Where Dreams Are Made Of

Nannying takes my sister to an interesting place each summer, which is nice because then I have an excuse to go visit somewhere new. Last year it was Atlanta and this year the Big Apple. My brother Vinny was given the responsibility of being our alarm clock and awoke us each morning with a dramatic rendering of Jay-Z's Empire State of Mind. I think I'll hire someone to sing and dance me into consciousness each morning. Who needs coffee when you have your own human alarm clock?

Here are some things Vinny woke me up to see and do:

Ride in a limo for the first time. Don't I look thrilled? Our driver, Ziggy, was from the Ivory Coast and had no teeth.

The World Trade Center memorial...it was quite stirring...the thousand paper cranes were made as a tribute to peace a la Sadako Sasaki.

Lady Liberty and Ellis Island. While waiting in line I was guaranteed a place in heaven by a man with rainbow hair, a guitar and a huge smile. He asked if I'd ever kissed a black person. I says, "Yeah, but does that mean you're still offering?" I laid a big wet one on him and he then granted me a place in paradise. It was cool to see the story of immigration told so well in the Ellis Island museum.

A walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. We got to the other side with the intent to eat at a famous pizza place but the line was gigantic, so I read a plaque on the wall that said Walt Whitman was fired from a job because he opposed slavery. Good job, Walty.

Got freaking ripped.

Biked around Central Park. I was baffled by how huge this park was and no longer felt like I was in a city of 8.4 million people. The John Lennon memorial was RAD. A couple adoring fans were lining it with yellow and white flowers while another devotee was singing Imagine in the background. My sister, Paci and I seemed to be the only ones who were impressed. The rest of the family stood around looking at the word, "IMAGINE" engraved in fancy stone and commented disappointingly, "We came here for this? I could've just written that on a piece of paper."

Saw The Lion King on Broadway. Rafiki stole the show like always. The costumes were the most impressive.Had a techno-glow-stick dance party late one night in the apartment. Chief and Paci decorated themselves and we all said, "Wow!"

Had grilled salmon, asparagus and portobello mushrooms on the roof. I'll never listen to that James Taylor song in the same way.

Went to a Yankees game. A-ROD (A Ridiculously Overpaid Dink) was supposed to hit his 6ooth homerun, but instead the Blue Jays hit 600 homeruns themselves...or 4. I was reminded of how boring baseball really is. We had to exert ourselves to make it fun, hence the ponytail. Also, price-gouged, unhealthy stadium food is always a treat. How can 45,000 people come together to watch guys try to hit a ball with a stick, but a couple thousand people can't convene to watch a broadway production?

Natural History museum. I appreciated the way Teddy Roosevelt was memorialized here. He's the man. This place and the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) contained overwhelming amounts of information and having my own ignorance revealed to me so powerfully reminded me that I have a lot to learn.

Probably my favorite part of the whole trip was seeing Mary Poppins on Broadway. My Dad, older sister and I have always been huge fans of the movie and since Paci is a nanny herself she also felt a connection to the story. We bought tickets the day of the show because they're significantly cheaper, however, we didn't sit together. We joyfully reunited outside the theater on Times Square with a crazy celebratory jump hug. We were all way stoked about the show. The songs are still in my head. Have you taken your spoonful of sugar today?

A model shoot on the beach at Fire Island. We also had a killer game of Ultimate Frisbee, I tried skimboarding for the first time and held a Horsehoe crab...aka a living fossil.

My two sistas and I on the ferry to Fire Island.

All we need is:

Ooh la la!

I stopped over in Paris on my way home from Morocco and was quite impressed but quite pissed off that a simple sandwich and bottle of water cost me 8.5 euros. I could eat like a king for at least a few days with that much money in Morocco. I could also urinate in public and beat children, both of which were pleasantly absent in Paris.

Some of the highlights: catching up on sleep and reading time on the lawn in front of the GIGANTIC Louvre, chocolate crepes, the view from the top of the Arc de Triomphe, the hip-hop dancers and freestyle soccer performers in front of the Eiffel Tower, fire dancers and roller-blade maniacs on a bridge over the Seine at night next to the Notre Dame (preposition overload) and awesome Indian food.

The Ones I'll Remember Most

Dunia and her brother who loved getting raspberries (not the fruit) from me. Dunia is a calm, sweet girl who is content with very little.


This little guy would give me a huge hug and kiss every day. We took this picture after a huge cous-cous meal eaten with our hands. He insisted that I walk him home every day. We shared ice cream on the curb one of the days.

