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Hello - I haven't posted for a while.

August 23, 2005

John and I have been in Xi’an since Friday, the 19th. Liu Yuan (aka Yolanda), from the foreign relations office of Northwest University met us at the airport holding a sign “Catherine Farrar”. We were very tired. It was quite amazing to be in the place we had planned for so long. We had 4 heavy boxes, but fortunately the driver from Northwest University brought a van. We were driven on a modern 6 lane freeway, almost empty about ½ hour into the city. We turned into a tree lined drive and were shown to our apartment. It has 2 rooms, a small kitchen and a bathroom. There is a big desk, a TV, a bookcase, lots of closets, a nice queen sized bed. The kitchen has a digital hot plate, which John has used to cook some nice meals.

Our first breakfast was in the dining hall in front of the apartment building. Several young women with blue uniforms greeted us at the entrance. The room has circular tables covered in plastic, and a long buffet table in the middle. Breakfast seemed quite unfamiliar – noodles, rice, pickles, a bowl of soft tofu topped with cilantro and hot pepper sauce: an interesting start to our time here.

Later in the day, Miss Liu walked with us to a big department store where we bought some eggs (8 for less than $1), some potatoes and fresh vegetables and some cooking equipment. John made a delicious omelet and potatoes for dinner. Miss Liu is about 25 years old and very competent and poised. Her English is excellent, and its really fun to spend time with her.

Since then, we have walked into the walled city, which is very close to the campus. The modern Xi’an has grown within the walls, although there are many old sections being lived in, and some ancient sites preserved. The center of the city is a bell tower from the 15th century, rebuilt in the 18th century. Nearby is another tower with large drums visible.

It is really challenging to talk with people since very few people know any English and my Mandarin is limited to greetings. Some people talk with us slowly and repeat themselves, incredulous that we won’t understand them.

My classes start on September 5. I will be teaching sophomore and junior English majors. The University is moving to a new lo

I have been home for a week and a half - but I want to finish writing about the trip to Mexico. When I travel, I carry a Palm Handheld and a keyboard for it. Most evenings, I set it up on the bed and type about what happened that day. Later, at an internet shop, I use the notes to write the blog.

On 1/22 - Danielle and I found the 2nd class bus station by going toward the Mercado Centro de Abastos and noticing a small space between booths - here was the unmarked main entrance to the bus station. We got on the bus heading to Teotitlan de Valle. While walking up the steps I looked down and saw feet protruding from under the bus. The hood was up - it appeared the bus was being made serviceable. First there was traffic gridlock in Oaxaca and finally after breathing what seemed like pure carbon monoxide, we were in the countryside, dotted with cactuses. A woman got on, carring a 2 year old boy, and kissed the bus driver. Soon the bus driver was holding the boy on his lap while driving. After about an hour, we turned toward a mountain range to the east and arrived at Teotitlan de Valle.

This town makes its living by weaving wool into rugs and cotton items such as bedspreads. They have revived natural dyeing methods including cochineal dye for reds. I bought a woven purse and Danielle bought a bedspread. We heard a band coming up the street and followed it. There was a small procession of people of all ages.Traditionally women wear their hair in braids with cloth braided into it, sometimes tied up on their heads. People are quite short. The band and procession moved into the church and a mass started. In the meantime, fireworks were exploding outside the church.

We later learned this was for the baptism of children. The church was decorated with real and artificial flowers and candles were burning by each pew. A stone from an ancient Zapotec temple was embedded into the wall of the church from the 16th century. The Zapotec gods of corn and wind are also built into the church ornaments.

The next day, Danielle and I once again went to the second class bus station, this time to go to Tlacolula for its Sunday market and then on to Mitla to explore the ancient ruins there. It was a great market! Tehre were endless fruits and vegetables, breats (we bough a delicious dark bread laced iwth chocolate), meats (live and dead), fabrics, rugs, tools, clothes - all spsread out in the streets around the church. We had a tortilla smeared with black beans cooked on a hot tortilla cooker with melted Oaxaca cheese and hot sauce. We sat in front of the church and ate it while firewords exploded in honor of something.

We got on the bus and continued to Mitla. There was a major festival going on with continuous basketball games with running loudspeaker commentary. Rides and arcades were set up. We found a hotel nnear the bumper cars, with rooms up a concrete stairway which seemed unsupported except for its attachment to the 2nd floor balcony. There was a large room with peeling paint, no hot water, but a lovely view of the full moon and trees out the window, and a view of mountains out the door. In the night, we went out to watch the basketball game and it was cold and windy. Danielle wrapped herself in a woolen blanket and I wore my bedspread. All the lights and rides blew the town fuse and the hotel went dark so we were walked to our room and given a large candle. In the morning, I ate huefos mexicana and we were greeted by a large friendly dog who walked toward us on the roof next to the second floor room. It then laid down on the awning and gazed at us fondly - one ear up and one down.

This was my last day in Oaxaca and so I chose where and what to have for dinner - Aztec soup and hot chocolate. Now back in Seattle, I took a workshop last weekend on intercultural exchange through digital storytelling:

http://www.bridgesweb.org/

You can see my photos of Mexico (for each place there is a link at the top of the page)
http://homepage.mac.com/cathyfarrar/Mexico_2004-5/PhotoAlbum121.html

Thanks for your messages and encouragement during this excellent adventure.

John took off on the bus from Oaxaca to Seattle. He wanted to see 2 countries out of the window of a bus. Danielle arrived that evening. We moved to a cute B&B with pink bathroom, 2 beds, a garden and fluffy towels - Casa de Luz Maria. Yesterday we visited the Oaxaca Cultural Center which is excellent and tells how Oaxaca was a developed civilization pre-historically. Huge cities were built and people paid tribute to god-like leaders of food, cloth and hand work. They set off to conquer other cities and brutally treat the captives. At least this is what could be gleaned from the remains of the civilization. I always wonder what future archeologists would make of the remnants of our civilization. Danielle and I used to imagine they would note that each home apparently had a place of worship with a (what is now a) stove, box for offerings of food for the gods (refrigerator) - its fun to imagine the speculation about our stuff. Today we visited Monte Alban, the biggest of the cities - on top of a hill near Oaxaca city. There were pyramids, altars, buildings for apparent astronomy observations. We will be taking some collectivos to outlying towns in the next few days.

A little more about Chacahua:
Each day we walked down the beach at dawn. This is a simple village with lots of children running around barefoot, dogs being dogs together (mostly frustrated males - guess how they control dog population), free range chickens, free range pigs. In the night, cows wandered into the restaurants, leaving large pies. The ocean is amazingly clean and warm. Beaches are long with few people - we have been swimming without suits. Pelicans skim the waves within a few feet of us. About 7 times each day, what sounds like an air raid siren sounds briefly, followed by a loudspeaker announcement of various occasions in peoples' lives - birthdays, name days - in Spanish, of course. Sometimes a child gets to speak or sing to all over the loudspeaker. We bought coconut tostada from an old woman with 1/2 of her face paralyzed. These are crisp corn flat cakes like chips with little bits of toasted coconuts in them.

Then we caught a collectivo (pickup truck with benches in back) to a launch for a refreshing ride across a lake to a crammed cab to a town at high speed. There we caught a crowded mini-bus to PUerto Escondido. I realized I hadn´t seen glass or a mirror for a few days and of course we are oblivious to world events (so they are running out of control). Then we caught a big bus to Patchoutla, and walked a ways to a corner where people knew to catch packed cabs to Zipolete. There we got into another packed cab and finally arrived at Mazunte - a record day for numbers of types of transportation.
Mazunte is a tiny village on a Pacific Ocean bay that used to be supported by killing sea turtles and fishing, but in the early 90's all turtle fishing was banned in Mexico so they organized to attract tourists while maintaining a clean environment. There is a center for study of sea turtles here now - hoping to educate people about the importance of preserving them. People live in thatched huts in clean swept dirt beneath palms.
There happened to be a big fair in honor of La Senora Esquipula (web search time since I don´t know who she is - but some religous figure) and coincidentally Danielle's and Martin Luther King's birthdays. There were trucked in rides for children and games where if you pop 3 balloons you win a ceramic bank shaped like Tweety. Huge banks of speakers were set up in front of 2 stages and a bus with bands arrived to supplement the local brass band. The local brass band played during a fireworks show which consisted of a guy running around with a bull figure rigged with swirling sparklers and explosions and boys daring eachother to get close to him. There was a large structure which looked like it was going to be a "burning man". However, it went off in stages, the most spectacular part was in the middle when a burning crucifix appeared while around it whirled in burning letters: Viva la Sra. Esquipula. There was also a tortuge (turtle) in flames and at the top "Mazunte 2005" in fire fountains, spinning driven by whistling rockets.

