Kona bound ...

I'm ready to get away

to drift in the waves

to lay in the sand

to be in the warmth of the sun 

We leave in a few weeks. I get so excited leading up to getting away on a plane. The first time I went to Kona I feel in love with the little town and the magic of the island. A great big rock in the sea surrounded by nothing but water, deep water. A dream of a life waking up here on a little spot, snorkeling my days away, and playing in the rich dirt of the land. Fruit trees to coffee, I would love a little tropical farm. 

There is so much to do but nothing needing to get done in this place. It is the perfect situation for me. The possibilities are endless as to how you fill your time with no expectation of well, anything. It still feels like a lost world, the beauty amazes me and the seclusion is wonderful. I've been to this place before but still find wonder in all its abundance.  

Not everyone can sit on the beach for hours on end in the infinite blaze but that I am someone who can. We will do this every day making it a ritual of sorts. Living in the Pacific Northwest (PNW), a place of great beauty but little sunshine, I will take all the glorious sunshine possible. I would bottle it up and bring it home if I could in pretty little yellow bottles. Instead, I bring home macadamia nuts. They seem to have the same effect on people, who knew.

Sitting still can be a hard thing to do for most people, me included but I find peace of mind turning inward and just listening to my breath, mimicking the waves, as I sit there for hours. There is nothing more pleasing than a few deep breaths on the beaches of this island. I'm starting to realize that peace is not necessarily a place to be or thing to have but a feeling that generates way down in the belly, somewhere lets say close to the soul.

I'm looking forward to the night snorkel with some giant manta rays the most. Yes, I'm talking in the water at night with big beast of the deep except they are gentle giants with no teeth or stingers that wont eat you. They just fly through the water, right up to you in fact, eating plankton attracted to the lights your holding. They have wing spans of up to 12 feet and gaping mouths that a small child could fit into. I won't lie, I screamed the first time one "belly rolled" me. It is like nothing I've ever done before and something I hope to do many times again. It's almost as good as my dream of getting into a shark tank.

After the night snorkel. It gets so cold the ride back

The night snorkel is just one of many water activities that we enjoy while on the island. We have our favorite snorkel spot to hit up during the day, most of them being close to Kona to limit the drive time. Two step is probably the best all around spot, while Captain Cook Monument is magnificent but takes much more effort to get out there or a chartered tour. I recommend at least one whale watching adventure. Getting to see the Humpbacks up close is so enriching and important for ocean preservation. We've even since a "pickle" before, which is a baby humpback jumping out of the water. It really does look like a pickle. We are going to get up on paddle boards this time around too. We own them here in the PNW but the ocean has a motion all its own.

It is a big island and the water surrounding it is not the only thing that as attractive qualities. Whether it's into an old lake bed covered with lava or down a steep ravine to a black sand beach, the hikes are endless. Some are more remote seeing only a few other adventurers along the way, while others are inundated with tourists. I never consider myself a tourist really, I don't like the word, it seems so trivial, so passing. Instead I'm someone looking for an adventure, a temporary local so to say. Doesn't it sound better? The hikes sometimes don't even have a destination but instead are loops that allow the walk, the trail to become the journey.

I will reflect this time around. Slowly enjoying the time to think, the time to breath, the time to appreciate all that is life. Taking time to be grateful for all that I have and all that I've lost this past year. It was here that I got the news my little brother, Skyler, was diagnosed with cancer. It was here I first felt helpless in the situation. The last few days on the island, I talked with him often but there was nothing I could do to help, to make it better. He told me to enjoy myself and have fun. He was so selfless even in his final days. I will always be reminded of him when we travel here. You might be gone little brother but you are far from forgotten! 

This island is magic, not the hocus pocus kind but the real shit. It has so much beauty draped across the mountains, laid among the reefs, and wrapped within the beaches. It is a sanctuary for souls, for people looking to escape the daily routine of life, and for those who just want a simpler existence. It is a healthy retreat for me to explore and dive deeper into life. 

Time...

The world is not the same.

Time seemed to stand still for a while, a hazy fog that I couldn't escape. 

Days running into each other like bummer cars at a carnival mindlessly moving. 

Now it rushes by with no relent, a snowmelt feed stream in the spring. 

Time is such a relative thing to us living, 

our whole lives are measured by it.

I can't help but count the days since you died. 

