Unspoken

WARNING: Reader Discretion Advised. Contains Sentimental and graphic content.

I would like to begin in assuring you that everyone, including myself, is safely aboard the MV Explorer and headed home to the United States. But an incident took place that we, as a group, decided would be better to disclose after our loved ones could be assured that everyone was safe and sound. We apologize for our exemption and hope we can be forgiven for trying to protect our friends and families at home.

On July 20, 2009  I was attacked and mugged by three Turkish men in the streets of Istanbul, Turkey. The details are as follows:

 I was stupidly returning to the ship alone at about 12:30am after getting a duner and some tea. Three men approached me and announced themselves as police. They only flashed their wallet and at that point I knew they were lying but before I knew it they had pushed me and dragged me into a dark alley. I was immediately brought to the ground. I tried to get up and run but it was ultimately impossible. It was three against one and they had a strong grip. They started to strangle and choke me. I screamed for help but that just made them do it harder, so I learned my lesson to remain quiet. I told them that I would give them money, but they kept saying, “No Money, No Money,” and at that point I thought I was to never return. My family, my friends and the rest of the trip flashed before me as I continued to struggle, but I had seriously contemplated on giving up considering the overbearing ratio. They then proceeded to strip me of my pants and underwear. (I assure you nothing of a sexual nature was done to me. I think they just wanted to make me feel more vulnerable.) Nonetheless,  I thought my life was going to be over. They were still choking me and now smothering me with my own jeans. Fortunately there was no punching or kicking or any weapon of any sort.  Pain wasn’t their goal but why were they strangling me? Well, at last their grip had loosened a bit as one of the guys was having trouble getting my watch off. Shortly after that they had let me go. I don’t really remember this part but I do remember running naked until they were kind enough to throw me my pants. I couldn’t believe it was over. I was in complete shock and beside myself. Unfortunately they stole 90 dollars, my identification, my shoes and my watch which my grandparents had recently bought for my 21st birthday. (I’m sorry Nana and Barry)

 I ran as fast as I could with no shoes on the cobbled rock to the nearest populated place. I wasn’t far from the boat but I had no ID and I needed the police. I found a police man who brought me to the police station. This was quite unhelpful. The cops were more or less laughing at me as they stood and assessed my situation. I was dirty, bleeding and just wanted to get back to the safety of the boat. I even had to ask for water. The basic things that you think would come in such a situation and they were just non-existent. After about a half an hour I had had enough of the minimal progress and so I demanded that I be brought back to the boat in which I needed to direct them to. The police talked me through ship security and at last I was home.

I am forever indebted to the staff on the boat. Besides being beyond friendly they were outstandingly gracious in everything I needed. Christina was the first to hear at 2:30 and the last to send me off to bed at 4:15. Bo was also by my side for a good chunk of the time. I could see tears in his eyes. But I was fine. I was with the Physician’s Assistant Nancy and cracking jokes the entire time. It was most likely a defense mechanism but I had yet to cry over the incident. When they threw me to the ground, the back of my earring must have made a gash in the back of my ear and it was in need of stitching. Nancy put them in in no time flat! It was painless and I was extremely grateful for that. After an extensive review of my body for any more cuts, bruises or any other problems I was cleared to leave. My blood pressure was lowering and all signs were of a healthy nature. The only problem was this was the one night that the staff was doing testing on the ship’s water. There was no running water on the boat ANYWHERE. I was dirty, bloody, and sweaty, and I couldn’t take a shower until 4:30. It was 4:15 as I stood over the sink just waiting to get the blessed luxury of water.

I was alive though. I was in awe of everything I touched and everything I saw. I still wasn’t sentimental. It was all cerebral. The only time this incident has struck me with tears is now as I confess this to you readers and when I had to tell Erika. Her life is already paralyzed with fear and now I had to be the stupid one to provide yet another reason for her to fear life as we know it. I love life and only want to live it to the maximum. This incident hasn’t deterred me from anything yet. Instead it has made me that more grateful for the things I have and the people I love.