Sumia and I had some great times at the beach. She was quite distraught when I left on Friday.


Buddis was really annoying at first, but somehow we became really good buddies.


Staff and Mona, whom I called Mona Lisa. One of my favorite moments was teaching her relaxation for a week as she was stressin about upcoming tests.

Fatima (far right) was intimidated by water that went over her head until we spent some time together doing swimming lessons at the beach. I have a large scratch on my cheek as evidence of her fear, displayed in a frantic scramble to grab onto anything that wasn't water.


l to r youssef, hechem (from previous cous-cous celine dion post), marouan, break dance man and ammin. We had a lot of good times together.

Marouan and I could not seem to stop hugging each other and crying as we said goodbye on Friday. We had a blast during the world cup going to cafes, ordering cokes and watching the games together. Somehow we were always cheering for opposite teams, which made the anticipatory banter for the next game even more exciting. He has a gift with drumming and making people smile with his goofy antics. We shared many laughs together as he entertained the kids on the guitar, which he used more as a drum than anything else. It's a miracle that we got as close as we did because he speaks zero French and I speak zero Arabic. Somehow we always understood each other, though. He was definitely the hardest to leave.


I could never remember this guy's name, so I just called him sadiki (friend). He did the same with me. For a 9 yr. old he can dance like a champ.


Omar's mom is deaf and mute and I think that's the reason he's such a clown. His gestures are always exaggerated and he can contour his face into unbelievable expressions. He has an adorable raspy voice that makes him sound like an old man who's smoked a few too many. We played a lot of soccer together on the beach and I buried him a lot in the sand.


Asmaa (left) is the first kid I talked to at Amesip. She was very warm on my first day, inviting me to play soccer with her. Her name was easy for me to remember and so we became friends very quickly. As the kids were singing a farewell song to me yesterday about how much they loved me and didn't want me to go, it was making eye contact with her that sent the message straight to my marrow. Arabic names are so hard for me and I felt like a doofus asking over and over, so i don't remember the girl's name on the right. She hardly ever spoke, but would smile a lot when I'd talk to her.

Asmaa (far right) speaks a fair amount of French and a little bit of English. She is a bright girl whose favorite English phrase is, "Oh My God!"

Sara (right) gave me a kiss every day. She liked to play with my hair and dress me up like a girl.


The bald one is Aziz, who is known as the clown of Amesip. Many a dance party were made more lively thanks to his moves.



Fatima is holding the guitar. She's another one that insisted upon me walking her home every day.

My previous posts may give the appearance that coming to Morocco was an excuse for me to dink around listening to music and going to the beach. Well, it was. But, it was also a wonderful opportunity for me to connect with this organization, its staff and especially the children. I can't exactly say what I've done for them, but if the party, hugs, tears and gifts are any indication of meaningful connections having been made, my efforts to make a difference for a marginalized population were not in vain.

My Darling Host Family

Sharaf Deen is my chubby 6 yr. old host brother obsessed with Ben 10 and Tom and Jerry. I've spent some quality time with him laying on the couch watching cartoons and imitating super heroes. He is quite the creative soul and I would regularly give him my gutiar and be entertained for hours by his mix of songs in Arabic, French and English.

Riham is his adorable 5 yr. old cousin. She took a while to warm up to me, but we have good times whenever she's around now.



Khalid (red) is my extremely laid-back host dad. He's an anomaly in Morocco and probably many other places too as he cooks, cleans, does dishes, laundry, etc. and he's a MAN. Whoa! Since I learned a few Arabic phrases he's taken to speaking to me only in Arabic. We share a lot of laughs. Abdulrafour (spelling...) is the nephew who's been staying at the house. We talked a lot of soccer during the world cup.


Assia, my host mother, speaks quite a lot of English as she teaches Arabic to American students. She's given me numerous inisights into Moroccan culture and Islam. She had just had Yessir when I arrived and according to tradition she was not to leave the house for 40 days. I think her cabin fever was quite extreme, so we bonded frequently at nights as she was desperate for some adult conversation and news from the outside world. She's made me feel very comfortable in her home. But, the comfort's come to an end as I'm leaving within the next two days. Thanks for all the great times, fam!

Where Da Freaks At?

I tentatively raised my hand to affirm my freakishness to Missy Elliott as she posed this soul-searching question to the thousands of people packed into the beach side venue in Casablanca who then proceeded to get their freaks on with her. The 5th largest mosque in the world loomed large in the background with its bright green laser pointing the way to Mecca. David and I had a blast at this two-day music festival. We caught numerous trains just as doors were closing (yes!) and stayed with some 'friends' we'd spoken to for about 5 minutes. Moroccan hospitality will never stop being surprising.

