When I wake up

What happens in Marrakech (part 2)

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Nov• 13•11

After my attempt to know more about the Morocco and its culture, traditions and daily living and given the fact that we had yet another day to spend somewhere else other than walking around the souks, we decided to take another day trip offered by the Riad Les Borjs de la Kasbah.

We decided to go Satti Fatma in the Ourika Valley, to see the water falls, but I was more interested in seeing the country side again, as well as see in person how the Berbers are, how they live, what they look like, what they eat, what they do, etc.

Our driver was the same guy who picked us at the airport. He told us that we could stop anytime, anywhere, we just had to let him know. We were the only ones in a rather comfortable minivan. In our way there, we saw the landscape changing colors. It went from brown to green to deep red to green again. We entered the valley Ourika Valley, where we could see the snowed Atlas Mountain’s peak. We stopped for photo opportunity and to see camels (for some reason I thought the camels at Franklin Park Zoo in Boston were well nourished compared to the ones we were just seeing).

Ourika Valley, Atlas Mountain

We kept on riding and a shallow stony river appears in the landscape. The water running through it comes from the mountains and it supplies the water for the villages in the valley. There are tables and chairs arranged as in a restaurant. And indeed, they are restaurants. The tables and chairs are almost in the water and there is where people come to cool off for it gets unbearably hot in the summer.

Water coming from the mountains.

Our driver took us inside a Berber house. It is humble mud house painted green. A strong stream of water coming from the mountain and somehow runs underneath the house spinning a helix which is used to mill the wheat that feeds the village. The next space is an open space that works as courtyard, kitchen, eating room. Off that open space is the hamman. An external fireplace is in one of the walls it heats the water used for the at least once a week bath required by the muslin faith. The bedrooms are simple spaces with beds covered with spreads that are weaved by the women in the house. Those spreads can be used as rugs as well. And of course they sell them to tourists.

At the end of the road our driver introduced us to Kamal who is going to guide us to the waterfalls. Kamal speaks Berber, Arabic, French, some English as well as some Spanish. He’s a very agile, skinny and kind of funny guy who smiles a lot and climbs the waterfalls twice a day. He tells us that there are 25 Berber villages in the area and they prefer to live up on top of the mountains. The Berbers come down to the valley to get their vegetables and some dry goods. It’s very cold up there but they are used to it. He showed us some of those villages and they don’t look like it can get warm up there.

There are four waterfalls. We went to the first one. For me they are just waterfalls. “If there is water and it’s falling, then there are waterfalls,” Kimmie said and I agreed. Besides, I was getting such a workout that it was killing me and I felt ashamed knowing that I go to the gym quite regularly and for this kid who is definitively a heavy smoker was like if he were just waling half a block to get another pack of cigarettes.

We headed back and in our way back we saw group of kids wearing lamb’s skin outfits (I’m not sure if those skins were from the recently slaughtered lambs) in procession on the streets. Some of them were with tambourines and other musical instruments.

We went to the Riad and talked to Mohamed about our disappointment with the new Riad we were supposed to move to. They changed the price after the one we had agreed on the day before when went to see them. I talked to the Les Borj’s manager, an English/French/Spanish guy, whom was very nice and he gave us a few names to check.

I was in the Riad’s waiting room trying to find a place to move to for one remaining night. I was really into it and I couldn’t hear Kimmie calling me from the reception area. “There is a guy here who has rooms in his house. And it’s a walking distance from here,” she whispered to me. I came to the reception area and there he was, wearing a djellaba. He was with Steve, an English guy who was staying with him. “Hi, I’m Simon and I have a home, Riad Laksiba, where you can stay, it’s this much lbs per night and you can come, see it and then decide…,” and he didn’t stop talking. What Simon was saying was not only interesting but also fascinating. He’s a very warm, friendly interesting guy…

As we were about to enter Riad Laksiba, for some reason I don’t recall, the topic came and he said that Riad Laksiba was featured in House Hunters International… I don’t watch too much TV. I just watch a few shows and one of them is House Hunters International. Then it all came back to me. “Are you an architectural designer? Is your wife’s name Fiona? Do you have two kids? Was the title of the house in question? I didn’t stop asking questions about what I saw and remembered of the show. As we started walking inside the house, more things were coming to my memory and I even remembered Fiona’s purple scarf. Simon gave us all the details about the show and I was so fascinated and I even got a little bit emotional. “Vas a llorar?” Alistair would’ve asked at this point, had he been there.

