Morocco: Casablanca - The Sahara

Hello Friends!

Firstly, I am so sorry for the lack of posts. I haven’t had good internet since I arrived in Marrakesh. I have good internet now though, and I will try to update as adequately as I can on my latest adventures.

My last morning in Casablanca was lovely. I wanted to see a street that my guide book called “the spine of the city,” Mohammad Boulevard V, that has classic Moroccan architecture. I was surprised to see that they were doing large construction, turning the road into some sort of railway. Because of this, many of the store fronts were seemingly abandoned and the area was scattered with homeless people and stray animals and smelled of urine, as I’ve discovered poorer areas in the city sometimes do. I snapped a few photos of the architecture, and continued to a near by flower market.

Mohammed Boulevard V

A man insisted giving me an orange rose and told me that I could consider Morocco my second home, and I had a lovely  chat with him, and was pleased with his sincere generosity and welcoming, rather than the eager sales pitch I have been accustomed to hearing. I later gave the rose to a homeless woman with a few dirhams then headed to the port, which my guide book bragged for it’s beauty and sales of fruits and vegetables.  I discovered you have to go to another area of the city for that port. The port I could see from the hotel window was very industrial, and I was definitely not welcome to visit there. I then headed back to my hostel to check out and taxied to the train station. Overall, I enjoyed Casablanca, especially the New Medina and the Hassan II Mosque, but the lack of tourists there made the experience a little more challenging.  This well prepared me for Marrakesh, and by the end of my Morrocan week I felt savvy to the tricks of travelling alone as an English-speaking woman in a French/Arabic speaking Islam country.

I made many friends at the train station while waiting on my train, simply by offering people sitting near by the peanut sI was eating. I have discovered that sharing food is a huge bonding experience in Morocco, and have met many people this way. The train to Marrakesh was about three hours, and I met some other tourists on the train, notably a Palestinian man who lived in Norway but was marrying a woman from Morocco, who had many travels and many stories. I enjoyed the scenery on the train as well, with the mountains and drier “desert” area. Little bourbon villages every few miles, with donkeys, dirt roads, cactuses galore,  and beautiful flowers. Little did I know I would be amidst much larger mountains and canyons very soon, and in the Sahara. The Marrakesh train station is quite luxurious, with high ceilings, beautiful marble, and stores, including a McDonalds.  I then took a taxi to the hostel. This journey was exciting, and very stressful. The taxi took me all around the city, though the train station is quite close to the old Medina where my hostel was located, and thus hugely overcharged me. The guide book warned me that even locals can’t get fair prices, and through out the next few days I was continually charged triple what the owner of my hostel, Abdul, said to pay. However, they won’t take you if you insist on a lower price or the metre, and you eventually have to get places. Anyways, though quite the rip-off, the taxi drove me an extended way through the Old Medina, which is small alleyways, lined with fruit stalls, and bustling with donkeys, pedestrians, motorcyclists, other cyclists, and there is hardly room for one car get through. This was quite exciting, and I took some good footage of the car ride, so I didn’t really mind paying the extra 100 dh ($12).

A watermelon stand spotted during the cab ride

Then a couple of young boys stopped the taxi and walked me to my hostel with my luggage, and as to be expected, insisted I pay them. The hostel had a doorbell system, and it took quite a long time for someone to come to the door, so the boys had quite the time to pester me for more money, luckily for them. The hostel is beautiful. In the style of a traditional Riad, it has a rooftop balcony, and tile floors and walls, and sunlight coming through. I had a dorm style with three other girls, who I actually never met, as I had a get up early, come in early routine, where they had a get in late, sleep in late routine. The afternoon I arrived I went to check out the large square in the Old Medina, which is quite huge. Imagine a picture from Where’s Waldo, bustling with mostly locals, some tourists, musicians, snake charmers, juice stalls, a hundred or so food stalls, other people selling and begging, donkeys, horses, motorcyclists, cyclists, and many many crazy football fans. The night I arrived there was a big game between Morocco and Nigeria, which Morocco won, and it made for a crazy, and very loud (vuvuzuelas!) night. I ate some tangine, which is the typical Moroccan main dish at a restaurant with a lovely Australian couple, and then headed back to the hostel at night time. Between the main square and my hostel was one long alley way of shops, which is quite crowded, and it is common to be pestered by men in this area, though I have become quite good at pretending I don’t hear them.  In the main square, people are quite aggressive to try to sell their products. That evening I hung out with the Canadian boys and had some beers, but headed to bed at a reasonable time, as I was planning on going on the camel trek the next morning, with an early start of 6:00am.

