The day after the ball was difficult. It was the designated "packing day" for the entire ship and anything we were not planning on carrying off the ship had to be packed and ready to be put in the holding area by noon. Ben was still slightly feverish, Chris was now feeling the same symptoms and Jeremy was still out like a light. He had persuaded us to let him sleep outside with friends after the ball. I found out later that they did not sleep at all!
We had a quick breakfast and hurriedly packed up 4 months of clothes, gear and souvenirs. It was a daunting task and a sad one to boot which made It all the more difficult. We made it just under the wire and decided to use the rest of the day to soak in all the personalities we'd encountered on this voyage.
The ship was the thing. It was our community, our home, our family. But the reason we chose to make this voyage had everything to do with the ports of call. Traveling to distant countries, learning their histories and cultures. How exciting it was going to be! That was the point of the whole thing. Traveling via ship was just our transportation. The fact that 900+ plus people were accompanying us during the 4 months was just because they wanted to travel the world too. No one told us about the friendships. No one told us about the caring of each other, the learning from one another, the love that would unite us all. All of that was a surprise. But it was the icing. The friends we made and the relationships we fostered far out-shined The Great Wall of China, the privilege of visiting a recently opened Myanmar, the view from Table Mountain, even a camel ride through the Sahara. I think Ben said it best. As we were reminiscing with friends about the highlights of our voyage, a student posed the question to Ben, "Out of all the places we visited, what was your favorite place?" His answer...."the ship".
So on that last day, we did our very best to enjoy our last minutes with all our new friends. There was signing of maps and flags, video messages, books filled with notes of well wishes, happy we are friends and don't forget me's. Stories of our experiences over this voyage and agendas being defined for Barcelona. We made plans to see each other again and began the discussion of a reunion voyage where could all return on the same ship surrounded by all the same faces. I hope it happens. It's important that it does.
We were up early for the sunrise over Barcelona. Breakfast was a half hour early that morning as we were expected to disembark starting at 8am. All went according to plan and the auction winner got off first, followed by the Caribbean Sea (the student floors were named after the oceans) whose team won the Sea Olympics, then us, the Life-Long Learners, faculty and staff.
We got to the carousel to collect our luggage, all the while saying our last good byes. As we exited the port and the cool Spanish air hit me, I felt ok. I felt refreshed. I'll quote our executive dean here who quoted Green Day the day before...."Every new beginning is from some other beginning's end." As we pulled away from the port, Ben snapped pictures of the MVExplorer as best he could from our taxi window. And once the ship was out of sight, his tears began to flow.
1 ship
1 semester
16 cities
12 countries
4 continents
106 days
1031 explorers
That was the plan. That was the goal. Mission accomplished and so much more.
Bon Voyage, MVExplorer. We will meet again ; )
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
The Sahara Desert (Marrakech entry supposed to come after this one. Sorry!)
We arrived in a city on the outskirts of the Sahara Desert. We gathered together what we needed for one night's stay, wrapped our heads in our newly purchased scarves and were introduced to our camels lying by the roadside waiting patiently for our arrival. It was so picturesque with too many photo opportunities, but Chris ran around trying to capture the essence of the moment as best he could. The rest of us hopped on a camel and readied ourselves for the trek. Chris was the last one to be paired with a hump-backed steed. The guides walked around hesitantly, not speaking a word while Chris kept asking for a camel. They would glance in his direction then would turn as if they were searching for something. Finally, it was decided that there was only one animal left and he would be Chris' transportation. As soon as Chris was seated on top of this huge creature, it became apparent that they had saved him for last because he obviously didn't like being a slave to the tourists. He snarled and growled and started foaming at the mouth. He jerked his head back each time the guide tried to settle him down and tighten his reign. Chris nervously laughed and held on tight as "Cowboy", a nickname affectionately given to him by Chris, rose to his full height...first his hind legs and then his front. Cowboy was not a happy camper and I think Chris probably moved from happy to holy crap! He bucked a little and growled. He resisted everything the guide tried to do. He led the camel and Chris off into the distance for a "time-out" but he still wasn't satisfied. Cowboy was not allowed to ride with the group of us, so for the duration, he and Chris, like the outlaws that they were, remained on the outskirts of the trail.
Other camel names given covered a diverse variety from Valerie to Kabob to Alfalfa. Ben took the prize with one student commenting, "You know you have a well-traveled kid when he names his CAMEL, 'Ho Chi Mhin'!"
