Heading Home...

Day 10...The last day of the trip.
I was leaving early evening on an Easyjet flight so I spent the day just hanging out wih some of the group who were leaving the next day.
We went to the Medina and had ice cream then wandered round picking up a few last minute souvenirs. Then we had some gorgeous fresh squeezed orange juice before heading down to explore the Saadian Tombs.
They took us a while to find - the streets were very narrow and the Moroccans seemed to have an aversion to signposts - but they were worth it when we did.
They were really grand but really subtle and we all had fun taking some arty shots and wandering round the labyrinth of streets again afterwards.

Soon after that I headed back to the hotel and set off to the airport in a cab.
It felt weird going back past all the sights that I saw on the way into Marrakech. I took some shots on my camera to try and capture the famous Marrakech sight of Palm trees in the foreground and snow-capped mountains in the background. But it only seemed to capture how I was feeling in the black and white setting.

At the airport my bag was over the weight limit but they let me off (when does that ever happen?!?) and I got through airport security really quickly which left me plenty of time to get a drink and a snack and catch up on my journal.
After a quick lap of the waiting area I decided to treat myself to a sandwich and a beer when I realised I had used the last of my Moroccan Dirham on the cab.
I looked around for a cash point, I asked where the cash point was and there wasn't one. I went to pay with my card and they wouldn't accept cards so I had over an hour to sit and try to quench my thirst merely with mind over matter...
It didn't really work so as soon as the Easyjet drinks tolley was wheeled out I ordered enough for about 4 people and then nodded off.

Arriving back at my house felt really strange as I'd only lived in the house about 3 months so it was like coming home to a place that didn't quite feel like home.
I was glad to be back but - like always - I was gutted that it was the end of the holiday.
I honestly don't know when I'll be able to afford to go away next, especially not somewhere like that.
But then again two months ago I didn't know I would even be going on this trip.
As I tried to lug my ridiculously jam-packed bag into the house without waking my housemates I couldn't help but think that perhaps the purpose of the holiday was to remind me that you never know what's going to happen and that it's ok to not know.
I didn't know how things would turn out with my mum and I didn't know what the rest of 2010 would bring but that was ok.
And maybe, just maybe, if you want something badly enough you'll get it.
I certainly wanted a holiday this year and was lucky enough to win one.
And I won it from a company called Intrepid Travel, if 'Intrepid' means fearless and brave then I think the real bravery is just admitting what you want and having the balls to go after it.
Whether that's entering a holiday competition or going after your dream job or telling someone how you feel about them.
Saying it out loud is the first step but doing something about it after that are sort of the most important steps. Though I didn't know they would, my steps took me all the way to Morocco where I met brilliant people, saw amazing things and laughed and shared and discovered so much.
So, if you haven't already done so take the first step somewhere new right now...you just never know where you might end up.

Happy travels!

Back the way we came

Day 9...It seemed strange that it was our last day in Essaouira, our last day of being on the road and our last day together as a group.
We had seen and done so much together and had got to know each other really well it felt a bit like the we were ending just at the beginning.
That's not to say we didn't make the most of our time left.
The weather was nice so I decided to wear a dress that was summery but not revealing armed with that and my aviators I finally felt like I was on holiday.
We spent the morning shopping and we bought clothes and shoes and bags and jewellery and as well as drums and artwork and sooooo many scarves that I feared they might actually run out!

After lunch we went back to the Riad to collect our belongings and - typically - now that I had finally learned to navigate my way through the alleyways of Essaouira we were now walking down them for the last time to meet the coach to Marrakech.
The last leg of our trip was simply to head back to the place where it all started.
As I sat on the coach I wondered how often we do that in life.
This blog is named after the town I did most of my growing up in and I think that a lot of time I seek to understand myself not just by looking at the path ahead that I am trying to take in life but by looking back at the path I took to get here too.
It got me thinking about the play I am writing at the moment where one of the characters puts her future in jeopardy when someone from her past lands uninvited on her doorstep. It's my attempt at dramatising a crossroads - the path that lead you here and the one that will lead you away.
I didn't really think much more about it till we walked back through the Medina in Marrakech. Everyone seemed to hassle me more than I remembered, they were grabbing at my hands and bag. Plus after everything we'd seen the things that once seemed exotic to me now just seemed to be cheap rip offs of the real thing that undoubtedly originates from further afield.
My mum believes that you can never really go back anywhere but I think you can, but only if you have already let go of the past.
In terms of this holiday - Marrakech hadn't changed, but maybe I had.