“Davida is an Italian guy who lives in London who came for a yoga retreat and liked it so much, that he decided to stay one more week,” Simon told us. He also told us about Abdou, who is an 18-year-old guy whom he knows since Abdou was 12-year-old, works for him and he considers him a son. There was also Mellak, who works as the Riad’s manager. Mellak was hired from the school and studied law. But what Simon was more surprised when he was interviewing Mellak, was what Mellak and a friend do on the side. They collect money to clothe and feed the kids in the Berber villages. The death rate in kids under 3-year-old due to hypothermia is very high up in the villages. Mellak and his friends bring what they collect and try to educate the villagers about it.

“Fiona says that I talk a lot and never stop,” Simon tells us. All he’s saying is what one does not find in books. After four non-stop talking hours and some mint tea, he walked us our Riad and I asked about what was those rectangles painted on the walls we were seeing. “Are they parking spaces for the bikes,” I asked.

And Simon starts telling about those rectangles painted on the wall… (to be continued)

Posted in Color(s), Family and friends, Life, Miscellaneous, Trevel | No Comments »

What happens in Marrakech, stays in…

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Nov• 09•11

Contrary of what we are used to when we hear or read the slogan “What happens in… stays in… ,” “What happens in Marrakech, stays in my heart and I’ll be more than happy to share it with you…

I learned more about the real, local, non-commercial Marrakech in the last 5 hours of my fifth day here. We met Simon, we are staying in a Riad that was featured in House hunters international, the voting walls, the communal oven, belly dancers, how to use the tagine, and the community spirit, among other things that we didn’t have time to talk about.

Stay tuned for more for it’s a lot to share…

Posted in Family and friends, Food/Wine/Martinis and the likes, Interiors, Life, Miscellaneous, Trevel | No Comments »

Outside the Medina

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Nov• 08•11

Outside the Medina
Monday, November 7, 2011 (Abraham’s day)

And yes, there is life outside the medina, and what comes with it. and yes, because of our failed trip to Touradant, we planned a day trip. We are going to Essaouria

There are five call to prayers thruought the day: 5ish am, noonish, 3ish, 6ish, and 8ish or 9ish pm. All of them according to the sun position. Today the first one was at 5:18 am, and lasted well for two hours. Everyone can hear it for it’s done via loud speakers.

We wait to be picked up outside our hotel and we can see everybody all dressed up with a mat in hand walking to the mosques. We were told that after they come back from their religious services they will slaughter the lamb and eat the head first. All of them, adults and kids wear the djellabas and the babuchas and they all look very nice.

Marrakech is quiet. There is not too much traffic and most people are walking.

In a minivan we went to pick up two more people outside the medina. We went to the modern city and to a modern hotel. We were supposed to be leaving at 8 am but the two people we went to pick up outside the were not ready (they were still sleeping), so we leave at 9:15 am.

Modern buildings are outside the medina as well as restaurants and cafes. Wide avenues and at some point one can see the Atlas mountains with its snowed peaks.

Nice two hour ride to Essaouria. The country side varies from green to brown, argan trees (where argan oil is made from) and some palm trees. We see goats in the trees. These goats chew the argan tree fruit and what’s left is what is used to make the oil from. We stopped for a break and Kimmie was trap in a restroom. She called for help and one of the ladies who was late, ignored her…

Essaouria is an 17 century port town that was built by the Portugueses. They contracted a French architect to design the port and to make it more appealing than other ports by designing the town on a grid instead as a maze.

The town is quiet and we see kids grilling lamb’s heads in improvised grills in the middle od the street. Smoke is covering the town and we just walk around and head to the boat building part to get away from the smoke.

We head back and get to the hotel where we had dinner and call it a night.

Posted in Life, Trevel | No Comments »

Marrakech by ourselves

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Nov• 07•11

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Last night we went to the main square for dinner. The big plaza, which by now we recognize well, gets lively with thousands of people at night. Jogglers, monkeys, music, orange juice, serpent enchanters, henna tattoos, traditional dancers… you name it. We ended up having dinner at a nice restaurant facing the square. Chicken in a honey and almond sauce accompanied with rice with vegetables was my entree. For dessert, oranges with cinnamon…and yes, they sell liquor.