We were all punchy with excitement. Afterall, we were riding a camel through the Sahara Dessert! For many of us, it quickly became the highlight of our voyage. I think it has something to do with the fact that this activity didn't ever register on anyone list of "must-dos" but when given the opportunity, we all realized it should have been on our list all along! Most of us had a comfortable ride. Jeremy, along with some of the other male students just decided to grin and bear it ; ) Chris, thwarting his rearing camel's attempts at biting him, white-knuckled it most of the way...
We trekked through the Hollywood movie set that is the Sahara just before sunset on flowing burnt orange sand dunes. It was timed just right that the air was dry and comfortable. The sun was at our backs for nearly an hour but the balance of the trek quickly brought cooler air and a cloudless sky. We sang songs, told stories and jokes and just laughed and embraced our truly fortunate situation.
The shadows disappeared as the sky became dark. With nothing to light our way we depended on our guides to take us to our campsite which was nowhere in sight. We all kept our eyes focused on the black distance in hopes of seeing flickering lights from a campfire. After several "Are we there yets" courtesy of Ben, we were led to the crest of a very subtle dune and there, just in the shallow valley below, appeared our glowing campsite. It was like a mirage.
We dismounted our sturdy camel creatures who gently dropped to their knees. As we entered the tent area, sounds of traditional music came wafting out of our camp enclosure. The entire area was covered with Moroccan wool rugs of red and black...the ground and even the walls of our tents. We unloaded our belongings into our tents then were invited to wash up for dinner. At the end of the camp just past the dining room were actual running water facilities. Sinks, showers and they provided portable toilets. A generator supplied the camp with electricity and lights for our evening meal.
The dining room was adorned once again with wool rugs. A padded bench followed the perimeter of the walls providing seating for the tables and comfort with mounds of throw pillows. White linen covered tables and and abundance of food...Moroccan salad, bread, Chicken Tangine and fruits of the season. This was truly a mirage.
Traditional dancing, music and singing followed dessert as we sat by the bon fire under a star-filled sky. A group of students, including Ben and Jeremy got together for a game of "Catch Phrase" which has quickly become our family's new favorite game. All of this in the middle of the desert.
We turned in around 10:30 as our wake up time of 5:30 was quickly approaching. The boys and I settled into our "family" tent and listened to the students who shared the aisle with us. They dragged their mattresses out of the tents to sleep under the stars. Brilliant. Ben could not stand it. He wanted to plop himself right down in the middle of all of them and join the slumber party. I was the party pooper and asked him to give the students their space. Too tired to argue, he fell fast asleep.
Other camel names given covered a diverse variety from Valerie to Kabob to Alfalfa. Ben took the prize with one student commenting, "You know you have a well-traveled kid when he names his CAMEL, 'Ho Chi Mhin'!"
We were all punchy with excitement. Afterall, we were riding a camel through the Sahara Dessert! For many of us, it quickly became the highlight of our voyage. I think it has something to do with the fact that this activity didn't ever register on anyone list of "must-dos" but when given the opportunity, we all realized it should have been on our list all along! Most of us had a comfortable ride. Jeremy, along with some of the other male students just decided to grin and bear it ; ) Chris, thwarting his rearing camel's attempts at biting him, white-knuckled it most of the way...
We trekked through the Hollywood movie set that is the Sahara just before sunset on flowing burnt orange sand dunes. It was timed just right that the air was dry and comfortable. The sun was at our backs for nearly an hour but the balance of the trek quickly brought cooler air and a cloudless sky. We sang songs, told stories and jokes and just laughed and embraced our truly fortunate situation.
The shadows disappeared as the sky became dark. With nothing to light our way we depended on our guides to take us to our campsite which was nowhere in sight. We all kept our eyes focused on the black distance in hopes of seeing flickering lights from a campfire. After several "Are we there yets" courtesy of Ben, we were led to the crest of a very subtle dune and there, just in the shallow valley below, appeared our glowing campsite. It was like a mirage.
We dismounted our sturdy camel creatures who gently dropped to their knees. As we entered the tent area, sounds of traditional music came wafting out of our camp enclosure. The entire area was covered with Moroccan wool rugs of red and black...the ground and even the walls of our tents. We unloaded our belongings into our tents then were invited to wash up for dinner. At the end of the camp just past the dining room were actual running water facilities. Sinks, showers and they provided portable toilets. A generator supplied the camp with electricity and lights for our evening meal.