I'm in prison marking the walls until my release or your return, 

all the while knowing both are futile. 

I can not help it. 

We rush around, 

trying to make sense of the senseless,

day in and day out,

putting standards and motives on everything.

Time is endless and it passes 

with or without us.

When I stop long enough to stand still, 

I feel you next to me.

I know you are not gone but everywhere now.

You became apart of Time itself. 

I try to be slower, 

mindfully moving through the maze of life. 

Appreciating all the moments that make it up,

being thankful for the short time I got to spend with you. 

The world is not the same
 nor will I
ever be the same.

Gratitude...

An action. 

A constant choice to be reminded

 of what is wonderful around you,

within you.

To see all the good within the bad, 

to listen to your heart through heartache

and see flickers of the light within the darkness. 

It is always better 

to love more than you hate, 

to give more than you take. 

To be a little softer than you were before

and spread it like a wild fire.

I am grateful 

for my breath, that flows through me

bringing life to my senses,

for my body, that reaches for limits

I did not think I could attain,

for my thoughts, that push me ever forward

into the world of not knowing,

for my heart, that holds me up when 

I feel like falling down.

Travel and the least expected...

This trip as been amazing! Such wonderful things to see and experiance with so many amazing people and far off places. It makes me so grateful for my life, for all the things I got to do and memories I got to make. Getting sick is part of travel at times, for everybody, anywhere. The different spaces we live in around the globe have different beauties but also very different bugs. I'm not talking flies and mosquitos but parasites, bacterias, and viruses that our bodies are just not used to fighting off. That alone can keep people from traveling, from experiancing the beauty of a place, of the world. I try not to let that fear get in the way and instead proceed with caution. Tasting, nibbling, or at the very least enhaling deeply, my way through our travels. You never know until you try right, and people's diets are so varied amongst the world's inhabitants. 

That being said, I love to eat and I have a senstive stomach. I know it's not the best combination but I find a way. It's hard to not want to really get in there, try things that you've never had or heard of, explore the culinary delights of that new place you've begun to fall in love with. The smells can be intoxicating, emitting from the restaurants, throughout the streets and alleyways, and from open windows above with the sounds of families enjoying themselves inside. So much of a culture is wrapped around what it eats. Food, it brings people together and is something we all need. The temptations are ever present during travel, a battle from within; do you let your apprehensions to what the outcome could be stop you or do you dive right in, mouth first into the delicious, steaming plate of grilled meats and god knows what kind of salad and await the reprecussions?

Somewhere along the way I picked wrong. I thought I was being careful with food choices, washing my hands frequently, and we even used bottled water to brush our teeth, but unfortunately I was not careful enough. I got sick, really sick, I'm still sick. Traveling through Morocco is an experiance I will always hold close to my heart. The simple pleasures, ancient old crafts, the landscape, and the people with their ability to find smiles through such hardships. It changed the way I see the world and my privileged place within it.   

In Casablanca, Morocco, I was so sick Pit took me to the hospital. Those moments that turned into minutes will be forever etched in my memory. I was not only fighting some sort of infection internally, unbeknownst to me at the time, but I was in a third world hospital in a country where very few spoke English. I believe people are innately good and mean well but that doesn't always translate to our expectations of them. We went into a dark room through an open doorway, a street cat curled up on the floor under the counter window, where a women didn't seem that thrilled to see us, we'd reached Emergency Admissions. Pit tried communicating, she jotted down some information from my passport and I was whisked down a short hallway into a smaller room. People stared, maybe they'd never seen an American before and I knew I didn't look good. The nurses didn't understand me either, I started to cry, I was so afraid. When everyone around you is speaking French, it was a French colony for years, or Arabic and you're feeling like crude and you don't understand, its so hard to not fall apart. Pit was my light. I tried the best I could to explain the symptoms through basic hand gestures and was then pointed to follow another nurse to another room, a few doors down, deeper within. Barred windows were broken in places letting a slight warm breeze blow in. I could hear the traffic just outside & the stirrings of the other patients. The room had three other beds, all full. I got shown to mine and left for moment. My heart raced, I didn't know what was going on, I felt so horrible. Pit told me it would be okay. I didn't even want to sit on the bed, it had seen better days. The seperating wall between the patient spaces was filthy, splatters of dried blood and bodily fluids visible to my eyes. Everything was dirty. This couldn't be a real hospital, a place people went to get help. The nurse came back with a syringe in hand, ready to poke me. I protested, I didn't know what it was. I couldn't keep the tears from falling. Pit was my light, reiterating that I would be okay. I took the injection of whatever it was, potassium probably, and hoped for the best. I believe people are innately good and they wouldn't hurt me on purpose. That was it, no tempature check, no blood pressure, no blood samples to see what was actually going on inside, not even any real verbal communication between us. I got four prescriptions, no idea what they were at the time, and left the hospital to find a pharmacy. We walked a block, maybe two and found it. The pharmacists assisted us a little with archaic markings on the boxes to help us decode the instructions. Luckily we go a cab on the way back to our hotel that spoke some english and he helped decipher the medication as best he could. 