That evening we went for our last meal together and sat outside even though it wasn't that warm (that might have been the fault of the Brits - 'oh it's not absolutely freezing course we can brave it outside...') and we went round the table saying what our best bit of the trip was. Unsurpisingly the desert was pretty high on everyone's lists and whilst the 4WD was my highlight a very close second was the second night when we slept in the Atlas mountains.
Sure the Gite we stayed in was freezing cold and the showers weren't hot but the scenery was stunning, the food was divine and we sat round the fire and chatted free from TV and news and in fact any agenda.
It was great and something I have made a conscious effort to do more of since I got back.

After dinner (my last tagine...) one of the Americans read out a story that she had written earlier that day about us all. It was set in 2020 and we were all meeting up in Paris. She had a little bit about everyone - what they were up to and how they had travelled to Paris. In it people had started their own company, adopted babies, travelled the world, won awards. She had remembered something that all of us had mentioned even if we didn't remember it.
It made me realise that you don't need to be a writer to tell a story and also the best skill you can acquire when you're dealing with people all the time is to listen to them. Really listen to them. And if you can identify with what they're saying then you might just be a better storyteller because of it perhaps.
I already thought she was an amazing person as she was a doctor and was really reassuring and helpful when I talked about my Mum. But this was really touching and a fun way to remember everyone and the fun we had together.
In case you're interested in the story we were meeting in Paris because a new play of mine was opening there and everyone was coming to the opening night (sounds good to me...) One of the Canadians had come to meet me as I - get this - arrived by swimming across the channel. When I got out the water I was asked how the temperature of the water was and I replied 'refreshing'.

Maybe Morocco hadn't been the perfect holiday, maybe it hadn't even been something I'd planned on doing but it had been amazing and I believe it was what I needed to do - to get outside of my comfort zone and experience something new - and sometimes, when you least expect it, you find yourself right in the middle of an experience that turns out an unexpectedly good story...

Keep your eyes open if you want to see where you're going...

Day 8...Our first day in Essaouira started with a walking tour of the town with a really amazing local guide.
After spending a week with a male guide who was lots of fun but not very informative about the country we were in our guide today was as refreshing as the sea breeze itself.
She spoke in great length about not just her town but her life as a single muslim woman. She spoke about her community, her faith and her friends as well as politics, geography and lifestyle.
It was fascinating and all too brief even though she stayed with us as long as she could on a public holiday (it was the Prophet's Birthday).
Of all the things I had seen and done in this country this short walking tour had been more enlightening about the people at the heart of this country than anything else.
The town itself is beautiful, a vehicle-free maze of tiny streets and alleyways bursting with different colours and cultures all leading down to the harbour.
Lots of whites and blues like the Greek Isles, lots of mosiac tiles, lots of different fabrics and textures; It's a photographers dream and I had a great time trying to understand the town and their people whilst capturing it through my camera lens.

Afterwards we went for lunch down at the harbour and had a feast of fresh fish - straight off the BBQ which was amazing.
Then as the rain started we headed indoors - most if us choosing to use this time to have a Hammam (a public scrub and steam bath experience).
We were washed clean, scrubbed of our dead skin, covered in a mud wrap, washed and massaged which was fabulous, to say my skin was baby soft would be a huge understatement.

