Mi Bodeguita del Medio

While my blog is named after a restaurant in Havana I hope to someday visit, here you will find musings, rants, political incorrectness, thoughts on Indian Nationalism, and some straight-forward opinions.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Hello Africa!

C and I went on our first trip together the same day I got back from home (Oman). Got into Barcelona airport and found out Lufthansa lost my bag, and it would arrive on the next flight. On a last minute impulse, at the check-in counter in Muscat, I was stupid enough to put my apartment keys in my check-in bag (please don't ever do that if you're reading this). I do have friends who have put their passports in the washing machine, so in comparison.... :) Still, I was clearly over-estimating the capabilities of the airline. Waited forever at the belt for my bag and was so disappointed to realize it won't make it, and later horrified to realize that my keys were in it. Thank God I didn't check in my cellphone or I would have really been *&^$%. I had to ring my neighbor's bell, certify I live next door and not a thief, jump over from her side on to my apartment's balcony and almost break into my own house (my roommate was at work) to pack my bag for the next flight. My roommate's dogs Tony and Nenu just live by themselves on our balcony and I was glad they seemed to recognize me. I pointed to my neighbor next door who was watching me jump over the balconies as "proof" that I live here, since the dogs recognize me and didn't bite off my ankle as I was jumping over. Serious embarrassment. Then, since I didn't have most of my stuff or suitcase, I packed a backpack (ie. wrinkled clothes), because C and I were leaving for Marrakech in the afternoon that day. Everything went relatively smoothly, we arrived in Marrakech late at night on Morrocan Airlines, after a layover in Casablanca, but then realized our bags didn't make it!!! Can someone lose their bags twice in a day!!! YES, unfortunately. We went to our traditional Morrocan guest house called Dar Maya which was nice and decided to just relax as I was really stressed, and wait for our bags which came the next morning. We ended up having a great week in Marrakech, and although had planned to visit a nearby town called Essaouira, I wasn't feeling very good on this trip so we just hung out in town. Our hotel was smack next to Jemaa Al Fna which we nicknamed FNAC after the Spanish bookstore. We spent a lot of time in and around the little streets surrounding the FNAC souq, which was amusing as the shopkeepers speak pretty much any language their tourists speak. I heard Amitabh Bachchan dialogues recited by an eager shopkeeper which ofcourse led to an impulse buy or two. I was more or less able to survive on the available veggie food, but any longer than one week and I would have begun slow starvation probably. We drank fresh OJ 3 to 4 times a day from the many orange juice stalls at FNAC, so fresh and so cheap. We rented a scooter, visited a couple of historic buildings, rode camels, and just chilled at Nikki Beach one day. On our last night, we decided to go to Pacha. It wasn't a lot like the Spanish Pacha back in Barcelona or Ibiza, it was a lot more like an overpriced sheesha bar and a long taxi ride out of town. When we got back to FNAC, it was late and as we were walking back to the hotel, a cop stopped me and started questioning me in Arabic. Ofcourse, I don't speak any Arabic at all, never mind the North African kind. We told him we were simply tourists. I got the impression he was insinuating I was a local hooker, and as I was contemplating whether to cuss him out, he apologized and quickly left us alone. That wrapped up an interesting week, and my first time ever in Africa. My long-lost suitcase was waiting for me at Barcelona airport so finally got home with all my bags and nothing missing. 

And that officially marks the end of summer. Now its back to work and back to reality.