Morocco, part 2

 Kefta (lamb beef meatball) Tagine with a poached egg in delicious spiced tomato sauce.   

The food in Morocco was possibly the best part.  They have a strong bread culture, and the bread that was served with every meal was fresh and delicious.  Tagines are a wonderful way to prepare food, in general, but in particular while hiking between very basic guesthouses (Gîte_d'étapes) where you (or a mule) must bring all of the cooking supplies (including the gas and burner).

Merguez and vegetable tagine.

Morocco is much more of a dry country than I realized.  For the entire 7 days, we only ate at one restaurant that served alcohol.  We also went to one bar in Marrakech, and it was one of the few places we visited where they obviously preferred French to Darija.

We were invited in for tea at a Berber home.

Linguistically,  Morocco is one of the more complex places I've ever visited.  While Darija is the official spoken language, in most of the places where we hiked, the people spoke a Berber dialect.  Unlike standard Arabic (which I studied briefly 15 years ago, but have completely lost all memory of and cannot follow at all except basic things like thank you, excuse me, etc.), after a couple of days in Morocco I found that I could occasionally follow Darija a little bit thanks to the context of knowing what was being discussed (typically logistics around hiking, eating, driving, etc.) and the French and Spanish cognates embedded in the language.

Lemon Chicken, one of the traditional Moroccan dishes

(preserved lemons and cooked olives -- wonderful)

Part of the reason we'd selected Morocco, was that I wanted to go somewhere where French would be useful.  And it was. But interestingly, almost everyone we spoke to preferred English to French.  Much like Vietnam, there appears to be a generational preference, where the older folks who were educated in French prefer it to English, but the younger folks wish to learn, practice and speak English. There is currently a big debate in the country about whether they should move their STEM education from Standard Arabic and French to English or not.  Standard Arabic, French, and Spanish are all languages of outsiders who came to Morocco and ruled them.  Whereas English is seen as the international language, and Morocco is one of the few places that doesn't have a history of British colonialism.

The weather, wildflowers, and views while hiking were perfect

  Overall, even with the dog bite, it was a fascinating trip and we very much enjoyed ourselves.

Kefta Tagine, fresh chopped veggies, mint tea

and views of the Atlas Mountains

while listening to the call to prayer echo 

down the valley

Travel Medical Adventures (Warning, Dog Bite Photos)

Hello from the other side of the longest I've gone without blogging since 2003.  I didn't miss it at all, which surprised me.

Tulips on the way into AMS (before our quick hop to CDG)

Given that I've habitually blogged at least once a week for 16 years, I spent some time trying to understand why it was so easy to let it go:

1. I have Instagram and Twitter if I really feel the need to project my words/pictures, and they are faster and easier to use.

2. Over the years, I've gotten less and less dedicated to the actual craft of writing on this blog, *and* I've gotten less and less specific with the details I share. This means the blog has really shrunk down from a general purpose somewhat redacted diary with intermittent writing exercises to more of a running, fitness, travel, food, and reading tracker -- e.g. useful, but not a particularly creative pursuit.

3. I was preparing for and enjoying a 19-day trip, with at least half of it completely off work.  During our Sabbatical year, I blogged about our experiences and observations as part of the fun of the travel.  I built in time to prepare blog posts after each new location, to help me process and record my thoughts while they were fresh before I went to another place. On this vacation, I believe the longest one I've ever taken while working, I really wanted to just focus on enjoying the trip in the moment and minimizing the activities that could feel like work.

Chefchauoen, Morocco -- the blue city

Our original plan had been to fly round trip to Paris (because any chance I can build in a France visit, I will, and also because we weren't sure what might happen with Brexit at the time we booked our flights, so we wanted an option to bail out of England if necessary).  After one night in Paris to manage jet lag, we planned to fly to Morocco and visit Chefchaouen and do some hiking there, followed by a visit to Marrakech and hiking in the Atlas Mountains.  From Marrakech, we had flights to London, where we'd cheer on Jen at the London Marathon, visit London friends, possibly do some hiking in Wales, and then close out the trip with an awesome weekend full of Wiltshire adventures with Jen & Gypsy Runner as guests of Cat and her family and cats.

Roughly our route, except we flew from Fes to Marrakesh

How did we pick Morocco?  Well, I wanted to visit a country we'd never been to, and we wanted to do some hiking.  E had never been to Africa, and we knew we wanted to start in France, which made Morocco an easier option due to its history as a French protectorate and popularity with French-speaking tourists.  Once we decided to go, E's dad decided to come along as well, which made for a fun family trip.

