Saturday, June 11, 2005

At some point despite my lack of sleep and the time adjustments, Saturday has arrived. While in my younger days it seemed okay to still be awake in the morning… it’s not entirely okay now.
Amsterdam was a little out of control. We had to stop for boarding passes which put us in quite the time crunch. We got a bit hung up at the security checkpoint due to a woman and her family who were escorted off by security. Basically it appeared that they were being dealt with due to a small problem that escalated for the most part due to the woman’s attitude. The situation almost turned ugly for us when Stephen and Candyce made a joke about me holding up the line. The man gave me an awful look, but then left with bad attitude lady.
The flight from Amsterdam to Paris was completely uneventful… or I was getting too tired to notice anything. Paris was another rushed event. We barely made it to the gate in time to catch the bus to the plane. The whole thing seemed a bit bazaar. The ride to the plane made the plane appear to be 10 miles away although I am sure it wasn’t nearly that far. I got quite a bit of sleep on the flight to Casablanca. It’s a good thing since we had to make a run for the train in Casablanca.
It has been 29 hours since we left the house to head to Morocco. Having arrived in Casablanca a few hours ago, I am still waiting for the rush of excitement about being abroad. We have taken a train from the airport and are heading toward Meknes. What we have seen out the window thus far has been has primarily been poverty stricken and dirty. There is an overwhelming amount of drab, muted colors like khaki and tan. Many of the buildings appear to be slowly crumbling into the barren dirt that surrounds them. The frequent sight of laundry offers and unexpected splash of color to the portrait in the form of a handmade rug or covering.
Camille, one of the workers in Meknes, picked us up at the train station and drove us to the hotel. We settled in and then walked to dinner down the street. Our first experience with Moroccan cuisine was more about the things going on around us and less about the food. While intending to enjoy the food, the people staring, the women covered from heads to toe, and the boys begging for food distracted me completely from the meal. I was in a hurry just to get back to the hotel where we had some privacy and a bed for the first time since leaving home.

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