A young waiter asked me in Arabic if I was Moroccan. It was funny, he again asked me in French the same question. We chatted for a bit and finally I tell him I’m Colombian and he said Shakira is not good because she isn’t Arabic enough. Belly dancers come to the room and a little girl comes to dance with them.

We went to our hotel around 11 pm and it felt pretty safe walking back. It feels that way always.

This morning, we asked Mohamed to recommend us a hotel since there is a group coming to this one and they don’t have any room available. He recommended one around the corner. We went to see it but the prices are too high. Again he recommended another one and this one looks promising. We settled for that one.

Then, we head out to walk around. “In order to see this city, you have to walk,” says the maitre d’ whom by now we know and chat with. We walk in a different direction this time. Again, lots of motorcycles and the locals are preparing for the feast. Lambs are being taken home by car, bike, foot, etc. “There goes another rug,” a local said, after we watch another lamb getting handled by two guys.

Since we are tourists (there is not doubt about it) we get people to come and offer to help us finding our way around. We went through the Jewish quarter (another section of the medina) and at some point we ended up in a herb store where Kim Wong bought some oils and of course we were given mint tea.

Surprisingly enough, we ended up where we started. We went in circles. Then we headed to the souks again and walk and walk and walk. We walked for almost six hours. And while we were walking we bought tickets for a day trip for tomorrow (finally we found someone who’s working).

A long day is ahead of us and we go to our hotel, have dinner and some wine and excited about tomorrow’s day trip.

Posted in Food/Wine/Martinis and the likes, Life, Trevel | No Comments »

Marrakech

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Nov• 06•11

Marrakech, November 5, 2011

Upon arrival to our Riad, which located inside one of the five quarters of the Marrakech’s medina, we were given a brief tour of the boutique hotel. Mohamed, the front desk guy, told us about the Abraham’s day celebration next Monday November 7th.

Then, we were taken to the waiting room, a very nice open room with low sofas and coffee (or tea?) tables, off the central square courtyard, where we savored sweet mint tea (Moroccan whisky, they call it) that was offered to us. After that, they brought us to our rooms, which are simply beautiful. I haven’t slept in a single bed in a long time, but it looked so inviting and comfortable after our long journey here.

After we settled, we headed out for a walk to get familiarized with the area. It looked a bit complicated in the map that was handed to us, and it took us just one “let’s go back to where we started,” before we were walking like locals.

Lots of motorcycles, bikes and cars share the roads with people. We saw just one accident. Also, there were a lot of lambs and kids selling hay on the streets. We learned that is a tradition: kids selling hay to feed the lambs. Every household should have a lamb to be slaughtered to celebrate Abraham’s day. “That’s the only time when you see people on the street, walking with knives in hand and with blood all over them,” Mohamed told us. “It’s a big celebration, like the American Thanksgiving,” he said.

We had dinner in our hotel. We tried our first “tagine” And at that point I confirmed what I was afraid of before my trip here, that I was in trouble for I fell in love with the Moroccan cuisine, and I had just had a little taste of it.

We were tired and exhausted and we called it a night around 9pm that day.

Saturday, November 5, 2011
We went for breakfast and met our tourist guide for a 10 am departure. He told us about Marrakech’s history and showed around the medina. Definitively worth the money. And even more so, to have a private guide. The tour ended at the souk, some sort of bazar. We were told that it is a maze but no to worry for we were with someone who knew it very well.

Then, the expected rug shopping was presented to us. Abdulah, our guide, took us to a reputable rug store “So you can see,” he said. The show stared and rug after rug were displayed in a very elaborate choreographed style. Hard to say no when you kind of like one of them, but it’s even harder to say, no thank you, after you had been given tea and a good price for a rug!

I bought the items I was asked to. The djellabas (A traditional Morrocan tunic). And I was done. No more shopping to do there. Kimmie ended up buying a rug and I was very proud of her negotiation skills. Abdulah said good bye to us after we were done and we once again managed to get to our hotel easily.

As soon as we got to the front desk, we wanted to arrange the transportation to Touradant, our next destination. “Well…. There is no transportation that day. It’s Abraham’s day, the big celebration, and nobody works that day and everything is close,” Mohamed said. “We’re screwed,” Kimmie said. “What are we going to do? And we don’t have a hotel here in Marrakech,” she added very sadly. “It is an adventure, Kimie, an adventure,” I said.

