Flamenco music in Granada, Spain

Jim, LuAnn, Tom, and I pay 6 Euros each to  cram into the small space of "Le Chien Andalou." We order some tapas and drinks, and wait. 

From Flamenco The guitarist begins, playing a a mesmerizing melody with punctuated chords. His posture and passion makes me think of Picasso's Blue Guitarist.

From Flamenco

The singer begins, his voice melismatic and powerful, his eyes passionate. The singer and guitarist exchange musical conversation, weaving their music expertly and beautifully. The song ends with intensity so great the singer must stand, clap, and stomp with a flurry.

From Flamenco A new song invites the dancer, who adds rhythmic intensity with the complex rhythms of her feet on the wood floor and her hands snapping and clapping. The dancer also plays the role of musician and actor.

From Flamenco

A fraction of the music and dance we saw: 

Montée la montagne

I love the French translation for climb the mountain. To my ears, montée sounds so similar to montagne; the words belong together!

La montagne Aaron, Allison, and I intend to climb is Mt. Toubkal, the tallest peak in North Africa (13671ft/4167m). We meet our guide, Hassan, and two mules in the tiny town of Imlil. We load our heavier packs of food and tents on to the mules, and begin hiking from an elevation of 5905 feet (1800 m). 

Aaron, Allison, and Hassan hike past Armd.

From Toubkal Our mules pass us. We see them again at base camp.

From Toubkal

Along the way, we stop for refreshments in a makeshift shack. Our drinks are chilled by fresh mountain water. 

From Toubkal

I admire vegetation I've never seen before.

From Toubkal We reach base camp after 5-6 hours of hiking on the first day. Aaron digs out the spaghetti he made, and we dive in enthusiastically.

From Toubkal

At our base camp: sunset followed by a stunning starry sky. 

From Toubkal We wake on the second day at 6:00, before sunrise. Our big day, the forecasted 3-hour hike to the summit. My legs are exhausted from the day before. Another French phrase: j'ai fatigue. Literally translated: I have tired. Fatigue sounds so much more truthful at this point. As we hike up the scree (loose rocks), I had to remind my sleepy mind and tired body to keep going. I will do this. Berber guides stop and ask us how we are; I tell them in French and English that I am tired, but happy. I allow myself time to rest and breathe. A view of the summit gives me new motivation and energy.

From Toubkal From Toubkal After the false summit (see above), we reach the real summit, marked by people who've celebrated before us.  From Toubkal From Toubkal I love the view, the fresh air, the cold wind and the warm sun.  From Toubkal The descent is difficult, trying to maintain balance on sliding dirt and rocks while caring for my knees. We turn around and hike the whole way down, resulting in about 9 hours of hiking in one day. I lag behind, being careful, and make occasional small-talk with Hassan.  For me, hiking this far brings me back to the basics of thinking, listening, and moving forward one step at a time. I celebrate where I've been and where I'm going to. I look backward and admire, forward with excitement and anxiety. I listen to my body. Sometimes it has energy, other times I have to push myself to keep going.  J'ai fatigue, mais je suis happy.  -Karissa

Bavarians

Driving across Europe with Jim and LuAnn, Bavaria (Southern Germany) is exquisite. I don't know how they manage to keep the quaint features in a modern world. One hears bells on the cows while looking at old homes with windowboxes (this scene continues through Austria). This part of Germany is more hilly, preparing us for the Alps.

We visited Munich's Hofbrauhaus. Founded in 1589, the brewhouse follows the brewing laws of 1516, regulating the ingredients allowed in beer. The sight upon entering the "beerpalace" (which was built in 1897) is delightfully overwhelming. An oom-pah band plays in the corner. Women in traditional Bavarian dress carry around monstrous pretzels, and men in leiderhosen bring litres of beer and traditional wursts to tables filled with tourists. We snatch a table as others leave (including Olga, who is in her 70's obviously drunk, and who we later saw dancing with a leiderhosen-clad man) and are soon joined by a family of Spaniards. Occasionally, the guests break into song, and all we know how to do is thump our beers on the table and smile.

1 Litre was the only option!

A new view of the world

Upon arrival at our Swiss campground in Interlaken, we knew we had to spend a couple of days here. A white glacier greeted us as we walked down the street, lush mountains more beautiful than I could imagine beckoned me. I intended to explore them, to leave a footprint or a mountain bike track.

We noticed colorful parachutes above all day long, so I did a little investigating. Tom made a phone call, and in 45 minutes we were picked up in a van to go Paragliding, driving up and up a hill...

I was pretty nervous. What did I get myself into? And then, Wouldn't it be amazing if I can actually have the guts to follow through on this?


We got to the top, the glacier still prevailing in the landscape. The crew of paragliding experts immediately began laying out the parachutes on a grassy hillside.

