Quest for the Kasbah by Richard Bangs

I recently had the pleasure of reading Quest for the Kasbah by Richard Bangs.  As I became lost in the Moroccan adventure of the first few chapters, I could have sworn that I, myself, had written parts of this journey.  Although no two trips are ever identical, it seems as though we might have come quite close.

Bangs describes a remarkable journey juxtaposing past and present day lifestyles as well as Morocco and the western world.  As the true definition of a melting pot, Morocco blends languages, people, and nationalities to boast the epitome of a deeply rooted culture.  Through his insightful journey, Bangs has set his ultimate goal as creating a modern day definition of the word, 'kasbah'.  

Formerly known as a safe haven for all types of people, the kasbah was a place where people could meet, talk, exchange ideas, share traits and treats, and form true connections with actual strangers.  He raises the over-arching question of how technology in the western world has impaired our abilities to form bonds with distant people.  Virtually anywhere, we can access the virtual world.  We've transcended into digital nomads that define a different, and perhaps less intriguing and respected, way of adventure.  Internet connections, cell phones, digital cameras, and other advanced forms of technology have enabled us to grasp and share information with ease.  Conversely, they've also allowed us to alienate ourselves from a life and a world that offers tremendous adventure.

Just last weekend, I was on a train from San Diego to Los Angeles to visit a friend, and nearly everyone around me was either speaking on a cell phone, engrossed in a dvd by way of a computer, or intensely listening to an ipod.. myself included.  These should be opportunities that afford us the chance of creating an everlasting bond with a stranger.  Although the development of media communications has provided us with the opportunity to make our worlds larger, it has also detrimentally affected the way that we personally interact with one another.

Throughout his journey, Bangs is able to recount sensory experiences from his trip.  He vividly depicts the environment, scenery, culture and pride of Morocco and its inhabitants.  While technology is accessible in this country, it is not the way of life.  Most of Morocco's inhabitants have chosen to live the way their ancestors did 800 years ago.  For them, simplicity, consistency, adventure, family, friends, and love define a fulfilling way of life.  Taking each day as it comes and relishing in all that it has to offer represents what is important to these people.  

During our trip to Morocco, I remember our guide, Driss, preaching to us about how Americans rarely seize an opportunity impulsively.  We're so focused on saving and planning that we often let experiences slip by us unnoticed.  I undoubtedly owe part of my decision to move to the west coast to Driss and his wisdom.

By the end of his journey, Bangs comes to understand the kasbah as a secure place that welcomes with open arms the cultures and ways of different groups of people.  It is still a melting pot.  It is still a place where all people can come to share ideas and celebrate the interconnectedness of man.

Quest for the Kasbah by Richard Bangs was published by Open Road Publishing, a leading travel guide publisher based in Cold Spring Harbor, New York.  An enlightening journey of intertwining life lessons, Bangs's expedition is a must-read for anyone with a passion for adventure, history, and culture.

Rock the Kasbah: Ait Benhaddou Style

Kasbah. It's fun to say. Try it!

Although I made it to Ouarzazate & Ait Benhaddou before seeing either Lawrence of Arabia or Gladiator, I pretended that I was a huge fan of both films. It seemed like the appropriate American thing to do? To be quite honest, I still haven't seen "Lawrence of Arabia". It's on my list in between "Goonies" and "Pretty Woman". I'm clearly a movie buff.

Here are some quality kasbah snapshots for your viewing pleasure:




Looks like someone could use some more stairs.. hint.. self.



Moroccan Molly overseeing her village.




The scene was just so surreal. As was the camel trek across the Sahara. Simply put, Morocco is a must-see destination.

Little Red Couchette: Surviving an Overnight Train to Marrakech

A couple of weeks ago, I had described our fine dining experience during our brief tour of Tangier - remember the mayonnaise massacre? In any case, following our little food foul, we boarded an overnight train to Marrakech. It was the cheapest and most logical transportation option given our timing and itinerary. And in our minds, it also signified the opportunity for an adventure.

Four people per couchette. The way it worked out, we were given a full cabin & then two of us would have to volunteer to sleep with a couple of strangers. Done. Well before the trip, Lauren & I decided to roll the dice and bunk up with a pair of whatever was in our God-given plan. Two twenty-something females barely above 5 feet, we were our posse's sacrificial lambs. No big deal, it was an honor.

