Camille Covers Turmoil in Middle East

Recently I had to cancel (again) my trip to Morocco because of the massive hoopla in the Arab world. For that, I feel its time I dedicate a blog entry to this matter.

First off, I have not kept a Katie Couric eye on the events but I've scanned the AOL 3 second news clips before something about Charlie Sheen comes up. (Because now I can't get enough of his drug). But when I do see news about the unrest in Libya and the Middle East, I immediately find myself cheering for the rebels. I think this is because my American History education has taught me rebels are bad asses and red coats are dumb because they stand out. But I really have no idea who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. If I was watching a movie when I was little, my dad would fill me in on which guys were which. But somehow I can't just ask "Gaddafi is the bad guy right...?" And maybe not every revolution was like ours. However this I wouldn't know because in America we learned that History, is American History. So of course I know that George Washington was Jesus' cousin and the world began in 1776. But about the turmoil in the East, there are countries I've never even heard of yathzee-ing it up. Djibouti? You're a country? I thought you were something I ate with naan. Disculpa, but the truth is I've never claimed to be a current affairs buff. I just merely analyze current events by how they make me feel, what movie I am reminded of or how I can pun around the words. To top things off, sometimes I accidentally say I am from the Middle East instead of the Midwest. If I were you, I would avoid having me on your Trivial Pursuit team. I'm more of a Cranium and MadGab girl. And I can Skip it for like hours.

That is the update. I hope this has been educational.

Nuzzle Nuzzle

I used to think it was amazing that people started recognizing me places but I'm starting to realize I may stand out more than I think. A funny incident happened yesterday that contrasts my customs vs. those of spanish people.

I had gone to the gym and showered there. I never bring a hair dryer and I'm always too hot to wear pants to leave in, so I left with wet hair and in gym shorts. These are basically two of the seven deadly sins in Spanish women's eyes. Every woman at my gym leaves booted, vested, manicured and scarved. So ultimately to them I must have looked pretty gorgeous. Anyway, on the way home I stopped at the grocery store and bought my groceries and also an empanada to appease the hungry hungry hippo living inside me. It starts to rain, of course, and so I stumble race home as quickly as possible. I finally get inside and being the typical American that I am, I couldn't wait til I got in my apartment to eat my empanada. It felt like it should be my treat for the recent downpour of events. So even though I was with school bag, gym bag, and a ton of groceries, I decide to open my empanada in the elevator. This is where the story gets awkward.

The elevator door opens and its really dark in my hallway. I am super weighed down and about to collapse and I didnt finish my empanada. The light switch is on the wall to my right but I have no available hands. Of course I didnt want to set some things down just for a light switch, (even though in three seconds I would have had to set them down to get my keys) so I think quickly and impulsively and attempt to turn the light on with my only available body part, my nose. Just as my nose touches the switch, the door next to me opens and out walks one of these trim prim Spanish women.

The drenched American girl wearing shorts in February, overloaded with bags of all sorts and holding a half eaten empanada appears to be nuzzling the light switch. I thought my spanish has been improving but there were just no words to rectify this situation.

Ah, yes I blend in like chameleon.

My middle name is Scaredy Cat

Last night I reached for my glass of water and because hand eye coordination has never been one of my bragging rights, I basically pushed it off the table where it soon met its death. Being that I was snuggled in nicely in my nest, cleaning it up wasn't really something I wanted to deal with so I threw a pair of red pants on top of it. I think my logic was the red was supposed to signal my attention this morning when I got out of bed. No alerts went off this morning. No one was hurt but it left me thinking all day.... Someday I could be a mother? I sometimes can't believe the situations I put myself in. How easy it would have been to clean up, rather than getting out of bed to a scene straight from a Saw movie.

I wish I was more proactive but I'm just not and it turns out Spain and I share that in common. I've done some activities since I've been here that would qualify as waiver necessary adventures. Ha, yeah right, I have not even seen a waiver of any sort. Are we just over protective in the States? Or more prepared for accidents? When I went sailing we walked on these balance beam-thin floating things that they use to fish for mussels. Here this photo explains better than my 20 adjective sentence:

When I stepped on to this unstable structure on top of freezing cold water, my legs immediately turned to linguini. That trigged the intrinsic reaction to become horizontal as soon as possible. The instructor saw my fear and came over to give me a hand. But (and this applies to all boys) somehow thought it would be hilarious to shake me in my moment of already extreme trepidation. I thought I was going to cry. Actually I think I did. Then he announced as an afterthough, "ah girls, if you fall in the water, No move. I come to you, because the mussels... they have knives in the mouths and can damage the body."

I think this was the only verbal acknowledgement of what to do if something bad happens. And maybe it was the translation or word choice, but I felt whole heartedly worse after he said that.

On Saturday we decided to go horseback riding.  I guess I felt I've been needing more risk in my life and eating questionably expired cheddar just wasnt cutting it for the adventure level. But honestly, I was really really excited for this.

Until....

I met Jacob.

Pronounced "ha-ko-bo". He was my horse. And I am pretty sure this was the first time he had a human being on his back. We got off on the wrong foot when I called him Jacob and maybe commented on his matted hair. He took offense really fast and decided he wouldnt listen to my commands at all. When I kicked to go faster, he halted. And when I told (asked/begged/insisted/pleaded) to stop, he sure as hell did not. I told the horse trainer that Jacob wasnt listening to me and doesnt speak Spanish or English. And you know, like trainer like horse. He didnt really help me out either. I would have thought again, the apparent fear in my face would signal some reaction. He didnt shake me like the sailing instructor but he did use this stupid pokey thing on Jacob to make him go the right way and I was like "god please stop tormenting my horse!" (But in a moment of crisis your brain definately does not produce translations for such important phrases).