Day 1 hiking, Chefchauoen in the background

Unfortunately, on the first day of hiking, despite having a local guide, I got bit by a dog.  We were on public hiking trails, but the dog's owner had a marijuana farm near the trail and the dog was a bit too territorial.  There were two dogs, actually, a black one that came running at our group towards the guide in the front of our single file line, and a yellow one that came at the back of our line (me).  The dog was loudly and angrily barking and I was oddly calm in the certainty that I was going to get bit.  I chose to keep my back to it, and sure enough, it did quickly nip at my heel, slicing through my wool socks and leggings and then it ran away.  It was a quick sharp slice, and it didn't actually hurt that much.  I was surprised when I pulled my sock down and saw how deep it actually was.  Later, I felt very grateful when I saw the other scrapes on the outside of my calf from the teeth that didn't puncture. Any deeper in the lower part and it would have injured my achilles.  Any deeper up above and it could have seriously injured my calf muscles.  I was very lucky and extremely thankful.

Within 30 seconds of me explaining that I'd been bitten, our guide rinsed it with saline, applied betadine, and wrapped it with gauze.  He then called a jeep to come get us and we went to the hospital, where they cleaned the wound, gave me a tetanus shot in my stomach, prescribed antibiotics, and sent me to the municipality for 2 doses of the rabies vaccine and a card instructing me to get another dose in 7 days and another dose 14 days after that.

I'd already been taking it relatively easy, athletically, on this trip, in the hopes of calming down my pesky left hamstring/glute, but now it appeared that I'd be taking it *very* easy.

2 days post injury

On day 7, I got myself in to see a travel doctor in London, and they informed me that Public Health England disagreed with the regimen that Morocco had prescribed.  They wanted Immunoglobulin injected into the bite site (actually the most painful part of this whole process) as well as vaccinations on day 7, day 10, and day 21.  So, E and I took the train all the way out to Colindale and back to pick up Immunoglobulin and vaccine doses, which we took back to the clinic for evening treatment.  (Side note -- if you ever need treatment for travel-related medical issues in London, Dr. Dawood and the team at the Fleet Street Clinic is for you.  The first travel-clinic I tried shrunk in horror at the idea of post-exposure rabies treatment and sent me to them. They were wonderful.)

Monday's London vacation activities were:

laundry, Dishoom, 

and several hours of medical stuff with lots of public transit

Day 10, instead of staying in the lovely English countryside, we spent about 2 hours going from the adorably named Castle Combe back to Fleet Street Clinic for another vaccination (the vaccines had to be kept refrigerated and administered by someone PHE trusted) and then another 2 hours or so heading back to Wiltshire, where we met up with our friends.

Castle Combe -- does it get any more quaint?

Once back in the US, I called my local travel clinic and learned that the US doesn't agree with either the UK or Morocco about the treatment regime.  So, tomorrow, I'm headed in for my last and final vaccine dose (day 17 instead of 21).

I did do a little bit of hiking and jogging in the last couple of weeks, and it didn't really hurt, but the wound is actually fairly deep and most of those activities seemed to open up the most recently healed areas. So, I'm going to hold off any "training" until it's fully closed up and healed over.  Wish me luck.

Hawaii Just Keeps Getting Better

For my 10th visit to Hawaii, I added scuba diving to the list of fun.

Almost There!

Oh. My. Goodness.

Views of Koko Head Crater and ridge

from an AM sunrise Diamond Head Hike

Every time I come here, I love it more, and this trip I discovered that scuba is yet another way that this place is so amazing.

We had 3 meals in the Japanese Food Hall.

We saw 9 sea turtles. Nine!

View from Diamond Head.

And 2 octopi.

How does one not fall in love with this place?

And 2 white-tipped sharks. Plus 5+ eels. And so many fish. We hiked twice. I got in 4 runs.

The Hanauma Bay Hike.

And the food.

Tsukemen!

THE FOOD!

Uni Chorizo Tagliatelle (The Pig & the Lady)

Duck Pho! (The Pig & the Lady)

Truffle Corn Agnolotti with cilantro and lime 

(The Pig & the Lady)

Did I mention the food?

Cold Udon with Ikura and Shaved Radish at the Yokocho, 

Delicious!

I didn't even get to go to all of the restaurants on my list.  We'll just have to go back so I can hit up the hilariously named Piggy Smalls for their PhoStrami Sandwich (if ever a meal had my number, pho and pastrami is it).  Also, we didn't make it to Inaba for Soba, so that'll have to happen next time, too.