We didn´t stay up to hear the bands - they started about 11 pm and (we heard) continued until 4 am. I could hear them through the loud crashes of the waves because I was being bitten by mosquitoes. The next night during which we could only hear waves crashing - we used the mosquito netting over the bed.

We stayed in Mazunte 3 days - swimming was great and it was hot.

Then we caught another collectivo to Zipolete - a larger village where we stayed in a thatched roof tower (up a spiral staircase) near the beach, and swam again where I suffered my first injury - I hurt my toe stepping in a hole in a hurry to get into my bathing suit between the surf and the rocks where I left it. Today we returned to Oaxaca in a van over a mountain range of pine forests and jungles (5 hours). Tomorrow morning John leaves on a bus to Seattle (I'll miss him!) and tomorrow evening Danielle will arrive (yeaa!).
Love Cathy

We arrived at Puerto Escondido on 1/10 and I arranged to take a tour of a large lake (Manialtipec) with an ornithogist from Canada. First we were served shade-grown coffee (better for bird habitat) and got into an 8 seat launch. The huge labyrinthine lagoon is brackish and entirely surrounded by red mangroves. The roots are hatcheries for fish which come in from the ocean during high water season. All the life in the lake and mangrove swamp is a great place for birds - local and those which migrated all the way from the north. As we were motoring along, marveling at the numbers and types of herons (blue and green and "boatbilled")and ducks (scaup, black whistling), I heard the familiar calls of an osprey as one flew out of the tree right in front of us. It was great to see the brown back, white chest and masked face - the wingbeat and circling soaring. When we reached the beach - there were large numbers of pelicans and egrets, ducks and terns - suddenly all took to the air and a peregrine falcon captured lunch, sat on the beach and plucked out the feathers, and flew with the remains up into a tree. We also saw some parrots and parakeets. In all, we saw about 60 different species of birds.

After swimming in the surf here and recovering from the 14 hour overnight bus trip, next we took a bus up the coast to a dusty little town, where we caught a crammed taxi to the lakeside. There we caught a small open fishing skiff for about a 45 minute ride through a laguna which is a National Park. Here I also saw some ospreys perched in trees. The boat pulled up on a beach and let us out. Here is a small community of thatched huts called Chacahua settled by descendants of people from shipwrecked slave ships. Their features indicate they are of African descent. We were shown to a bungalow on the beach where the laguna flows into the ocean. As we were going to sleep the first night, some young people began to drum and play their boom box about 6 feet from our bungalow (which has planks separated by 1/2 inches). We went out and used our spanish to say - hey - its a big beach - go away. They did. In the morning - one asked "¿duermes bien?"

We had Huevos Mexicanos for breakfast in one of the beach restaurants which consist of folding tables, plastic lawn chairs and thatched shade. Later we went swimming as pelicans were diving all around us. They circle and dive and hold their heads underwater to keep their catch away from seagulls who accompany them. Then they lift their beaks, swallow, and wiggle their tail feathers indicating satisfaction. They bobbed and dove near where I was bobbing, looking benignly at me.

Now we will catch a bus to the next beach - Mazunte for the next few days before returning to Oaxaca - where John will leave to return to Seattle on the 19th and I will meet Danielle for another week in Oaxaca. Its her birthday and I am really looking forward to being with her here. Love, Cathy and John

We returned to San Cristobal yesterday. Our last day in Palenque, I went to the ruinas by myself since John preferred to stay in the bungalow by the stream in the jungle. It was quite hot and because I was by myself, I just sat at the top of pyramids in the shade and looked out. An old Mexican man sat next to me and asked me in English where I was from. He said that in Nevada there was a secret site where aliens from outer space taught scientists how to make airplanes invisible and how to use lasers. I thanked him for this information. Most of the visitors are Mexican tourists with their families and it really is a remarkable history of Mayan civilization they have. The indigenous people now consider themselves Mayan, I believe. They practice Mayan medicine.

Today we went to San Juan Chamula, village outside of San Cristobal. This small town has people of the Tzotzil group (not sure about spelling). They wear mid-calf skirts made from black goat fur - some shaggy, some trimmed. Even toddlers wear these skirts. Some men wear white tunics of rough wool over short pants. Others wear jeans. The large plaza in front of the church of San Juan Bautista (John the Baptist) has little stands selling mandarin oranges and potatoes. The church was built in the 1500's. I went in. There were thousands of candles everywhere and pine needles on the floor. There were no pews. Several groups of candles in the middle of the sanctuary had people kneeling and chanting in from of them, some holding roosters. Little children sat by their family groups while men chanted. It was hot from all the candles. Large doll-like figures of saints lined the walls, each with a mirror on their chest. I liked the idea of my image at the heart of each saint. We walked around the town up into the barrios (neighborhoods) and saw mostly women, sitting in their front yards weaving. Little girls about 4 years old in their goat fur skirts, bright waistbands and satin shirts walked among the corn stalks picking up aluminum cans. Later a truck came through with a loudspeaker, and the little girls proudly presented the bag of cans and the driver gave her mother some money. People we passed looked at us with interest since we looked like aliens. When I said "buenas tardes" they smiled and replied cordially. We returned to San Cristobal in a "collectivo" - a VW van stuffed with people and vegetables in the back. Since we were at the public market, we bought a huge papaya and pineapple, which were delicious.

For dinner John had empanadas filled with potatoes and vegetables. I had pastry with onion and cactus filling. I had never eaten cactus. It was kind of like zuchini, but the owner said it had to have the spines removed and be boiled several times to remove the slimy texture. I liked it. We also had salad - carrots, beets, tomatoes. This is an organic food restaurant and they claim to disinfect all vegetables - so we believe them. For breakfast, we buy a big carton of coconut yogurt from the grocery store and put bananas and granola in it that John brought from Seattle. For lunch we have bread from a great whole wheat bakery and carrots and cucumbers.

Tomorrow we will take the bus in the evening to Puerto Escondido on the beach. Back to hot weather. Love from Cathy

We traveled by bus, watching two "made for video" movies - one good with Dustin Hoffman and Susan Sarandon - the other was really violent with many murders. It is surreal to be passing through Chiapas countryside looking out at small farms with chickens, pigs and little kids in the doorways while being bombarded with U.S. entertainment.
The bus pulled into Palenque, which someone from Canada we met described as a "hell-hole" - a it appears to be little city where people come to buy supplies. We walked with our stuff about 5 blocks to some Collectivos - old VW vans into which pile about 10 people going in the same direction. We drove out into the countryside and stopped at a National Park entrance where they asked for the equivalent of $1.00. We got out and walked into an unmarked driveway just before the entrance which was lined with large green plants with bright red feathery flowers on long stalks. By the way, the weather is now steamy in the 80's so we took off our sweaters and jackets right away. There were loud bird calls and dirt paths and little streams and we walked around and found the "Jungle Palace". The office was a screened in room with a single room on top and a thatched roof. We asked for a bungalow and were led to a little rough wood room elevated from the ground with screened in top by the stream. Inside was a floor fan and a bed. It seemed incredibly exotic! Then we found a vegetarian restaurant run by (apparent) Rastafarians where reggae music was being played.

Yesterday we went to the Palenque ruins nearby. These were built in about 600 - 700 A.D. and occupied for only a few hundred years by a Mayan civilization, but there were huge stone buildings created as tombs and dwellings for rulers and places where ball games were played. They were buried in the jungle until the 1800s and really explored only starting in the 50's. There are carvings in the buildings that give an impression of what people looked like and what gestures and body positions were important. Tomorrow we will go back because there are about 100 buildings and many have very steep tall, slippery stairs so we didn't climb them all. We saw 2 wild toucans while we were there. I hope to see a monkey. While staring high in the tree tops today, I may have seen one.