The next day we flew to Barcelona, Spain. I didn't feel any better but thought lets let the anitibiotics work their magic, took a shower, skipped eating, and went to bed. I awoke with pain throughout my whole body, my fever present almost 5 days now, something ravishing my innards. Pit found a hospital and we were on our way early. I was relieved to think it had to be better than what I experianced just two days before, but I was still scared. I didn't know what was wrong with me & I'd never felt this sick. After hours in the emergency room, being poked & prodded, blood tests, & talking with many emergency room doctors through broken English I was admitted to the Hospital de Barcelona. With no more information than I needed to stay & that I had an internal infection, I was staying put. At least I had drugs to help the with fever and the pain. 

The room was clean and private. The staff was attentive and sweet but Spanish speaking after all I'm in their country. Thank goodness I know some Spanish and my doctor, Dr. Ignasi Coll of internal medicine, speaks pretty good English. He has kind eyes, the kind that soothe without needing to say much. I've had tough moments in the hospital filled with doubt, fear, anxiety, the implacable desire to come home and be surrounded by familiar anything. I'm still here, going on day three with a needle in my arm for what seems like consistent antibiotics and fluids. I hadn't eaten in almost 3 full days, until this morning. I received toast and a piece of lunch meat ham for breakfast. The view is nice, 14th floor and I can see a tiny fragment of the Mediterranean Sea. Pit and I got to watch a lighting storm in the distance from my window just this morning. I'm starting to feel better too and hoping to get out tonight or tomorrow morning to embark on our long journey home.

I've never been so sick that I actually thought about how much I wanted to live, how much I have to live for, and how much good there is in the world that I want to be a part of. I've been shown my frailty in a very personal way and its hard to sit with. Earlier this year, I watched my little brother lose his short battle with cancer at just 21 and that has been very hard to sit with too. Our lives are so transient, fleeting into the eternal sublime, nothing being guaranteed. We are not all handed the same beginnings, the same privileges, but we are all susceptible to the same end. Moment by moment we choose to dive right in or hold back, temptations ever present. I'm going to dive in nonetheless, cautious yes, but unafraid of the impact it could have on me and more excited for the possible impact it could have on everyone else. 

A small window into the passing of time ...

The energy stirs, coldness creeping in, the light is no where to be found. Fog hovers over the rippled water, hugging it tightly, moving closer to where I sit. The stillness is comforting, a long lost friend that I'm all to familiar with. The wind softly rustling the leaves at a distance, a slow dance between the two. 

Memories of the past haunt,

like ghosts 

floating through your consciousness.

Lost in a moment, 

so long ago.

You can barley hear their voices.

Pain so real, 

it leaves you breathless.

To remember 

is to hurt all over again.

Then it's gone. 

A fleeting glimpse into what was,

a flash of what could have been,

abandoning your senses,

while awakening your soul. 

More stories from around Marrakech

Marrakech is a rich city in terms of history and culture. There is just so much to see and do that we just couldn't fit everything in. We divided our time up so we could see many spectacular things and spent much time walking through the souks.

We woke up early to get to the garden, looking to arrive before the bus loads of tourists. Yes, we are tourists too but we are staying in the medina, the old city, and are able to walk everywhere. Large groups of tourists are a good thing for this country and its people but not for us. The lines the bus loads produce are daunting. It was Jardin Majorelle, a botanical oasis created in the 1920s and 1930s by a Frenchman. It has plants from 5 different continents and lots of endemic bird species. It feels like a different world once you are inside the walls, its bamboo forest towers over us as we start to walk around. 