Colombian Ridiculousness (with Ecuadorian photo support)

So, I have plans to post more with better photos and explanations from the Galapagos (which was an amazing experience) soon, but in the meantime, I think today's travel ridiculousness is entertaining enough to get its own post.

Gratuitous Quito 800m track photo.  Ecuador has 1 Olympic gold medal.  In speedwalking. 

Won by this guy: Jefferson Perez, in Atlanta, in 1996.

First, we arrived at the Galapagos airport 3+ hours before our flight.  There was no-one at the Avianca check-in counters.  Fine.  We watched our 8-days'-new 24-hour-bonded boat-friends check in easily for their flights, but kept our luggage and waited with them in the food court.  At 2 hours before the flight, there was still no one at the counters.  In other news, oddly, more people in Ecuador know where Atlanta is than California.  It's because their one and only Olympic Gold medal was won there.  Deep breath, let go my shock at California not being well-known, I can get behind this.

I made our Taxi driver stop so I could get this photo.  GIANT TORTOISES!

At 1h45 minutes before our flight out of the Galapagos, I insisted that we go stand in "line" even though there were no other passengers in the Avianca line (despite the departures sign -- oh so inconveniently not located anywhere near the check-in desk -- claiming our 12h45 flight was on time).  We watched a few people get addressed by the folks in the "ejecutiva classe" line and eventually, the professionals servicing that line took pity on us and waived us lonesome, sole, economy folks forward with the standard, "Siga!"

Who doesn't want an Iguana photo?

I must say, this is the first time when my (still developing, but somewhat useful) Spanish has come in as obviously more handy than English.  We tried to check in.  We were informed that the plane was 2h30 minutes late.  This was not unusual (we'd already experienced a similar delay on another flight whereupon we'd just owned it and enjoyed Top Gun from start to finish at the airport bar, en Español).  The problem this time was that we had a connection in Quito to Bogotá on a different airline and the delay was going to make it much too tight to make it on South American timelines.

One of many Galapagos Island otherworldly landscapes.

Oddly, this is where things got *more* useful than they would have been at home (as a general rule, I've found that South America is generally *less* useful when trying to accomplish things than the United States.  This isn't a value judgment, I think the pace of life in South America is probably better.  But it is a personal observation that was proven wrong today.)

Did we rave about the ceviche, humitas, or empanadas?  We should have (also the corn-nuts!)

I explained to the woman at the counter that we had a connection to Bogota from Quito.  She asked when.  I said around 5 or 6 but I wasn't sure because we didn't have Internet on the boat and the Internet didn't work in the terminal despite many claims to the contrary, so I didn't have specifics.  She then waived me behind the counters, past security, into the office of the airline where they let me login to my personal email on their computers and print my itinerary, whereupon they confirmed that yes, we did not have enough time to make our connection, so they would just put us on the Tame flight (the one our friends had checked into almost 2 hours ago at this point, not to mention a competitor airline).  She then stood behind the Tame agent (mind you, this is an Avianca agent) and waited for almost 30 minutes to ensure we got our tickets (which was very touch and go, but eventually it all worked out, just in time for our luggage to get going and for us to board).

Ecuadorian Dinghy Rules: Lifejacket if you are not carrying snorkeling gear.  Otherwise, no lifejacket required.

So, we arrived in Quito, grabbed our luggage (my bag was the second to last bag on the carousel) and headed to the international terminal.  Then we tried to check into our VivaColombia Flights.  Turns out, we had a reservation, but online checkin was required.  If you hadn't done it (which we couldn't from the ocean in the Galapagos), you had to pay a $15 per person fee.  Also, they wouldn't let you check in without a printed outbound (from Colombia) itinerary.

Check out that Marine Iguana!  (They swim!)

This is where I learned that my Spanish is now good enough that I can actually get coherently mad at someone in Spanish.  I started nicely but eventually got more and more agitated and finally yelled at the guy doing his job for VivaColombia asking him why this was the first we'd heard that we had to have a booked ticket out of the country when he was *not* immigration, and we were planning on taking an open spot on a sailboat from Cartagena, which is super common and *not* subject to formal itineraries, just like buses, which we (and any other number of airline passengers) could also be taking out of the country.  To his credit, I was clearly not the first crazy gringa to partially lose my shit at him, and he did not find me remotely intimidating or concerning (he also didn't change his position, so clearly my language studies need work).  Eventually, while E asked me if we could just book cancelable flights in English, Mr. VivaColombia told us where to find the business center and we headed there to print our boarding passes and book flights from Colombia to Panama at a reasonable departure date, print the itineraries, and then cancel the flights (thanks Expedia and your 24-hour termination clause!).  This was more than sufficient for the purposes of VivaColombia, and finally we made it onto our flight.  A big thanks to Avianca for re-booking us on the Tame flight or we would have never had enough time to deal with all of this in Quito and we would have missed our flight for certain.