Thinking of you, some back there in the Seattle winter.... (missing you, but not the winter)

We finished our Spanish classes yesterday. For the past 5 days we have taken classes. My instructors were Reginaldo and Rodolfo, brothers from Ocosingo who grew up on a farm. Rodolfo is trained as an attorney, but he supplements his income by teaching English. At 7:00 John and I had intercambio. This is where people who are learning English come to the school to listen to our halting Spanish, while we listen to their (better) English. My "intercambia" was Ileana (who may be reading this - hi!). The teaching method was very effective and I made progress but still not enough to converse fluently. Ileana and her sister, Araceli are students. Ileana is at a University in Tuxla Gutierrez and is studying Electronic Engineering. Araceli met with me one night, but had a cold, as do many people here, so her sister met with me. Araceli is studying Hispanic Literature and Linguistics. They both seemed so intelligent and hard-working, but I think it is difficult to obtain work after graduation.

It was fun to come to the school and sit in the sunshine in the patio, warming up from the cold mornings, with groups of Mexican instructors and students from the U.S. and Canada.

Yesterday morning we went to the market to buy 2 pineapples as gifts to my instructors. It was packed with people preparing for New Year's Eve. Women wearing black furry skirts and satin blue and green blouses with embroidery, often with a baby tied to their side, were holding live chickens tied together by their feet - doomed to be dinner. Some were holding huge live turkeys. Men stood with cards of watches calling "relojes". In the market, since it is mainly for local shoppers, there was no one trying to sell us anything. Inside the market there are low tarps over the walkways so I have to duck. There are piles of mandarines in little buckets, vegetables, herbs and flowers. We bought carrots, which are delicious, and of course, 2 pineapples.

Tomorrow we are going to take a bus for 5 hours over some high mountains to Palenque where prehistoric ruins are near a small tourist town. I think we will go on to a town called Panchan where they have little bungalows in the forest, where I read you can hear howler monkeys at night. Hasta Luego.

On Christmas eve we were having dinner in a vegetarian restaurant, when outside we heard the sounds of a small brass band coming down the street. The diners rushed out to see a few men playing a tuba, trombone, drums, trumpet followed by some people carrying candles on little posts followed by a flat bed truck carrying children in a manger scene. The manger scene had a tiny Mary, a tiny Joseph with painted on beard (he looked as if he was about 5 years old) and 6 tiny angels with little furry wings. At the front of the procession was someone carrying a large cellophane star with the name of the parish from which this group came. We finished our dinner and then walked on down to the Zocalo. There other processions were converging. Each parish had a different group of performers - some women wearing colorful costumes carrying tall baskets on their heads and twirling around, others with huge puppets, some with a "sparkler runner" - a young boy with twirling sparklers on a long pole running in front. People were selling sparklers and eggs filled with confetti. The processions went around the Zocalo from about 8 to 10 pm and children were delighted to hold sparklers. Others bought 15 foot balloons which were held by tiny children and thrown up in the air and caught again. It was a perfect Christmas eve when we celebrate the new child with great joy and fanfare.
Later we lay in bed listening to church bells peal continuously along with explosions. On Christmas Day we went to a Posada (Inn) near Iglesia Santa Domingo and made reservations for when we return to Oaxaca and also while Danielle joins me here. Later on Christmas, I met an American living in Oaxaca who invited us to his home in the hills where his wife had prepared a wonderful buffet, and there was an interesting group of ex-pats all of whom seemed to be happy to be living in Oaxaca.
That evening we got on the bus for an overnight trip to San Cristobal. There we found the Hotel Central - a labyrinthine building with 2 patios and rooms in 3 tiers around each. It is so quiet here compared to Oaxaca. We sleep very well in a tiny room. The weather is very different - actually cold at night and in the morning and warming up to about 70 in the days. There are many more indigenous people here - many of the women wear black furry skirts - I don't think it is actually fur. Their blouses are satin with beautiful embroidery and over that is a colorful shawl - often holding a baby. They sell woven items.
We went to the Institute Jovel and arranged for Spanish classes. This our third day of classes. John and I have individual instructors, 2 each day. One session is from noon to 1:30 and the other from 5:30 to 7:00. At 7:00, a person who wants to practice English arrives for each of us and we practice conversation. I have talked with 2 sisters, Ileana and Araceli. Both are University students, one studying linguistics and the other engineering. The instructors are very good and we are learning alot. I have homework from each of them. San Cristobal is a great place.
We just got back from the public market which I would like to describe, but now its time to have dinner, do homework before the evening classes.
Best to you.

Christmas eve 2004
John and I are in the Hotel National in Oaxaca, our second hotel in 2 nights. The first was over a discoteque, which didn´t make much difference last night because we had been without sleep for about 40 hours. The hotel National is next to the Mercado where all kinds of fod, clothing and household items are sold. Our luggage did not arrive until today. It didn´t get on the plane in Houston because the plane was full of Mexicans returning home for the holidays with loads of boxes of gifts and huge suitcases. All planes were packed with people and luggage. This morning I finally bought some Mexican clothes since I was burning up in my Seattle turtleneck.

Coming to Oaxaca from Mexico City by bus, we passed through many geographical regions: dry flat farm land- harvested corn stalks standing in conical bundles; mountains covered with suaro cactus off into the distance looking like ten foot pencils stuck along the horizon; mountains covered with mesquite and pines. Throughout the ride we were treated to videos of terrible murders (an Italian film) and Good Morning Vietnam with Robin Williams, interspersed with instructions to fasten our seat belts, which no one did.

Today I saw a family of very short adults - one full grown adult no taller than my hip. Many indigenous people are very short and carry baskets of bread or other cargo on their heads. The women´s hair is braided with ribbons and tied up on their head with towels.

Last night on the Zocalo was La Noche de Los Rabanos. Yes, its incredible, but radishes are carved and arranged in the form of local indiginous costumes, crucifixes, nativity scenes, even representing local candies. 107 years ago, some friars got the idea of marketing root vegetables by carving them and this is that tradition. The radishes are long tubular roots, with many spiraled growths, not little round red things.

Tonight there are processions to the cathedral on the Zocalo and we will watch these with gratitude for our maletas being delivered.

Thinking of you during the holidays.. Love Cathy and John

11/28/03
Now I am sitting on a bed in our hotel in Madrid. Its 11:28 pm here. Its 2:28 am Seattle time. John and I had comfortable flights on Northwest Airlines (DC-10) to Amsterdam and then KLM (737-800) to Madrid. There was a moment of worst-case-scenario averted in Amsterdam. When I got to passport control in the airport I realized I had left my waist pack with passport, all ID on the plane at the gate. We zoomed back to the plane, and a very helpful person at KLM transfer desk immediately went on the plane and got it. Whew! We came into Madrid in a excellent subway system. We are staying in a strangely ornate place up 4 floors of worn wooden steps. The hallways are lined with paintings and quaint motion-sensitive lights.
Madrid is gritty. In the central part of town where we are, there are narrow streets, angling off plazas lined with interesting shops - The Museum of Ham, Tapas Bars, Beer bars, fashion stores. People look serious on the streets. There doesn't appear to be a lot of shopping. Streets are clean.
This evening I was approached by a man who asked me if I could help with directions. It was a relatively deserted street. John walked on, not noticing that I had stopped. He came back and as we were puzzling over a map, a man came up and opened a little folder and said I am a policeman. John immediately reacted with "Go away". He didn’t go away and John said "well sometimes policemen want money". He became angry and said “I don't want your money. I will help this man - you go away.” So we did. I believe the man with the map was going to do a scam and the other man really was a policeman. Later, when we realized that John’s Velcro pocket had been picked of all the money he brought, I reflected that this was the moment when it happened. The “policeman” generated the surprise element by acting excited and flashing a badge we did not inspect and the rest is history (of money in Madrid).

The buildings are lit up at night and the city seems alive.

We had dinner at a pleasant atmosphere vegetarian restaurant but with lackluster food.

11/30/03
Now we are in the exciting city of Granada. It is warmer and the sun was shining when we arrived by train after a 8 hour ride through Spanish farmland and mountains. The earth is a reddish color, and as I look at it, I think of the history of Spain, which seems almost all about wars and skirmishes. I imagine horsemen riding and battles fought with swordsmen and instruments of death and destruction, bodies strewn about. Towns sacked for booty and to satisfy mercenaries, shifting alliances, thousands murdered. Only since the late 70's has there been a less repressive government. Spanish faces seem serious, and even sad, as they walk along the street. There is an emphasis on meat in the diet with butcher shops windows containing at least one dead infant pig.

