sábado, 30 de mayo de 2009
lunes, 25 de mayo de 2009
lunes, 18 de mayo de 2009
jueves, 14 de mayo de 2009
martes, 12 de mayo de 2009
viernes, 1 de mayo de 2009
Chapter 1: BUS-ting my Balls
The next day we spent pretty much entirely on the bus, as we were on our way to Merzouga, our Sahara Desert destination. And of course, Angela and I ended up smack-dab in the middle of the d-bag group once more. I seriously was considering sacrificing my life to get away from these people. Let me describe:
2. The not-funny loud guy - There's always one. The guy who sat behind me continually made comments he thought were HILARIOUS, but just made him out to be a douchebag to the rest of the bus. He didn't realize the Dali Lama of humor was seated right in front of him.
3. The Obnoxious girls - Really, this stereotype needs no description. These girls DID NOT SHUT UP the entire time. My favorite was the one in front of me who felt the need to brag about her travels for 8 hours. Bitch, we're in Morocco right now. There is NO NEED to brag about your amazing trips because we're all in AFRICA for cryin' out loud. She also talked excessively about Twilight, so I hated her more.
4. The Biggest Douche - I know I have called those in the above 3 categories 'douches,' but this guy wins. He had a faux hawk, a hoop earring, one of those black leather necklaces with a silver pendant thing, and either wore t-shirts with alcohol brands on them or t-shirts with the sleeves cut off. Really? Does anyone do that anymore? Also, if you're projecting what brands of liquor you drink on your chest, you are really out-gaying yourself. No need to brag.
So yeah, we were stuck in the midst of this for about 8 hours total. Sometimes, I was so awestruck by the conversation happening around me, I recorded some quotes in my textbook:
Background for this quote: The d-bag group was playing that game where each person has the name of another, usually famous person written on a Post-It note and placed on their head. The guy behind me was given the following clues, as he was unable to figure out who he had:
1. She was black
2. Something involving a railroad
I hate you.
Little did I know....
After spending about 30 minutes purchasing and putting on new turbans, we headed out into the Sahara, walking across the blazing hot dunes to a little village. I absolutely CANNOT imagine living there. It was really depressing, actually. I'm sure the people are used to it and might actually enjoy it, but desert living is not for me. Another aspect that killed me were all the little kids that were selling jewelry and other little crafts to us. It took me a lot to turn them down... I ended up buying this pretty weird camel figurine from a little boy with the saddest, Hush Puppy looking eyes ever. Maybe that's part of the game, but I fell for it. Gah, I'm such a softie.
IBRAHIM: Single & Looking. Would you hit it?
Chapter 4: Ridin' Humpback
By midday, it was time to get up on the camels and travel out into the SAHARA. This was really the part everyone was waiting for. We quickly lined up and got ready to mount those studly beasts. It's fun getting on a camel that's sitting down, because they stand up like a car with hydraulics - the back legs go up first, then the front. It's like a car from PIMP MY RIDE, minus X to the Z X-ibit. So yeah, that was fun to experience. Sadly, my camel was probably the fattest of the bunch, meaning my short and stubby legs were basically in a perfect split for 2 hours. The pain was numbed for a while due to the absolutely incredible scenery (Remember that part in Aladdin where he goes to the Cave of Wonders? That's what it looks like), but when the wind and sand started to pick up and I was holding on for dear life. At the end of the 2-hour journey, I couldn't feel my groin and I walked around like, well, yeah... like I had a lot of pain in that general vicinity. Still, it would've taken being shot, stabbed, etc., to make the camel trek not worth it.
Chapter 5: Climbin' Dunes...
Once you get out into the desert, there is shockingly not much to do. So, many people from camp decided to hot foot it up this monstrous dune that overlooked our campsite. The 3 of us got a late start, as we were chatting it up in our sweet Berber tent. After about 10 minutes of climbing, though, I realized that my ass was NOT going to make it up the entire thing. Have you ever tried climbing sand? It's basically impossible, especially up a dune that's at an almost-90 degree angle. I also made a decision, like an idiot, to bring my camera. Instead of struggling with one hand carrying the digicam, I placed it in the safest spot I could, my panties (because you know NOBODY'S goin in there). I felt bad for a second because it's my dad's camera and I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate it being in my underwear, but what the hell. It was safer there than in my hands, because I passed out in the sand about every 12 steps. I really felt like a big fat bum, especially after working out for, oh, the past like 2 years and not being able to climb a sand dune. Elle left Angela and I to climb the entire thing while we just rolled around in the sand, laughing about our inability to conquer the beast. Despite not making it up the whole way, we got a good ways up, so we were able to see out across the desert landscape. It was an unreal sight. We could even see the Algerian border off in the distance. As the sun set, we decided to head down the dune and join our group for another Berber music session. Of course, I was dared to roll down the dune instead of walk, and I did it. Nauseated, dizzy, and bruised, I headed back to camp. (Note: I still have grains of sand EMBEDDED IN MY ARM from rolling down the dune.)
Chapter 6: Midnight at the OasisAs we made our way down to camp, the sound of drums echoed off the dunes. We knew it was time for a party. Everyone was gathered around while a group of Berber men played the drums and Berber spoons, basically little simbols. It was ridic. And, of course, I got dragged up to dance. Never one to shy away from an opportunity to put my hottness on display, I stayed up there for a while with the towelheads. It was great. They played a lot of songs that we had learned at a prior Berber drum sesh (I think all the Berbers do is play drums around a campfire). My favorite had the following lyrics:
Andrea, Angela or Elle is haggling with shopkeeper