The dining room was adorned once again with wool rugs. A padded bench followed the perimeter of the walls providing seating for the tables and comfort with mounds of throw pillows. White linen covered tables and and abundance of food...Moroccan salad, bread, Chicken Tangine and fruits of the season. This was truly a mirage.
Traditional dancing, music and singing followed dessert as we sat by the bon fire under a star-filled sky. A group of students, including Ben and Jeremy got together for a game of "Catch Phrase" which has quickly become our family's new favorite game. All of this in the middle of the desert.
We turned in around 10:30 as our wake up time of 5:30 was quickly approaching. The boys and I settled into our "family" tent and listened to the students who shared the aisle with us. They dragged their mattresses out of the tents to sleep under the stars. Brilliant. Ben could not stand it. He wanted to plop himself right down in the middle of all of them and join the slumber party. I was the party pooper and asked him to give the students their space. Too tired to argue, he fell fast asleep.
Marrakech (Sahara entry supposed to come before this one.)
We woke up just before the sun rose over the desert. I peeked my head out of the tent and saw that e ermine was up. Mattresses and blankets lined up outside the tents, the students were already at breakfast and taking pictures of the sunlit dunes.
Hard boiled eggs, yogurts, fruits, breads, tea and coffee. Perfect. We saddled up and were on out way by 7:30. The camels got shuffled around so, fortunately for Chris, he did not end up riding Cowboy out of the desert. We did see him leading 2 of our friends and couldn't have been more well-behaved. Hmmm...no need tho wonder why, but I'm sure it hurt Chris' feelings a little that he did not receive the same respect from Cowboy that he was giving his new passenger.
It was a beautiful night in the desert. A memory that I will stash away and re-run in my mind like an episode of "The Best In The Life And Times Of Belinda". We reached our destination where the buses were waiting for us and with precision end timing, we arrived just before the real heat of the day. We said our goodbyes to our camels and piled onto to bus for the final city of our Moroccan journey...Marrakech.
Marrakech was the prize at the end of the caravans across the Sahara so many centuries ago. The city center, The Medina, the old city was first constructed in the 10th century. It remains the heartbeat of Marrakech today. We checked into another mediocre hotel just before heading to the Medina for dinner. It is wild and chaotic a place as I'd ever seen. A huge open square surrounded by narrow alleyways of markets and restaurants. The square was so dense with people that we stayed not the outside of the massive crowd trying to make our way to the restaurant. Unbeknownst to us, the perimeter of the pedestrian crowd is also where the motorcycles, cars and horse carriages prefer to ride. It was Saigon on steroids! I knew it was overwhelming when Ben, in front of our friends, chose to hold my hand.
Thankfully, we had gat company at dinner because the meal fell short again. It might be that I just had high palate pleasing expectations for Morocco or we just failed to find the food everyone talks about as being so fabulous. Oh we'll, a reason to return. We turned in early after dinner. We only had half of the next day to tour Marrakech before heading back to the ship.
After much deliberation, we decided to return to the Medina to check out what it is like during the light of day. Much slower paced and void of the harried crowd from the night before, it seemed that we were in for a pleasant experience. We were approached my a local gentleman who offered to give us a 3 hour tour of the Medina at a "nice price". We did not have that kind of time, so we politely declined. Then he offered a one hour tour for, again, a "nice price". I wanted to see the place on our own so, Chris declined the offer again. The man looked at Chris from head to toe and barreled in again with another offer. Rudeness begets rudeness and the man finally left thoroughly disgusted by us. We ran into a friend who was being chased by and older gentleman dressed in traditional garb accusing the student of taking his picture and demanding money. She hid behind us until he gave up. Not the pleasant day I imagined. There were snake charmers and monkey trainers who we all looked at from a distance. If you showed any interest, they would hand you their animal and demand payment for the experience. We made our way through the alleyways still looking from a distance and ended up buying our souvenirs from the store keepers who did not chase us down.
We had just enough time to get back to the hotel, pick up lunch and get back on the bus for our last journey home. It started to sink in...this was our last port...the last time we'd be walking UP the gangway...where did all the time go?
We got to Casablanca around 5:00. The line was long as the crew members did their final checking of bags before boarding the MVExplorer for the last time. Their were hugs and laughter, sad pictures and silly ones. We were all feeling sentimental trying to hang on for just a little longer.