Abdul at the front entrance of the Hostel

The Old Medina Square

Rooftop of the hostel 

The camel trek to the desert was by far the highlight of my trip to Morocco. Me and one other guy from my hostel, Jonathan, a Canadian, got into a van with a pile of people from the sister hostel, who were mostly Mexican and Chilean. Everything was organized by Abdul, who is so amazing. The trip to the desert, through long, was incredible. We went in a southeast direction, and stopped at many villages, including Ben Hadao, which is on a mountain, and like all other smaller settlements, made completely of mud and hat walls and thatched roofs. The view from the top was so beautiful, with a view of the river, coloured red from the clay, and the town below you.

From the top of Ben Hadao

Most of the trip was through mountain ranges, like in movies where the driver is along a cliff going up and round a mountain, with turns and bumps and curves, and could plummet to their death any given moment- that was the trip. There were “Danger signs” every kilometre or so, more often when driving was particularly scary, and you could see parts where the road had crumbled before. Our drivers took corners fast and was I sensitive to oncoming traffic, and needless to say, there were moments where I was scared for my life. However, cities are practically free of stop signs, traffic lights, and lanes, and people drive, cycle, ride, and walk using every last inch of the roads and every intersection is a race. This said, drivers are very very talented and deal with tight spaces. Anyways, scenery was absolutely beautiful, and I was right amidst the mountains, canyons, and valleys, with small villages delicately balanced in crooks and nannies, and people with donkeys and goats around, plus the occasional wild bull . Many were seemingly void of electricity and Modern/Westernization, minus the CocaCola sold everywhere and logos painted on the clay walls. CocaCola is everywhere.  Oh, and so is Justin Bieber. I ehard him playing in a few places in Casablanca and a local shop owner said to me, “Justin Biever is Canadian!? I LOVE Justin Bieber! Baby baby baby Ooooohhhh” Bieber fever, my friends. Cocacola and JB are also all the rage in Ghana. More on that soon.  When we finally arrived in Tagounite, the last little settlement before the desert, the driver helped us tie our scarves around our heads to keep out the sand, and we walked to our camels. The camels were tied together in groups of three or four and had big saddles. They sit on the ground for you to get on, then stand up one by one, which feels really cool. Then we rode the camels for a couple of hours into the Sahara. The sand dunes, though relatively small as we didn’t get too far into the desert, got bigger and the sand got more of the same as it went along, until we were completely surrounded by fine orange sand dunes.

No kidding

The desert

 There was a collection of tents where we were to sleep and eat, and we got of the camels and explored on foot. Many people disliked camel riding, they found that it hurt, especially when they got off the camels. I loved it though! Not a complaint. We found some beetles, and then the people doing the tour, Mustav and some others, made us a traditional Moroccan meal of bread, Moroccan salad, tangine, and melon. We ate in the tents and played cards and chatted. I became close friends with some of the other tourists, namely Pilar, Erika, and Mario, from Chile and Mexico, who spoke English. Everyone was absolutely delightful and we had a blast. Then Mustav and the others played drums for us and we all got up and danced, before heading out to sit on a sand dune while singing, drumming, and looking at the stars. Jonathan, Mario, and a couple of others and I laid in the sand star gazing, and almost fell asleep, before retreating to our tents. I slept surprisingly well that night.

Dinner time

Drumming

Scarab beetle

Our tents

I was amused by people who kept asking where the bathroom was, and seemed to think  Mustav was joking when he said “anywhere.” The trick was to find a ncie big dune and duck behind it so no one could see you. The next morning we headed back on the camels  during sunrise and loaded the van in Tagounite. We only stopped for lunch and toilet breaks on the way back and we joked with eachother and the driver as we were much more comfortable after our night in the desert. We teased our driver, who told us he has three wives. Polygamy is apparently common in Morocco. Between the mountains, the desert, and the amazing group of people, I had an astounding time.

The group

Mustav and I

My favourite photo from the trip: At sunrise

Upon arriving back in Marrakesh, we all went for street food in the Square and then I headed to my hostel where I met some more interesting tourists and headed to bed, as the next day I was planning on the hike around Ouzoud falls.