It had many water features, a museum which was being renovated, and a little cafe to enjoy coffee or snacks. There are pots everywhere filled with plants, let alone the ones in the ground. This garden is well looked after, probably because there is an admission fee charged. 

The blue that is throughout the garden is called Majorelle Blue. It is named after the garden's creator and is a clear, intense, fresh blue. The name and color was actually trademarked and is now used in pottery, tiles, and houses throughout Morocco. I was able to find some of its color powder in a spice market and am hoping to paint some pottery back home. 

I would live in this garden and could see why the painter wanted to create such a place to enjoy. It is a nice change of pace from the desert that surrounds you. So vibrant and colorful, filled with lots of water features and shady spots, with so much positive energy. 

 

Our next stop was the Ali ben Youseff Medersa. It is a very well preserved 16th century Koranic school. A place that as many as 900 students would come to study the Koran. Students of the Muslim faith came from all over the world to live here, learn verses, and pray. It takes your breath away to see it, such devotion; from the large framed entry way to the large open courtyard. The details so thought out and methodically placed, everything having a meaning and symbols of faith. There is intricate woodwork on the top, detailed plaster carved out in the middle, and mosaic tiles placed around the bottom. 

The sleeping quarters above were tiny spaces, not much room for anything more than sleeping. They were basic, think college dorm room but half the size and some without windows. There were these beautiful open spots though where you could see below or above and the detail, again so amazing. What time it must have taken to create and then you think they had to put it all together to make the space what it is. In the 16th century it was all manual labor, no machines or cranes to help you. That is devotion. 

This door on the second floor led up to an open space on the roof. It was all walled in, so no seeing out, but the sky was visible from above. Not sure what the space was used for but I like to call them the steps to heaven.  

We wandered around, taking it in, then walked around the corner to the Museum of Marrakech. It doesn't look like much from the outside and is small in comparison to the Louvre, but used to be a palace and was built in the end of the 19th century. It's large open atrium contains the largest centrally hung chandelier-esque ceiling piece I've ever seen! It wasn't one piece but instead consisted of metal plates decorated with fine geometric cuttings. It was filled with some paintings, photographs, and artifacts from around Marrakech. It was a nice blending of old and new things.  

We finished our exploring and walked through the souks. These are the marketplaces where you can find almost anything. I love the organization, with everything having its section and place, so you can easily find things. You can get lost, which is fun, just wandering around taking it all in. You have to always be paying attention though because scooters are everywhere, a mule could be coming up behind you carrying anything, and there are just people walking in every direction. Lots of tourists but also lots of local people making there way to and fro. It is easy to get distracted and shop keepers were always close by, trying to talk to you and get you to take a look. Since this country was occupied by the French until after WWII, most local people speak French here, as well as Arabic. Once we said we were from America, we got "hello" and "see you later alligator".

We continue our journey to Fez, another imperial city in Morocco.

Our Marrakech Food Tour

I feel really lucky to have come across the Marrakech Food Tour. It's a big world but made smaller by the internet. I was doing my research and found MarocMama: Tastes, sights, and virtual smells from my Moroccan kitchen. I love to cook and believe it can bring people together even from the most different of places. I started corresponding with Amanda, the owner, and learned that her and her husband, Youseff, ran Marrakech Food Tours. Not only did she have wonderful recipes from her kitchen, some that I tried out before we embarked on this journey, but also great advice for when we would be traveling to Marrakech. Being a lover of food and wanting to feel a connection with some locals, we had to try the food tour out. It was easy, we were able to prepay, and list items that we were allergic to or foods we really wanted to try. They even offer a Freaky Foods tour at night where you can explore just how tough your stomach is in the Jemaa el-Fnna, the main square in town. I knew already that our stomachs were not ironclad, so we opted for the daytime tour with both Amanda and Youseff. 