Life is beyond fragile and it cannot be taken for granted. Everyday is a blessing and everyday I try to remember that. I try to love the most, complain the least and live constantly. It is terrifying to think that ten minutes could have changed the course of so many lives, not just mine. For that I apologize. For that I am ashamed. Why did I walk alone? Well, no one was around, and who ever was around was either asleep or had no interest in going out. So I decided to go alone. The decision to go out alone could not have only ruined this trip for all aboard but ruined the lives of my loved ones for the years to come. Living in New York City has made me ignorant to the dangers that can face me daily. I seem to think I’m invincible just because I can walk the streets of Manhattan by myself, but it just isn’t the case, especially considering these foreign countries and I’m not afraid to admit my stupidity. But I, in no way, want to induce fear. I don’t want to scare families and friends from traveling or allowing their loved ones to travel. Instead take this: it is true, bad things can happen. But they can happen in the comfort of your own home. Don’t let this incident or any other for that matter keep you from living your life to the fullest. And I don’t want to be rude in saying that if I can have this outlook so can you.

I would like to take this time to apologize again for not telling you of this incident. I hope you understand the reasoning behind the decision. As a collective we saw it  best for everyone’s mind and safety. The staff strongly suggested that I do call and notify but I knew what I had to do. I’m sorry mom. I’m sorry all.

For the next couple of days I was extremely sore in Turkey. My throat was painful and my movement was very stiff. But I’m glad to say I had much support from my friends and the rest of the community on board. We took things easy: as you can see we saw movies and kept to low key trips. I still had a wonderful time in Turkey and do not and will not let this horrible incident taint my time at Semester at Sea. I still suggest everyone to do it and don’t worry they didn’t make me say that.

Please laugh this off as much as you can muster. I know you must take it with some amount of seriousness but we are already on route to Norfolk and I will be home once more.

Take care, truly.

Explore. Dream. Discover and Live.

~Michael-Anthony

P.S. I love you all and thank God.

The Beginning of the End

**Note: Post date is August 12, 2009**

I woke up, packed and pondered on how I would use all the rest of my Durham. I had a substantial amount and they won’t exchange Durham easily in the United States. My phone rang. “I can’t find my camera anywhere,” says Erika. I rush to her room to help her find the most precious item to anyone on this trip. After tearing all the sheets and all the blankets off the beds, rummaging through every drawer and crevice in the room, the camera was no where to be found. The waterworks didn’t take too long to start. We had taken some unique and wonderful pictures, along with videos, of our travels through the Sahara desert and back. Not to mention the value of the camera alone. But pictures are undeniably worth so much more than any other monetary value. Erika began to cry.

The others: Becca, Kate and Nicole had went back to the square earlier in the morning she finish some shopping. It was about a half an hour before we had to leave and they return. Erika and I explain to them what happened as we rush down to the concierge to try and resolve the missing camera mystery. There weren’t many possibilities for Erika and I were 100% sure that she left it in the hotel for the entire night. She calmly but emotionally explained the situation to the hotel manager who was very quick to help us. He frantically paced the hotel to acquire records of the times in which the door was open. Erika was still in a state of panic and tears. I had to gather my bags together and so I went upstairs. Along the way I stopped to update the girls on the situation. Nicole had been keeping some stuff of mine her bag. When I got to her room she had put my stuff in a pile. In that pile was none other than Erika’s camera. I scream out of both excitement and frustration. I grab the camera, run down the stairs and relieve Erika of her heartbreaking worries. It gave me relief too, because these nine days home would be completely different if Erika had lost her camera.

The day was pretty simple. To drive back to Marrakech. And so we did. We made some stops in which I tried to use up more Durham. I still have much more but Edwin, our cabin steward, will be back here with Semester at Sea in only a couple of weeks, so I can tip him in Moroccan currency. The drive was another long one, but no mountains this time. It was emotional to have to leave, especially knowing that we were heading into finals week and a lot of writing papers. Once we arrived at the boat, however, it was a relief to be home. It was nice to wave bye to those over cramped minibuses and nice to just relax. We stood in line, souvenirs in hand, as we awaited the last time we would ever walk up the gang plank and get on the M.V. Explorer.