View from our balcony over the Galapagos...

And now, for the first time in over 10 nights, we're in a western business hotel that we arrived at via a shuttle complete with non-insane driver and seatbelts and doors that closed fully.  Bonus, points = complimentary glasses of wine at the bar.

I tried to book us an AirBNB for Bogota for the next 2 nights, only to login and learn that we got a negative review from the last host we had because while we followed the instructions and left the keys under their doormat, the keys disappeared (also, apparently we were difficult because we expected the laundry facilities to actually, you know, work).  We actually considered taking a picture of the keys under the mat because it seemed so sketchy to leave the keys as requested, but we didn't.

Hindsight.

Also, after poking around at Bogota AirBNB options we decided we were too exhausted to deal with another super-authentic experience, so that is how we booked the next 2 nights on Starwood points.

Tomorrow?  Laundry.

Last words, pre-Galapagos

I feel some pressure to get some blogging done before we head off to the Galapagos and don't have connectivity for 8+ days (the longest for both of us in something like 2 decades).

Something impressive happened in the Plaza Independencia in Quito.

Part of me feels guilty about the blogs I haven't posted.  The awesomeness that needs to be celebrated, that *would* be celebrated, *instantly* in my home culture, but here it's more complicated.  For example, today, we simply wanted to go to old-town, but it was shut down and there was some *very* important stuff happening.  We stayed for it.  Despite at least 2+ hours of crazy waiting, nobody official spoke (which was weird for us).  But there were lots of horses, official bands/marching, people in uniforms, gates, security, and stuff... I could spend a whole post talking about this and the people we interacted with in this environment.  But instead, I must own that we don't have time.  We're preparing to go to the Galapagos and we're just generally dealing with day-to-day life -- like packing a bag full of clean laundry (which, did you know, is less easy to cram into pockets than dirty laundry).

I mean, we are happy we got into our AirBNB at close to midnight in Quito without any major security issues a few days ago and that our laundry is finally done... It took all day yesterday, multiple trips upstairs to a secret *pad-locked* AirBNB laundry facility where things were *not* *remotely* *electronically* *kosher* plus emails and texts and South American levels of patience (which we just aren't qualified to deliver).  At one point, our laundry was covered in water and the high voltage electricity to the laundry facility was dead -- no rinse, no spin, no dryer.  But the lights worked.  Thankfully, after bothering our hosts yet again, we said "F This," and left the mess to enjoy a delicious 2-hour lunch.  Clearly, this was the proper South American response, because when we got back, the power was on and our laundry had drained and spun, finally ready for the dryer.

240V splits to 2 separate 120V circuits via simple cords without chaos,

 right?

I called to reserve a taxi to the airport today -- I think it went okay, but my Spanish is still pretty spotty, so if we don't re-emerge, you can start your search in Quito, near the Superfines, waiting for a taxi to the aeropuerto that we thought we reserved...

In the meantime, I'm definitely getting up early to run some laps at the huge track in Parque Carolina -- I can't find the total distance on the Internet, so I will report back when I can as a public service.

Hiking in the Andes (Part II -- The Salkantay Trail)

First, our guide had to stop at this local market to buy some coca leaves.

Our first day involved a drive up a mountain with a few local stops, and then hopping on the trail to climb from 12,000 ft to 12,500 ft in a mile in the rain and then another 3ish miles of rolling along the water canal under clear skies until we arrived at our lodge.

Mollepata lunch stop - Traditional kitchen complete with guinea pigs.

Our first mile was under some serious rain.

But then it stopped and we had a rainbow for our coca leaves offering ceremony.

Even when it was flat, it was technical.

And here we are -- 12,650ish feet and home for 2 nights.

We were a hiking group of 5 with our own guide and we shared the lodges each night with an equestrian group of 5 with their own guide, plus a doctor, and a horse caretaker.  Our hiking group was very compatible and we all were in great shape.  Our guide was very pleased at our ability to keep up a solid pace without needing lots of breaks.