 I dont trust that trainer or ha-ko-bo. 

Here is a picture. Jacob is on the far right trying to appear pony-esque. Do not be fooled by his small stature or silly horse facade.

They look peaceful in this next picture as well but they were actually just fed up with pictures and turned around to start doing their own thing again. (However, this also happens alot with Risches.)

 

Moral of the story is Im going to be reading some books for a while and hope no more precarious situations call my name. Here are the things I do for sure know about myself so I can be sensible next time making a decision. Camille does not like heights, spiders, fast things, unstable things, heights (its quite important so it gets listed twice), animals that aren't cute and fluffy and fully tamed or divided by a protective glass, slippery rocks, crazy druggie people, oh and she really hates being trapped in a kayak underwater. (That adventure didn't take long to abandon and swear never to attempt again.)

Soy asi.

-Camille S.C. Risch

Peace Day

We celebrated "Dia de Paz" the other day at school. It was a beautiful sunny day and we took the afternoon off to celebrate the event. After the banners each class had made were put up and applauded for, we went out to the playground. We all held hands in a spiral formation and started singing a song. Apparently there was a choreographed dance as well that I didnt know. But with elementary school children they repeat the song and dance like 5 times and fortunately I picked it up in a cinch and was whirling and twirling with everyone else.  Then something was announced and a mass stampede to the center commenced. I had no idea what was going on (as always), I just knew that all the children were pushing towards the center of the black hole and something awesome must be up there.

Turns out we were releasing doves.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Please stop and look at how cute my school/children are:

http://centros.edu.xunta.es/ceipriadevigo/

I stopped in the fruiteria

When I run I usually put my key in my ipod pouch with a two euro coin. Tonight I stopped by the fruiteria and dug out my belongins and then dropped the key in the crate of potatoes. The man had no idea why i was being so picky choosing potatoes and I had no idea how to explain. Until, eureka! I held up the key to the whole shabang.

And then he found out I got crazier because I kept asking "how much would my total be with ...this... (holding up a pepper)?" I wanted to get as close to two euros as possible. Turns out, you can buy a head of cauliflower, six carrots and two bananas. What a deal!

Ice, Spice and Good Tidings.

Clara is gone for a week. Which means the secador is gone for a week as well. I thought it couldn't get any colder here, but then I went outside with wet hair. And thanks to James Cameroon, I know that being wet and cold is basically fatal. I need the hot African sun like never before. And mark my words, when I get back to Oklahoma I am sleeping in the dryer. Almost as an anti-protest. Just a love-fest. I miss the machine that makes my clothes hot and snuggly, so very much.

Ok now something about Spain? Ummm...... if they say something is muy picante, this means it has little to any spice at all. Ask for muy x 45 picante (this doesnt translate dont actually say this). I had a dinner party recently and made curry. Knowing that spice levels were skewed to the bland side, I made it not very spicy. I'm not some spicy oficianado (please don't dump a jar of cayene in my dish as a test when I return) I just like some zazz. Anyway, all the Spanish friends were basically in tears after eating the curry. I guess I next time I'll be more curryful.

Must go. Im preparing for my classes and we are teaching Christmas Carols. I hate teaching words like "good tidings" and "kin". Its a thorn in my side to think that one day when they are traveling in Arizona, they won't be able to remember "paper towel" or "roadside assistance" because back in 4th grade the American taught them words used once a year in Christmas carols.

Researching Morocco

While researching my imminent adventure to Marrekech, Morocco, I have discovered some truly quirky descriptions online that I just can't seem to get enough of. Seeing as there is no one next to me to share a cackle with at the absurd translations and phrasing, I'll share with my blog. Sometimes I really feel like this is a "Wilson" I am talking too.

Anyway here goes:


El Badi Palace is a palace now in ruins and inhabited by storks and stray cats. There are some underground passageways to explore. Admission is DH 10. The view from the terrace is majestic. A must-see.

Equity Point Marrakech - Riad Amazigh, 80, Derb El Hammam Mouassine ....  extremely tricky to find. Some good advice would be to print off a map and stick to it, and dont assume you will find it when you get there, as there will be many people who claim to know where it is for a small fortune.

Riad Zara, 294 Derb Ben Salek ... In the evening, candles are lit and guests gather around the pool, enjoying wine and if you're lucky Hassan might give a live music performance.

Some of the hostels include "warm water" as an ammenity. This makes me concerened that it was not a given. Maybe I should bring toilet paper since I didn't see it listed.

 I kept reading "Hammam" and finally asked google for some explaining. Basically its the Moroccan version of the turkish bath. Here's a funny article describing one woman's experience. I think this is a must.

Also a must will be this:

Anyway, very excited for this adventure. From what I remember, we will most likely be bombarded from the moment we step off the plane due to the fact we are three American girls not wearing hijabs. I cant wait til Saturday. I'm also pretty sick of Jamon so Im ready for some Moroccon food. Mmm! But for now, I need to go fine-tune my haggling techniques. Love to all!

P.S. Nineteen dayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyys until I'm Oklahome!