We had a delightful walk yesterday afternoon through winding streets. Only a few could be used as 1-lane roads for cars. Each had a unique pattern of stone mosaics with a dip in the middle which, in medieval times, probably ran with water to carry off refuse. We encountered ancient walls and doorways with the characteristic Analucian key hole shape. Pomegranate and orange trees showed over the tops of walls, and bougainvillea covered the tops.

There was one street, Arabic-hippy with open booths selling scarves, slippers, lampshades, herb teas from Morocco. We walked downstairs in a teahouse and saw young tourists sitting around two water pipes apparently smoking hashish.

We came onto a small plaza at dusk filled with people. It looked over to the Alhambra, a hill covered with intact structures built from 1100 - 1200 during the last Moorish Emirate in Spain. We were there as the lights illuminated the walls and it was a dramatic view. People who did not know how to turn the flash off their digital cameras attempted to illuminate the distant hill with flashes. I turned the flash on my camera off, and think I took a lovely photo of the Alhambra at sunset.

12/1/03
Today we visited the cathedral commissioned by Queen Isabel in the early 1500s's. Queen Isabel gave the money to Christopher Columbus - well known to Norteamericanos. The Moors had been driven out of southern Spain and Queen Isabel and Ferdinand were known as "Moor-killers" in the name of Catholic devotion. A small Emirate existed in Granada and for 250 years, they built a grand palace on the top of one hill - the Alhambra. We are going to see that tomorrow. Today we visited churches that are largely built to display the awesome power of the Spanish monarchy. And they were incredible! The cathedral in Granada has an enormous white plaster interior. It is definitely not Gothic architecture, which evokes God by uplifting the spirit and reaching skyward, with stained glass windows on the way to teach Christian stories.
This was renaissance architecture - white plaster open spaces - circular with large chapels filled with framed paintings and gilded plaster dioramas and walls covered 3 dimensional plaster sculptures depicting scenes from the bible, or killing in the name of God. The ceilings were high, held by huge layered columns, but the sense was a display of political power, rather than a sacred space for everyone. It was the same in the church of the monastery of San Geronimo - a lavish alter to high ceiling display of gilded depictions of biblical scenes, martyrs and saints. It was built by his wife to memorialize El Gran Capitan, the military leader for Ferdinand and Isabel. It seems to me to be a perversion of the simple story of Jesus living and teaching in Palestine to begin the Spanish Inquisition in which resulted in 12,000 deaths in Spain over 300 years, expelling from Spain all Muslims and Jews and torturing people until they confessed to being non-Christian. If they confessed, they were killed before they were burned. Yet Isabel and Ferdinand are known as the Catholic Monarchs, and are depicted everywhere in prayer. But they were truly what I think of as a king and queen, always wearing brocades and velvets and silver and gold crowns. Their daughter was knows as Juana the Mad (Juana la Loca) and she married Phillip the Handsome.

There still is a Muslim presence in Granada, with geometric tile work and keyhole shaped doorways. We ate falafels cooked by Syrians this evening.

Tomorrow morning we go to the Alhambra!

12/2/03
We spent most of the day at the Alhambra. It is like a huge park with old buildings constructed during the period from the 1100's to 20th century. Occupying and building on it seems to have been a symbol of power. Most of the building didn't go on until late in the Moorish period. It was the final stand for the Emirate of Granada. The walls are covered with carved plaster symbols, and tiles with wonderful symmetric patterns. Little is known about the life there, but there were rooms filled with pleasurable, Islamic decorations, water reflections and sounds. Outside there were gardens with maze-like hedges. When the last Moors left in 1492, fortunately it was not destroyed in the zealous Catholic energy that destroyed so many others’ lives and property. There were some symbols that this is now a Christian place. The worst violations, in my mind, are a huge palace built for Charles V, dominating the Moors’ palace, and a church build over the mosque. The Alhambra exposed me to a time in history I had not been aware of. I had heard of Queen Isabel and King Ferdinand, but I had no idea how brutally religious they were, including starting the Spanish Inquisition.

12/4/03
How different it is in Morocco! We are in Africa. People speak Moroccan Arabic and French, but little English and Spanish. Women wear tightly closed scarves covering their hair and long robes with pointed hoods. Men also wear the long robes. The robe is called a Jalaba. Since it is raining, many men have their long pointed hoods up, making it appear that the streets are filled with wizards. We took a boat from Algecerias to Cueta, a cab to Tetuoan, where we stayed overnight in a basic hotel. The hotel had a prayer room with place to wash your feet before entering, and some old Korans on a shelf. We entered the Medina and a rabbit warren of stalls where people shop. There are sections for gold, kitchen ware, Jalabas. There are great wood doors covered with metal studs behind which people live. All around is the sound of Moroccan Arabic. We had several offers from people to be our guide. The taxi driver said it would cost us 30 dirhams to go from the border to Tetuoan and when we arrived, he recalled he had said 100 dirhams and there was a dramatic show of disappointment with later smiles and cordial “Welcome to Morocco, Welcome to Africa” when John gave him 50 dirhams. Now John is writing down the agreed price when we get in a cab. We traveled on a shabby bus into the mountains in the rain today to Chefchaouen. It is very interesting looking - narrow foot streets painted bright blue. I read that this is a place where Moors and Jews settled when they were expelled from Spain in the 1500s. Christians were excluded from visiting or living here until 1900's. For some reason, Jewish people painted the town bright blue in the 1920s. We are staying in a small hotel with a unheated room, looking out on a plaza - Pension Cordoba. There are rooms with cushions in the center for reclining.

We walked around the streets of Chefchaouen this afternoon. These streets are even narrower and more interesting than any town we have been in. The walls are painted a light, but intense blue color by tradition. People become very excited if we look as if we will purchase anything, and it is impossible to "just look".

Our dinners have been couscous with vegetables or vegetable tagine. The vegetables are cabbage, zucchini, carrots, onions, garbanzo beans, with some raisans and a prune. One evening I had soup which had garbanzo beans, chicken, egg, onions, and carrots, and a very good flan with sliced bananas.

It has rained most of the time. Yesterday the sun came out for a while and lots of people were suddenly in the streets. Women and children walk around with umbrellas up; men walk around with hoods up. Today I stopped to look at a huge pile of wood outside of a small building and a woman called out to me from the doorway "hammam" - a public bath - this one was for women. We also saw women carrying trays with dough covered with cloths, and some with cooked flat but leavened bread covered with cloth, apparently taking the dough to communal ovens. A girl of about 13 stopped us to say that the street we were on was a dead end (the street painted over blue instead of just on the sides and walls). She asked us questions very boldly in English. Her older friend stood by with her head and mouth covered smiling and giggling shyly. Younger children came around to listen to us speak English.

Today we went to the Kasbah - an old fort built in the 1500s, but partially restored in the 1800s. We were guided through the small museum by a small cat. The Prophet Muhammed singled out cats for kind treatment of all animals, and there are many around.

12/7/03
We got on a bus in Chefchaouen and rode 6 hours to Fes. There is a huge difference between the places. Chaouen is a small town, Fes if a big city (1.5 million) much further south. On the bus we passed through scenes that probably have not changed much since the Middle Ages. People were walking or riding donkeys to their flat roofed mud houses, built in a large square around an interior yard. Perhaps several families live together in these places. There are small villages far off the road and people walking down dirt roads to them. There are few bicycles, and some donkey carts with one or two donkeys. The one thing that doesn't change is the menu. Tagine in a conical shaped pot with vegetables, lemon, chicken almonds, olives - served with flat leavened bread. I couldn't help thinking of the chicken sellers that seem to think its attractive to line their counter with wall to wall chicken carcasses with head hanging on the customer side. Instead of a plate of olives as in Chaouen, in Fes we were given a dish of lentils to eat with the bread as our meal was being prepared. We had dinner on a patio overlooking the medina - which in Fes is a 9000- street maze of shops and homes. They say it’s easy to get lost and one may have to find a guide to get out. There are many young boys insisting they be our guide.

There are many cafes that are filled only with men, sipping coffee or tea and smoking. I have sat outside of these and had coffee, as it would seem incorrect to go in.

12/9/03
Last night I used the internet $1 (90 dirhams) for 1 hour. It took a long time because the keyboard is different, as it has to have Arabic, French and western alphabet + diacritical marks. The connection was slow, too.

