Back to South Carolina

Merry Post-Christmas and happy pre-New Year's.

The holiday came and went with visits from Barry and Mackenzie and Wendy and Sean.

Kocur freaks out when Wendy comes over. She's a chicken. Just like Thanksgiving, Wendy showed up and Kocur just started visibly shaking. She refused to socialize and eventally went outside, which she normally hates to do.

Eventually, she came back in but when Wendy went to leave she ran off into the computer room to hide. I called her and she cowered. She refused to come and even hid in the fireplace. I decided to torture her and went and picked her up and carried all 35 pounds of her to Wendy's truck so I could pretend she was going with her.

Boy, the sausage ball just quivered. She is such a spoiled monster.

She's going to be abandoned tomorrow, when I head back to South Carolina. Karen is catering one more huge party and needs help, and since I'm no longer going anywhere Jan. 3, so what the heck?

Zippy might tag along, but mostly to head up to Charlotte, but she's not sure yet. I have no idea when she'll decide whether or not to go, but she has until about 10 a.m. to figure it out.

I'm trying not to think further ahead than next week, because it's depressing. No job,no prospects. I have faith it will come together, but at the moment it's not something to dwell on.

I'll be back to Havana, inchallah, before the Chick-Fil-A bowl kickoff.

Again with the nephews

I'm done with South Carolina for the present and am back in Orlando babysitting nephews. Apparently we sent them back slightly damaged and Zippy and Papa aren't qualified to keep them for awhile.

It would help, of course, if the nephews would actually heed warnings, such as "If you're going to go outside, put on your shoes," but they don't.

Anyway, as it turns out, Zac ratted out Uncle Sean And His Motorbike Ride, so even though everyone in Havana has "Mud" attached to their name, I can now post the photos of the boys on their fairly tame ride.

So I'm now keeping them in Orlando, and God, it's going to be a long week. I've somehow already misplaced the gate opener thingie, and Chris is more freaked out than I am. Since I haven't been anywhere, it's got to be here. And since I have no money and no desire to wander around in Christmas traffic, I have no plans to leave the house. I figure it'll turn up.

The boys are asleep now, and I'm watching "The Men Who Stare at Goats." Amazingly odd. I'm amused at the Jedi references, but only because Ewan MacGregor is in it. And also because I understand some of the Arabic.

This week's plans are skimpy. I'm checking out some potential online purchases, but since I am again without a job, the possibilities are not exactly endless.

Yes, without a job. After I accepted the verbal offer and worked a month, it somehow went away. They reneged without much of a reason, not that it would matter. I'm trying not to get mired down in it or anything but it's dejecting.

I leave from Orlando either Thursday night or Friday morning and then go to Havana for Christmas. Shortly thereafter, I will go back to South Carolina to help with a party on Dec. 30. At first I didn't think I'd be able to, but since I have no job, I have no place to be Jan. 2, so why not?

The third photo here is from the Greenville opening of Ben's Yogurt Mountain store.

A rented mule

Right now, I am in North Augusta, SC, helping my aunt with her catering business. She's got eight parties in a 10-day span and needed an extra pair of willing hands to throw together some awesome food dishes.

Due to the fact I can work remotely and have hit all my known deadlines, I managed to become that rented mule. I've been put to work slicing, dicing, washing dishes and serving food at Christmas parties all around the North Augsta area (which, truthfully, equates to Augusta.)

In the process, I've eaten some good food, too. My God, have I eaten good food. The beef burgundy was to die for and I can't wait until lunch Sunday when I get to have leftovers from tonight's party -- herbed chicken.

We've dined out thrice and there's an upcoming visit to Chic-Fil-A to inhale one of those peppermint chocolate chip shakes.

I'm really having a blast here. Yes, it's been busy, but it's also been nice to catch up with my aunt and uncle and hear everything about family members I don't often see.

And the house is fabulous with great gardens. Kocur got to come and she is also having fun, but hers alternates with being terrified.

This ties in with Percy, Karen's dog. He's a Great Dane, with the emphasis on "Great." It's funny, because if dogs understood irony, Kocur would finally get she's being treated like she treated Bucky the chihuahua.

