era because it's Gaudi, but I felt like I should be sipping martinis with the Crawleys during the 1920s. 

Since it was dark by the time we got out of the house, we decided it was time for dinner, so we took a metro over to the Mediterranean and found one of the many restaurants promising authentic Spanish food to tourists. After devouring some paella and tapas, which were too good to apparently take a picture of, we decided to check out a carnival on the boardwalk. Despite Ellen's valiant attempts to get us to go on a ride, which I would've been game for in the US, we settled on a Ferris wheel that gave its riders views of the city like we had at Parc Guell, but at night. When I looked behind me over the Mediterranean, there were a few yachts docked in the bay-something not particularly exciting, but definitely not something you can see everyday. 

When we returned back to stable Spanish ground, we made our way over to the beach, where there were numerous juveniles hanging out being stupid teenagers and clouds of smoke from the weed. There was also some kind of rap concert going on, but I needed to stick my feet in the sea, so it was all ignored. Although it was completely dark, and I'm sure much more beautiful during the daylight, it was definitely a moment I'll never forget. After the sand of our feet for one last time, my friends and I went to wait by the restrooms for another friend when we were obviously approached for rolling papers. Why else would a bunch of American girls be at the beach at ten o'clock? Finally, our friend came back, and we made our way to the apartment to get ready to go out for the night. However, the day had taken a lot out of us, so we only stopped by one bar, but the discussion was nonetheless special. On the way home, we stopped at an Asian restaurant and got a late night meal, kind of like a Chipotle style carry-out, called Walk to Wok. My second day in Barcelona was just as wonderful as the evening before, and I was super excited for the next day. I was going to see more of the city, visit perhaps the most photographed spot in Barcelona, and visit a unique European cathedral (I have been to way too many churches in Europe...) It was going to be perfect.

**WARNING: EMILY RELIVES A REALLY TRAUMATIZING EXPERIENCE**

SO... I wake up the next day with a minor headache and my stomach a little bit upset. Just thinking it is side effects still from Friday's Hard Rock or even from my last meal at AUI. As it's no secret that I've been having the usual food poisoning that comes with living in a new area (or for that matter just eating at AUI) for about a month at this point, I didn't think anything about it, as mostly everyone has been sick, especially at this time. I get ready, and we leave as planned. As much as I wanted to join in on conversation all the way to our metro stop, my heart just wasn't in it, and I remained quiet. We got on our bus to Parc Guell to go see the mosaics more closely. What I can remember is that the bus was really crowded and I was getting warm. Before we could even get to the first stop, I felt that dreaded slosh in my stomach and immediately covered my mouth, sending fear into my friend, Ellen's face (poor thing was standing face to face with me, and remember the bus is crowded). Somehow, I made it out of the bus before vomming everywhere. Literally, puking is my least favorite thing ever. I hate it. I hate myself when I'm doing it. I will let you puke your guts out in order to avoid it at all costs. AND I"M IN BARCELONA! 

After it happened, I was obviously embarrassed, but accepted it happened, and felt better, so we caught another bus up to Parc Guell to see the mosaics. I was good for awhile, even took a couple of pictures, but I was feeling much like I had earlier in the morning when I just couldn't bring myself to converse with everyone, so I sat on the bench a lot. Isn't that what you're suppose to do at Park Guell anyway?

 We left the mosaic terrace and made our way down to the forest of pillars, where my body caught up to my personality, and I had to sit down. As I was sitting there, I started crying because I was so frustrated that I was feeling horrible in such a beautiful city, and it was just ruining the day. Of course, I was being kind of ridiculous, but I just wanted to enjoy the day, and my archenemy, vomming, was ruining it for me. As I was sitting there, my wonderful friends decided to take pictures of me, which I'm glad they did to help me remember the beautiful, glamorous moment I was in. Ellen, the nurse, also came and sat with me. She's actually a saint and can deal with puke (as well as moody Emily pissed off about not being able to be a tourist) a lot more than I could ever hope to. She told me basically to suck it up, but in a much nicer way, and as I was feeling better about my situation, we were going to get up to go see the rest of the park.

"The faces of theater" She actually punched me really hard and told me unicorns don't exist.

I'm obviously such a happy individual

But, my body became immobile, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't move and told her I could not stand up. Accepting this, she sat back down, and about a minute later the horrible slosh came back. Luckily, I could just lean over the side and vomm, since I was already off to the side. I still bet I am in countless photo albums on coffee tables and several tweets... But hey, can you say that you vommed all over Barf-elona? I'm sure Gaudi wasn't planning on that...

I was even more frustrated with myself, and Allison and Ellen had already told me it would be a good idea to go home instead of going to La Sagrada Familia. BUT I REALLY WANTED TO SEE IT!! I was so mad at myself, but of course, thankful for such caring friends. Since the metro was kind of far, and the first bus didn't end so well, Allison decided to take a taxi with me to the metro station while the others walked. I was confident that I could hold myself together for the cathedral, but when we got to the metro and walked over to some benches, it took all I had to keep whatever was left in me down. After some deep soul searching and talks with myself, I decided it would be best for me to go back and sleep so I wouldn't get more sick and dehydrated, and I wouldn't hold everyone else back. Allison said she would take me home, which she and Ellen did although I was worried about keeping it together on the metro. Somehow, we got back to the apartment, I can't really remember, but my wonderful friends set me up in my bed with fans blowing on me, opened the doors, ran to the store to get the only thing that makes me feel better in that situation: peppermint tea, and gave me their iPad passwords in case I got bored. Of course, I didn't and slept for who knows how long. I'm still really upset that I missed the cathedral, but now I have a reason to go back to Barcelona!

When everyone got back, we went our separate ways again. Allison, Ellen, and I tried to go to the Picasso Museum, but it closed while we were waiting in line. As they went to get churros, I was feeling sick again,so they were the wonderful caretakers they were before, and took me home, leaving me on the couch, where they would find me later.

When everyone got back, I was feeling slightly better, and we wanted to try a cute restaurant Allison and Ellen found. Of course since I was having a rather difficult day, I wanted to feel better, so I went to work on my appearance, probably a little bit too much for the occasion, but I wanted to go out with a bang for our last night in Barcelona. We went to the restaurant, which looked like an old wine cellar and had delicious food that made me never want to leave Spain (especially not to go back to AUI food). Even feeling iff-y all day, I still finished all of my spinach ravioli and sangria.

It has a flower. How can it not be good?

The last dinner was perfect to finish the trip with, and I'm so glad I felt a little better

The next day, we had our flight to catch back to Morocco, and it was all bitter sweet. We had to leave our beloved Barcelona, the west we were raised in, and the flowing sangria, but we got to come back to a beautiful campus, a much cheaper cost of living (giving my bank account a breather), and two days for me to recover from my little bout of food poisoning. I think I'm going to blame Walk to Wok... Which is probably an important lesson. Although I got to spend the weekend in a beautiful city in a culture much closer to the one that I grew up in, things still didn't go as planned, actually, I hated it (just one part). Reminding me of a quotation I'm sure I've already shared:

"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere, That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place."