We left Morocco an hour earlier than planned. We now head off into the Atlantic ocean once more. But this time, instead of traveling the world, it is to return safely to our homeland that we call the United States of America. I got in a little argument with Kevin tonight. I even got a little upset. He was quick to say that he didn’t want to live in the U.S., because he didn’t like our government. Seems like a valid statement and his opinion is his opinion. But it made me furious that even after all the devastation and poverty that we have witnessed on this voyage he would still take for granted the luxury and security we are blessed with each and every day in the USA. There are people that would trade their most prized possessions just for just a chance in the “free world” and he was throwing it around like it was a pair of die. America should not be glorified or praised but it certainly should be appreciated.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

~Michael-Anthony

P.S. I’m on my way!

It was just yesterday...

**Note: Post Date is August 11, 2009**

Our early wake up call this morning was a mixture of rooster and camel calls. After an exhausting day yesterday I immediately fell asleep. I was in a such deep sleep that I missed all the commotion that happened throughout the night.

I’m not going to deface the Semester at Sea name, nor minimize the time I’ve had with the program but a select group of students have been less than respectful when entering these nations. In fact considering the size of their group they inflict destruction on these poor countries with no regard to their property or feelings. And supposedly they struck again. Erika being a light sleeper heard it all.

With alcohol from outside and inside the camp these students became unbearably intoxicated. Being unable to control their actions and overall behavior they soon became out of control as the roamed the camp site. Fights broke out, tents were collapsed and faculty became involved. The screaming escalated and threats flew as these students have already been under the radar for alcohol abuse and poor judgment throughout the trip. As Erika relayed the happenings, I was in complete shock. One student even fell on our tent waking Kate up from her sleep. It seemed like it was a circus out there and I’m ashamed. I’m appalled that I must be associated with such people and quite honestly I wasn’t expecting this. From my impression the student body of Semester at Sea was intelligent, mature and respectful. Instead we still encounter idiots and it’s no different than high school. I am infinitely appreciative to have found such a kind and solid group of people that I respect and enjoy and am able to call my true friends. Without their imprint this trip would have a completely different vibe and consequently tainted my trip more than it already has been by these unfortunate souls. It is unanimous that Semester at Sea needs to raise their admission requirements to result in higher standards for the community they wish to create.

With the desert being extremely dry Erika had a couple of nosebleeds through the night. She’s never had one before so you could imagine her franticness, but actually she handled it quite well.

After the commotion died down, we gathered around for a delicious and fruity breakfast with some mint tea (which is delicious by the way). As the sun was rising we made our way back through the desert on Camels so that we could then drive yet again another eight hours back to Marrakech. Erika and I were dreading the deadly trip over the mountain side so we decided to preoccupy ourselves with each other’s company. I’ve known Erika for almost 10 years now and yet we still find fascination with one another. We still find things about each other we never knew and find more things to laugh hysterically about. A topic that surfaces frequently however is our futures. Being a senior in college, the word future is ultimately ingrained in your mind. It takes the form of dreams, nightmares and logical thinking. Being immersed in acting for more than half my life I have become fascinated with other career paths. I’m completely satisfied with the challenge that lays before me in acting but for some reason I’m in awe and impressed by some of the interests people have. Nicole has a double major in Psychology and Sign Language and with that degree hopes to form a practice of Psychology for the deaf which surprisingly doesn’t exist. A student named Grace is currently a Hospitality major but eventually hopes to go to culinary school and become a chef of her own bakery. And Erika with a degree in Psychology and a minor in theatre still hopes to pursue her dreams of becoming a dolphin trainer. They all sound so exciting. The work varies but becoming anything, even an actor take an immense amount of dedication and perseverance. A work ethic that Erika and I think is missing from the generations that come after us. A generation in which our siblings are a part of and it worries us.

But at the fore front of our worrying was still the mountain. As I write this we’ve obviously survived but it was a risky drive once more as Omar drove at top speeds around these bends, while passing cars at any opportunity he sought fit. Erika and I had to try yet another tool of soothing as we listened to my I-pod. It was still interrupted by our constant fear of death. I can’t express to you how happy and appreciative I am that that ride is finished. And let me tell you…I’m done with mountains for a while.  It’s hard to think that Kevin is up in those mountain as I write this.