But she doesn't get it. What she gets is that Mama leaves her out in the cold a couple times a day so she can work, and when Mama frees Missy K from her pen (which is larger than my yard in Detroit), the Koke-a-Doke guilts Mama big time. She sits in my lap and just whines for 10 minutes.

I've tried to explain to her than when I let her out of the pen, she needs to remain calm and collected, because Percy has a *really strong* chase instinct. As soon as Kocur breaks into a trot, Percy is there to play.

He's just playing, but having your back nipped by a mouth as large as a football is a little terrifying if you only weigh 35 pounds, so Kocur takes exception and gets her little Mohawk up. Percy is just bewildered because he's just trying to play with his new toy.

They're really accustomed to each other now, but some things are trigger points -- like food.

Kokey guilted me into giving her a cookie one day, but, as is her pattern, she didn't eat it. She hoarded it, and I realized Percy was going to figure out she had one. So, I called him into the kitchen in order to be fair and give him one.

He got as far as Kocur's bed, where she was sitting and protecting her food. I kept calling Percy, and he just looked at me like, "Well, gee, you're calling me in there to get a cookie, but there's a perfectly good one sitting right here, and no one's eating it."

And he wolfed it down.

Oh, my, Kocur was SO mad. She jumped up and growled and tried to attack him, and of course he's just swallowed the cookie and looking at her like, "Gee, you weren't doing anything with it, what's the problem."

I tried to make it right by giving her another cookie, but two days later she still hasn't eaten it.

My girl dog is just so twisted.

Back in the saddle, sort of

Well, I've been back to America for about a week now and am trying to figure out which end is up. It's definitely weird, and I am almost to the point where I am more comfortable in Morocco, but this is how it goes.

Oddly, I left Morocco on 11/21 -- a year and a day after the last time I left. This time, I had much better closure and feel good overall about the whole mess.

I am officially employed with Rustic Pathways and unofficially am drowning. I came in late to the program and most (ie: all but me) people in my position have been with the company for awhile, so they know what they're doing. Or at least have a clue. I have little, and I am trying to decipher the emails and get my work done with as little harassment to others as I can manage.

Most people are on vacation now, since you get six weeks a year but it has to be taken from something like October to December. That hasn't stopped people from piling on the deadlines, and I am muddling as best I can.

My title is country director, which in the future will have more meaning but right now it means One Who Stumbles. There is so much to do!

Today, I am struggling through budgets, which are in Excel files. I have four of them, and they're closely related but still require individual input on 165 different lines. Hoo boy.

Two are for real and existing programs but two are for phantom programs. They CAN be real, if someone orders them. They're two programs for Australian teachers, and I am having a devil of a time trying to figure out what exactly that means.

Saturday, I am driving north to South Carolina and will stay at Karen's and help her with some catering. Fortunately, I can work remotely and it doesn't matter if I'm in Havana or North Augusta.

Kocur doesn't know this yet, but she is going. I've bailed out on my baby girl enough so she gets to make this road trip. I hope she is a good doggie while we're staying at Karen's.

Camels don't buck, they spit

Well, I am in the desert now, the place with sand and no water. Excecpt there really is water, just not a lot of it. (Not that I ever saw it, but there were a few things growing here and there.)



One of the cool things about this job is I now get to travel to the places that most other PCVs visited during service. I loved Midelt and therefore didn't bother to leave unless I had to; now I have to.



And it has been cool, honestly. And this desert trek is something I should have done, and even though we'll be back in summer, having done it now, I think it's something the students will have to experience. The desert is a beautiful sea of sand, disturbed only by footprints, camel tracks and the annoying 4-wheelers. It's just amazingly beautiful, and the thing to do is arrive in the evening and then trek out to a Berber tent, to watch the sunset, have dinner, sleep, then get up and watch the sunrise, drink tea and come back for a shower.



And that's what I did. I wasn't ready for it, really, because I'd spent the day in transit, but once at Nassar Palace (chosen at random, but definitely the place I'd bring the students to), I had about two hours to get ready to leave.