As we set out this morning for the bus to the medina, we met a man - about in his 20's who started talking to us, welcoming us to Morocco, asking us questions, saying we need a guide to the medina, he is not a guide, but a student of Islam trying to be an imam as his father was, giving us advice. He had a pleasant manner and nice smile. We told him we didn't need a guide, we did fine yesterday without one. He said he would stay with us - John and I both began to sense some hostility under the graciousness. As we bus we were waiting for pulled up, it was packed, so we decided to get a cab - right behind the bus. The man, Mohammed, tried to get in the cab with us - after speaking with the driver. So we got out. Then he began saying "you are Jewish" and "fuck you" "fuck your family" "fuck your money", "we will kill you". He was being obnoxious to us all along and now he was being angry for us not to accept him. Just a bad character.

We got back in the cab and went to the medina. There we saw a nice shopkeeper. It is so hard to know why people are nice - are they truly interested in us or do they know it will produce a sale. This man has a nice manner and wants to tell us something about Islam. After buying a vase with some bargaining, but for probably way more than its worth, I asked if I could take a picture of the plates on the wall. He said "that camera looks expensive" - and of course it was. There was that feeling of why am I here in this man's shop and why am I not him instead of me, born in the US, with the opportunities I have had. There is nothing that distinguishes us at birth, or even in the amount of work that we do. As I see it, I have many more options than he has, and always have. They use the difference in circumstance to make a sale - "We are poor" - "I go some days without a single sale" - which I believe. I tried checking my pronunciation of some Arabic phrases "Shokrun" = thank you, "In sallah" = god willing, "Labas" - is everything OK? He spoke English a little. Of course, there are people without opportunity in the US, and I wonder “Why me?” there too. I can't answer this question. The question that seems answerable is "What is my response to people given my fortunate status?" One response I have is to wonder if in some ways they are more fortunate than me and to try to learn if this is true. Are they willing to share some knowledge or insight or kindness with me? Can I feel more unified with them and their life beyond the superficial of body and possessions? This is quite intangible and I may never know or experience. I try to show with my eyes and expression that I honor them, but this does not always translate into my giving them something tangible. I have been giving some money to the old people who sit or walk around with their hands out. If the family does not help, there is no social security. My current thinking about these differences in general is that I am willing to teach English to people who want to learn some functional language and thereby I can provide people with an advantage. I can also teach other things I know, such as how to navigate US society, and how to use computers if they want. I can work politically to affect legislation and elections. Most of all, it means giving to those closest to me - John, Danielle, Hannah, friends, family, co-workers and those I meet everyday.

12/10/03
It was raining hard yesterday so after going to the medina and purchasing a vase, we returned to bed. It seemed too cold to stay up. So we could sleep at night, we got up for a while and went out. There was a torrential downpour. We sat and I drank mint tea in a sidewalk cafe under cover of the wind and rain and watched people hurry by. We watched men with jackets for sale spread them out on a blanket on the sidewalk. I saw a boy about 6 years old stand and look longingly at the pizza people were eating in the cafe where we ate pizza yesterday. He didn't ask for money as some people walking by the cafes do. He just stared with great longing. He drew closer and the cook with large belly moved forward toward him. The little boy persisted in his longing. The cook went back in the cafe. The next thing I saw was the boy walking in front of us carrying a very large roll, and he took a bite of it. He looked satisfied and reassured. I felt as if I had seen hunger in person.

This morning we walked through the new part of Fes and had coffee at a cafe, once again the province of men only. I never see a woman sitting in or in front of a cafe, even in areas where women are not wearing head covering and look fairly Western. I do not receive disapproving stares though. We rode the bus 1 hour to Meknes. I have a cold.

We are in a basic hotel on a busy circle intersection. We are in the new part of town and stores are filled with consumer goods, people look somewhat western. There are a few couples walking arm in arm. Usually there is no physical contact in public between men and women. On the way to the medina we passed a McDonalds. Strangely it had painted on it a mural of Arabs in warfare charging on horses with long muskets wearing turbans. The medina is an old walled city. It looks like the middle ages and in fact some films have been made here. Long adobe covered brick and stone walls with square teeth on top. This was the city built by Moulay Ismael, who was legendary for cruelty. Posting 10,000 heads of conquered people on the walls started his rule. Our guide book says he personally killed 30,000 people in his lifetime. He had hundreds of wives and children. He was a contemporary of Louis the XIV of France and wanted the make his own Versailles here in Meknes. Still, he was unable to control his own mortality. Fortunately things have improved (not in the area of mortality, though), and the new King Hassan is considered to be a fairly good ruler. There is a constitution and parliament.
12/11/03
The sun was out and it was almost warm all day. We walked around the medina and went into an antique shop. It was filled with stacks of old and new teapots, boxes, jewelry, koran holders, daggers, containers of all types. The owner wanted us to know that this was a special shop from Jewish times in Morocco. There were some old coins from the 13th century. He was a charming old man missing all his front teeth who kept talking to me in French and English urgently asking me to translate what he was saying to my husband. John wanted to rummage through the items without talking, so my getting his attention became very urgent. Bill Clinton had even come to the shop, according to the man. John paused to take our photo and the man said, “I will give you 100 camels if you leave her here in Morocco and she can come to live with my wife, children and me”. We didn't buy anything there, but walked on and went into a carpet shop. Here we had Moroccan tea, and were treated to views and education about carpets from all over Morocco. We chose one we liked and then John offered him less than 1/2 of his "non-tourist price". We walked out several times and they followed us, finally giving it to us for a little more than John originally offered. It is a beautiful woven Berber rug. We saw more chickens and rabbits and turtles waiting to be killed and heard a chicken squawking as it was chosen to die. This was all in the candy market where there were pyramids of coated date-nut candies. I bought some and it was delicious. We walked through narrow corridors with Western clothes on display. We walked through body to body crowded streets with people selling spices, used clothes, household items, some colored grease, henna (I was lead back in a shop in an attempt to paint my hands). People are friendly and enthusiastic and very welcoming - even if they have nothing to gain. They seem to have volatile personalities, shouting and clapping each other on the back. We are staying in a modern part of Meknes where young people are cruising the streets. Meknes is my favorite city so far in Morocco.

12/16/03
Taking the bus from Meknes, we arrived in Marrakech in the evening. We were let off at a large square with a walking street and we went off down a narrow old street with high walls to a doorway - the Afrique Hotel. We were led up to the second floor surrounding a courtyard to a small room with intensely patterned tile on the walls and floor. There was a small sink, a bed and small wardrobe. We walked out to the big square Jallou Fna and there were many bright lights with individual cooking and restaurant offerings surrounded by benches with many Moroccans eating. Many had touts trying to get us to eat there. Some had 3 - 4 goat heads (with teeth showing) to look at while one eats. There were others with heaps of steaming snails. Others had a big pyramid of chocolate mousse and people were buying little dishes of it. There were carts with piles of oranges where men sold orange juice. We saw a booth which had lentil or bean soup for 5 dirhams each, and that sounded good. We sat down on crowded benches with only men (women never eat out) and ate the small servings with flat round yeast breads. The next day we went into the souqs where people tried to get our attention - "just a look", "looking is free", "just one minute for my shop", "what are you looking for" and most often "where are you from". If I answer (John maintains silence), they say "welcome to Morocco - come inside my shop". With so many calling it becomes quite unpleasant. Then there are the guides - people wandering around trying to lead us to a shop in order to get a commission. John is excellent at bargaining. Sometimes we are walking out and they agree to his low price. Sometimes I feel bad since we clearly have what they want and need – money - and there are so many competitors for the little price. I did some bargaining by myself and am generally successful at bringing the price to about 1/2 the initial offer.

There was a lovely quiet time in the Ben Youssef Medersea which is a Koranic school from the 12th century - extremely well preserved, beautiful and serene to us. Perhaps it was difficult for the (as many as 900) boys who lived here all crammed together as in a monastery.

We walked to the large Koutouba Mosque, built in 800. The minaret can be seen from many parts of the city and is a good landmark to prevent getting lost. Around the Mosque are beautiful formal rose gardens and concrete benches and fountains where families and couples sit and watch children play.

I visited the old palace, which was immense and grand, but which was torn town by Sultan Moulay Ismail after it was used only 100 years, and all the wonderful materials were taken to create his palace in Meknes. The old high palace walls are home to about 50 storks with their stick nests piled high. Pairs of storks clack their beaks.

For the next 2 nights we sat at the same booth and ate lentil soup and bread. The booth was very busy with 2 men collecting money and slopping soup in bowls. Then the approximately 30 booths clean up everything before the morning when there is an empty square for musicians, fortune tellers, and henna hand and foot painters, and a few snake charmers playing oboes. One time we saw a group of old men playing very primitive stringed instruments with bows.