We stopped along the way, once for lunch and once to see the largest palmary in North Africa. For lunch we had the norm along with watermelon again! But I pigged out, totaling in ten pieces of watermelon. I was full. Once we returned to the hotel we were given free time for the rest of the night. And it was our last night of being in a foreign country. We began the evening by returning to the plaza called Djemma el-Fna Square. This Bazaar was as crowded and pushy as the one in Turkey but it had more variety and spunk so I was entertained. All the vendors kept telling me that I looked Moroccan and that I had a Moroccan face. I wonder. I’m not sure of my father’s background, it’s possible. I was using my French skills once again. Erika is a little rusty as I communicated for her plenty of times. I miss French and wish I had room in my hectic schedule to still study it.

 Anyways I did much shopping and accomplished a great deal souvenir wise. Yet it must be forewarned that souvenir shopping is a stressful and difficult thing that should be practiced before doing. I tried my best and the outcome might not be the most abundant but at least there is one. Seeing as it was the last country it was the last opportunity for souvenir shopping.

As leaving the square a young kid tugged on my shirt and looked up at me with his big eyes and sad face. He was holding a package of tissues for sale and pleaded with me to by them from him. He was all of seven or eight begging in the streets of Marrakech. I told him to go please and that I was sorry in French several times. Eventually had to use force and so I raised my voice. Once he realized I wasn’t going to give in, he took down the charade and screamed, “Fuck You,”. For a split second I was furious that he would pull such a stunt but then I simply realized it was a means of survival. Being in that situation you probably lose all sense of social norms and resort to anything to get what you need. Many kids were surrounding us as we stopped to by ice cream, asking us to buy them some. Regardless that we would be bombarded if we bought one child a cone, ice cream isn’t of nutritional value. They need real food and it broke my heart to have to rush away from these potentially starving children. The worst incident was during our drive back when we stopped to look at the palm trees. There was a small house by the road. These two kids approached us with open hands in expectation for some coins. One of the students naively threw one coin to the two children and they literally fought for it. We bended at will as we threw more. They were so adorable, yet so underprivileged as they walked around bare foot with ripped clothing. I wanted to take a picture but knew that it would be exploiting them and they deserve so much more than that. I wish them the world if not just food for the night.

Tonight was the last. The last night that A.B.A would go out for the evening. As Erika and I were heading of the hotel for a quick stop at the grocery store we bumped into some familiar faces. Rachel, Lauren, Erik and Lindsay were in Marrakech. Don’t let this surprise you. We had all intentions of meeting them and It was great to get the gang together as much as possible. Kevin and Bo were some of the main people missing. It wasn’t a big night out. It was sweet and simple as we went to a near by restaurant for banana splits. We talked, we took pictures and we calmly accepted the closure of this amazing and unforgettable expedition.

It all seems like yesterday. Actually the entire trip just seems like one long day. I can still remember saying goodbye to my mom and brother at the train station, and catching the van to go to the airport to fly to Halifax. It is all so fresh in my mind. And now, two months later we are celebrating its conclusion. We are well aware that we have a long ride home, but the explore part of my motto has now come to fruition. And in the next week or so we will have to come to terms with Semester at Sea in the past and the dispersions of A.B.A. through the U.S. It was a relaxing night, but a long one as we stayed up till about 4:00 am just talking and reminiscing  the entirety of the trip. Rachel, Lauren, Erik and Lindsay took a 5:00 am train back to Casablanca, while the rest of us remained at the hotel. It doesn’t feel like the end.

Today’s Expense’s

………………………....Durham………Dollars
Taxi……………………..27.00.………..3.38
Shopping………………250.00.………31.25
Ice Cream……………20.00.………..2.50
Total Water…………8.00.………….1.00

Total……………………305.00.……….38.13

Explore. Dream. Discover.