It was a bit awkward, though. Essentially, I am traveling alone but thought there'd be others with me. No. There were supposed to be others, but they had car trouble and didn't show, so it was me, my guide and, once at the site, two other men. It made me feel a bit out of place, like they had to enterain me or something. (And honestly, after staying with friends and family for the last four nights, all I wanted was a bed of my own.)







The camels themselves are ugly beasts. The ride for me was rough. I didn't like the mounting and dismounting. What happens is you get on while the camel is seated, then it stands up, two feet at a time. The butt comes up first, lurching you forward and as soon as you regain your balance, the front comes up suddenly.

There are no stirrups, either, and no reins or bit. You're led by a friendly nomad (my guide was Mohammed) and you just hope that nothing happens and he loses control. I can't imagine being lurched off a camel, but I kept telling myself the sand was softer than the ranch's dirt.

The ride isn't so smooth. You kind of get used to it, hanging on to the metal "T" that's the saddle horn, but then you hit softer or harder sand and the ride changes.

Getting off, which we did to play in the dunes, is just as bizarre as getting on, just backwards. The front goes down first and you feel (or at least I felt) like tumbling over the long neck and ugly head, but then the back comes down and suddenly you've level again.
The tent was surprisingly comfortable. I think in randomly picking my hotel I got a great one. The beds were off the ground (which is really cold) and there was a little toilet and running water. (Running from a big jug set up, but hey, I had soap, so I didn't care.)

The tagine dinner was faulous and the sky -- you just can't imagine. It's so vast it's inexplicable. You recall God's words to Abraham about having more decendants than the stars and suddenly you feel so inconsesquential!

I saw one falling star and something that must have been Laurie's space junk or ET's cousin. It was just a tiny spot, but it was definitely moving across the sky. I lost sight of it after about three minutes.

I'm back at the hotel now, plugging through paperwork. I got the bundle of stuff that applies to January-March planning, and man, it's a lot.

My visit in Midelt was a lot fun. I met with my old tutor, who made some great suggestions about the job, but more importantly to me, I met my host mom and EC. I miss both of them.

Naima, the horrid sister, is just the same. Nothing to say to me, not a nice word for anyone. When the four of us sat down to eat, she, Mimoun and Rabha just went at it. Crabby bitch, she is. I don't miss her -- or Mimoun, really, though he's nice enough -- but I do miss my host mom. She's so open and friendly. I never, ever would have finished service had I not had her to support me. I also met with some of the children from the dar chebab. I didn't intend to, but ran into a few of them and was obligated to visit, even though the dar cheban was technically closed. (But open, as usual -- the king was visiting.) It was nice to get some closure. I think now they realize how much I meant to them and they meant to me.

Trying to speed it up

Well, I've managed to get a ton done in Fes so I am moving on this morning. I'm going close by, to Sefrou, and will try to meet with someone there and, if possible, get out of town the same day.
We'll see if that happens, but I am going to try. I feel so behind schedule -- not that I really had one -- but it's hard gathering all this information.

It's also discombubulating. I go from hotel to hotel daily, taking notes and then snapping photos but when I get back to wherever I am staying to sit and sort them, they kind of fog up. I mean, it's a hotel.

By and large, hotels are hotels. Pictures of hotel interiors look amazingly the same. The notes differ, in some cases -- "has hot water only in the morning," "no breakfast" -- but mostly it's just a judgment call as to where.

For example, in Fes, do you want to stay near/in the medina, or in the new center? It's just a preference. The new center is nice, but the medina is always oozing with excitement.

But I felt like I sped through things efficiently yesterday. I met with a woman who not only does tours in the nearby small town I've targeted, but also has transportation for the entire tour. That was big to be able to speak in English about that. Even if I don't go with her company, it made finding out some details a lot easier, such as am I responsible for housing the drivers? (No, that's part of the fee the driver is paid.)

So maybe my task is clearing, but I feel like I've lost time and am trying to catch up. I meet my higher-up on Nov, 5, and in between now and then I really hope to try out the camel thing so we can be done with the western part of the country and just focus on the Marrakech and Ourzasete areas, which I know little about.

