11am ... An antiquated mode of transportation known as a "bus" has brought us to the city of Rabat, capital of Morocco, home of the King of Morocco's palace. Step one for us-- jump off the bus as it begins to come to a stop there, so most of us can run into the WC. It is sweet relief. Two hours after breakfast, and we don't know when we will get to go again.
We hope to get a glimpse of the elusive Prince Moulay Rachid ben Hassan of Morocco. A former student of Ahmed and Samir's, the hope is that he may want to say 'hi' and we would get a chance to meet him. This does not come to pass, and we are deterred. Other sites and locales await.
12pm... We arrive at the ruins of Chella, a necropolis of the Roman era. Got some great documentation via notes and photos. It probably dates back close to 1000 years, with numerous prehistoric creatures roaming free-- mostly storks and fat, lazy cats. The bus hasn't broken down on us yet, so we board it again.
1pm... A visit to the tomb of the late King Hassan II and King Mohammed V are our next destination. It is a magnificent structure adjacent to a large minaret and unfinished mosque. Restlessness of our group begins to set in. Hunger pains and concern for our ever-changing itinerary begin to weight heavy on our minds. Without food soon, anarchy may reign.
2pm... We have met up with Abdellah Benlamhidi (legal council for MMA star Lee Murray--who was arrested for a $92 million bank heist in London) for lunch. Delicious kabobs, tea, and dessert have quelled the uprising. For now.
3:30pm... We walked around the block after lunch. No one knows why. Questions about the itinerary begin to surface again. Will we make it back to Morocco? No one knows.
4pm... Shopping in the Rabat medina. We split into 3 groups. Most of the guys get the group with Samir, myself included. This is good, because Samir can communicate our haggling in the market. Rodrigo, who we now refer to as Pedro, Pepe, or Fez, has gotten himself a great deal on a wood box. He even kicks in a few Peruvian Soles because the artisan wanted every last coin that was in his wallet. We all find something, actually. Which is rare.
6pm... We all escape the medina. But not before some of us used the bathroom there. Which wasn't a western bathroom. We went native, which here was nothing more than some porcelain surrounding a hole in ground. And a faucet to wash your feet. There was that there, too.
8pm...Communication has reached an impasse. No matter how hard we try to establish consensus, we can't choose something for dinner. We don't know what to do. Tara takes charge and commandeers the bus in order to get answers out of us. It mostly works, as we manage to only separate into two groups.
10pm... Drinks downstairs. Work to be done. Blogs to write. More drinks to have. It gets late. Fun laughs with Ashley and Josey. And I live again to make it to another day.
I'll leave you with a picture of me looking good.
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| Me. Looking good. I know that is no surprise. |
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