The best band whose name I can't find as somehow I'm being denied access to the festival website was on Saturday night. Their set included two trombones, saxophone, guitar, flute and drums. It was such a melange, going from rap style presentation to jazz to heavy metal. They played a medley that started with Rage Against the Machine, then continued to include 2Pac, Snoop Dogg, Guns N' Roses, Dr. Dre and ended with Empire State of Mind. Free music festivals are definitely on my awesome list!

And Yet Another Festival

The Festival de Alegria music festival gave me an excuse to get back to Chefchaouen, one of my favorite spots thus far. Chaouen's location in northern Morocco means that more Spanish is spoken, a welcome relief to racking my brain with French and Arabic. We visited the Akchour waterfalls while we we there. It involved some adventurous hiking and unbelievably clear, cold and colorful water, a welcome respite from the 100 degree heat.

My favorite group was probably Ojos de Brujo (witch eyes), a Spanish group that had a flamenco dancer as part of their percussion ensemble. Barry came in a close second as he threw down some sweet Moroccan rap/reggae.

Driver's Dream

Omar loved driving these roads and I loved riding with him driving these roads.

Kasbah

These Kasbahs are basically fortified cities with a very communal feel. Omar grew up in a similar one with 60 plus family members, eating in shifts based on age and sex. They seem to grow right out of the ground as they're constructed using the closest dirt.

Could You Slide Over a Bit, Please?

This is the taxi I ride to work every day...well, sort of. Seven people are packed into a five-person vehicle in 90 degree humid heat and for some reason, all of the handles to roll down the windows have been removed. Supposedly passengers can never decide on an ideal window situation, the drivers get annoyed with the bickering and so take matters into their own hands. I've ridden in a taxi nearly every day of the last 3 months and have only been in one that allowed me the liberty to roll down my window, probably because it was some dude posing as a taxi driver. The taxis have become my internal peace indicator because I've noticed that on good days I am not bothered at all by having enough sweat running down my back to run a saw mill, smelling morning breath and B.O. and listening to recitations of the Koran, but on bad days I picture our taxi doing this:

I Have A Liver and Hair and Elbows

Waking up on the beach is nice. It's even nicer when you have this to look forward to:

Patrice put on a KILLER concert. His way of doing reggae is fresh, spiritual and left me grateful for every part of my body. Gnaoua music was the focus of the festival in Essaouira. It's used as trance music. Give it a listen and you'll see why. The fusion stuff was rad. I definitely needed the wild hippie dancing to cure me of the fanny pack blues, not that fanny packs make me blue, but that when they are stolen while holding my phone and camera, I get kind of upset. At least I didn't get beaten with batons like Badr and Hisham or have my wallet stolen like David. (dudes pictured below) The bloody sticky fingered youth made a killing off of our group.



David and Youssef are really coming on to each other in this picture. We played some soccer on the beach, then danced it up like the wild Africans we are.

Grandpa, Tell Me 'Bout The Good Ol' Days

Grandpa Hess was born in 1918. As I was recounting the Moroccan farming techniques to my dad he was flabbergasted and commented, "That's how Grandpa would do it when he was a kid." That was, like, you know, a really long time ago. The wheat is harvested by hand with a sickle, strapped on the backs of donkeys and brought to the middle of town where it is thrashed. I'm shown here (white t-shirt) with some of my friends I made while having a cross-cultural farmer bonding experience. It felt good to let them know that America is not just a bunch of skyscrapers and office buildings, but that if I were home right now, my dad would probably be swindling me into helping him out with the harvesting duties. The difference is that I would be sitting in an air-conditioned tractor, listening to talk radio and probably enjoying a free game of golf the next day.

A Pic of Some Childrens

(l to r) Aisha, Sokaina and Fatima. Aisha is quite shy, but we've had some good times together. Sokaina is the student with whom I feel most connected. It's probably because she speaks a fair amount of French and is open-minded enough to question the status quo. This seems to be a rarity here. We have great discussions about a wide variety of topics. Fatima is excited to be learning English and decided one day to repeat her newly learned phrase over and over and over: "F@#$ Off!" For some reason I couldn't stop laughing at her. The positive reinforcement went a long way as she can now be heard uttering this phrase quite frequently. It's a good thing that swearing in a foreign language isn't really swearing, huh?