But I'm not sure if that will be possible, since it's about an eight-hour trek from the camels to Kech and I am just struggling with the calendar.

Again, there are two holidays -- one consisting of multiple days -- and another holiday that's more minor during the rest of the time I'm here. That complicates travel and just makes it really tough to work things out.

But I really think I knocked out Fes. From here, we are schedule to do side trips to this really nice city, Moulay Idriss and the Roman ruins, but I have done those and don't feel the need to scout them. So I am fortunate to hopefully gain back one of those days I've felt I've lost.

It's been good to be in Fes again. I've met with two friends here and not only caught up with them but also gotten good inside information on things like places to eat, which is awesomely helpful.

Coincidentally, and I didn't know this, PC trained here again and I met some of the new volunteers. This can be really helpful since they're in cities I could work with and do community service. It's always nice to know you can help a worthwhile project, and I know the ones the PCs do have been vetted and will benefit to the communities' sustainability.

Leaving another city

I've spent three nights in Chefchouen and will be glad tomorrow to move on to Fes. This is a beautiful city and every PCV who visited here told me I should go. I never did, but now it's on the tour so I've checked it out.

And it is fabulous. There are nice little pensions in the medina (and boy, I checked out a lot of them) and many options for hikes.

The city is set on a hill, which isn't making my ankle happy, but hey, neither are my hamstrings. It's rather toasty, too, and I can't help but wonder what kind of wardrobe I should bring in order to do this in June and July.

I actually had quite a rough day today but it got better at lunch, when I had a fantastic fish tagine at a place called Chez Fouad. You'd better believe that's on the list now.

Eating is something I'm not good at when I am tracking down information. I get to a point and I'm famished, but I can see a goal. I forget the food, meet the goal and then the rush makes me forget about food. (Dana, I know you don't understand this.)

So I'll sit down at some point and think, "Gee, I haven't eaten anything since X," with X being at least a couple of mealtimes ago.

And of course, part of what I'm supposed to do in the first place is investigate restaurants. But, being in media for so long, it's part of my nature to go to an event and essentially not take part but just observe. So I'm standing there with a notebook and pen, writing down menu options, instead of tasting them.

It's a process. I'm trying. I'm not used to spending money, and I'm accustomed to looking for the deal. If there's sacrifice involved, well, I'm OK with that.

And even now, when I am told to try out the good stuff, I know I personally am just fine with the other, so, even though I'll write a recommendation for the group, I just can't bring myself to fork out the money for it. It doesn't matter that it's not my money -- it's the principle. I know I don't need it, so I just can't justify it.

It is a strange balance. I'm trying to think like a parent, which is hard since I'm not (and yes, I get asked this on a daily basis here). But I know the parents of my will-be travelers will have forked out a lot of money (even *not* by PC standards!) and I would think they'd expect their pride and joys to have accommodations that wouldn't freak them out. For example, the roach on my toilet at the PC hotel haunt of the skeeters in my current room . (My fault -- I left the door to the terrace open.)

But another part of me really wants to introduce the kids to what real Moroccans go through. I'd like them to stay in a house and forgo a bath for two nights. I think it'd be nice for them have to use a Turkish toilet, since so many in the world use them. Let them travel in grand taxis, smashed together four across the back seat. Thousands of Moroccans do it daily, and, quite honestly, it can be a lot of fun.

I feel like if we're walking down the street and someone invites us for tea, we should be able to do that. After all, it happens all the time here. You meet someone, you go have tea. It's so natural, and it's really awesome. I mean, come on. Where in America can you essentially say "Hi, how are you?" and immediately be invited over for food? It's the culture here, and I want the kids to know it.

On that note, that's another reason I haven't eaten much. I've been having tea, either at cafes talking to potential guides or -- in one case -- when I went with the hotel owner (who's maybe 30) to his mom's house.

My Arabic is improving, which is cool. I have learned a few new words and am able to at least explain what I am trying to do. I've had a few hitches, though. Today I went to the hospital to try to find out what to do if "there is a problem with the children" when I return this summer.