~Michael-Anthony

P.S. It looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

The Nomad Pad

**Note: Post Date is August 10, 2009**

I have decided to label our minibus as tragic. This van, or box if you will, trekked up the High Atlas Mountain, the highest in North Africa, at top speeds, making turns without caution, passing cars on a two lane street and all while holding steady conversation. Why do I put myself in these horrific situations? I did it in Italy atop the monstrous mountain top of AnaCapri, in Greece to climb to the distant area of Delphi and now once more in Morocco on the treacherous and winding roads of High Atlas. In past tense this fear may seem trivial and at times comical, but at the time with gaps of no protection at all between you and the deadly cliff along with an endless amount of sharp turns, that fear is nothing but real.

My anxiety is slightly higher than the normal individual. However, I am a fan of life and a strong believer that a part of life is feeling the pain as well as the pleasure. Therefore trying to reduce my anxiety is not on my agenda. My mother however thinks I need some kind of depressant to regulate my nervousness. She even suggested that I’d bring Zanex or some sort with me on the trip. I naturally refused. But…sitting in this crammed vehicle while defying the laws of physics and gravity I was wishing I took her up on that offer. Not to mention that the driver barely spoke English creating a barrier of communication as I screamed for him to slow down. Cars have always frightened me. They frighten me on a regular road. You place that road hundreds of feet in the air, forget it! I wanted off this crazy rollercoaster ride. NOW!

But we had 6 hours to go before that demand could be met. Six hours of dodging death. Erika and I sat back, breathed and tried to sleep through the rest of the terrifying trip. Luckily I can sleep anywhere and so I made due as we went along. Sitting in a van for hours on end just makes you utterly exhausted. We all sat around in a haze of heat and drowsiness as we dreaded the rest of the drive. We made several stops along the way actually. Mostly to give the driver a break but also to relieve us of the cramped space, give us a chance to go to the bathroom, buy water and of course shop. Erika was doing some shopping and bartering for an item. She wasn’t getting her proposed price and so decided not to purchase it. We went to sit in the minibus and munch on cookies while we waited to leave when all of sudden a head popped up at the window. It was the guy offering Erika a cheaper price. She got him do lower it even more and so she decided to make the purchase. However, the man saw that she had some cookies and asked if she would throw in one to finalize the deal. Now you don’t ask Erika for her food, you just don’t. But she gave him one. Deal!

Going to the bathroom in countries such as Egypt, Morocco and even Bulgaria is quite an obstacle. First the conditions are hardly ever sanitary, second you have to pay and third the chance that there is toilet paper at your disposal is extremely rare. We currently measure the quality of bathrooms on whether they have TP or not. They are hard to come by but we found a few. Good thing I don’t go to the bathroom much. But being in the desert, water is a vital resource and going to the bathroom becomes quite excessive and basically inevitable.

We made an extended stop for lunch which again was delicious. The traditional Moroccan salad (this time with ranch dressing) along with pork and chicken skewers and again fruit for dessert. The bathroom was in amazing condition and we took this time to rejuvenate ourselves for the second half of the drive.

To add to the tragedy of our bus, one of the students in our van was missing some money from his wallet that he so ignorantly left on the bus while at lunch. Once he discovered that the money was missing he was quick to accuse and verbally attack our driver. I’m personally not a fan of his driving skills but I wouldn’t expect him to be a thief. His name is Omar: a short Berber man who has a young son and has been working with the company for 13 years of his 35 year career. Interestingly enough: he was a featured driver in the movie Babel starring Brad Pitt. Nevertheless this student, who shall remain nameless, was abrasive, rude and created an uncomfortable atmosphere inside the minibus for a good chunk of the trip. Curse words were flying along with threats of attempting to terminate his position. The rest of us on the bus did the best we could in calming down said person, but we had little effect. We offered other scenarios of why his money was missing such as dropping it or unknowingly spending it for he was intoxicated the evening before. However his mind was made up. He was positive that our driver had stolen his 1000 Durham. There is no way to determine either way, but the behavior exhibited by this student was distasteful, embarrassing and just plain rude.

There was definitely benefit to our eight hour drive through the Moroccan terrain. The view of the mountains was both gorgeous and breathtaking along with absolutely horrifying. I was appreciative of being able to see different parts of Morocco, including the Sahara Desert and other surrounding small towns. We saw authentic Moroccan life including shepherds on hill top, woman and their daily chores, workers in the distant fields and of course our final destination: a nomad camp where we would be staying for the night.