I am quite tired of writing, though I still want to write about the Falls, the Souks, Rabat, and my first few days in Ghana, in Accra and Takoradi, and with my host family and my first two days at work. I will try to write again tonight or tomorrow!

Morocco: Casablanca

Bonjour mes amis!

What a crazy day! I'm starting to understand some things about Moroccan culture and tourism a bit more. Today I ate breakfast at the hotel, which was mint tea, orange juice, and bread, crepes, and a cake like thing with marmalade. Tea here is served in small silver tea pots and glasses, and mint is very popular. It is just a few mint leaves and a sugar cube, and it is delicious! Juice is everywhere. Every restaurant has a juice menu, and basically all tropical fruits (including avocados!) are on it. Many juice bars are in the street. It is made by hand, and thus is VERY pulpy, and amazing. I have had orange juice and peach juice today, and enjoyed both immensely. I want to try avocado before I leave. After breakfast I headed toward the Old Medina markets. Old Medina is where my hotel is- it is the old part of Casablanca, between the port and a large wall. The old markets are largely souvenirs: leather purses, traditional dresses and sandals, pottery, bongs, wood carvings, beads, paintings, and etc. Further back is expensive jewellery and a lot of rip-offs, like Louis Vuitton, and western cosmetics and shoe brands. I even saw some fake passports for sale! A mix of tourists and locals, it was a cool atmosphere. Once I got to the narrow lanes in the back, men tried to persuade me into back rooms and upstairs to see their "spices." Today I have definitely practiced being stern and on guard today. One section of the walk from the market to my hotel is for some reason the most unpleasant- many young men cat call and women stare. This is what I experienced yesterday when I first arrived, and although it worried me, I discovered that it is much better in other areas of the city. In busy areas, the people are very friendly. They are patient with communication, and help me to understand the culture. One salesman showed me how to spell my name in Arabic! I made many purchases in the old markets, some gifts for my family and friends, and a couple of things for myself, including a small canvas painting and a traditional dress.

Reads right to left

Old Medina

I then headed to the Place Mohammed V, which is the administrative and proletariat region of Casablanca.  The buildings are more french architecturally, and the area is quite wealthy. Many businessmen, diplomats, and politicians were in the area, who fluent in English and recognizing I was a tourist, were quite chatty and friendly. The parks, fountains, and sidewalks in this area are beautiful, and there are people who take your photo feeding the pigeons and selling henna. I got some henna done on my arm for 100dh ($12.50).

Mohammed V Square

My henna. It is on both sides of my arm.

The Parc de la Ligue Arabe is lined with palm trees and gardens, and made for a nice stroll. The surrounding restaurants were nice as well. My travel guide said the Notre-Dame de Lourdes, which has beautiful stained glass, is in the southeast edge. I walked to the southeast edge, and there was no church. Google maps now informs me the church is actually several blocks away from the park. What I did find in the southeast corner was very strange, and felt like I was suddenly in the setting of horror movie. The southend of the park was quite dirty, and the one corner was fenced off. Inside was an abandoned carnival ground! The rides were rusted, destroyed, littered, and had pieces clearly stolen. There looked to be 10 or 15 rides, and was a rather large chunk of land. It was eery. 

Parc de la Ligue Arabe

Destroyed carnival ride

Anyways, I then headed to the Hassan II Mosque, which was the highlight of my day. The mosque is the largest in Morocco, and is situated on the ocean. It has a large marble courtyard outside with fountains, where children and tourists were wandering, then several series of arcs and steps before the building. It is marble, with gold leaves, and blue, greens, and light browns, with a tall tower. There are prayers 5 times a day, so they run tours between, when I was lucky to arrive just in time. There was a tour in English, where I learned an awful lot from the entertaining guide, and met English-speaking people from Holland, Sweden, Russia, and other European countries. No American or Canadian though. They had me cover my shoulders with my scarf and remove my shoes before going in. The guide says that it was not for religious reasons, but to keep the mosque clean. The ceiling of the mosque, which is beautifully carved wood opens up at 10:30am every day to cool the mosque, as it is not air conditioned. Although being highly mechanized, they blend in the mechanisms and the 300 loud speakers with the architecture, so it looks entirely old. In the basement is the area for washing, separate for men and women. They must wash their ears, face, hands, elbows, and feet 3 times before praying. This is a beautiful part of the mosque. Like the shoes, this is not religious, but traditional and to keep the mosque clean. Underneath this level is the bathing, which is a large pool, again men and women are separate. This is the social aspect of the mosque. The mosque was built according to instruction is the Quran, so some of the mosque is actually built over the ocean. The guide mentioned that the pillars on the lower levels, though they appear marble, are Venetian Plaster, which soaks up the humidity, so the chandeliers do not oxidize and change colour. I thought that was cool. In the tour group I met a couple, Emmanuel and Maria. Emmanuel is from Sweden, and Maria from Brazil. they met in the Amazon but now live in Paris. They were both really interesting and fun, and I spent the rest of the day with them, and I was hassled much less my men in the markets because of it. Like me, it was their first trip to Africa, though Maria has been to many Arab and Islam countries. 