The reply, in French, was quite long and, with the help of someone else, I finally was able to understand that he thought I'd asked about the medical problems *Moroccan" children face. It was an interesting topic, but it wasn't at all relevant.

And that's another thing you just smile through as you take another sip of tea. Everyone has their opinions about, for example, my itinerary, the best guide, the ways of transport, etc. I hear them out, practicing listening more than anything (I really am following more conversations already!) and just sip tea.

Anyway, tomorrow, I head on to Fes. More later.

Heading north from Rabat

I've spent a few days in Rabat, which, regretably, I've discovered isn't on my itinerary at all. I think it should be and will lobby for it.

When I realized it wasn't, I wish I could have left but I have to stop in at the Embassy anyway, so I hung around. It's been a good way to get acclimated. I'm staying in the familiar PC hotel and was able to get things like a SIM card and modem for phone and Internet access.

And I checked out the tourist things. Rabat is a beautiful city - far better to visit than Casablanca. (Remember, the movie was filmed on a Hollywood set!)

I went to both the Chellah and the Mausoleum of Mohammed V. The former are ruins thousands of years old; the latter, housed in the ruins of an uncompleted mosque that, if finished, would have been the seconod-largest in the world.

It's very odd to be here as a tourist, albeit a working one. (Despite staying in a PC-level hotel, I have gone into some very nice ones for research.) I am not accustomed to bringing a camera everywhere and taking notes. And, when hassled, I am not able to honestly say "Ana machi tourist" or "Ana ghir muttaweia." "I'm not a tourist" or "I'm just a volunteer."

In Rabat, the hassle isn't too high-level. There are so many tourists here it's really a good way to ease into it. I did get my first marriage proposal last night, though.

It's shocking, really, how much is accepted here. I spotted two Moroccan girls wearing shorts, and I almost fell over. That is so hachuma in most other parts of the country, but in Rabat, it's just Sunday.

I'm leaving here today after the Embassy errand and heading north to Tangier. Technically, it's not on the itinerary either, but it's not far from Chefchouen, which is. And we'll likely play around Chefchouen some, which might mean a trip to Tangier.

I've never been, obviously, so I am trying to do research on the area. I've got some hotel names from Couchsurfers and suggestions for what to do in the area. I also hope to visit Tetouan, a place I've heard good things about, before going to Chefchouen and then down to the Fes area.

Right now, the weather is fairly toasty. I actually dread the thought of being here in the summer. Or not here, really -- the Sahara. I still can't believe that normal people would consider the camels in July. I think right now it won't be bad, but man, it will be super hot in Erfoud in the summer.

More for your money

I finally made it safely to Rabat, and man, it’s been brutal. I am already a day behind and completely off-schedule: I’d intended to go to Marrakech first and work on that area.

But after pretty darn awesome flights and arriving a grand total of 10 minutes early, due to a late departure from Atlanta to Paris, my single checked bag didn’t arrive. I was surprised, really, because on the transfer bus in Paris I met three other women going to Casa, and their bags all made it.

Side note: They were doing Cross-Cultural Solutions in Rabat, which is the same program that carried me to Yaroslav, Russia. And one of the women had recently volunteered there as well. To bring the circle in closer, PC’s director of safety when I arrived quit his job to begin the CCS program in Morocco, but I don’t think he’s still there.

Anyway, back to the story – which is a boring one. My plan had been to take the train to Kech, since I’m more concerned with that itinerary. Plus, I was getting in early so I figured I’d just do the five hours of commuting, find a hotel and get my plan ready for Saturday. Saturday happens to be the Couchsurfing meet day there, too, and I hoped to attend and get some pointers.

But life intervened, as did an all-day layover at Casa. And it’s boring. No WiFi and not even good people watching. I did do a couple of things from my list, which were fairly sad because instead of collecting 10 maps to pass on to the flight leader, I have to report no such papers exist.

But I did get contact numbers for lost luggage. Not that I had a phone to call – my Morocco phone was checked.