First we had to Camel trekked through the Sahara to reach this cultural outing. I’ve encountered camels in both Egypt and in Morocco and I can promise you I’m not their biggest fan. They are tall, skinny, dirty, gangly animals with tight skin who make obnoxious noises, foul drool and attract bugs. I swear their compositional make-up is so bizarre and foreign from any other animal and I’m convinced they are aliens. Me and Erika riding a camel through the Sahara desert was a sight to see. I’m sure she seemed more in control then I did as I was apprehensive about the whole thing. But as much as I am disturbed by their appearance and lifestyle, riding them was a fun experience. I actually grew accustomed to our camel that Erika and I named Fred (short for Fredrick). Unfortunately they brand the camels which breaks my heart. No matter how ugly or disgusting an animal may be they don’t deserve that sort of demeaning torture. I mean I’m not sure what the purpose of a camel would be beside transporting people and supplies through the desert but nonetheless they could treat them with a little more respect. Besides, many animals that I encounter for some reason make me think of my pet cat: Stimpy who I miss a lot. I always miss that fat cat, who is actually more like a dog as he follows me around the house. But why would anyone want to hurt a helpless animal? It is so upsetting.

Anyways after an hour ride through the evening desert full of wind and dust we made it to the outside nomad camp where we were welcomed with a up roaring of music, clapping and dancing from the natives of Morocco. It was surreal as we entered this authentic camp. With tents and carpeting to limit the sand intake, a fire pit in the center and the Arabian night sky approaching I became more and more in awe of this indescribable experience. Here I stood in the Sarah desert, in Africa being served tea as I put my bags down in a nomad tent that I would be sleeping in for the night. The music was continuous and so was the dancing that soon became communal to the entire fleet of SAS students. I too joined in the joyous circle as I experienced, hands on, the African culture. It is so beyond thrilling to be in this unique place and time yet emotional. I’m 21 and I am able to be experience things such as traveling to Africa. My mom has expressed to me numerous times her strong desire of coming to this continent and it literally breaks my heart that I’m doing it before her and without her. I sit below the night sky and think of how privileged I am. I make a promise to return but only with her. I’ve yet to visit sub-Sahara Africa so together we can experience a safari and explore the southern parts of this unique body of land. If we’re lucky maybe my brother and sister will join.

Dinner again was consistently good as we were served another variation of our other meals. The bread was freshly cooked outside at the fire and this time for desert we had watermelon: my favorite!  There was also a lot of singing at dinner as we sang famous Disney tunes including hits from Lion King, Aladdin and Mulan to keep us in the mood of this exotic experience. It was yet another fun A.B.A. time of laughing, taking pictures and really marking this as a remunerable time.

“I never knew so many stars existed,” I say aloud as we lay below the dark sky. The Milky Way, the big and small dippers and Venus. It was just a magical night. I walked through the sand (tentative of beetles of course) and just admired the beauty of the starry night and just thought. I can’t possibly record all the thoughts I had this evening but one is the amount of our history that stems from this continent. The slave trade originated here. I’m not very connected to my African heritage, if at all, but to some it is a very powerful feeling to be standing where I am. It was powerful to me for many other reasons, but interesting to think that slavery created a whole period of time in our country of civil war, civil rights movement and most recently our elected president. It is such a stamp on the progressiveness of the United States and here I stand at its origin. I saw a shooting star. I can’t tell you my wish but it has a lot to do with life and the well being of the human race.

As I walked back to the tent I screamed like a little girl as I was faced with a beetle, (you know the ones from The Mummy?). Morgan had to whisk me away with her flashlight so that I could safely make it back to the camp without having to actually make contact with the crawling creature. What’s worst is they imbed themselves in the sand so you don’t know their location until they decide to surface. I did not go back out there.

As I made it back to the camp there was a lot of commotion and everyone’s focus was in the distance. As I looked there was a nomad lighting something on fire. This something spelled out “Semester at Sea,” in flames! It was such a cool moment of the night as we all cheered. It was so exciting to see knowing that I was one of the lucky ones to be a part of this amazing institution and unforgettable voyage and here it was being noticed by an African community.

