I Went to Africa!

For the Spanish spring holiday known as "puente" last weekend, Bronwen and I went to Morocco.  Ever since we both realized that we were going to be in Spain for the semester, we've both wanted to go there, so we planned way ahead and it actually happened.  We figured when we planned it that we would find more friends who wanted to come with us, but in the end, nothing came together and we ended up just the two of us traveling Morocco.  Though just a quick plane ride away, Morocco truly is another world and while there were definitely a few missing amenities from what we're used to, I feel that a trip like that is really eye opening to other cultures, religions, and ways of living.

Because it was such a unique and interesting place, my narrative of my entire trip could be a novel, so here are a few memories to give you a general idea of how it went.  If you want to hear more, we can chat over coffee at a later date...

• First crazy experience was the Tangier bus station, in which one second after jumping out of the cab, we realized that almost every person in the semi-crowded bus station was a man, some of whom were yelling at us trying to sell us bus tickets. Got our ticket from the old toothless man at the "higher class" bus company, hopped on the bus three minutes later, arrived in Fez 7 hours later (literally the scenic route through the Moroccan countryside)

• Had an awesome tour guide who took us around Fez (famous for its crafts) for the entire day, showing us a pottery "factory," rug co-op, looming workshop, metalworkers, embroiderers, a medicinal herbs shop, leather tanneries, some yummy fried potato snacks, a beautiful Arab mausoleum, the king's palace, and probably more that I can't remember now.  Tried to bargain hard, but it turns out the Moroccans have us beaten on that one, though the leather man did tell Bronwen that she bargains harder than a Berber, which is apparently a pretty good thing.

  

• The owner of our hostel ran into us in town and took us for mint tea at a hotel overlooking the city (mint tea is like water for those folks)

  

• Had a guide who was about our age in Moulay Idriss, a site where Muslims go to pay Haj (like a mini-Mecca) - pretty sure we were the only non-muslim tourists to roll through in a while.

We couldn't go into the mosque cause we're not cool enough

• Cab driver for the afternoon (whom I was attempting to talk to in French, which he didn't really even speak well) turned out in the end to want to come back to the U.S. with us - I think marriage may have been mentioned.  Tried to explain to him that that wasn't going to work out, thanked him for our drive, and went on our way.

• Arrived in Chefchaouen in the middle of a total downpour, tromped up the big hill toward the town, didn't know where we were going, paid a man 20 dirhams (2€) to take us to the hostel, which turns out I had booked for the wrong night.  Oops. Nice British hostel owner took us to another place which was just fine.

• Chefchaouen is cool.  Hiked up the hill with our new Spanish friend Patricia, then up another hill to a mosque for an awesome view of the blue-tinted city.

 

• Tried to take a bus to Tangier the next day, but it was apparently a holiday and all buses were full.  Took "shared taxis" instead, which involves stuffing 7 people in a normal-sized cab for an hour and half - twice (we had to do it in two legs).  Counted 37 mosques in the rural Moroccan countryside over a span of about 40 km.

 

 for some reason, there are men just standing in the middle of fields everywhere... not working, just standing

• Funny kid about our age shuffled us down the hill to our hotel from where our cab dropped us off in his Moroccan slippers
• Discovered a board game club outside the window of our really nice hotel in Tangier.
• Checked many different sources to determine the actual time of our flight the next day - it seems the entire country of Morocco was quite confused about the time change, including our airline...

El Maratón

At the beginning of the semester, I heard somewhere that there was going to be a Rock N Roll Marathon in Madrid this spring. Naturally, I signed up - though just for the 10 kilometer run, not the full thing (Haha, run a marathon after this crazy semester!)

Somehow, the event popped up this past weekend - a sick reminder of both my short time in Spain and my poor physical shape - but I was looking forward to it nonetheless. I went to pick up my bib at the exhibition on Saturday with Bronwen and Connor (who studied in France this quarter and was daring to run the whole thing). The exhibition was a great reminder of our skiing days and how crazy endurance athletes are. And there were A LOT of them.

We stood in line for a while to get our bibs, then moved on to another line to get our goodie bags (which don't translate to anything near as cute in Spanish), and then moved on to the longest line of all: the pasta feed line. I love how universal carbon-loading is. Turns out though, that it was only for those in need, aka the marathoners, and sadly they turned us away at the door after 30 minute wait in line. We had a great lunch from a nearby takeaway place anyway.

The next day, I arose bright and early (maybe my first bright and early Sunday of the semester) and dragged myself down the metro to the finish line, where I had to store everything I wanted at the end of the race. It wasn't hard to get from the finish to the start: I just followed the thousands of people wearing race numbers through the streets.

The start was incredible - unorganized, but incredible. Unsure of where exactly I needed to be, I worked my way forward in the mass of people and finally picked a spot.  I was surrounded by anxious runners stretching and chatting in many different languages.  The "chatter" of 20,000 people was a roar from within them and all attempts at announcements disappeared long before reaching my part of the crowd. All of a sudden, everyone was clapping and starting to walk, and we were off! For a marathon so big, I was expecting a cannon or something to start us off, but nope, just a round of applause.
The start was on one of the biggest streets in Madrid, and it was great to see it covered in thousands of runners rather than thousands of cars and motorcycles.  There was also quite the brigade of spectators, cheering us on from the sidewalks, bridges, and fountains.  As we neared the stadium and the second music stage, the split between marathoners and 10k-ers became imminent, and as we broke off, already headed home when they still had so far to go, there was a giant applause among the runners, wishing the best of luck to those crazy folks.

It's amazing how after all those years of ski team, there seems to somehow still be a base there, and 10 kilometers really went by pretty quickly. Before I knew it, we were running past the Puerto de Alcalá, into Retiro Park, and across the finish line, where they gave us sustenance and medals, in 52 minutes.  Not having known about the security situation of the storage, I hadn't brought anything with me and had no way to contact my friends who were watching, so, a little lonely among all the celebrating finishes, I jumped on the metro, still wearing my number, and got home just in time to see the runners going by, about 25 kilometers into their 42 kilometer run. I cheered them on, grabbed my things, and somehow managed to get to the finish line for the first finishers, at around 2:11!

The finish of a marathon is great - everyone is so relieved and excited to have made it - some are accompanied by their small children across the line, some are revving up the crowd, some are limping, a few are sprinting (but not very many). It's a wonderful reminder of why I did (and do) endurance sports.

I waited anxiously for Connor, who was predicting 3:30, but I had higher hopes. Sure enough, he rolled in around 3:22, having made a friend and pumping up the crowd, which had now been cheering for a solid hour.  We celebrated his accomplishment (I don't think mine could be considered one) with a beer and a burger and then went home to nap. I probably should have done work in the time, but just being around a person who has just run a marathon makes you tired. One day I'll run one.