Hassan II Mosque

Washing area

Ocean outside the mosque

After the mosque, I headed to the new medina, which was similar to the old medina, but much more beautiful and less tacky I thought. The royal palace is near by as well. Speaking of royalty, Morocco is a monarchy, and photos of the king are absolutely everywhere. I am unsure if this is law or because the people really do love him. The new medina was my second favourite part of the day. There were beautiful Moroccan carpets for sale, as well as dishware. More expensive, and less pushy salesmen made for a lovely afternoon. Emmanuel, Maria and I had dinner and I ate cous-cous with vegetables, chicken, and bouillon. Yum! They taught me how to play a card game called "Shithead"as our juice was being freshly squeezed... Aaaaaah. 

Carpets in New Medina

Dishes

Emmanuel and Maria

After dinner Maria, Emmanuel and I parted ways and I headed to my hotel, as the sun was starting to set. Other random things I haven't mentioned: Taxis here take up to three people going to different places, as long as one isn't too out of the way. KFC is very popular here, I have seen three when I wandered outside the Old Medina and Mohammed V, and saw someone with a Colonel Sanders backpack. I have seen one McDonalds, and one Shell station. 6 million people live in Casablanca, and out of 32 million Moroccans, only 23,000 are Christian. Also, I saw two donkeys and rickshaws in the city today! Many people have carts they push with products, especially water bottles. Lastly, I would have loved to see more mosques, but I was not allowed in most, just Hassan II. Since returning to my hotel I have been served delicious mint tea once again by the lovely staff here, and will probably spend the rest of my evening writing postcards. There is a post office next door! Lucky!

Keep Smiling :)

Morocco: Rabat - Casablanca

I arrived at the Rabat Sale airport today around 3:30pm. The first thing I noticed was the heat, I’m unsure what the temperature was, but I frequently wiped the sweat from the forehead, and some women fanned themselves, especially on the muggy trains. Rabat is the capital of Morocco, and supposedly the most modern centre in the country. Unfortunately, because I am only spending a week here, I decided to skip Rabat and go straight to Casablanca. The Rabat airport was very small, easily the smallest airport I’ve been to. 

The airport

No one at the airport spoke English, but my slaughtered Franclais managed to get my currency exchanged to Moroccan dirhams  (dh) and get a taxi to the train station. I really enjoyed the drive through the city.  Though I was worried when the right hand side passenger and back door of the cab swung open before even getting out of the parking lot. The good slam and we were good for the rest of the way.  I’ve discovered that drivers in both Rabat and Casablanca are much more liberal with driving rules than in Canada. Horns are used more frequently, and cars do not follow lanes. The traffic has been busy, sometimes bumper-to-bumper. Seatbelts are also not mandatory here. I noticed drivers in fancier cars have them, but the beat-up cabs lack seatbelts. Both taxis I took today had a colourful CD hanging from the rear-view mirror, with small Arabic printing on it.  I’m going to try to remember to ask the next taxi driver I have what those are. Motorcycles here are popular, but much smaller than the ones I’m used to seeing. Often a man drives, and a woman sits on the back. I also noticed that a cop stands on the side of the road every kilometre or so. They look rather relaxed, and see, to just watch traffic. My favourite thing was all the palm trees and rose bushes in the boulevards. Once I got to the train station, I had about 45 minutes to waste, so I found myself watching people and clothing styles. Men dress almost identically to men in Canada, though they do not seem to wear shorts as often.  In the city, there are some men who wear long white dresses. Only about half the women wore head scarves, and of those half, half wear the long gown, and half wear a scarf with more modern clothing. Women who dress this way generally wear long pants, high heels or fancy flats, and blouses with a longer shirt underneath. Some women have beautiful henna on the hands and feet.  Most of the women who wear the long gown are very colourful and glittery. They are stunning, and despite the popular images in media, were commonly working, laughing, and chatting with both men, women, and non-Islam women. There doesn’t seem to be any segregation. Purples and pinks are especially common, green and blue are also prevalent in the gowns. I’ve only noticed a few women in all black or all white, and they were mostly in the countryside, which I think may be more conservative. The women who don’t wear headscarves dress very similarly to women in Canada, though none wear mini-skirts or shorts. Almost every non-scarved woman I have seen has been wearing long pants, often tight and stylish, only a couple wore knee-length or longer skirts, or Capri pants. The train station was quite confusing. There were hardly any signs in Arabic or French, not to mention English. Only a couple of people seemed to speak English, but everyone was very friendly and helped me out using sign-language or some sort of communication in Franclais. I have said “merci” about a thousand times today.  Other than style, I am finding plant life absolutely spectacular, in both the city and the country. There are also a lot of little white butterflies. There are trees with bright purple flowers, these long hanging yellow flowers, orange trees,  grasses, cactuses, and palm trees.  