Showering wasn’t a success seeing as I didn’t tonight. The nomads were very hospitable enough to offer us a bathroom along with food, electricity and beds but this facility was not worth the hassle. First the electricity wasn’t very stable so you gambled on whether you would be showering in the dark or not and the drainage wasn’t very advanced so the odors were enough of a deterrence for me. So I went to bed sandy and sweaty but why not go for the full experience of camping out in Africa? The drums and singing died down at about 11. Me and the girls climbed into our tent soon after that. I sprayed myself down with bug spray before I headed under the covers and wished everyone goodnight.

Explore. Dream. Discover.

~Michael-Anthony

P.S. Hakuna Matata

Marrakech, Morocco

**Note: Post date is August 9, 2009**


We arrived in Casablanca, Morocco this morning, my second destination in Africa, but didn’t get to see much of Casablanca at all actually, for Erika, Kate, Nicole, Becca, Morgan and myself were already headed to the city of Marrakech. It was the beginning of our four day trip to the Sahara desert and back.

Morocco is extremely different than Egypt. I’m not sure why I expected them to be similar but they are quite separate considering their economies, pollution levels and degree of development. Unlike the urban areas of Egypt, Morocco’s areas are clean, traffic laws are existent as well as followed and the area is habitable and not overpopulated. Even though Casablanca alone has a population of six million it certainly didn‘t feel like it.  It didn’t seem to be of the desperate and polluted nature of Egypt. It was calm, bright and enjoyable. However, as we ventured into the desert sights of poverty and underdevelopment were more apparent. Donkeys are a large source of transportation, irrigation is limited but extremely vital to the people of Morocco and so as you drive along the desert terrain you can see select civilians in the distance enduring hard obstacles of labor with the high and dry temperature of the blazing sun beating down on them. They might not be large contributors of global warming but they are certainly victims of their climate and economic status.

I awoke with Bo and Kevin for some breakfast before we went our separate ways in Morocco. Packed and ready to go, we waited for our passports before we could disembark the ship. “I’m not riding in that,” I thought to myself as I laid eyes on the small minibus that we would be driving in for an accumulative 24 hours or more. Fifteen of us had to crowd inside this vehicle with limited air-conditioning, no leg room and it was smaller than our cabins. I wish I could say I was exaggerating but this description is already too generous. I say limited air-conditioning meaning at times it would actually blow hot air into the already stifling carpeted van. And no leg room means having to turn your legs so that your body could in fact sit in the seat.  Many complained but I simply justified this discomfort with accepting air-conditioning as a luxury not a necessity and understanding that many of the people here don’t have it. I won’t deny that it was hot, but it was all a part of the experience.

After a three hour ride we arrived in Marrakech and immediately sat down for some Moroccan Cuisine. Lunch was interesting, but good, as we were served a mixed salad of carrots, salsa, beats, potatoes and eggplant with bread. Followed by some delicious chicken. For dessert: sliced oranges with cinnamon and nuts on top. I never thought of such a concoction but it was tasty. Erika went back for 5ths and 6ths noting it as a two thumbs up. The place was very atmospheric as we flashed our cameras. I certainly felt like I was in Morocco. After lunch we wandered around the plaza in which the restaurant was located. At this square there wasn’t only a Bazaar but also freshly squeezed orange juice (in the most literal sense), Henna artists, snake charmers, and monkeys. It smelled a little too. We were getting the tourist taste of Africa but nonetheless those snakes were real! I’m not afraid, but when the charmers come to put the select scaled creature on your neck, my instinct is to run!

We didn’t have much time in this happening plaza but we have intentions in returning. We were only 6 hours into our day and already dripping with sweat and exhaustion. Thank goodness our next stop was the hotel. The quality of our accommodations aren’t as luxurious compared to our time in Egypt but they will suffice. We had a few hours to freshen up and relax before we headed back out for the evening.