Mohamed left for the day, and we were left without a simple clue of what to do next. The new front desk guy, is very nice but does not have a clue either! At least we could extend our stay in our hotel. “I’d ask the reservations person tomorrow to see if we can accommodate you guys,” the new Mohamed told us. “Let’s go out and have dinner,” I said to Kim… And we head out for the night!

Posted in Food/Wine/Martinis and the likes, Life, Miscellaneous, Trevel | No Comments »

Africa mia (part 2)

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Nov• 05•11

Madrid, November 4, 7:15 am.
The flight, as announced “once again” by the Iberia pilot, was a little bumpy and long, 6 hours 15 min, but, I got to dozed off for about an hour.

It’s still dark at 7:15 am and the airport in Madrid is deserted. I don’t hear the usual ding-dongs or the loud speakers and I think to myself: Spaniards are lazy.

In the restroom, I spotted a sign that reads: “Dispose your used needles here.” Very advanced I think.

We walk towards our departure gate and stop at a cafe where a wi-fi sign located. No free wi-fi I’m afraid. I keep thinking to myself: I need something to like about Spain/Spaniards and it’s not the we-fi thing, perhaps it is their rudeness combined with the way they talk? Now, I have to clarify, not all the Spaniards are like that and also I have to state that my father’s ancestors were from “la madre patria.”

And I realized that still there are three more hours to go wait…

Marrakech, November 4, 12:45pm
It’s dry! like my good friend Mark will jokingly say about my cooking after a story I told him.

I’m talking about the Sahara desert, dry and big! It’s 3500000 square miles! As soon as I sat down in the plain to Marrakech I fell asleep. When I woke up we were flying over this extended brown beautiful and magnificent piece of the world and even though I was really tired I didn’t get tired of seeing it. Then, I started seeing scattered little green squares, as the plane kept going forward I could see more of them, and more and bigger. And then I realized we were getting closer to Marrakech.

To be continued…

Posted in Miscellaneous | No Comments »

Africa mia (just a little tiny bit for now)

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Nov• 04•11

“It’s going to be raining in Madrid when we land,” the Iberia pilot announces. Madrid is where we are connecting in our way to Morocco and then is when I realized we are finally in our way there.

I did not have too much time to think and get excited about this trip, for the load of work was way beyond measure. But now that we are squeezed in our coach seats, I have time to think about what is ahead of us.

“It’s an adventure,” I said to Kimmie (my beloved travel companion) when we were talking hotels and what the amenities they offer. “I just want to see part of Morocco, and want to see the Sahara dessert,” I added. I don’t care if there is a twin or king size bed as long as I have a bed to sleep on (or to try to sleep?).

Right now, in our way there, all I can think of is that I’m going to one of the places where I’ve always wanted to go. I’m intrigued not only by the name of the country but also by the culture, the food, its people, the medinas, the images I can capture with my eyes as well as with my camera.

I have not expectations and I did this on purpose for I don’t want spoil the spontaneity of what every moment brings. Or as they say, I’ll play it by ear.

I don’t care if it’s raining in Madrid. I’m not staying there (just one night on our way back), all I care is how soon we can get there!

Stay tuned for more.

Posted in Miscellaneous | No Comments »

Amistad

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Oct• 18•11

I took me an awful lot of time to start writing this entry. I thought about how to define friends and friendship, then, I realized that many words, pages, chapters, books and even dissertations have been written about the subject. But one thing I read very long time ago, perhaps when I was a sophomore in high school, has been chiseled in my heart. It was a card given to me by a friend with this message “friends are the family we choose.”

I have had the privilege of witness that. Although friends come and go, as I stated before, sometimes it is hard to let some of them go. It’s the continuity, the camaraderie, the little secrets, the ups and downs, the history, then jokes, the tears, the laughs, the fights, the makeup, and the little bit of this, the little bit of that, that makes it hard to let go.

This week two of my very good friends are leaving after many years. The perras have to leave but I know I’ll keep them in my heart. I thought the goodbye part was going to be a hard one… How wrong I was, it was awful! Though I spend the last months preparing for that, I couldn’t avoid getting emotional and decided to ignore the hasta la vista and the promises that come with it. They know me well and will understand my absence in their farewell.

But again, as in every family, some members leave the house and some new ones arrive. There are new arrivals and the door is open for more to come.