Later, I stood outside on deck 7 as they pulled in the gangway. We. Done with Morocco and on to our final port, Barcelona. I had never before experience the intense speed in which time can fly until then. I didn't want it to end.
Hard boiled eggs, yogurts, fruits, breads, tea and coffee. Perfect. We saddled up and were on out way by 7:30. The camels got shuffled around so, fortunately for Chris, he did not end up riding Cowboy out of the desert. We did see him leading 2 of our friends and couldn't have been more well-behaved. Hmmm...no need tho wonder why, but I'm sure it hurt Chris' feelings a little that he did not receive the same respect from Cowboy that he was giving his new passenger.
It was a beautiful night in the desert. A memory that I will stash away and re-run in my mind like an episode of "The Best In The Life And Times Of Belinda". We reached our destination where the buses were waiting for us and with precision end timing, we arrived just before the real heat of the day. We said our goodbyes to our camels and piled onto to bus for the final city of our Moroccan journey...Marrakech.
Marrakech was the prize at the end of the caravans across the Sahara so many centuries ago. The city center, The Medina, the old city was first constructed in the 10th century. It remains the heartbeat of Marrakech today. We checked into another mediocre hotel just before heading to the Medina for dinner. It is wild and chaotic a place as I'd ever seen. A huge open square surrounded by narrow alleyways of markets and restaurants. The square was so dense with people that we stayed not the outside of the massive crowd trying to make our way to the restaurant. Unbeknownst to us, the perimeter of the pedestrian crowd is also where the motorcycles, cars and horse carriages prefer to ride. It was Saigon on steroids! I knew it was overwhelming when Ben, in front of our friends, chose to hold my hand.
Thankfully, we had gat company at dinner because the meal fell short again. It might be that I just had high palate pleasing expectations for Morocco or we just failed to find the food everyone talks about as being so fabulous. Oh we'll, a reason to return. We turned in early after dinner. We only had half of the next day to tour Marrakech before heading back to the ship.
After much deliberation, we decided to return to the Medina to check out what it is like during the light of day. Much slower paced and void of the harried crowd from the night before, it seemed that we were in for a pleasant experience. We were approached my a local gentleman who offered to give us a 3 hour tour of the Medina at a "nice price". We did not have that kind of time, so we politely declined. Then he offered a one hour tour for, again, a "nice price". I wanted to see the place on our own so, Chris declined the offer again. The man looked at Chris from head to toe and barreled in again with another offer. Rudeness begets rudeness and the man finally left thoroughly disgusted by us. We ran into a friend who was being chased by and older gentleman dressed in traditional garb accusing the student of taking his picture and demanding money. She hid behind us until he gave up. Not the pleasant day I imagined. There were snake charmers and monkey trainers who we all looked at from a distance. If you showed any interest, they would hand you their animal and demand payment for the experience. We made our way through the alleyways still looking from a distance and ended up buying our souvenirs from the store keepers who did not chase us down.
We had just enough time to get back to the hotel, pick up lunch and get back on the bus for our last journey home. It started to sink in...this was our last port...the last time we'd be walking UP the gangway...where did all the time go?
We got to Casablanca around 5:00. The line was long as the crew members did their final checking of bags before boarding the MVExplorer for the last time. Their were hugs and laughter, sad pictures and silly ones. We were all feeling sentimental trying to hang on for just a little longer.
Later, I stood outside on deck 7 as they pulled in the gangway. We. Done with Morocco and on to our final port, Barcelona. I had never before experience the intense speed in which time can fly until then. I didn't want it to end.
Zagora, Morocco - To The Trek; Part 2
Based on past experiences, we were all looking forward to exquisite accommodations. No such luck. Dated, dark, hot and dingy, we tried to make ourselves as comfortable as we could. Chris and Jeremy wrestled a few cockroaches in their room while Ben and I went on a search for ours. Finally located in the unlit back wall of the courtyard grounds, Ben and I decided that we just weren't comfortable being so far away from everyone else. We got lucky and they exchanged our room with one that was front and center and had a working AC unit. Im still not sure if we had bugs or not because we slept with all the lights on!
We were prepared another authentic meal but this time at a Kasbar. Once the opulent residence of the village chief, it is now a traditional Moroccan restaurant. The open courtyard with red carpeted floors and white linen tables was our dining room where we were served under tents and the stars while enjoying the sound and sights of Moroccan musicians and dancers. The meal consisted of a tomato based bean soup, a sweet AND savory pastry of chicken and cinnamon (interesting), fresh fruit and all the bread you could eat. Exhausted, we returned to our hotel (eew!) and caught a few minutes of wifi before hitting the hay.