Oh, story on checked baggage, too. I don’t look so good. Going through the security at Tallahassee, the guy was like, “Do you know about our liquids ban?” I said yes, I was, and wondered if I hadn’t emptied my water bottle properly.

I had done that, but he pulled out another sack – the one with some chintzy gifts for my host mom, should I see her. And those would be bath gel and honey, forms of liquid.

I felt like a moron. Seriously, I hadn’t looked on them for what they were. They weren’t “liquids,” they were gifts.

But luckily, I was able to hustle them out of there and get them checked, so I won’t go empty-handed into Midelt.

Back to the wait. My bag did arrive on the 2:37 plane, unrifled through but missing the little sticker they’d put on it. It did have, though, a new one of the flappy tag things, which said “expedited luggage.” I was so happy to see it, and promptly took the pictures I was supposed to, of things like the baggage claim are and lost luggage. Personally, I hope to be able to send them without seeing them again. I’d like to lose that memory fairly quickly.

And then the train. Casablanca is one of those cool airports that enables you to connect to the train system. It’s not extensive through Morocco, but it’s the best way to travel and it’s fairly easy.

Except for sleep-deprived me. I did the transfer and got my ticket from Casa to Rabat, which is the capital city and one I’ve spent time in. The transfer train left at 5:15 but I didn’t really know how long it took to get to Rabat.

Although I listened to the recorded voice – in Arabic and French – I didn’t hear “Rabat,” and there are two stops. So I rode along, catching a few Zs (I cannot sleep on planes. The guy in front of me sacked out the entire 7 ½-hour flight and I was SO jealous.) I’d been sitting alone, but I recognized some guy sat down briefly, then got off and a girl sat down. She had a suitcase, which struck me as odd, but whatever.

We kept riding and riding. I finally looked at my watch and it was something like 6:45. I checked the guidebook to see how long it was supposed to take and it said an hour or so. I then asked the girl where we were and she said Kenitria. I’d missed my stop.

We were stopped when I made that revelation so I hopped off and limped (my ankle is not liking this at all) over to security and tried to explain my plight. My Arabic tested at mid-intermediate but might have waned a bit.

The nice guy – God, Berbers are so nice – OK’d me to just get on the one going the other way in about 10 minutes. And he dragged me into the café to point me out to the guard so he’d know I was on a paid ticket. I doubt he was supposed to do that, but I was really grateful. And the guy, realizing I was just beyond my capacity at that point, told me it was three stops and then he pretty much made sure I got off at the right place.

Which was Rabat. I’d changed the Kech plan because I hadn’t wanted to get in after dark, but I wound up pulling up at 7:45 or so. And of course, I had no hotel room.

I’m now safely in one of the PC hotel haunts. Originally they said they didn’t have a room but when I asked if there were any other volunteers I could share with, he asked if I was a PCV. I said last year, yes, but I’d just returned and wasn’t now. But the ploy worked and now I have a room for three nights.

Honestly, I’m not sure what I am going to do for three days here, but I figure I will sleep late tomorrow, as I am completely exhausted. I need to go investigate real hotels for traveling students and see if I can get information on things like sites, group discounts, transport and hospitals. I also need to go to the Embassy and get some information, but they won’t be open until Wednesday; hence three nights.

My reasoning is this travel must improve. I pretty much hit rock bottom. It’s now 10 p.m. and I’ve had absolutely nothing to eat since 5 a.m. except for two breath mints that were fruity and not minty. (Passing through business class, I picked up one of the comfort kids in hopes of finding toothpaste. I didn’t, but the breath mints have somehow sustained me for 17 hours, and I’m headed to bed now.

My sketchy plan, which might have changed by the time I send this, is to track down internet and a phone card tomorrow. I might head out to the PC office (I think there’s someone there Saturday, and RPCVs are welcome) to use their internet in the mean time.

I also need to get a SIM card to let EC know I’m here.

But first, I will sleep as late as possible and hope the hotel people don’t have to wake up me because I slept so long.

Get back. Get back to where you once belonged.

It's official: I'm headed back to Morocco.

