like solid ground for all.

Since arriving in Ouaga, Chev and I have been on a mission to make really, really good food. So far that's included a black bean and tomato quiche, pumpkin pancakes, pumpkin saffron soup and today we're planning some chocolate oatmeal cookies. I'm also getting a decent taste of actual Bukinabe food- Benga and to (toe) have been my favorites so far.

We've also done a ton of biking. I haven't ridden a bike since I left Boise in the summer of 2006, so I was a little nervous about biking in the crazy, dusty, congested streets of Ouagadougou. So far I think I've done pretty well, I haven't died or caused any accidents. On Wednesday the bike tour commemorating the 50th anniversary of Peace Corps begins and we'll be biking from village to village about 40-80km per day. I think I can manage this, but it's really going to be tough. After the first two days Chev and I are spending the night in Bobo and checking out the sights before she takes me back to Ouagadougou and I begin my epic airport tour home. (I have layovers of between 12-22 hours in Casablanca, Madrid and Chicago. Yay cheap flights. Or something.)

If any study abroad students or potential study abroad students are reading this, I really want to suggest that every one take advantage of studying in a foreign country to do additional travel in the region. I probably would have come to Burkina even if I hadn't gone to Morocco, but it was much easier to already be on the continent.

Ok, here are some photos:

Am I a bad vegetarian or what? 

Team "The Lauren" brings Maroc to your Poulet

Beautiful Gallo

The only tourist in Burkina Faso

Ok, well maybe the only American tourist. Don't get me wrong- there are Americans. Military, contractors, NGO workers, ex-pats, missionaries and, of course, Peace Corps Volunteers. I think I might be the only American here just for funsies though.

I'm going to try to write about how I feel here but I think I should admit upfront that I don't think it's possible to accurately convey any of what I'm talking about in words. You should probably just visit Burkina and see for yourself. For starters, it is beautiful here. I spent probably several hours in Chev's village just staring at the sky in amazement, be it at clouds or sunsets or lightening storms or stars. The people are incredibly kind as well- people are slow to offense or anger and welcome me (even though I can't speak French or Moore) enthusiastically.

I think I'm happier here than I've been in a long time. I feel calmer, I feel more like myself, I feel joyful about everything from benga (basically rice and beans with salt and palm oil) to the prospect of biking 60-70km a day for the first couple of legs of the PCV bike tour. I find myself saying and thinking the Arabic expression "laisa mushkela" (not a problem) all the time. Something goes wrong? NBD. Something changes at the last minute or takes a million times longer than expected? Whatever.

I think I've arrived at one conclusion: I'm applying to peace corps. I still want to go to law school and I still have reservations about my age, but I don't think that I'm too old to spend a couple of years doing the kind of work that I've seen here before I start getting serious about a career. I know it isn't all fun and sleeping 11 hours because nothing actually opens during a rainstorm (true story)- it IS incredibly challenging- but I think it is the kind of challenging that brings out the best in me. So when I get home I'm going to apply to both peace corps and law school and see how I can make it work.

So since I last blogged, Chev and I spent way too much money in Paris, escaped (barely), and made it to Burkina Faso in the middle of the night. Her awesome friends and fellow PCVs picked us up at 3 am and let us spend the night at Rob's house in Ouagadougou. We went to Sapouy the next day to join in a going away party/chicken-cook off for another volunteer. I've been a vegetarian since I was 3, but one team was short on cooks so I joined in and helped spice, stuff and grill a chicken. (Photo proof will follow.) I didn't actually eat any but the people who did said it was pretty good. We stayed that night in Sapouy and went to the market the next day. After that we traveled about 20km to Chev's village, where we spent the last few days. Chev lives in village without running water or electricity. It was a pretty relaxed experience overall, but I can imagine without her to show me the ropes it would be incredibly overwhelming. (Needless to say, my already-high respect for Chev has gone up considerably.) We're back in Ouaga for now, relaxing in the relative luxury of a big city until the bike tour starts on Sunday.

I'll try to post some pictures or another update before I'm back in Seattle. 