We all met back up at our Riad and sat round listening to the rain on the roof while we had snacks and wine. When the rain eased off we went out for more food and more wine in a gorgeous little restaurant that - after some of the places we had eaten in and even though we were just sat at the bar - felt like a real treat and even though we were eating tapas style felt like a real Moroccan meal too.
After we polished off our plates and drained our glasses my roommate for the trip wanted to go and sample the crepes that we had spied almost as soon as we arrived so we headed towards the harbour in search of our sugarhigh.
At the crepe stall we met some French guys who were in Essaouira to do some Kite Surfing and we teamed up with them to go find a bar to have a drink.
Unfortunately none of the bars would serve alcohol to our guide who was a muslim so we spent more time walking along the beach than we did drinking and not suprisingly lost of our new French friends along the way.
We stopped at a random bar that agreed to serve all of us and had a drink before heading back to the Riad. However on the way back a Moroccan guy put his hand on one of the girls shoulders and what was probably not something with malicious intent blew out of proportion and ended up with a group of guys surrounding our guide who was trying to defend her honour.

Luckily the whole thing seemed to blow over and we were back in the Riad, chatting on the roof in no time...we had a lot to chat about it because it had been such an eye-opening day and it made me realise that there's a big difference to holidaying in a country and really seeing it.

Anything is possible...

Day 7 and I went for a quick dip in the pool this morning.
It was much warmer than the last pool, but it wasn't exactly warm either.
One of the Americans in the group saw me from her balcony and asked what the temperature was like and I said it was refreshing and it actually was.
After holding the group up at dinner last night while I phoned home I was determined not to be the last one on the bus today so went down early and was actually the first to load my stuff on the bus.
Our first stop was a tannery where I treated myself to a leather satchel.
I had wanted one since I started my MA and had always said I would have to wait till I had earned it. Here, where they were made and only 3 months away from graduating from the course I felt like I could finally buy one.
Regardless of the fact that I felt like my play still wasn't complete and regardless of the fact that I had no idea what my future held I was chuffed to bits with it.
It was a writer's satchel and it was mine.

We stopped at a supermarket to grab stuff for a picnic on the beach and a few of us grabbed some cold beers out the fridge too - it might be a muslim country but we were on holiday so if they were selling we were buying - so a few of us enjoyed a quick beer in Agadir!
I said to my roommate for the trip that I couldn't concentrate on my food when the water looked so inviting so we rolled up our trousers and went paddling. Unfortunately after about 10 minutes a wave came out of nowhere and soaked us. I was wearing combat shorts so they dried really quickly but she was wearing jeans so wasn't as lucky.

After lunch we hadn't been long on the bus when a little boy flagged the bus down on the other side of the road. He wanted to show us the goats in the trees.
I thought these goats were a myth and that we wouldn't actually see them but then again here I was on a holiday that I had won as a prize which is unheard of.
It just goes to show that anything is possible!

After a few photos were taken we jumped back on board and drove on to Essaouira where we would be staying for the next couple of days.
As we approached the town the sky above the sea was moody and it made the town look really dramatic and I was soon to discover that it was.

Dawn in the Desert

Day 6 and if I didn't want to miss a second of it yesterday it seems I got what I wished for. The alarm went off at 4am and after only a couple of hours in our sleeping bags we were heading back up the dunes to watch the sunrise.
It was hard work on the legs first thing in the morning but it was worth it.
When I reached the top of one of the larger dunes that some of the group had already gone up I had the urge to talk to the others - to moan about how hard it was walking up the dune perhaps or how much sand had gone in my shoes - but it wasn't a moment for that, it was a moment for quietness and calmness.
We each watched the sunrise, again in our own way but all together.
It made me realise just how much of life we go through where we all might think we experience the same things but no two people experience something in the same way.
Also, how often do we get the chance to just sit together and think, to reflect - to not fill every moment with chat or TV or noise of some kind?
It was lovely...
The view was breathtaking and the scale of what we were looking at - the enormity of the landscape before us - was just profound.
As someone trying to be a writer there are very few moments in my world where words don't take me over it was nice to embrace the... stillness.