The next day we hit the road again. We stopped at a small shop where we were encouraged to by scarves for our camel trek. Bins and racks overflowing covered in colorful sheer cotton scarves made the decision to purchase one very enticing. They taught us the traditional head wrap process guaranteed to keep the sand out. Everyone was giddy about the whole thing and consulted each other on just the right color and style of wrap. This, of course, was right up Ben's alley. He chose a light blue scarf to match the t-shirt he had on and began the routine of tying and untying his scarf. Visibly frustrated, several people came to his rescue but once they turned around, Ben would pull it off of his head with utter dissatisfaction. It was the longee of Myanmar all over again! I had to walk away.
Just outside Ouarzazat, we reached the Riad Oasis, the biggest oasis in Morocco at approximately 20 kilometers wide. A massive plain of green in a valley surrounded by harsh chiseled mountainsides painted with horizontal stripes of black and gold stone. It was filled with thick palm trees, dense and lush vegetation, large green plants with pink flowers like an oleander and cacti to remind you that you are in the desert.
A few more hours down the road, we lunched in the city of Zagora. We were taken to another traditional Moroccan restaurant and fed foods from tangines along with baskets of bread. I guess that's the big cooking method here and it works great. Everything was delicious but I still wasn't bowled over. Enough with all the bread! Where the heck was the couscous?!
The last hour and a half drive was through the other side of the High Atlas. It was the desert side called The Anti Atlas. The scenery was so different here. Much more dry, rocky and barren. The living is harder here on this side of the Atlas. They cannot grow crops and they cannot raise sheep or goats. They do sell a lot of pottery though.
We stopped in one of the Berber villages that we'd been passing all the while through the mountains. The Berber people are the original nomads of Morocco. They moved from place to place all throughout the year. After realizing that they were returning to certain places at the same time each year for one reason or another, they decided to build villages and set up residence. They constructed their homes out of a mud and straw mixture. Their houses were rectangular buildings that shared walls with the other homes which then resulted in a village. It is quite a thing to see these settlements from a distance. Since they are made of the earth, they are almost invisible, blending into the desert mountainsides. I felt like we were on the set of Star Wars (not certain of the episode) where young Anikan first meets Quigon Jin.
The people we visited in this village made their living from making and selling pottery. It is an amazing process to watch and everyone from the littlest child makes something from clay. They have turntables set up in a few small dark huts where they create their pieces. Interestingly, the seat and foot pedal is placed in a hole about 3 feet wide and the table is at ground level. So to work the table, the young man explaining the process to us, lowered himself down into the hole. Only his torso above ground, he grabbed some clay and began turning. When we were satisfied, we thanked him graciously and headed out. "You pay money?" He wanted payment as an admission fee to watch him turn the clay. They wanted money for everything including taking pictures of them. I had nothing on me and went to find Chris. He was out by the stoves where they were firing the handmade pottery. A very primitive hole in the ground with a constant fire, they rotated out new pottery with palettes of oven hardened earthenware. I found Jeremy bartering with one of the kids who was about 5 years old. He wanted money for a small clay creature he'd made (looked like a dog but I really couldn't tell). Apparently, Jeremy was interested in the little sculpture and traded him a half-full bottle of water for the "dog". The boy took the deal and ran! Jeremy informed me that we were not to give these people money. Handouts only encouraged their life of poverty. They were not educated people and did not have the intention at all to do better for their children. They merely existed until they did not anymore.
The people who were ambitious, had a store for their clay products. We gladly dropped a few dirhams here ; ) Jeremy and Ben were even convince to try a henna tattoo that many of the girls were getting. They both manned up but uninspired by the dainty designs the girls chose, they both asked the tattoo artist to write their names in Arabic on the inside of their forearms. Jeremy even added a scorpion and Ben got a camel. Great artistry, the boys were satisfied with their decision. As we walked to the bus, Ben proudly showed off his new tattoo to our tour guide, Abduhla. He held Ben's arm and said, "Ah!...BILL!" I wish you could have seen Ben's face! A typo for a tattoo!