Bonjour from Paris

Tonight the Mosque was full. Men spilled onto the sidewalk to pray, while merchants sold trinkets from blankets nearby. On the block near my hostel is a hamam, a shop selling couscous and kebab, two jallaba stores and an Islamic bookstore. Shabab selling cigarettes crowded us on every corner.

No, I’m not in Morocco. I’m actually in Paris. It turns out that Chev and I booked a hostel right in the middle of the Algerian/Moroccan/North African district of Paris. It’s nice to feel at home in the scent of familiar foods and spices, the sight of hijabs and jallabas, and even the sound of Darija.

We’d read reviews of this hostel which had warned us of “sketchy Libyans selling cigarettes”, suggesting that solo women travelers avoid the area. Chev and I viewed the possibility as humorous, in that it was both oddly specific and the presence of Arabic speakers promised, to me at least, that there would be at least some one in Paris I might be able to communicate with. When we got off of the metro and literally saw Libyans selling cigarettes (I wouldn’t go so far as to call them “sketchy”- they seem all right as far as shabab go,) we both burst out laughing.

Paris is a laugh. After a surprisingly delicious breakfast on a flight we otherwise slept through entirely, Chev and I landed in ORY and found the subway. On board, 4 kind Irish women asked how I was managing such a heavy bag and we got to chatting. They seemed as amused by our youth (I suspect they mistook us for much younger girls- one asked me if I’d had the tattoo on my foot when I left home as though implying I’d run away to rebel a little) as we were by the sight of 4 women older than our mothers traveling abroad together. We found our comically small hostel and enjoyed a few cafes before exploring the neighborhood and trying to repair my (sadly, hopelessly broken) shoes.

A note on hostels: I love them. Usually youth hostels are the best way to travel, the cheapest and most social. I’ve met some great people this way, helped and been helped by others about whom I know nothing more than age, first name and country of origin. Sadly getting stuck in a room full of inconsiderate, prissy girls really takes the fun out of the whole setup, and that is where I find myself tonight. While I’d still recommend hostelling to any student traveling abroad, tonight I have to acknowledge that there is some downside. Perhaps the last few days in hotels rooms with only my friends has spoiled me on sharing an 8x8 space with 6 (very loud, very inconsiderate and very odd) strangers.

Anyway, Chev and I have a full day of walking, exploring and eating planned for tomorrow. Photos of us being dorky in black and white will certainly follow once I get time to upload them. I hope you are all well and that my classmates who read this have made it back home (or on to your next adventure) safely.

Magic

I think sometimes that there is more magic here than in other places I have lived. Charms protect us from the evil eye. Dreams at some times of the night will come true. Certain animals are lucky. God is spoken of and to in almost every conversation.

The evening of the 5th, just before Iftar, I could feel her coming. It's been 13 months since my best friend Chev and I have seen each other- she's been living in Burkina Faso working for the Peace Corps. I knew she was due to arrive any moment, so I watched from the rooftop of my hotel until I saw her in the street. I ran downstairs and out the door and hugged her. Without knowing us or what was going on, the shopkeepers and people sitting in cafes outside started applauding and cheering for us. The magic began.
The next day, Chev, Kristi, Zoe and I decided to get henna, so we visited a henna artist/spice shop proprietor who, I assume, is the Moroccan equivalent of a witch. I adore everything about her, from her bright red henna-dyed hair to her slightly battered Jallaba. She paints us with Berber designs and stops every few minutes to tell tourists browsing in the shop what the powers and purposes of each spice are. If I were living in Morocco I would love to be just like her.

Over the next few days I fell into an enjoyable pattern of sahoor, fasting, iftar, and nighttime adventures with my ever-dwindling number of classmates. Yes, my heart is broken now, but it broke slowly and over a long period of time. This is good because I did not have any moments that were more than I could handle but bad because I had a new (and progressively more painful) goodbye almost every day. First Alex left, then the first of the Medinanites and then more and more in little groups until we took Kristi to a bus bound for Marrakech and kidnapped Beau to Rabat. He just left for London a few minutes ago, despite our best attempts to extend the kidnapping all the way to Burkina Faso. He was the last of the people I spent the last two months with and now he is gone. My heart is somehow broken exactly the same way all over again and, at the same time, so, so much worse.