Again the sky changed colours before us and as the day sprang to life I couldn't help but think of how scary it must be for people to try and navigate their way across this terrain and my thoughts turned to the people back home that I loved dearly who I knew would be facing their own challenge today, perhaps the biggest they ever would.
I really believe that if you dig deep down within yourself it's not just you that you feel. I hoped my mum would feel that I was thinking about her and I wished I could show her this sunrise because - for me - it belonged to her.
Because that sunrise with all it's beauty, strength, resilience, power, hope and magnificence was just like her.
It made me realise there might be a million ways to say you love someone but sometimes you don't need to say it out loud.
I wandered down the dune and found a little spot for myself and sat down.
After a few moments and a few tears I let out a whisper, like a little secret between me and the sand.
It was everything I needed to say for everything that I couldn't do.
All I could do then was sit here and hope for the best. So I did.

After breakfast the girls - bless them - let me sit in the front of the car so I could take photos, which I did but if I was honest my head was elsewhere.
When the 4x4s stopped so we could look at fossils in the rocks I wandered off to be by myself and our driver Hussein - though he hardly spoke any english - just came and stood next to me and smiled.

When we arrived back in civilisation most of the group was relieved that the bumpy terrain was over and we had access to cold drinks and normal toilets but I was gutted. It was the end of of this particular adventure for me which was perhaps one of the biggest adevtnures I might ever go on. And I don't just mean the desert.

We headed back onto the bus and stopped in a tiny little town for lunch where we had to wait over an hour for our food. It's not the worst thing in the world to sit in the sun and chat to people while you wait for fresh cooked food but we had just come from one of the most exciting landscapes on the earth and had been ushered into a tiny back garden of a restaurant that had an empty swimming pool to look at and not much else.
I was getting impatient and sunburnt so I took myself off for a walk round the little village we were in. There wasn't much to it but there was a lot going on - people going about their business, selling their wares and sipping mint tea; just getting on with their lives.
I rounded back towards the restaurant and just as I did 2 dust devils whipped up in front of nowhere, flew past me and went zipping down the road - right down the middle of it - as if they had sat nav which was sending them on their way and then they disappeared, just as quickly as they had appeared.
For some reason this made me feel better. Perhaps my impatience at the restaurant was frustration at the lack of control I had over circumstances both here and back home and those dust devils made me realise that control is useless; as soon as you have it, it can disappear again.
It doesn't make you stronger, but maybe not needing it might.
Knowing that you have the strength to face something without knowing quite what it is you are facing is surely a much greater skill than having control.
I sat back down and (finally) ate my food and I realised that on this trip, despite being run by a company called Intrepid Travel, you are really looked after. And I'm not used to being looked after. And maybe travelling to countries where it's much safer to be shepherded around isn't my kind of travelling. If I like to have the freedom to change my route or restaurant as I please does that contradict my last statement about not needing to be in control?
All this echoed lots of things about my life back home and the frustrations I feel about my job and my career and the fact that for me they are still two different things. I have spent time and money equipping myself with the tools to try and be a better writer and I feel like there's a world I know about but I'm just on the outside of it looking in. A strange combination of having a key to open the door to your dreams but also having to wait for someone else to invite you in too.
It seemed this holiday was bringing up lots of questions that I had been trying to avoid in my life especially as I head towards my 30th birthday.
Maybe that's what holidays are supposed to do, because of my MA it had been a while since I've been able to have one and the last time I went on one (Thailand with my wingman) my life was decidedly simpler.
I had just been in one of the most unpopulated places on earth yet I didn't feel like I had gotten away from it all. But maybe that was the point. The more remote the place - the more the only place to go...is within.

After lunch we drove on to Tarradount, a town famed for having large red walls. We didn't see the walls but I didn't mind because the frustration of the day had already left me feeling quite suffocated.
I phoned home and spoke to my mum which was a big relief. It's a universal fact that you can imagine things to be far worse than they are and it had turned out to be true - the not knowing about the thing had been far worse than the thing itself.
We went for a rather strange dinner and then had what was becoming our late night tradition of drinks and card games on the roof but I was shattered.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the extreme temperatures, the overwhelming emotions or all 3 but I had to say goodnight early and this time I couldn't wait to get to bed.