Palm trees

On the train I got to see a lot of countryside and small towns between Rabat and Casablanca. Everyone has a clothesline, and the architecture is generally white, pink, or yellow square houses and buildings with plenty of shutters. The countryside seemed to have a lower quality of living than the cities, houses were more rundown, and apart from the train, it appeared that there was only dirt roads. However, it was stunning. With maybe a mile between the train and the Atlantic, I could see the water across the field and orchards, and watch farmers pick food and women and children walking on the dirt roads. There were few cars in the countryside, but many donkeys and rickshaws. I would have liked to take photos, but I was unable to get a window seat close to my luggage. It worked out for the best because the women I sat with, despite not knowing English helped a great deal in telling me where to get off and explaining our location to me. The laughed at me a few times, I think my expressions at some of the beautiful areas were funny to them. Not far from Casablanca, we passed what appeared to be a nuclear power plant, which was rather unpleasant smelling, and had these tall thin towers with fire coming out the top. I’ve never seen anything like it. The outskirts of Casablanca were largely industrial, and where I found the biggest surprise today. Perhaps I am naïve, but I was shocked to see in the narrow strip between the city and the train tracks were literally hundreds of marijuana plants. They seemed unpicked, mostly, some were the size of bushes, and some the size of trees.  I think they were natural, though I don’t really understand. Marijuana use is illegal in Morocco, tough common. They were the most dominant amongst the other flora, but after several minutes, I got used to it and they sort of mixed in with the cactuses and grasses as though they were nothing unusual. I arrived at the Casablanca Port train station, which is right on the water. I then cabbed to my hotel. My hotel is so beautiful. Common to the other buildings here, it is colourful, full of mosaics, and full of vibrant abstract art. The owner is very sweet and helpful. I have my own room with a balcony overlooking the medina square and garden, and I can see the water as well. It also has a TV, a bathroom (the type where the toilet and shower aren’t separated), and a queen sized bed, and it has a beautiful tile floor. The hotel also has a gorgeous entrance and eating space and a lovely roof where you can eat or hangout that looks over the other rooftops and water. 

My room

The entrance way

View from the roof

Once I emailed my parents and settled in, I went to a restaurant the owner suggested. The outside of it was castle-themed, and the inside wasn’t really inside as just gardens, fountains, and trees that provided shade.  It was absolutely stunning, and the waiters were kind and allowed me to take photos. The tables were also mosaic, and instead of free bread, you get free olives. All of the waiters were men under 25 wearing tight t-shirts, and there was one waiter for every few tables, so the service was excellent. I ordered the “exotique” juice, and “the traditional Moroccan,” despite not knowing what any of the ingredients were. What I got was thick honey crepes, a strawberry jam filled doughnut like thing covered in sugar, and deep-fried dough sticks covered in sugar. I am not complaining! It was delicious, though maybe not nutritious. It is one of the fanciest restaurants in the Old Medina (the neighbourhood I’m staying in), and the whole meal, including the tip cost 80dh, which is $10! 