They picked us up at our Riad and we were off. He is a local, she is American. They both spoke English and I liked that it was her first language. There are things you pick up when you have known a language from birth that learning one just doesn't teach you. They were a wealth of information and able to answer anything we asked. Being able to walk around with them was worth the money, let alone all the food they experienced with us. It was magnificent. Youseff's shirt said "Local Hero" and that was the truth. Everywhere we walked he was known, greeting people or joking around, he had grown up on these streets. Before our first stop we got to visit a community bakery where they make bread. 10,000 rounds a day to sell, think small tortilla size, and whatever the local women brought in on boards that same morning. They also cook dishes of food for families. Just like the bread, you bring it in & they cook it. Since wood-fired ovens are a scarce commodity, this oven is used by many in the community. Bread is served at every meal and very important here. Whatever is not eaten is used for animal feed, very few things get wasted. All of the food is free of perservatives so shopping for what you are going to eat that day or in the next few days is a regular occurrence. Some people don't have refrigeration either. It was hot outside but inside the bread shop it was sweltering. The boys working didn't seem to mind, they worked 7 days a week. The trays of bread they were bringing to be cooked in the fire oven seemed limitless, 10,000 rounds is a lot to bake every single day. 

Our first stop was a wonderful small restaurant, tucked away down a small alley that we never would have found ourselves. I wish I would have gotten the name but a woman was in the kitchen cooking and our guides both knew her well. They exchanged a greeting and we sat down to enjoy a wonderful array of Moroccan salads and some vegetarian couscous. The salads were my favorite part; local fresh produce, simple ingredients, and all with distinct flavors. They come out in small bowls, we each got our own and you eat them with bread, no utensils needed. They did have them just in case though. It is so nice to eat with your hands, it makes me feel more connected to the food I'm consuming. The next was the vegetarian couscous. You haven't had couscous until you've eaten it in Africa. Couscous in the states is bland, usually out of a box and takes no time at all to cook. Here couscous is a time consuming food, it steams for hours in a pot that looks like a double boiler and the process is repeated more than once. It makes the softest, most fluffy and flavorful couscous I've ever eaten. The bottom of the pan, again think double boiler, has broth that boils the veggies until perfect. Think one pot meal and a simple clean up. The couscous is at the bottom and the veggies are on top with the broth poured over. The little grapes or raisins that were on the top of the dish were to die for, so good! This dish made me re-think being a meat eater and made me want to hunt for some good couscous in the states. We had mint tea, something that is customary in Morocco and enjoyed at all times of day. Most locals drink it all day. 

On the way to the next place we got to see how the perceived chaos was actually a well thought out plan in a different way. We walked down into another structure that housed a fire pit surrounded by pipes leading out of the building to next door. Wood is such a scarce commodity here and isn't the primary source of burning. I was walking on leather discarded from making sandals or shoes. They burn anything they can get their hands on to create flame, not just for cooking but also for heating water. Hammams are spa-like spaces where there are rooms with different temperatures of water coming out of pipes. I think of the Korean ladies spa with the different temperature pools and ladies just hanging out and scrubbing down. There are Hammams for men too. The pipes that feed into the Hammams are the ones warmed by the fire in the building next door. They are so resourceful that the hot ash is removed from that same fire and piled up to be used to cook a dish called Tangia. 

That was our next stop, a restaurant that cooked lamb right in the ground and served Tangia. It was a crazy sight to see, a row of nothing but lamb heads and cooked lamb on a board with men cutting it up and people crowded around waiting to buy it. Think butcher shop but more rugged and just everything out in the open, flies and all. Youseff, was able to let us walk behind the cutting board station and take a look in the hole that 30 fully skinned lambs go directly into to cook. The picture doesn't do it justice but it was huge inside. One lamb at a time goes in on a hook until it's full and when they are all cooked, one at a time comes out. It takes about 3-4 hours to cook them all. This process happens everyday. 

We went up stairs to the third floor and got a table. It is nice to be high up, with some distance from the noise of the square and the sight of the lamb heads. 

I tried to take a picture of the butchering but lots of people have signs that say "No Photo" and I'm always respectful of their wishes. We ordered a piece of the roasted lamb and also a Tangia. Tangia is amazing and made me rethink my thoughts earlier about becoming vegetarian. In the states we don't eat lamb often; it really gets a bad reputation when it comes to a meat option. Here it is a staple and this dish made me see why. They get a pot, a Tangia, and fill it up with spices, raw chunks of lamb, olive oil, and some preserved lemons, maybe onions if available. It's covered in a waxpaper-like top and then stuck in the hot ash overnight. Remember the ash from burning anything and heating the Hammams? Very resourceful people but when there are no other options you make do. Amanda had called it bachelor stew because it's cheap and easy to make. A little pot makes quite a bit too and with the roasted lamb we were all full by the end. We were back to eating with our hands with rounds of bread to scoop up the meat. 