Taking a rest at Humantay Lake

Altitude sickness is worse for those who aren't cardiovascularly fit, but it can strike anyone (see the 25 year old in the group a day ahead of us who ran up the mountain on the second day, but was overtaken by puking and sickness that night).  Typically (according to our guides), if it's going to hit you, it'll be on your 2nd or 3rd night at altitude.   Almost everyone in our group had acclimatized above 8,000 ft for a few nights before starting the trail and we all felt great, so we were hopeful...

Looking down on the switchbacks and Humantay Lake from the summit.

Day 2 is an easy half day hike up to a local lake at around 14,000 ft.   There is an optional addition that takes you up to the Andean cross on a local peak just under 15,000 ft.  Apparently, this option is usually something the Germans and Swiss hikers (those with previous altitude experience) do, but not usually Americans and Australians (our group).

We all made it!

Hah!  We opted in and all made it to the top.  It was a gorgeous hike (7.24 miles with 2,819 ft of total elevation gain).  The last 200 ft of vertical climb were definitely huffing and puffing, but it was a great confidence booster to know that the pass the next day was merely another 200 ft higher (and the climb would be less steep).  The descent was a bit brutal due to the steepness, but it was useful in that it convinced the folks in our group without trekking poles that they would be better off if they used hiking sticks for the remainder of the trip (and we managed all of the steep and slippery descents for the rest of the trip without any major slips or falls).

Rewarding views from the hot-tub after our return to the lodge.

Day 3 was the big one.  Unfortunately, the weather did not cooperate.  But, crossing a 15,200 ft pass on my own feet in the snow is definitely one of the more bad-ass things I've ever done in my life, so at least I get some bragging rights out of it.

First rest stop, not yet too cold.

1 Km to the pass, and we are all bundled up.

Several quick photos at the top and then we headed down the backside.

It was all downhill from there, with a stop at a lunch tent mid-way to the second lodge and more hot-tub time once we arrived.  It was an 8.7 mile day with 2,774 ft of total climb and a descent of almost the same amount (the 2nd lodge is the highest, at approximately 12,800 ft).  While very occasionally some folks have problems sleeping in the second lodge, our group was almost certain we were in the clear, vis-a-vis altitude sickness, which was a great relief.

Traditional saddle room of an Andean ranger family near the 2nd lodge.

Day 4 was a big day of descending (6.5 miles with 153 ft of gain and 3,563 ft of loss).  We re-entered mosquito territory and I learned that South American mosquitoes are big fans of my blood (despite using 100% deet!).

We just kept going down from the cloud forest towards the jungle.

E doing the last descent on the zip-line. Whee!

Me, whizzing across the canyon.

After the zipline, we enjoyed a pachamanca (buried hot stones and coals oven) meal.

Day 5 was a doozy -- a big 3,200 ft+ descent over 4 hours (the mental concentration on footing was exhausting) with some rolling climbs/losses for 6.6 miles, followed by a bus to the base of an original Inca trail and a 1K climb gaining 334 feet to the lodge. It had rained the night before, so much of our descents were muddy and slippery -- many of the folks found this to be the hardest day despite the lack of climb and decreasing altitude. The bugs had also increased in number and severity.

One of many waterfalls.

One of many sketchy bridges.

Another sketchy bridge.

Entrance to one of the many original Inca trails.

Day 6 promised to be tough.  We were all fairly exhausted, and we started out with an ascent to recover much of the elevation we'd lost the day before (4.38 miles to Llactapata and the restaurant below with a total climb of 2,540 ft).  But man, it was worth it.

Entering the Llactapata ruins with our first sight of Macchu Pichu.

There it is!

We were here.  The next day, we'd be in Macchu Pichu.

Lunch was amazing.  Perhaps it was how hungry we all were, but it's hard to argue with soltero, local river trout, fried rice (large chinese influence in Peruvian cuisine), french fries, lentils, tomatoes and cucumbers, and rocoto (my new favorite condiment).  And the views for this hike-in-only restaurant were perhaps the best in the world.

Zoomed in photo of Macchu Pichu across the valley from the restaurant.

The descent from the restaurant to the hydroelectric plant and train station was brutal. 2,773 feet of elevation loss over 3.65 miles in the increasing heat and humidity of the jungle, and the last 0.65 was flat (meaning the descent was even steeper than it sounds).  Switchbacks, mud, and serious footing concentration for almost 2h30 minutes resulted in some very happy hikers when we reached the restaurante touristico at the train station.  We were done!