It is called Chez Ali and as we drove up to the palace-looking structure we could once again feel the Moroccan culture full force. Again it was of a touristy nature, but still more culture than I have knowledge of. As we strolled around this spacious area, surrounding a giant field of dirt, we were greeted with a line of various dancers, singers and musicians, both boastful and vibrant. It was thrilling just taking it all in. And as we made our way around we finally sat inside a large tent and enjoyed another meal. This time a soup of an unfamiliar and unpleasant texture, luckily followed by a rich beef stew with potatoes and vegetables. For dessert: fruit (we are starting to notice a trend), peaches, plums and delicious oranges. “This is the best orange I’ve ever had in my life,” Erika says to validate. Food, thus far, is a 100% upgrade from my experiences in Egypt.

The tables here are low to the ground with small seats and couches to match. It again layers on yet another experience of their culture. And as we sat around the low table talking, laughing and eating we were again greeted by those same cultural performers but this time one by one. We clapped along and shared this exchange of acknowledgment of each other. We were visiting their country and in return they were sharing their culture. Unbeknownst to a lot of people, traveling is an experience, not an activity, and it demands a dialogue with the land and its locals. It isn’t just sight seeing and sleeping in a five-star hotel, it is conversing with the culture and in turn letting it effect you, whether it be negatively or positively. And that’s why I appreciate the word experience. It is such an objective word that captures the sense of its definition.(if that makes sense)

After dinner we all gathered, including an addition of Kevin,  around the large dirt field to await the commencement of the Arabian horse show. Erika tells me that these shows are similar to the dinner theater performances they have in Orlando, Florida. However, we are in Morocco and I’ve never been to one in Florida so it was exciting to watch the rider do flip tricks as they rid the Arabian horses.  A belly dancer on a large platform put on quite a spectacular with her white sparkling attire and flexible moves. A lot more entertaining than the Egyptian belly dancer we had on the Nile. The show was full of entertainment including a magic carpet, a young boy on donkey back, explosive guns, and my favorite: fireworks. The donkey was adorable as he reminded me of Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. He sat in the middle of the field with his droopy ears and big black eyes. The young boy was in training as he worked with this miniature horse. The magic carpet had Aladdin and Jasmine figures on it as it rode across the night sky. And I became a little emotional as that same sky was lit with some pyro-techniques. Fireworks automatically induce sentiment for they remind me of home and a place of happiness. I was happy.

At the show’s conclusion and by the time we arrived back to hotel it was certainly late. However, with an eight hour drive ahead of us we decided that sleeping would be redundant and a waste of some valuable time experiencing Moroccan life. So with the help of some fellow SASers we took a taxi to a fancy lounge for an evening of drinks and hooka. But I was not expecting the decorum of this place to be so chic and classy. The staircases were lined with candles, there was an outside area to lounge and smoke hooka and it predominantly gave off  the feeling of being in a Los Angeles home. (Like the ones you see in the movies) I didn’t smoke nor drink but I danced and had a ball with Kate, Mercedes, Nicole and Tom. As were sitting in the outside area we came to talking with these people from France who were visiting friends and family in Morocco. Using my select French skills I sparked up a conversation and came to find out that they visit at least once a year. Morocco, being a former French Colony, has many French inhabitants. Many foreigners get giddy when they hear that I’m from New York and they start expressing their admiration for the grand land of the States as I did the same with France. We talked for a while about travel, singing and appearances. They, on their own accord, even said Kate looked like Cameron Diaz. It was a funny moment for sure. The place closed at 2:00 am, so we finished our hooka, exchanged names for Facebook and headed back to the hotel.

I was all ready to go to bed, when I reached in my pocket to take out my passport. We are required to carry our passports at all time while traveling outside of Casablanca. However, when I went to place it on the end table, it wasn’t there. I frantically checked all the other pockets and all outcomes were negative. I almost passed out at that very moment. I had no idea where it could have gone. Until I checked the table that I left it on earlier. I actually didn’t end up bringing it with me to the lounge. It was safe and sound in my hotel room the entire time. I have my passport. I’m going to sleep like a baby.

Today’s Expense’s

…………………........Durham…………Dollars

Ritz Crackers……22.00.…………..2.75
Total Water……..24.00.…………..3.00
Picture…………....20.00.…………..2.50

Total…………….....66.00.…………..8.25



Explore. Dream. Discover.

~Michael-Anthony

P.S. I ate A LOT of bread.