I'm telling you this is good! So juicy and moist, the lamb was falling off the bones. It was a little fatty but everything usually gets eaten here. We left the fat & the bones but devoured the rest. 

We were stuffed and made our way to a little baked good shop down another small alley for our final treat. The French definitely made their mark here with the amount of coffee and baked goods readily available. We got to enjoy a few types of cookies and coffee. Most were like shortbread cookies with a few being filled with a mascarpone type filling flavored of orange blossom. They were tasty but by the end we were so full that we had leftovers to take back to our Riad. 

This was the best thing we did while on our adventure in Marrakech! Not only were Amanda and Youseff the perfect hosts but we tried things we wouldn't have tried otherwise and saw things that wouldn't have made sense without a locals perspective. We got some insight into daily living, community life, and didn't feel like tourists during our time spent with them. It was amazing and something that I would recommend to anybody traveling through Marrakech. 

Marrakech, the arrival

Traveling can be stressful at times even if it is a magical destination. We arrived, with a delayed flight, and luckily had already planned with the Riad to get picked up. It was painless but passport control always proves to be a little difficult, no matter where you're going. Not like unmanageable difficult but the person checking papers seems to put on this I-hate-my-job face most of the time and the lines can seem like your waiting for a new drivers license at the DMV, endless. It took under an hour so we were happy. Since we are traveling with just our packs, yes ladies, just one, very small pack on our backs, with limited variety, we zipped through customs and found our driver. He was nice and boy, did he know how to drive. Taxi drivers are of a different breed, always knowing their way around and having such faith in the roads they travel and the other people on those roads. The streets are tiny and with cars, scooters, bicycles, people, people riding on carts pullled by donkeys or horses, and cats everywhere, I was a bit overwhelmed to say the least but I had faith in our driver. He was of that breed, a part of the taxi-man clan. 

As I look out my open window, I breathe deep and try and feel the place out. My apprehensions, trying to make their way to the surface but I swallow hard to keep them at bay, there is nothing to be afraid of. The landscape so parched of water, brown and beautiful, filled with palm trees, houses that are much different in appearance than my own, and people, literally everywhere. We had arrived at dusk and the sky was of perfect orange sherbert with hints of lavender towards the top escaping to the dark, dark skies above. As we travel to the riad, I'm acutely aware that we are in a much different place with different customs and rules. The energy here is fast moving, in every direction, making me swirl to a tizzy just trying to keep up and notice everything. We were at our riad before I knew it. The door opened and immediately it hits you, the noises, the smells, the what seemed like confusion but wasn't. Massimo, our Riad's owner met us and showed us the way. It was a small feat just getting there. Street names are not common and even if it had a name it wasn't visible anywhere to our eyes. We learned the landmarks to look for and took some mental pictures. I have to say after just a day here, it is much easier than first thought to navigate your way. We get to the riad, sit down, get our welcome gingery iced beverage and I notice my bag, not my pack with clothes and toiletries but my bag with passports and money, got left in the car. With the fast pace of everything, my nerves, and having my hands full of a shawl for around my shoulders, I totally forgot it. 

This is the worst thing to happen while away from home in a foreign land. With passports, money, credit card, and the only debit card we brought along this trip, all seemingly gone forever, I was almost in tears. I wasn't sure what was going to happen. Massimo, told me not to fret and after a little friendly jabbing, called the driver. Language here is Arabic or French, most people learn both starting in primary school. I'm proficient in neither, so a slurry of words being exchanged that sounded promising was all I heard. He had the bag! Let me repeat, he had the bag! I went with Georgina, Massimo's wife, to pick it up along with a very nice tip. The streets so full of life, energy moving every which way, its hard not to be distracted. The driver was just as elated to receive the tip, as I was to receive my bag. Everything was right in my world again and my heart was finally starting to slow down, panic attack was averted. We arrived back at the riad with smiles and a great lesson learned. The people here are wonderful, nice and friendly, and just as curious about us as we are about them. Most are not here to rip you off but make a living like the rest of humanity. 