We were prepared another authentic meal but this time at a Kasbar. Once the opulent residence of the village chief, it is now a traditional Moroccan restaurant. The open courtyard with red carpeted floors and white linen tables was our dining room where we were served under tents and the stars while enjoying the sound and sights of Moroccan musicians and dancers. The meal consisted of a tomato based bean soup, a sweet AND savory pastry of chicken and cinnamon (interesting), fresh fruit and all the bread you could eat. Exhausted, we returned to our hotel (eew!) and caught a few minutes of wifi before hitting the hay.
The next day we hit the road again. We stopped at a small shop where we were encouraged to by scarves for our camel trek. Bins and racks overflowing covered in colorful sheer cotton scarves made the decision to purchase one very enticing. They taught us the traditional head wrap process guaranteed to keep the sand out. Everyone was giddy about the whole thing and consulted each other on just the right color and style of wrap. This, of course, was right up Ben's alley. He chose a light blue scarf to match the t-shirt he had on and began the routine of tying and untying his scarf. Visibly frustrated, several people came to his rescue but once they turned around, Ben would pull it off of his head with utter dissatisfaction. It was the longee of Myanmar all over again! I had to walk away.
Just outside Ouarzazat, we reached the Riad Oasis, the biggest oasis in Morocco at approximately 20 kilometers wide. A massive plain of green in a valley surrounded by harsh chiseled mountainsides painted with horizontal stripes of black and gold stone. It was filled with thick palm trees, dense and lush vegetation, large green plants with pink flowers like an oleander and cacti to remind you that you are in the desert.
A few more hours down the road, we lunched in the city of Zagora. We were taken to another traditional Moroccan restaurant and fed foods from tangines along with baskets of bread. I guess that's the big cooking method here and it works great. Everything was delicious but I still wasn't bowled over. Enough with all the bread! Where the heck was the couscous?!
The last hour and a half drive was through the other side of the High Atlas. It was the desert side called The Anti Atlas. The scenery was so different here. Much more dry, rocky and barren. The living is harder here on this side of the Atlas. They cannot grow crops and they cannot raise sheep or goats. They do sell a lot of pottery though.
We stopped in one of the Berber villages that we'd been passing all the while through the mountains. The Berber people are the original nomads of Morocco. They moved from place to place all throughout the year. After realizing that they were returning to certain places at the same time each year for one reason or another, they decided to build villages and set up residence. They constructed their homes out of a mud and straw mixture. Their houses were rectangular buildings that shared walls with the other homes which then resulted in a village. It is quite a thing to see these settlements from a distance. Since they are made of the earth, they are almost invisible, blending into the desert mountainsides. I felt like we were on the set of Star Wars (not certain of the episode) where young Anikan first meets Quigon Jin.
The people we visited in this village made their living from making and selling pottery. It is an amazing process to watch and everyone from the littlest child makes something from clay. They have turntables set up in a few small dark huts where they create their pieces. Interestingly, the seat and foot pedal is placed in a hole about 3 feet wide and the table is at ground level. So to work the table, the young man explaining the process to us, lowered himself down into the hole. Only his torso above ground, he grabbed some clay and began turning. When we were satisfied, we thanked him graciously and headed out. "You pay money?" He wanted payment as an admission fee to watch him turn the clay. They wanted money for everything including taking pictures of them. I had nothing on me and went to find Chris. He was out by the stoves where they were firing the handmade pottery. A very primitive hole in the ground with a constant fire, they rotated out new pottery with palettes of oven hardened earthenware. I found Jeremy bartering with one of the kids who was about 5 years old. He wanted money for a small clay creature he'd made (looked like a dog but I really couldn't tell). Apparently, Jeremy was interested in the little sculpture and traded him a half-full bottle of water for the "dog". The boy took the deal and ran! Jeremy informed me that we were not to give these people money. Handouts only encouraged their life of poverty. They were not educated people and did not have the intention at all to do better for their children. They merely existed until they did not anymore.
The people who were ambitious, had a store for their clay products. We gladly dropped a few dirhams here ; ) Jeremy and Ben were even convince to try a henna tattoo that many of the girls were getting. They both manned up but uninspired by the dainty designs the girls chose, they both asked the tattoo artist to write their names in Arabic on the inside of their forearms. Jeremy even added a scorpion and Ben got a camel. Great artistry, the boys were satisfied with their decision. As we walked to the bus, Ben proudly showed off his new tattoo to our tour guide, Abduhla. He held Ben's arm and said, "Ah!...BILL!" I wish you could have seen Ben's face! A typo for a tattoo!
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