We got on a bus in Marrakesh for Ouarzazate - High Atlas Mountain Berber country. There was an initial argument as someone wanted to charge us 20 dirhams (about $2) to put our bags in the bus and John didn't like this (although other buses have charged 5 dirhams for baggage). We rode through the high mountains on winding roads seeing mud villages built into the hillsides, and stopped for lunch in one. The bus conductor passed out plastic bags to women who wanted them so they could throw up neatly. We were headed for Ait Ben Haddou - a kasbah and town in the Atlas Mountains. It would be necessary either to go all the way to Ouarzazate and take a taxi to Ait Ben Haddou (about 22 km) or to get the bus to stop at the intersection and go 8 km to the village. We rode along for about 4 hours. John then went forward in the bus to ask the driver to stop at the turnoff. The bus did not stop, as far as I could tell. Finally we came to Ouarzazate and I got off the bus, and John did not! He wasn't on the bus anymore. A man walked up to me and spoke some English and said he had a warm place in his heart for Americans since his brother just got a green card and moved to California. I said I needed a taxi to take me to Ait Ben Haddou. He said no problem - $30 please. I said that is too much. He said OK $20. I could have gone around asking other taxis for a better price, but I remembered that this is what the Lonely Planet said was to be expected for a taxi here and I clearly didn't have lots of options and this man was very sweet to me. So I got in a jeep with him and his friend and he told me he was Berber, but that is only the old name for his tribe given by Romans during the Roman empire - "barbarians". He now lives in Ouarzazate, but grew up with a Nomad family living in a tent. He was delightful to speak with. He said he had taken English lessons from some Americans living in Ouarzazate. We arrived back at the intersection and there was John and the 2 bags. He got in and we continued to Ait BenHaddou. It was an interesting adventure - I guess its hard for John and me to be together 24 hours a day for several weeks - we usually have some times during our travels when our values clash, but then I am so grateful to have such interesting adventures that I could never do without his planning and carrying it out. He is also very persistent at finding great simple hotels, restaurants and transportation, asking questions and looking at maps until he finds them. He never gives up on this.

We had a dinner of cous cous and vegetables under a beautiful tent. We are staying in a great little Auberge (here mostly French and Berber) in a reddish brown mud village with a spectacular, crumbling, but still occupied Kasbah (walled city with walled fort on top of a peak). The part of the village where we are staying is across the river and the only way to cross the river is to hire a young man and donkey (even a couple of camels, operated by a "blue man" - nomad with cell phone as optional ferries). This morning, John and I decided to try to cross the river by hopping on rocks used by locals, but it was clear that we would fall in and just then 2 enthusiastic young men came charging up on a mule with colorful blanket wanting to charge us $3 to cross and back. We agreed to $2.40. So we got on - 3 of us on the mule with John almost sliding off the back, and they said we should pay when we returned.

Walking up the hill, we once again encountered shop owners asking us "just a look," etc. The Moroccan merchants are the most skilled I have ever encountered in the world and I am getting used to the invariable sequence of interactions leading to the (inevitable) sale. They are extremely cordial and also like to talk a lot and give a lot of information about culture. We have been invited twice to dinner at people's homes. I know they mean it and are genuinely hospitable. They also say relationships and family are the most important to them as well as peace. Some frequently insert "Inshallah" - if God wills it, in all talk about the future (including the impending sale). Several mentioned to us today that Saddam Hussain has been captured, as if they think we would be glad for that. It’s hard to tell what they think.

We walked up the narrow steep streets of the village below the Kasbah. One woman invited me in (She had a photo collage of the cast from the US movie, Gladiator, which was made here.) to her home where she was weaving a rug and showed me their sleeping quarters (a large room with several carpets and photos of the king as well as her family), the kitchen (mud domes and a paddle to take food in and out of the fire), the food - a open air room for live chickens and sheep, and a terrace to look out over the village. Then she wanted money for this tour.

Coming down from the Kasbah, 2 boys, (one on a donkey, one on a mule) said they would ferry us across the river. We said no - we are looking for Mohammed - they one who carried us this morning. They kept insisting and following us as we walked away from then down the riverbed. Finally we heard Mohammed yelling and he caught up with us - one of the boys worked for Mohammed and was trying to tell us this. Finally, we crossed the river, with John nearly sliding off the rear again.

The walls are made of mud bricks or stacked rocks and covered with mud and straw plaster. There is no wood in the area. The roofs are palm fronds and branches (apparently from former trees in the area) and mud.

The men at the hotel are very cordial and today one took me to his home and introduced me to his sister, who was making a knotted carpet. She let me do a few knots. Then I was treated to a Moroccan carpet ritual that went on for about an hour and culminated in my purchasing a small carpet. He told me that he wants to continue to live in this small village where he grewup, but he enjoys talking to foreign tourists. (Tomorrow he has a busload of Japanese eating lunch in his restaurant.) He said it is quiet and peaceful. People are healthy. It appears to be true. Today as John and I walked down the road out of town, we passed another village and saw some teenage girls and boys flirting with each other, then the girls left and passed an old woman with a cane walking along next to the wall. The girls stopped and each kissed her hand and then sat on the wall for a few minutes talking with her. As we walked back to our village, there was a man leaning against the wall wearing a turban, wrapped in a blanket, watching the red clouds in the setting sun. When the muzzein calls 5 times a day here, there is a perfectly articulated echo from the hillside of the Kasbah. At nightfall (about 7:45), he sang long calls so that his voice mingled with his echo.
12/17/03
We stood out in front of the hotel and a truck with covered bed filled with people stopped and we got in. Women motioned to me to get in and held my small bag and I sat on the other bag. We got out at the intersection to the road to Marrakesh and there was a market that day, with farmers selling great looking carrots, zucchini, tomatoes, squash, cucumbers. Fortunately I didn't see any dead or live animals for sale. Some men enthusiastically offered us some mint tea. America, thumbs up! Then we sat by the side of the road waiting to flag down the bus. It came by, an older bus, and we got in and set off down the winding road past mud villages set in hillsides with people plowing with wood plows pulled by mules, and women bending over in the fields. The Berber women wear the greatest clothes, rich blues and reds with head covered in different blue. The young women have smooth, beautiful faces, and the old women - some faces are brown and rounded, others have thin bony facial features. We saw women carrying big bundles of sticks. I wondered if these small farmers are being affected by globalization of food, as are small farmers elsewhere with resultant loss of culture and tradition, or if they are able to survive as in the past. The people speak Berber and seem different from Arab speakers. I read that Berbers have traditionally been at odds with the Moroccan government. I was told there are 3 Berber branches - one in the Northern Rif Mountains, one in the High Atlas Mountains, and one toward the Ocean. They speak 3 different dialects that have only just recently been written. In school, children are taught in Arabic. I want to read more about the Berbers and those of the Northern Sahara. We met people who identified themselves as Tuarig people who are Nomads. I had a flash of a sense last night as I was going to sleep that I had met some of the most gracious and honorable people, albeit traders, that I will ever meet. I felt honored and respected by them, as I have never felt before, simply as a fellow human. They seemed to place great importance on family and guest relationships in a way that we Westerners can hardly absorb or receive. Instead, in the presence of people reaching out to us in welcome, we rush by, nervous that they might want something from us. As they wish to sit and just talk, to be in each other’s presence, we wish to move on to the next site. As they offer to serve us in their home, we feel more comfortable in the low risk environment of a restaurant. Some simulate this hospitable impulse to engage people to enter their shop, and this makes us suspicious.

12/18/03
We are in Essaouria, a lovely fishing village with a great old medina. We are staying in it and have a window overlooking the rocks, battlements and ocean. People don't put so much pressure on us to look at their shop.

I began to think that I need to have an understanding of what do I want in my interaction over giving of my resources to others. If I don't decide what my position on this is, I am not necessarily a compassionate person helping humanity, and I am simply taking the easy route by saying OK to others all the time. They may be pleased, but I may be drained and my energy diluted. Most of the time I don't know whether it’s OK or not. So - what is "enabling someone to be dishonest" - what is playful accepting of the manipulation - what is naivety - what is patronizing - what is sharing resources with those who have few - what is my response to the experience of abundance of opportunities, hard work, choices each of us has made, natural abilities etc. This is what is so confusing for me and I would like a formula to run each situation through.