The place we are staying in Marrakech is the Riad le Clos des Arts. I highly recommend it if you are going to be visiting Marrakech. A Riad was once a single family home built around an open courtyard. Most are now being converted into hotels, ours has 7 rooms to choose from, all decorated and themed in different colors. Georgina and Massimo, the owners, have put so much into making this a wonderful stay and are the most helpful with finding things to do and places to eat. We also got some tips and pointers from them about navigating the Souks. 

This Riad even had a pool on the top floor. It isn't a big pool but after walking around in the heat for hours, it is a welcomed sight. This is where we enjoyed breakfast most days too. There was a small kitchen on the roof as well as the main floor. This made distributing food easier. 

Ours was theTurquoise suit, including its own bathroom and a little extra living space. It was beautiful with so much attention paid to the details. I felt like a princess staying here. 

Half way through and our London adventures!

When traveling abroad you can be inundated with getting around, finding places to eat, and just understanding the language. Half way through the trip, I can't believe it. London was a welcomed destination, not only because it's an English speaking country but also because we have family living just outside of the city center. Don't get me wrong, Paris was a beautiful city with much to see; Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre but the people were not the friendliest or the cleanest. Like it was someone else's job to clean up after them and pick up their trash and even their dog poop. Also they would just walk right in front of you with no concern for your presence. I'm not a tiny lady and by the end of 4 days in Paris I was ready to kick people or at least step on their feet. We were lucky to get some time with a good friend, Kenna. She was so great at showing us around and taking us to some local bars and restaurants. I would say that besides the cool things to see and do, she was my favorite part of Paris.

Back to our London fun time! We decided to stay a week here to connect with family, some had visited the states last year. I was looking forward to the inside scoop on the best pubs and Indian restaurants, as well as just checking in with how their lives were going. Our hotel was pretty much in the center of everything, the SOHO area. This was good for getting around, with many underground stops close by but man were there people everywhere all the time and at all hours of the day and night. The Underground or Metro is what we would call a subway, a myriad of tunnels taking you almost anywhere within and just outside the city. I love them and wish that Seattle or the Pacific Northwest would get on board with cheap, easy, environmentally friendly transportation. Yeah, there were times that it was a little crowded or certain lines were closed for maintenance, but so effective and way more affordable than your own vehicle. Can you say no car payment, no insurance payment, and no filling up the gas tank? Let alone there's no where to park in London and they drive on the wrong side of the road. That can just make walking around difficult. I was always looking the wrong way first when crossing the road, luckily we had some locals on our side. 

We had to hit some of the sights; the Tate Modern Museum, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, and many many pubs inbetween. We walked along the Thames River numerous times, watching buskers doing all sorts of things to grabbing some frozen yogurt to just walking around and people watching. I loved all the outdoor spaces that were available to anybody and everybody. There was an outdoor sandbox where many people brought their kids to play and a skatepark being used by all sorts of folks. Public spaces are just more prevalent and commonly used throughout Euroupe and the UK. The parks and green spaces always had people in them, day and night, with such a mixture of people just hanging out, socializing and in some cases even drinking. London being such a big city, had no shortage of outdoor spaces and put importance on having them accessible to all. 

There isn't a shortage of pubs either. You think there is a lot of drinking establishments in Olympia! Drinking at pubs is expensive at almost 5€ a pint, that's about $7.50. Those were the happy hour prices too. Drinking in public isn't legal but it's like if you're being responsible and not making a ruckus it's no big deal. People had more self accountability and weren't in the park to get drunk but instead they were there to hang out with friends and alcohol was present. Don't get me wrong, lots of people drank in pubs but the idea of a pub was that is was your local neighborhood hangout. Most of them, back in the day, had living quarters upstairs for the family who ran the bar. They close around 11pm to midnight so people can still make it to work the next day. Liquor is a whole separate thing with everything being measured. There is no free pouring so we stuck to pints cause it was more cost effective. We also learned that nobody tips in bars. That seemed so foreign for us coming from the states where the culture is to tip a $1 a drink. It did show in service at times but overall all the pubs were pleasant places to be. You could even stand on the street corner, with drink in hand, and nobody ran after you to leave your drink. Again, people were just self accountable and expected to not impede pedestrian traffic or walk away with the drink. We even got to meet up with our good friend, Jim Foley and his son Finn on their own European adventure. 

We got to spend some great quailty time with family, see some amazing things, eat great Indian cusine and are looking forward to exploring more upon our return.