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland

Robert, my assigned tandem expert, began strapping me in and providing comforting words like, "You won't have to run off a cliff. Just run down that hill."

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland With my faith in a parachute and a person I've never met strapped behind me, I ran.

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland

And it was glorious!

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland After two safe landings with no falls, we enjoyed a Swiss beer and walked home, smiling and excited about our adventure.

From Paragliding over Interlaken, Switzerland

London

We began our European travels with a week in London. We were lucky to avoid the high costs of accommodations by staying with some acquaintances in St. John's Wood, the neighborhood where Paul McCartney has his tea and where the Beatles took their famous Abbey Road picture. 

I was walking through this neighborhood, and stopped at a busy street to wait for the cars to pass. It took me until someone yelled out their window, "what are you just standing there for?!?" until I realized that I was on a "zebra" crossing, which meant that cars had to wait for ME. Whoops. As soon as I got over my embarrassment, I was able to laugh.

I enjoyed the diversity of London, spread out over miles and neighborhoods and connected by a wonderful underground train system. I was surprised to find that the museums are free and the churches and historical sights cost a fortune, which is the opposite of other places I've visited. So here are some photos from our trip. Even though we admired the British Parliament, Big Ben, St. Paul's Cathedral, London Tower, Tower Bridge, and Westminster Abbey, I decided to share some more experiential photos rather than the scenic ones. Missing from these photos are the comedy club we went to and the production of The Lion King, which were both very well done.

Our mode of transportation...

From London

Traffic Jam in the London Underground.

From London

These functional phone booths are everywhere. Perfect for tourists to pose inside for pictures.

From London

The alley where Sweeney Todd is said to have killed people to be made into meat pies. Tom looks scary, doesn't he? 

From London

Speaking of Meat Pies...

From London

At Borough Market, I enjoyed choosing from many different chocolate truffles.

From London

And in Whittard of Chelsea, a tea shoppe, I made my own tea. Green and Black tea leaves with peach, vanilla, rosehips, and cinnamon. mmmm!

From London

The old pub where Dickens frequented while working on a book. 

From London

Zaya and I pose with the Beefeater who gave us the tour of London Tower. He told us stories of the British royalty over the years.

From London

This modern bridge connects St. Paul's Cathedral with the Tate Modern, a fantastic modern Art museum. We enjoyed a free organ recital that echoed through the cathedral, followed by the museum.

From London I like this photo that Tom took, and the statue.

From London

Ancient Aztec art amazingly preserved and on display in the British Museum. This is an actual human skull, decorated with turquoise mosaic.

From London

We are now in Germany...more stories and posts to come!

Karissa

A Year of Memories

We're back in the US for a couple more days, after a great year in Morocco. People often ask us what we liked the best about being there; what a big question! We love the opportunity for adventure and travel, both in situations and places we've never dreamed of experiencing. We've compiled a couple of videos of our favorite people, places, and memories, as well as some Moroccan music. Enjoy!

Look forward to some stories about our stateside visit and our upcoming European trip.

May Day Delights

I sit here, enjoying a cup of mint tea. (Yes, I now know how to make the perfect pot of Moroccan Mint tea.) I think about the simple things in my life that remind me that life is good and delightful.

Today I went to the market to purchase some ingredients to make a friend's Granola recipe. (By the way, this granola turned out fantastic!) Finding myself frustrated that the bank wasn't open on the way, I needed to get myself out of this frustration. Enter one of many florists at the market. The florists set up little stands where they proudly display a wide range of color, smiling at the sun. As I shop, the man hands me a pink rose, un cadeau. I fall in love with a bunch of yellow roses. Who doesn't deserve a bouquet of yellow roses the day before her birthday?

The man quickly begins preparing the roses. Cutting off the ends, finding accompaniment greenery, and arranging them all nice and pretty so all I have to do is put them in my vase. I marveled at the time and craftsmanship that went into a sale of $7.50, for 20 beautiful roses.

I remember a day when Tom and I walked down the street in the Maarif. A little boy, ice cream in hand, nearly ran into Tom. The boy stopped, looked up, and with a big smile exclaimed in Arabic. If I were to put words in his mouth, it would be, "WHOA, Mom! Look at that giant!" We laughed along with the boy's mother.

I finally asked Nabil, the tech guy who works at our school, why he eats the crust of his bread and leaves the center piled by the staff room sink. He informs me that Moroccans do this so they don't eat too much bread (they do enjoy their bread here), but that it is a bad thing to throw bread in the trash. If you must dispose of your bread, put it in a separate bag to be collected and fed to the animals. I like this way of respecting something others might seen as mundane. I now dispose of my stale, moldy bread like a Moroccan.

Tomorrow and extending toward next weekend I celebrate my 28th birthday with my friends. Dancing, cooking, and a Tapas party in the near future. Looking forward to it.

Enjoy your May.

Karissa