Leaving London

This has nothing to do with the story, I just thought I'd add a pretty picture!

As always today we woke up bright and early and walked through the London fog to the airport (only managing to get lost once). Everything went surprisingly smoothly until we got on the air plane… we taxied down the runway, in thick fog, built up speed and just as we were about to lift off the pilot slammed on the brakes and we came to a screeching halt. It turned out that the speedometer was malfunctioning and the sudden stop had caused the brakes to overheat so they had to call the fire brigade. Sure enough several minutes later an ambulance and a fire truck came screeching up along side us. We waited on the tarmac for 3 hours trying to see if they could fix the part then when they decided they couldn't they transferred us to a different plane (another long story), where we waited for another 2 hours. After 5 hours of waiting on the tarmac we were finally in the air. But, the fun was only beginning! The stewardess told us that they would be handing out complimentary free food (which Easy Jet normally doesn’t do because they’re super cheap) and they would pass it out starting from both the front and the back so the people in the middle might not get their first choice. Immediately several of the biggest scariest looking guys came up to the front and started loudly complaining. The stewardess handled it all remarkably well and we continued on our way. Then someone started smoking in the bathroom! Bad idea. The crew had to race back and deal with that. Finally, the plane approached the landing strip and then at the last minute the pilot pulled the plane in a steep angle back up into the sky! What? After the failed landing attempt (during which several people started crying “oh no were going to die!”) we circled around and finally touched down in Marrakech! What a ride! Was I ever glad to be on the ground!

Lovely huh?

Morocco was completely different then what I was expecting.  It was beautiful and the people were so nice, but the terrain is completely desolate. It’s like a combination of the southwest and the deserts of Baja. We walked out of the airport into the blazing sun, I breathed a sigh of relief, finally it was time to put on my T-shirts, shorts and my favorite pair of fake Ray Bans. This was in total contrast to both Nepal and London. We took a taxi into the old town and carried our bags through the winding streets full of motorbikes and scooters until we came to our “Riad” (which means a traditional Moroccan house or palace with an interior garden or courtyard in Arabic). Godwin’s family had already arrived and we had a big get together dinner at a local restaurant. It was a blast to have them along (and a big shout out to you guys if your reading this, thanks a lot, we should do that again sometime!)

We stayed in the wonderful and slightly bizarre city of Marrakech for four days. We had rented out the whole riad so there was nobody else and we got the whole thing to ourselves! It was a great little place and it was far enough from the road that we couldn’t hear the cars and all other manner of vehicles. Actually though there aren’t many cars here in the old town, instead people prefer the smaller and unfortunately louder motor bikes and scooters, which are much better adapted to the small and winding ally’s of Marrakech.

This isn't a picture of where we went, but closely resembles it.

 On our fourth and final night in Marrakech everyone, except for my dad, decided to try out the Hamam (Morocco’s form of Turkish baths). I admit, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  I had been to one in Turkey when I was young but it was at a really fancy place and a completely different country. All of us guys walked into the entrance room, that’s when we knew we had a problem, none of us spoke French or Arabic. But thankfully the towel clad attendants somehow managed to understand our crazy hand gestures and they gestured for us to take off our cloths. For a few very confusing moments we stood in the steamy room wearing only our underwear, we looked to one another, not sure what to do. After a couple minuets of this someone came up to us and took us into the inner rooms. The further we went the hotter it got and by the time we reached the last room it felt like we were in the center of a volcano. Over the next half hour or so, we moved from room to room, washing ourselves with both hot and cold water. When we eventually reached the final room they rubbed us raw and sent us to the masseuse. Matthew took the first turn, it started out as a soothing looking massage, but then turned into what looked like torture. When it was my turn I climbed onto the mat prepared for the worst, and it sure was pretty darn bad, it felt like I was being turned into a pretzel! Although I did feel better afterwards I was pretty sore the next day.

A Small nomadic village. 

Probably not the best thing to wear on a plane...