It seems there are several types of transactions, and the decision about how to act may be different in each one – the start of decision-making anyway:
1. In a shop, or a vendor of tourist items -
A. Very close or actual handicraft maker
B. Buys handicrafts to sell in souq - mainly to tourists.
C. Utility items and groceries or vegetable and fruit markets for personal use - fixed price
D. Buy services or goods such as shoe shine, or cookies from street vendor.
E. Buy services such as hotel, bath - usually fixed price.
F. People ask for money directly as charity.

Sometime I’ll consider what response to these transactions might reflect my personal values.

Yesterday, we had dinner at 1:30 at the outdoor fish markets near the fishing boats. There were about 10 booths with displays of fish - crab, squid, moray eel, sardines, shrimp, long, flat big-eyed fish. There was a couple of men with sandwich type grills cooking fish over charcoal. There was a big table covered with oilcloth and benches all around it. We chose the variety of fish menu option for $5.50. First a big basket of bread, followed in sequence by a salad, shrimp, sardines, 2 different white fishes, calmari, langostino and a big bottle of water. It was very messy, eating with our hands. A huge pile of "remains" grew as we tore at the delicious fish and made fish sandwiches with tomato, onion and french bread.

In the evening, we bought pastries for after dinner. Then we walked through the market - people are so happy to see us, especially in the spice market because we might buy spices to take home. There were large colorful pyramids of spices and jars to smell. The vegetable market was a spread of tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, green beans, potatoes looking really fine. We bought some carrots which were delicious.
12/19/03
Today I went to a Hammam. Next time I will know more of what to do. I went into a room with slatted wood floors and benches. There was a beautiful young woman bathing there, soaping her body, and cleaning every part with great care several times. An attendant wearing only panties asked me to lie down and then she threw buckets of hot water from old wood stave and ring buckets on me. Then she took something like a fingernail brush and scrubbed every inch of my body. Then she scrubbed soap on, and shampooed my hair and finally asked me to stand up and threw buckets of hot water over my head. If I go again to a hammam, I will know more what to do - wash myself several times and let the attendant scrub only once. (That night I got a rash that must have come from the scrub brush – BYOBrush next time)

Our hotel room here looks out over the ocean breaking on rocks. It sounds and looks so serene and relaxing. At last the worried thoughts that I have been having at night are gone and I feel I am living in the present now. I think there were lots of toxic effects on my body and mind that were affecting it before I left home and it has taken several weeks for them to recede. My mind is still and reasonably focused.

Thinking of the carpet ritual, I decided to record …..
The steps of a sale:
1. You are enticed to enter the shop or selling area by interesting conversation, invitations to their home, just a look.
2. There is some initial education about the quality of the items and their origins from a remote and exotic tribe, usually their ancestral family home. The crafts people are their sister and mother. You listen and comment with interest and ask questions. It’s a good chance to learn some things, which may or may not be true about tribal symbols. You can get a lot of information about the culture and their family by asking.
3. Many items are displayed and unpacked, and you are encouraged to select several as your favorite. That you say you have no intention of buying something is completely ignored. You look mildly interested in the overall collection, but not in any particular item. This is the survey time. You are served tea. You can tell them to stop bringing out more items, but it will only slow slightly.
4. You show slight preference to one or two items and they say "would you like these - together there is a special price" and "You can bring some thing to trade - a t shirt or clothing." This forces you to choose one or more items and you ask the price. The initial price is very high. Then you say - that’s more than I can pay - so I will just have to think about it some more. If you start walking out - they will say "How much would you give me for it" or "Maybe I could make a slight reduction." You decide what you are willing to pay for it. You say (about 1/4 of 1/3 of what they asked). They say, “No, that's too low, I must make a profit here - couldn't you raise it a little?” etc etc, until you may get it for 40-60 % of what they asked initially. They look a little disappointed and then show no interest in you after that. Cordiality subsides to about 5% of what it was and you leave with your purchase and a little information. Sometimes, there is a "purchase afterglow" conversation, which can be very satisfying.

12/21/03
Last night we left Essaouira and took the Supertour bus to Marrakech. From there we got on a train in a sleeping compartment. Also in the compartment were Miriam and her fiancé - a young Dutch couple who were planning on teaching ESL, and who loved Cambodia. What a coincidence. We arrived in Tangier at 7:00 am, fairly rested. Tangier is hilly and really crumbling in the medina where we are staying. We walked around the market. Today the Berber women had brought beets, carrots and herbs in to sell. They wore conical straw hats with fluffy blue strings from the top of the cone. They wear red striped wrapped skirts and terry cloth shawls. Most looked quite old. We walked up to a viewpoint overlooking the harbor and found that people dump their daily garbage over the wall so that below the street running on the side is a cascade of garbage on the hillside above the beach. We had lunch at a palace restaurant and John said this is my last couscous for a while. Tonight, we walked around the new town with cafes filled to the maximum with rows of men, eyes glued to the television - perhaps a Morocco soccer game. The streets were also packed with men, women and children strolling in the evening past shops. They overflowed the sidewalks into the street.

12/24/03
We spent the last two days in Tanger in a leisurely fashion, having a luxurious lunch in a Palace Restaurant, eating French pastries for dinner, sleeping late, hearing the street below wake up to shouting, having coffee in Petit Soco. I felt sadness as the large ferry pulled away from Tanger. I thought of all the craftsman creating elaborate lamps, marquetry wooden boxes with inlaid mother-of-pearl, the caftans, the brass trays, the pottery, the slippers, the leather goods being churned out. Shops filled to the ceiling. Many stalls filled with displays of fresh fish waiting for diners. 30 - 40% unemployment - men shining shoes, selling cigarettes, offering to guide, old women begging - all depending on the tourists that will come "after December 20". I felt very safe in Morocco. I don't think people own guns to use. For our government to imply or state explicitly that it is unsafe to travel is a lie and amounts to economic embargo on Muslim and countries - especially those that rely on tourism. One incident will deter tourists for years and people want to avoid even one incident. Yes, travel there is rough and tumble - not fully clean rooms, horse carts going through markets - you have to watch out for those dangers, but people pushed me out of the way "Attencion! Balak!"

Now we are in Ronda after a delightful train ride through the all white towns with rolling fields of olive trees. We walked into the old city where a great cathedral was built on top of mosques, and there are still Arab baths from 1400s. Ronda is built right up to the edge of a 1500 ft drop to farmland. It was a formidable fortress and we walked along the old walls with lookouts. We watched rock climbers rappelling down the cliffs today, and were shocked later in the day to see one of the climbers carried out in a tarp on a stretcher, dead from a fall that morning (on Christmas eve).

It is wonderful to be in a comfortable clean hotel with a western - in the room - bathroom! Yeaa! I miss my family on Christmas Eve and wish I could be there to provide a family Christmas for them.

12/25/03
Feliz Navidad! I miss my family and wish I could let them know that I hold them fondly in my heart. But I will be home in 6 days. Today we had a lovely bus ride through the hills and saw some apparently migrating raptors flying over fallow winter fields. We arrived in Sevilla and made our way to Barrio Santa Cruz to a little room on the 3rd floor in Pension Los Archeres. We explored the area around the great cathedral and noticed many richly decorated buildings and plazas with statues and gargoyles. There are winding narrow streets too narrow for cars. Church bells are ringing - in fact right next to our room. The churches are very old and many seem to be closed for reconstruction.
12/27/03
Yesterday was filled with awe-inspiring sights – first, we went to the Alcazar in Sevilla. It was built on the site of a Moorish palace by King Pablo the Cruel, in Moorish style. He had the best artists from the Moorish tradition build it, but with some symbols of Christian monarchy built in. It was amazing to see Moorish architecture in such good condition with some of the original paintwork intact. It is so huge, with gardens, fountains, tapestries and fabulous rooms. It took us about 4 hours to roam around it. We then had to see one of the largest cathedrals in Europe for the rest of the day. It was built on the site of a huge mosque and the minaret - the Giralda - was converted to a bell tower. We walked up to the top on 34 turning ramps (so people could ride horses up). The cathedral was an enormous space - but not one of my favorites since everything, including the elaborately huge carved altarpiece (retable) seemed to be hidden behind old iron grating so it was necessary to peer through bars at it.
However, Sevilla is a lovely city with great plazas and crumbling cathedrals. Bells were ringing all the time - perhaps because it was Christmas.
We walked into a stylish pedestrian mall (peatonal - we are peatons) which was thronged with after- Christmas shoppers. Then we got lost in Barrio Santa Cruz - twisting and turning narrow streets and couldn't find our hotel.