My first Moroccan meal

I then wandered around the neighbourhood a bit, which was both delightful and embarrassing. The people on the streets are male by a large majority. There don’t seem to be many tourists, the ones I have met are of similar skin tone of Moroccans, so they blend in. I stick out like a sore thumb. Most people stare at me, but aren’t necessarily disrespectful. The owner of my hotel said people are likely to be curious about my freckles, since that is so uncommon in this part of the world. This all said, many people smile, nod, say Bonjour!, and are encouraging as well. One little girl was quite blatantly staring at me as I walked by, and her mother pinched her and scolded her in French, before smiling at me. There are many street dogs and cats too. The was a park with a bunch of young boys playing soccer, and the dogs joined in, while their Dads watched from the fence. I only explored through the streets and parks of the old medina for about 30 minutes, as I wanted to get back to the hotel before dark, and get to bed early.  Because I am overlooking the square, it is a bit noisy, but there are people singing, both secular and religious songs, and having fun, and it’s nice to watch from my balcony. I get one English channel on my TV, “Dubai One,” from the UAE, which when I turned it on was playing…

Grease with Arabic subtitles! So pleased! Some commercials are in Arabic, some French, and some English with subtitles.

Time for bed! Tomorrow I plan on going to some temples and markets.

Departure

Today's the day! I'll update as soon as I can when I get to Morocco and have internet access. Thank you to everyone for the well-wishes, support, and love. :)

Keep Smiling!

Countdown: 10 hours

One week!

So, I don't have a whole lot to say, but I leave on my adventure one week from today! I have a few things left to do, to pack and purchase, and say some goodbyes. 
Right now I'm in Tara, Ontario, hanging out with my Aunt Anne and my cousin Kayla. The past few (blogless) weeks have been really spectacular. Although I was worried I would be bored in Goderich for a month, I've been spending loads of time with my friends, a summer romance, and with family at our cottage. 
I discovered through my Dad that there is a song by Crosby, Stills, and Nash called Marrakech Express. It was written by Graham Nash about his train trip from Casablanca to Marrakech in 1969. 
From the wikipedia article,
"Nash told Rolling Stone magazine that at first he traveled in the first-class compartment. But he found it 'fucking boring.' Thus he went to sit with hoi polloi and the 'ducks and pigs and chickens.'"
I'm excited for my own 2011 version of this train trip. My friend Isabelle and I re-wrote the lyrics to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds about our trip to Norway last year, and something similar is stirring up in my mind.
Something for the long plane rides. :)
To celebrate one week until my departure, here is the video for One Week by the Barenaked Ladies. Which has nothing really to do with my travels, but I just like the song. 


Keep Smiling!


Countdown: 7 days!

Team Ghana

L-R: Sara, Me, Robin, Heather, Davina

So much love. 

Davina is our new Site Director. She's a graduating LifeSci student. Sara and I are in Takoradi working for Friends of the Nation. Sara is a 3rd year Nursing student, and I am a 2nd year Global Development Studies student. and Heather and Robin are in Accra working for Kumasi Institute of Technology and Environment. Heather is a graduating EngPhys student, and Robin a graduating Film student.

Countdown: 27 days

Keep Smiling! :)

One month? No way, Jose.

Hola amigos,

My Mom says that, "No Way, Jose."Sometimes I say it around my friends and they look at me like I'm crazy. Moving on...

It's May 1st, and it's a beautiful sunny day! More exciting, exactly ONE MONTH before I leave for Morocco and Ghana. Today I leave Kingston to go home to Goderich for a month. Because my room in Kingston has been totally emptied for my summer sublettler, I've done a lot of packing already. I'm gonna rock my khaki capris and birkenstocks this summer. Yesterday, at Cooperant* Training, we received our first aid kits, which are huge. I'm a little worried about getting everything to fit into a hiker's pack...

*Sidenote: Cooperants is the term QPID uses for their project volunteers, so you may hear me using it occasionally.

Other than packing and logistic stuff, I've done a bit of planning for Morocco. I'm no longer going to Fez, so that I can go some more outdoorsy things around Marrakech, such as hiking to Ouzoud Falls, and going on a camel trek. 

Ouzoud Falls:

Camel Trekking:

Also, you may have noticed a fancy new "Related Websites" section on the left. Ooooh, Aaaaah! Team Ghana and Botswana have decided to keep Team Blogs, so we can all contribute to a single blog over the summer. So if you're interested in reading my teammates perspectives, have a look! Hopefully Team Nunavut will get one going soon too. There is also the QPID website and the FoN website. 

Countdown: 31 days (omg. )

Keep Smiling!

Caroline