For Camels Only

Scheduled in the middle of our 10 day Moroccan tour was a trip to the sand dunes. We rented 4x4s and drove 30 km out into the dessert right up to the base of some serious dunes. Waiting there, a dozen camels sat. The option was ours, should we walk or would we like to ride the camels. I could barely hold in my excitement, in my mind there was only ONE option – CAMELS!

We were each assigned a guide and a camel, I was hoisted up on the camels back and held on for dear life as the camel stood up, they are not super graceful those guys. My feet dangled and my voice giggled as we rode the camels around the dunes, higher and higher. I was certain someone had to be filming me for the Mummy 4 as I rode across the Sahara dessert in search of some hidden artifact. My camel shadow bobbed along side me as I attempted to photograph every inch we traveled.

We arrived at the base of a large sand dune and the camel sat down on his knees to let me off. Camels are really tall and if you’re not careful getting down you’ll still land on your face in the sand...so I've heard. My guide reached out for my hand and directed me up towards the top of the dune. It was just a short 5 meters up, no big deal, I mean the 80 yr old in our group was already half way up. I took my first step and gasped as I found myself waist high in sand. My guide was pulling my arm straight out of its socket asking if I was ‘ok, good’. Yeah, yeah I’m real good, just got off on the wrong foot, no biggy.

New tactic, I’d just move my legs faster. Surely if I picked up my feet at twice the speed there wouldn’t be any time to sink into the sand. Like that Incredibles kids running on water. Wrong. I ended up digging myself a little pit in the sand and was now prepared to die there. My guide starred at me and smiled, “ok, good, go”. I pulled my sand filled shoes up only to go 3 feet backward. Now all my breath was gone, there was only sandair in my lungs. It was like doggy paddling in the middle of the ocean, only instead it was sand and camels were smirking at me. I yelled at my quads and demand they step up. It was the work out of their life. It was sheer determination now as I huffed and screamed my way up that sand pit of despair…and by that I mean, I whined as my guide dragged me all the way up with his raw Moroccan sandman strength.

Finally, I was there, the top of the world! I crumbled down on the blanket desperate to catch my breath and watched the sun dip below the dunes. It was one of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced and I quickly forgot about the near sand death experience.

Just as I was plotting throwing my body over the dune to make it to the bottom, my guide turned me around on the blanket, grabbed the corner and dragged me all the way down. Weee! A true Saharan roller coaster! We hopped back on our camels and rode off into the sunset…where he then guided my camel and I off alone to sell me fossils he claimed he carved out of the earth just yesterday. I walked away when he wasn’t looking, but I felt bad. After all, he did drag my limp body up a sliding mount Everest. Eh, what can I say, I’m a spoiled American and I totally got to ride a real camel.

Who's watching the redhead?

I’m used to getting a decent amount of attention for my hair. I get it. I’m part of a 2% endangered population, curiosity and jealousy is expected. I was not, however, prepared for the level of Moroccan attention my hair would incite.

It took me two days to realize the constant kissing sounds I kept hearing were directed at me. Loitering Moroccan teenagers have made cat calling an art form and that is something I’m certainly not used to. By day three, I’d collected a variety of potential suitors who would follow us around like groupies. It had became essential for me to pull up my hood and hide in the middle of group like I was some kind of magical trinket capable of bringing endless power and eternal life (I still this think this is highly possible). Everyone had to keep an eye out for the redhead. I could never stop moving and I could never be at the end of the line just hanging out in the open begging to be kidnapped! I've seen Taken. It was pure harassment. I'm not going to lie though, I basically loved it.

We spent quite a bit of time in a fancy rug shop and I found it curious how many rugs I was presented with even though it was clear I was not in the market for one. It was only later that my coworker told me they were setting up a dowry. Who knew it was this easy?! Obviously it became the standing joke among the group that I was to be used to get special deals and extra camels. I must have collected at least 50 proposals for marriage. That’s more than a month’s worth here in America!

As it goes, it went to my head and I began to misuse my power. A smile would knock the price of any good to half and a wink, forget it, I was walking out of there with two of whatever it was. “For you, good price,” they’d say, “you lucky charm.”

It might have taken me some time, but I figured it out. They all thought I made the colorful marshmallow cereal. Whatever, I’ll take it, in Morocco, I’m a legend!

The Mission

Don't worry, I have plenty of posts about Morocco on the way, but I wanted to let everyone know about a new blog I am leaving in the loving hands of a friend while I'll be serving an 18 month mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in San Jose, California.

This blog will keep you up to date on all my adventures. Feel free to follow along on my new journey!

Hermana Rojita

The Year Half Full

New Year’s Eve dinner was all you can eat carbs with friends. It was also never ending question time from me. The year of 2011 was a world-class roller coaster for me and I was curious to see how everyone else fared.

Some of the questions I forced people to voluntarily answer:

What was your most memorable moment of 2011?

What is a 2011 moment you’d most like to forget?

What is a wish you have for 2012?

The first proved pretty easy and the responses involved some kind of move or vacation for almost everyone. For me it was the dreamy trip to Europe that I still brag about to anyone that will listen. (Don’t worry I still have a pending blog about England to be posted soon). The second question was a little more challenging. It seems most of my friends are refreshingly optimistic, so much so that it was only slightly awkward when I pulled out my lengthy list of events I would love to never happen again. Finally, the wishes were surprisingly large, life changing things like new jobs and babies (again don’t worry, that’s not me).

Over the next 24 hours I watched people, tweet, text, blog and instagram their way into 2012. Perhaps it’s standard to feel exhausted at the end of a year and eagerly welcome the many possibilities a new year presents, but I noticed more cries of relief at the close of 2011 than any year before. Or perhaps I noticed it because that is how I felt. I couldn’t wait to kiss 2011 goodbye. It was simply terrible. I wanted 2011 to be torn into little pieces, locked in a box, burned, buried far in the ground and burned again.

Then I remembered how difficult it was for my friends to come up with the moments they’d like to forget. At the time I thought they just might be hesitant to share potentially embarrassing things or worse, nothing went wrong!!! Later I realized it’s not that their year was perfect, but that they chose to only remember the good and the bad just sort of faded away from memory. Then it slapped me, like perspective often does, a year can only be remembered the way you want it to be.

Thanks to my optimistic friends, a year of horror started to turn upside down. Instead it was a year of survival, self-awareness, escaping death, superior strength, adventure, learning, supporting friends, not going broke, and finally a year that ended with great friends just enjoying all that is good in life.

So there it went - 2011 was quite the roller coaster. But now instead of wanting to jump off and run to the nearest trash can to vomit, I am ready to ride another! After all, I took a ride on that monster and even with all the screaming, I sure rode the heck out of it. Take that 2011!