Desert Driving

Day 5 and I got up and went for a quick dip in the pool this morning.
I say quick dip and I'm not exaggerating - it was much colder than I thought it would be so after about 3 laps I was ready to get out.
We had breakfast and boarded the bus, everyone seemed quite excited as we were off to the desert.
For a lot of people I think this was the main reason they booked this trip, for me it was another day of amazing stuff that I didn't know I would have in my life.
As I took my seat at the back of the bus I couldn't help but think wouldn't it be nice if I could start every day feeling this way.

First stop was a local library famed for holding ancient texts of the Koran and copies of old Berber poetry. I had no idea what any of it said but it looked more beautiful than anything else I had ever seen written down - it seems in Morocco even the literature is Art.
We then went to a pottery place and we were given a tour and a demonstration before a chance to buy some of the handiwork. I loved the stuff there and could have bought loads if we weren't enroute to a desert campsite so I settled for a couple of small bowls - perfect for olives and dips back home.
We then had a picnic in the sun before heading out for a rather bizarre camel ride.
It was fun but it was weird because it was obligatory, the hottest part of the day and we were only just in the desert. I'm not saying I'd like to have been on a camel in the middle of nowhere at night time either... so I just came to the conclusion that perhaps there isn't a perfect time/place to ride a camel!
(They are supposed to be functional not fun after all)
I'm not sure why we feel that riding native animals in foreign countries should be part of the tourist experience, but I just tried to enjoy it.

We then stocked up on our water supplies and boarded 4x4s to head to our camp.
This was hands down one of the most fun things I have done in the last few years.
I was sat at the back - feeling every single turn of the wheel and bump in the road and I loved it! I felt like a kid again, I know there's a thrill to getting on any mode of transport when you're abroad but this was on a whole other level...
The terrain was awesome - unimaginable to be driving along it - no roads, no traffic, no warning of dangers. Our driver was excellent and the 4 of us had such a laugh with him, it made me so giddy to be using such man-made technology to cross the uncrossable. There we were speeding headlong into something desolate and uninhabited and it was oddly liberating.

When we got to camp we dumped our bags and headed up the dunes to watch the sunset and compared to the drive and there was an unexpected calmness to looking out and seeing sand as far as the eye could see.
We wandered around in a little group, laughing, taking photos... I felt like we were together but all experiencing this in our own way too.
I thought the Sahara would be rough and hard and uninviting but it wasn't, it was just quiet and unassuming and almost spiritual.
The sky slowly started changing colours above us and the temperature and consistency of the sand seemed to change beneath us too.
We just sat and took it all in and no matter how long we sat there it never looked the same as the last time we looked at it.

We went back down to camp and had dinner and then all sat round the fire and then about 5 of us decided to sleep out by the fire under the stars.
It took me ages to get to sleep because even though it was pitch black and I couldn't see the stars without my glasses I didn't want to miss a single second of all this.

Trials and Tourism

Day 4 and we headed off to quite a few tourist stops today.
We went past the local movie studios - with props from The Mummy still displayed outside - then onto a charity called Project Horizon and a spices and herbs shop.

We had a picnic lunch in a palmerie and later visited a Jewish Kasbah, which I really wanted to enjoy, but couldn't because I had a strong sense that they just didn't want us to be there.

It was a fun day with a slightly strange ending and we were keen to get onto the next day and - what we all hoped would be - the biggest adventure of the trip so far.

Drums and Dancing

Day 3 - After I woke up and took the quickest shower in the world, I stood outside of our gite and tried to call my mum.
It was Monday morning and she had some medical tests happening this week, but I couldn't get hold of her so I just left a message.
We walked back down to where we'd left the bus yesterday and I was chatting with two of the girls.
We ended up chatting about racism and I happened to tell them about a play I had read that covered it in a really intelligent way.
As we walked down from this tiny Moroccan village in the mountains, I realised that since leaving London 48 hours ago I had talked about writing a LOT.
I wondered if that made me self obsessed but I think, and I'm still not sure, that if you love something that you don't do all day every day you talk about it every other minute of every other day until it does become the thing you do.