Today, we moved on to Cordoba where there is the great Mesquita (Mosque not mosquito) from the 9th century still available to see, although a church was built right in the middle of it just to show the Muslims that they are not in charge anymore.
12/29/03
Yesterday, we visited the one surviving Medieval Jewish synagogue in Spain. It had Mudjehar plaster carving with Hebrew symbols. We attended Mass in the cathedral that was built right inside the great Mosque. There was an old nun who led the singing of the Christmas songs, and the priest gave a talk about the importance of the famiy, including the larger family of humanity. John and I were both struck by the catastrophe in Bam, Iran, since that was a city he had wanted to see and I felt a relationship to the people there, having recently visited an ancient hillside village, populated and made of mud and brick.
Then we went to the great Mesquita. I didn't want to stay long since it certainly was the epitome of using the church or mosque for political power. The power in both the cathedral and its gold treasures were from unbelievable bloody conquests of the Americas and the Moors, while the Mosque was the result of booty obtained by leaving Iberian villages in rubble. It was interesting to see the red and white striped arches, but it was hard to understand it as a mosque, given that it had been enclosed on the sides to create gaudy chapels with paintings and statues endlessly depicting martyrs, crucifixion, heaven and hell. But that is what is left for us to see.

12/29/03
Tomorrow we go to the Prado! We took the bus from Cordoba and decided not to go to Toledo since there would be so little time there - we would have to return after only one evening there. John had his backpack snatched in the subway and I think someone pointed that his backpack was being taken away. John chased the man and punched him in the face. Two young women were so nice to us and told us one of them had her documents stolen just a few days ago when they arrived in Madrid as tourists from Portugal.

1/1/04
We were constantly fed and beveraged on a KLM flight to Seattle, and found had become winter in our absence. We got on the bus at the airport going to downtown Seattle with our packs, as we had boarded busses many times in Spain and Morocco. When we got off at the Symphony Hall, Handel’s Messiah was playing on loudspeakers. It was so beautiful. Waiting for the bus on 1st Avenue, a guy was doing silent karaoke to his CD player, pantomiming dramatically to the waiting people. It’s good to come back by bus to our house.

John planned the trip completely by studying Lonely Planet books on Andalucia, Spain and Morocco. We also used Rick Steve’s book on Spain and Portugal. The Morocco book was especially helpful in explaining how to purchase handicrafts, customs, food, and culture. He made a little laminated map from the book for each city and a list of possible hotels, restaurants and sites to see. We stayed in hotels in the “budget” category. I just showed up for the trip.

On the way to Valparaiso from Puenta de Inca, we traveled over a 12,000 foot pass - over the Continental Divide. We saw waterfalls off enormous stone mountains with tilted layers of rock. We climbed and John noticed that the rivers flowed to the East toward Argentina. He saw on the map that these became the Rio Mendoza. We passed through a long tunnel and when we emerged from it, the water flowed toward the West to become the Rio Aconcagua. The waterfalls became a small cascade and the road went through about 15 switchbacks - all visible looking down from the barren mountaintop. The road followed the old British-built narrow-guage railroad, which must have been an incredible engineering feat at the turn of the century, with tunnels drilled through sides of mountains and snow tunnels, now deteriorating. The British must have used old paths/roads known to local people, since the Andes is a formidable cordillera and to decide the best pass must have not been possible without pioneering expertise. From windy, dry mountains, we arrived in Valpariaso, the formerly major South American seaport, which influence was reduced by the building of the Panama Canal. It was a thriving center of international commerce in the 1800's and it is build on many steep hills. Our hotel, the Mirador, is 200 years old and has steep wooden staircases. We are in a tiny room at the top of a hill, overlooking the entire bay. Now there are container ships and the Chilean navy tied up. We arrived here by taking a city bus from the bus station and then locating an Ascensore at the base of Cerro Concepcion. An Ascensore it a small car that runs on a track up the hill at what seems to be greater than a 45 degree angle, as the complementary car runs down the track as a counterweight. This one was built in 1885. There are 15 left which charge a small amount to lift 7 people at a time to the tops of the hills to different neighborhoods. The houses are covered with a metal with small corregations, and have 12 foot ceilings, doors and windows. The streets on the hill are made with river rock. We had lunch at a vegetarian restaurant and the waitress began talking to us in English. She told us her name was Valeria and she was in the 3rd year at the University of Valpariaso studying to be an English translator. She said she had never left Valpariaso. She is 18 years old. She wanted to help us find our way around and we exchanged addresses. She wanted to correspond with mail because with email "something is lost".
Looking out over the hills, we noticed that a nearby hill was topped with an interesting cemetary with old crypts topped with statues and crosses. We climbed the hill without knowing how to get into the cemetary. We found the gate and a caretaker looked us over and let us in. I expect they are concerned about vandals in such a lovely old cemetary with elaborate family crypts from the late 1800's. There were 2 sections: one for Catholics and the other for "dissidentes" (non-Catholics). There were crypts for guilds, such as zapateristas (shoemakers?) and bomberos (firemen). In family crypts there were stained glass windows and statues outside and inside, with long "drawers" waiting for family members. Some were engraved for recent interrments. It was very peaceful and memorable with some of the best views of the city.
From the cemetary, we noticed what appeared to be a ghastly prison complex with 3 stories of barred windows and guard towers with glass broken out. Curious, and thinking this was all locked away from tourists, we stood on our tiptoes and peeked through a crack in an old gate. To our surprise, there were children playing soccer inside. We walked around, past colorful murals by children depicting desires for peace and justice and found the entrance - marked "Salida" (EXIT). It was a prison, which had been built in the early 1900's and was indeed a horrific place to be incarcerated, but it had been closed recently (in 1999) and turned into a performing arts center. Inside one of the cells with the door closed, a band was practicing Radiohead songs. John and I walked around the 2nd tier of cells and looked in each one. Paintings and mostly clippings from magazines of women were glued to the walls which were stained with splatters and grunge. Then someone told us that we weren't supposed to be on that level. People were sweeping the exercise yard because during the week, there were going to be rock concerts there in celebration of the New Year.
The new year coming is a major event in Valparaiso and walking around the city we saw almost everyone carrying and discussing a little program folder which had about 6 events each day - classical music concerts, children's puppet shows, rock concerts and the big event - a fireworks display on New Year's eve over the bay. Our hotel manager told us that people book rooms in the Hotel Mirador in October since she has a great view of the bay.

Some observations about Argentina:
Some observations about Chile:

Puenta de Inca is a natural bridge formed by sulphur springs. It is near the continental divide of the cordillera of Andes between Argentina and Chile and is about 9,000 feet. A narrow guage railroad used to come through there and a hotel was built in the windswept gap between two mountains with hot baths fed by the springs. The hotel was destroyed in the 1985 terremoto (earthquake) and there is a little church which miraculously survived. The mountains are green, pink and granite gray with strata pushed up at diagonal angles. We stayed in a very nice room in an old stone inn with mountain climbers from many countries - a group of 9 Portuguese men occupied bunks in nearby rooms. There was a guy from Bellingham. They were here to climb Cerrro Aconcagua - the highest mountain in the Western Hemisphere - about 23,000 ft. One called it a "glorified walk". He said the difficulty was the altitude and the wind. They planned to spend 6 days acclimitizing.
On Christmas day, we stood out in the middle of the road waiting for El Rapido. We had purchased tickets in Mendoza for a bus "El Rapido" that would take us to Valparaiso. We could see any vehicles off in the distance and here came El Rapido. The big yellow bus zoomed by, followed by a CATA bus which stopped to let people off. The driver said there was a second El Rapido following. The second El Rapido zoomed by us, although we waved to it. We decided to hitch hike. However, a Upsalata bus came by and we flagged it down. It was empty and was planning to turn around and we explained our dilemma. The driver said he would take us on to the customs stop about a quarter mile down the road where the El Rapido busses would be stopped. We caught the second El Rapido bus there, but it wasn't our bus. He said he would drive us on to Chilean Immigration, where the first bus would be stopped. So on we went and finally caught our bus in immigration. The driver looked surprised that we managed to catch him, and I think he realized he had made a mistake - but he drove us out of the mountains to the coast of Chile and the port Valparaiso.