I finally got everything dotted and crossed and have a rather large handful of assignments to complete, and the itinerary made it through.

Two days from now -- and it's been a blessed relief to have two spare days in Florida -- I will be on my way back to El Maghreb.

I'm officially signed on for a one-month trial with Rustic Pathways, a travel place for high school students. I'll be the acting country director for Morocco, and I am quite psyched about it. After all, the company's goal is to introduce U.S. kids to other cultures, and I loved the culture I lived in for 27 months.

My plan there is kind of vague now. Not that I haven't put a lot of thought into it; I just haven't decided on the best route to take. What I will be doing is laying out two itineraries for summer travel, and my mission is to find safe places and travel for about 15 kids.

In Morocco, this is harder than you'd think. I'm already stumped on transportation. RP doesn't like public transportation and the private alternatives aren't really regulated in Morocco, so that's a hurdle.

Another task is finding potential housing, which is bizarre to me because the budget is a BIG step above what I did on my PC stipend. I'm kind of like, "Oh, you mean I can look for a place with *hot* water?" I'm really not used to that at all, and I'm more inclined to search at budget places.

Looking at my new guidebook, I've been surprised to even realize there ARE high-priced hotels and such in Morocco. They were so far out of my PC budget, they were just dead to me, I guess. It didn't even occur to me they existed, seriously.

Since I will be there from Oct. 22 - Nov. 21, I have a big challenge in the fact that there are two holidays during that time. One's the Big Kuhana - 3id Kbir, or "The Big Holiday." Religiously speaking, it's like Easter and Christmas combined and travel leading up to the two-day holiday is Thanksgiving-ish. It's so bad to travel during that time that PC doesn't even allow Vs to do so.

And my flight will leave the day after it's over, I think. Great. I really had hoped to just sit in Midelt during the holiday but since I have to be eight hours away the following day, it might not be possible.

Still, I do hope to try to get to Midelt. It's not on the beaten path of the itineraries, but it's not far off and God knows I can make calls from there just as easy as anywhere else.

EC's been alerted I hope to come, but I haven't communicated anything to my host mom. I don't want to make a promise I can't keep, but then, I am not sure I want to just surprise her, either.

We'll see what happens.

8127 miles

After 8127 miles -- 1998.6 of them since leaving Utah after Zippy's tournament -- and just over two months, I am back in Florida. Hamdullah.

It's really just for a moment, though. As far as I understand it, I am to leave again Monday -- yes, *three days from now Monday* for Morocco.

Although I still don't have the plane ticket, I've acquired a new travel guide (I left my old one in country for others to use) and started thinking about packing.

Continental Divide in New Mexico

My task, as I understand it, is to test-run two itineraries and provide my insight on them, as well as trying to track down potential partners. Maybe that's a strong word -- by that I mean folks who will help in the summer, like drivers and windsurfing instructors.

Although I am very much looking forward to it, the quick turnaround means I have little time at "home." Today I ran errands from getting a flu shot to buying my host mom a gift (a teapot and a jar of honey) on the off-chance I get to see her.

About three miles of windmills outside Amarillo, the city where I interviewed for a job earlier this summer.

I do hope to make it to Midelt, even if it's just for a day, but at the moment it's not on the route. But initially, I will be heading mostly to the south, west and north and not so much Khenifra.

Between now and then, there's not much recovery time. After running errands, I went out for lunch at Granny's and then came home and napped. Kocur, who's loving having her momma home, didn't let me get a lot of sleep last night. She kept crawling on top of me and pawing at me.

Also at the Continenal Divide. We saw it in several places, but this was the one place we stopped.

Tomorrow and Sunday aren't exactly days off. Tomorrow I've (been) volunteered to help at Wendy's don't-call-it-a-rodeo rodeo. She's got a barrel race down the road from her and since she's running it, she needed people to help. That would be me, the Sister Schmuck. I am setting barrels (I think there's a tutorial. At least I hope so.) and announcing runs.

Sunday Zippy signed me up to play softball at the prison, which would be fun had I played much softball in the past, oh, three years. And even more fun had I not been landed on by an equine truck four weeks ago. My ankle still hurts, although it's mostly in the mornings. My knee isn't so hot, either. But I will try.