Today, with a broken heart and a full blown selfishness, I’m saying this to my beloved bitches: I’ll miss you and will always love you both! And this song I learned when I used to go to yoga: “May the long time sun shine upon you, all love surround you, and the pure light within you, guide your way on.”

And to the new members of my chosen family, I promise this to you: I’ll love you and will miss you when the time comes (hopefully not too soon)!

Posted in Family and friends, Life | 2 Comments »

Whatchamacallit?

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Sep• 30•11

then...

Call it whatever you want. I know what it was.

There was a time in my life when I felt adrift, lonely and lost! The only thing I had, were a few friends, and I didn’t want to bring them down with my feelings. So the only one left was God (yes, I do believe in God–believe it or not–and in a few saints, the Immaculate Conception being one on the top of my list). In God I find my refuge, my hope, my super good friend, my confident and my last resource.

So lost and troubled I was, that even with God I had a fight. This one happened one Sunday after Mass. It must’ve been one of these weeks where the feelings stated above were in full swing. But by going to Mass I was looking for his love, company, direction, comfort, nurture and clarity… I left Mass feeling the way I came: empty. Empty and angry, for I didn’t feel I got what I was looking for.

With a broken heart, feeling defeated and nowhere to go and since that was my last resource I said: “Hey you God… wherever you are… I want you to listen to me, I’m here, I need you, I’m feeling your abandon and I’m starting to believe you don’t exist and all of this is a bunch of crap. Show me a sign of your existence, show me a sign you love me, show me that you’re there for me… C’mon, I dare you,” I ended with tears rolling down.

In a rage I started my car (my beloved Geo Metro… I used to call her Intrepido) and as soon as I started Intrepido there was Peter Gabriel singing “DON’T GIVE UP.” Tears kept on rolling down my ckeeks, but know they were happy tears. That was the sign I was looking for. And I knew I was never abandoned or forgotten.

On my way home I stopped at the long gone Tower Records and bought the CD. I drove home very slowly and played that song over and over and over and over… And whenever I feel a little bit off track, I think about that moment and play that song!

You can call it whatever you want, I call it MY MIRACLE, and to the song, I call it my reassurance, my hymn!

Posted in Life, Simplicity | 1 Comment »

Did I…. what?

Written By: Javier Amador-Peña - Sep• 23•11

A few years ago, when I went to Colombia for my brother’s funeral, someone I knew came to visit with me and express his sympathy. He did also tell me, how good he was doing, how much he loved his family and pretty much how successful he was. “I remember that conversation we had,” he said. “It changed my life. Thank you.”

I’m not sure if he said that just to comfort me or because we hadn’t seen each other in a long time or perhaps the distance or maybe he hadn’t had the opportunity to express that. I was more intrigued about what the conversation was about than interested in his success, so that’s why I asked, in an uncomfortable kind of way: “Which conversation?”

“Remember that day you were at your sister’s house, you were in the terrace and I started talking to you about running away from home,” he asked me. “You were the first person I run into after I made my decision and I told you about it and why I was doing it,” he continued. “I do remember vaguely,” I responded. He continued “I had just flunked my second semester at the university after being on probation, and I felt so embarrassed and stupid. I couldn’t face my parents and I couldn’t even see myself as something else other than an industrial engineer?” And he added: “I was afraid, confused, mad at myself and I just wanted someone to know where I was going, so this person could tell my parents what happened to me or my whereabouts.” “Then, we started talking and talking and talking for few hours and finally you told me: it’s ok if you feel like a looser, it’s ok if you feel like you have disappointed your parents, what is not ok, is running away from home, causing anguish to your parents and not open your eyes to the fact that you can be something else other than an engineer.”

At this point that conversation was coming back to me and we started to remember. I remembered that I told you “perhaps engineering is not your call and you could switch major, have you consider that? Why don’t you go back home and talk to your parents and tell them the truth? We did also remembered how I walked with you to your house… Then said to me “I think a big part of my success and what I’m now, is in part because with that conversation you made a big difference in my life, and for that I’ll be forever grateful,” he finished giving me a hug.

After he was gone, I felt bad for not remembering what for him was a big deal, but I also felt good for helping to make a difference in someone’s life.

As I tend to forget things (one of the reasons why I don’t lie, for it’s so embarrassing being caught on a lie), I wonder if I have made a difference in another person’s life. I know for sure that there are some people who really have made a big difference in mine, and to them I’m forever grateful and they know it.

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

1 2 3 4 >>