But Chev and I are still together in a beautiful Riad. (If any one reading this is ever going to Rabat, the Riad "The Repose" in Sale is the single best place to stay. Don't think about any other place. Jan and Rashid are the two greatest people in Rabat so you should probably meet them.) We are going to Casablanca tomorrow to chill in the airport for longer than is usually appropriate and then on to Paris. There will be more stories to tell of the last few days, tonight I am just holding it together as best I can, assuring myself that goodbyes in Morocco will turn into reunions in Seattle after another round of adventures with my best friend.

Was it magic that made this summer go so fast? Was it magic that made so many strangers into such good friends? Tonight I feel like I will dream something to make it all make sense, that I will wake up tomorrow having closed the book on one part of this adventure and finally be ready to begin the next one. 

Much to catch up on

I have a million things I need to blog about from Essaouira. So much has happened and nothing has happened. I need to write about getting henna from maybe a witch and dancing on a rooftop all night and discovering magic tea. I need to write about meeting up with my long-lost best friend and walking on the beach with one of my favorite authors (also a long-lost friend) and how crazy it was getting to Rabat. There may or may not have been some kidnapping.

I need to write about fasting and iftar and so many sahoors.

but right now I'm exhausted so let me just say I am safe, I am alive, I have made it to Rabat with Chev and the last of my classmates still joining us. (Kristi, we miss you so much!)

So I am going to sleep. I will write again soon, inshallah. We have a few more days in Rabat and then I'll be off to Casablanca for my flight to Paris and on to Ouagadougou.

More to come. 

Fes to Marrakech to Essaouira

The last few days have been a bit of a blur. Ramadan started, so I've been fasting all day. I was supposed to start yesterday but travel and other complications arose, so today is that brutal first day that is always the most difficult. Luckily I did manage to cut out coffee yesterday so I'm not withdrawing as hard as I was then.

Essaouira is my kind of town. There's the ocean, a fierce wind, friendly people and a general sense of chill. I could seriously live here and be quite happy.

We made it to Marrakech after a very long train ride (2 am- 10am) the last few hours of which I spent trouncing Beau at poker (he disagrees with this description of how the game went, but he needs to cling to his pride.) Marrakech was good, though I think we were all just a bit too tired to appreciate the medina tour and the general chaos. At one point a snake charmer put a snake around my neck and then took my picture. He asked for 200 MAD and I told him no, so he grabbed my arm and told me I owed him for the picture (the picture was taken with my camera which he grabbed off of my wrist when I had the snake on me) I handed him 10 MAD and thanked him and told him I was leaving and he grabbed me again. I yelled at my friends, who were having similar trouble with his colleagues, and discovered that having an angry-looking 6-foot Croatian friend has its perks, since the snake charmer allowed Beau to pull me away without any further argument. Oh, Marrakech. We all had coffee on a lovely terrace and then spent the night enjoying fancy food in the hotel.

The next day I overslept for Sahoor, the meal before sunrise in Ramadan, so I was in a pretty bad state. Eventually I realized that a. it was a waste to carry around the food I hadn't woken up to eat since it was too hot for it to stay good and b. I was travelling that day and even if it is the first day of Ramadan you don't have to fast if you are travelling. I decided to share the food with my friends and start fasting today. It was a good decision, since lugging around my huge backpack is not something I could have done while fasting (on a related note I'm going through clothes tonight and ditching a bunch in the hotel because I am not carrying this backpack across Burkina Faso.)

We arrived in Essaouira just as the sun was setting. This is a beautiful little beach town and we're in an incredibly cozy hotel that I think I like even better than the fancy kinds. We all went out for dinner and then I parted ways with the bunch going for drinks. I bought food for sahoor and went to bed early. A few hours later I heard my roommates come home, followed closely by every one else they'd been drinking with. Deciding it was a shame to be grumpy when every one else was so happy, I designated myself their sober guide and we all went swimming in the ocean at 1 am with minimal mishap. This morning we went on a Medina walk and explored the port. It's windy and cold (I actually got to wear my leather jacket last night and I still wasn't warm enough.) I'm basically in heaven.

Now it's time for a nap and a bit of shopping before iftar.