At the Continental Divide, where it says Route 66 begins. I'm not sure if that meant over all of just at this exit. I really thought it went all the way to California. But hey, I had no idea it was also a TV show, so what do I know? *

My dog is thrilled to see me, although she is a bit distrustful. She's very suspicious when I start walking around, and she gets nervous when she sees me pick up my keys. Last night, I got virtually no sleep because she kept wiggling closer and pawing me. And just when I was starting to doze off. Dodger Dog came in and wanted to go outside.

Kocur got upset when I left this morning for errands and just whined and whined. Poor baby. She's been left so many times. But she has an amazing power of forgiveness, especially when I whip out the treats I've brought. This time, it was horse hooves, and she practically crawled over me to get to them.



Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo. God knows why Americans like this crap, but it's a draw. I'd just watched the "King of the Hill" episode when Hank and his cousin -- ZZ Top's Dusty Hill, who knew? -- plant Cotton's Caddie in spot No. 11, which, of course, doesn't exist in the non-animated world.

As far as I know, Kocur is my only reunion in the short time I'm here. I won't get to visit with anyone because there's just no time. Really, I need to just get packing. Again.



*I knew about the song, of course. But I didn't know it was a theme song for a show.

Out of Utah and into Arizona

We left St. George today right after the games ended. Zippy's team went 1-5 and we hit the road. Tonight we stopped in the middle of the Navajo Nation in a place called Tuba City (named after an English bastardation of a Hopi tribal leader's name), where we've listened to FSU beat the crap out of Miami.
View from the ballpark in St. George, Utah.



Painted Desert, Arizona.

Painted Desert, Arizona - specifically at a place called the Navajo Bridge, which straddled a huge canyon possibly named Marble Canyon.

More of the aforementioned canyon.

Photos don't do things like this justice. It was quite amazing. I've only seen the Grand Canyon from a little tiny plane, so this is the biggest canyon I've seen from the ground.

In and around Escalante

Random shots of heading south in Utah.

You know, a little point and shoot just doesn't do things justice. This was a phenomenal view near Bryce Canyon.

In Red Canyon National Park - Dixie Forest. Yes, Dixie. I looked this up. Back in the day, Brigham Young dispatched a group to south Utah so they could plant cotton during the Civil War.

If you look closely, you can see the rainbow. We had a spate a rain, which was needed but man, it was messy.

Red Canyon in Dixie Forest again.

Here's Zippy in her dream home. We had two bunk beds and a lamp. That was it. She said it made her realize she'd hate camping.

Church of the Latter Day Saints

Here are some belated shots of Temple Square in Salt Lake City.

One of the rooms in the Bee House, which was one of the home Brigham Young lived with one of his wives and their seven kids.

Reminders of community service.


This is the temple. It's off-limits, but there is a model and lots of people who can give you information about it.

The Tabernacle, home of the choir.

The choir only sings twice a week, but the organ folks practice daily at noon. It's beautiful to hear. The acoustics are just phenomenal. They begin the rehearsal with an acoustics demonstration of tearing paper and dropping pins, which you can hear from 170 feet in the back of the tabernacle.

No more cheating

Soda Springs' finest -- its geyser, which goes off every hour on the hour. Very cool.

More ammo for Zippy's commitment hearings, this time at an Oregon Trail stop.

Coming out of a Flying J (we stopped at about four of them today), we first encountered a homemade "sheep on road" sign, which led to a small herd of sheep that had just finished crossing.

Not five miles up, the traffic stopped. After a little while of having no idea what was happening, I dispatched Zippy to run up in front of the semi trucks to see what was going on.

She returned, saying something was all across the road. I asked if it was sheep and she said no, it wasn't moving. But I got out and looked from where I was standing, and the mass WAS moving.

Sure enough, a huge herd of sheep was meandering through, led by dogs and being pushed by cowboys.

So now I can honestly mark off Idaho as my 50th state. I'd crossed the border before, but this was a real visit with a meal and sights.