The drive to our next location was along some of the most stunning mountain roads I have ever travelled on. They were windy and dramatic and unfortunately a lot of people in the group were suffering from travel sickness. I felt really sorry for them because they couldn't wait for these roads to be over but I couldn't get enough of them.

We arrived at a place called Ait Benhaddou which is a UNESCO world heritage site and the location where scenes from movies like Lawrence of Arabia, The Mummy and Gladiator were filmed. We walked up through the Kasbah there and watched the sunset which was beautiful.
Afterwards we went to a cous cous and tagine cooking demonstration by a guy called Action Man - so called because he had been in many of the movies filmed here - and then headed back to our hotel for dinner.
After dinner we sat round and listened to some of the locals play drums and sing songs which was great. They tried to get us to join in and kept asking us to sing an english song and the weird thing was I couldn't think of any.
In the age of IPods and Playlists the one song I couldn't name was a song that gave a sense of my country.
Luckily the Canadians came up with a hockey song and I was glad because aside from our national anthem and football chants I had nothing.
After that the guys had us all up dancing for a while before we sloped off to bed for some much needed rest.

Fresh Air & Fires

Day 2 and we headed up to the Atlas Mountains outside Marrakesh.
We got off the bus and did some hiking before sitting down for an amazing lunch.
We then went for a walk round the local village which included having mint tea with the locals and seeing the school.
The lady sharing the mint tea with us asked if we would refrain from taking pictures, we agreed but wondered why and our guide explained that there was a European tourist who took a picture of a Traditional Berber woman and used her head on an underwear model's body and put it on the internet.
Since then no one has been allowed to take photos of any Berber women.
Isn't that a shame, that one person's idiocy can ruin a whole culture's view of tourism and technology?

After dinner we sat round the fire and chatted and played cards.
It was great to get to know everyone, where they were from and what jobs they do.
At one point one of the women said she had a job with a lot of extra hours and hadn't had many weekends off, I agreed with her about the lack of weekends and said I could count on one hand the number of weekends - whole weekends - I had away from my desk last year.
On hearing this one of the women gave me an article from the guardian paper that she had brought with her about the top ten tips from writers about writing.
One of my friends has written a blog about this article and he didn't have a lot of love for it (http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/writersroom/2010/03/writers_10_rules_and_why_i_hat.shtml) but for me it was like a breath of fresh air.

As we sat round the fire I would read a bit of the article and make notes from it and then play a round of cards and I kept alternating like this depending on what game was being played and how many players they needed.
I couldn't help but wish it was this easy to alternate work with play back home but for now - just like the day we'd had - it was really nice.

Outskirts and Olive Groves

Day 1 of my adventure and I was shattered.
An early start after a late night was not a good combination.
But I was excited, the holiday that I had been worrying about and waiting and wanting for ages was finally here...
On the easyjet flight, amongst the screaming babies and foriegners, was a posh couple sat behind me who annoyed me all through the flight but none more so than when we were coming into land in Marrakesh.
As we saw the first few buildings the woman - going for the gold award in pointing out the obvious - said oh that must be the outskirts.
A part of me wanted to block out the noise of her but a few moments later she pointed out that we were flying over olive groves which I - with my short sight - wouldn't have noticed and I realised that this was not a holiday where quick judgements and assumptions were going to help me.
I needed to leave my London cynicism behind and open my eyes to a new experience and a new culture otherwise I would ruin this for myself.

As I made my way from the airport the taxi driver - who spoke no english whatsoever - kept pointing out tourist attractions. I think he felt sorry for me being on my own bless him.
I got to the hotel and met my roommate and we went to the Medina for lunch before our group briefing where we met the rest of the gang.
It was an ace, friendly and gentle start to the holiday and we all couldn't wait to find out what lay ahead.