As we set foot onto our moving bed and walked down the narrow hallway to our couchettes, it was evident that everyone was a tad uncomfortable. Our car conductor took our tickets, and then hurriedly guided us toward our sleeping quarters with a bit of a heavy hand. It was quite difficult to understand him. He acknowledged this. He removed his ashy cigarette from the grip of his teeth, reactively breathed a cloud of smoke into my mug, and spoke louder while widening his deep, brown eyes as if that tactic unlocked my newfound key to translation. We'll take our chances. The couchette numbering was in English. Lauren & I say goodnight to our friends, and enter our couchette only to find that one of our bunk-mates was already situated. He was a gentle, older man from southern Spain. While he couldn't speak a lick of English, we knew how to butcher Spanish well enough to hold a polite conversation with him. Enter Swiss hiker. He knew some English. We exchanged pleasantries and then Lauren & I continued our game of Rummy 500 on our top bunks. Before packing it in for the night, I decided to venture out of the couchette to locate a bathroom. Option #1 had water seeping out from underneath the door. I'll pass. Option #2 smelled of a scent [read:repulsively pungent odor] that I hope to never accidentally inhale ever again. I'll forgo my hygienic routine for the night. Gum, mints, and anti-bacterial lotion will have to suffice.


Now, we were lucky in the sense that neither of these two men seemed as though they wanted to maim us in any way or had the intention of stealing our large, blue backpacks, ladies pants, or passports; however, the Swiss hiker had essentially no problem getting NUDY HUX in the presence of complete strangers. I, fortunately, had the front row seats to this peep show as he was sleeping directly underneath Lauren. She got to creepily watch the precious, old man snooze while I had the pleasure of drifting off to the sweet sounds of a nearly naked man's snoring. Normally, the "birthday suit" ensemble wouldn't be a problem for me, but given the circumstances, I just didn't feel like we were ready to take it to that next level. Oh well- you win some, you lose some.

After a long night of sleeping with one eye open, our conductor - still smoking - raps on our door to inform us that we're rapidly approaching our destination. We jump down from our bunks and join the wise Spaniard in the hallway to catch our first glimpse of Marrakech. The sun was beating down across the endless scape of flat land.. my first thought? Thank goodness there aren't any hills.

I thought you should know.. tips for traveling on an overnight train in northern Africa:

• Change into your sleeping attire prior to boarding the train (it will help in avoiding awkwardness among potential couchette-mates).
  
• Perform your hygienic routine prior to boarding (including anything requiring a need for water).
  
• Use the lavatorial facilities prior to boarding (can you identify the theme here?).
  
• Smoking is allowed. If you're in the market for clean air, consider other transportation options.
  
• Invest in a fanny pack. Place money, passport, & other essential documents inside. Zipper it up. Wear this around you & underneath your clothing during your sacred slumber.
  
• Don't drink the water. Enough said.
  

Happy Trails!

Tangier to Marrakech: Chow Before You Ciao

"Excuse me, let me turn up my miracle ear.. you want me to eat what??"

Dangling pig carcasses. Skinned chickens. "Foods" that resembled insects I dissected in my high school biology class.

Oh no.. it wasn't any of these delicacies. For me, it was much worse..

Granted my appetite was essentially eradicated after walking through the Medina in Tangier, I knew that it would be [at minimum] another 10 hours before we were able to eat a substantial meal. My travel companions were sort of relying on me to decipher the menu as I was the only one with a relatively extensive background in French. Visions of "poulet" kept running through my head. Apparently after 7 years of not practicing a language, it's pretty obvious to everyone around you that you're not the genius you thought you were. We finally surrendered, and asked our guide for assistance.. after all, 6 hungry girls are nothing to mess around with.. we think we've ordered something similar to a chicken kabob. Six sub-like sandwiches and a 10 minute van ride later, we arrive at the Tangier train station.

First things first: plop rear on ground. Don't even feign eating like a lady. It's just you and the sandwich - have your way with it. Unwrap said sandwich and sink your chompers into highly anticipated "hoagie".

Initially, there is silence. Seconds later, there is an unsuspecting sango sliding across the floor.

"Um, what's Suz freaking out about now?"

"Mayonnaise".

Ding, ding. This sammy was covered in my most despised condiment. A dollop, I might have been able to look past.. but this thing was painted with my arch-enemy. I can't even write the word without imagining the smell and, in turn, reflexively cringing. I tried to pick out the random fries that were also an ingredient in this creation, but I just couldn't do it.. my nemesis and I were mug to mug. And I had a snowball's chance in hell of winning the battle.

*Note: This is a sandwich. This was not my sandwich. This was a sandwich with "lite" mayo.

At least we have a comfortable couchette to look forward to.. I'll just sleep away the hunger.

Sure. Sure, I will..

"We are the famous"

Let's quickly hop aboard the "Straight Talk Express" (not an endorsement of the McCain / Palin campaign - consider it the opposite). Beyond the experiences, one of the best perks of traveling is (what else) bragging about it to your friends. Yes, it can also be fun to spread an interest in traveling by telling people about your amazing stories - but, again it is really all about the bragging. I hate to admit it, but in some cases word of mouth and email just aren't good enough.

After a recent trip to Portugal and Morocco, my friend Lauren became obsessed with going that extra mile in the quest to prove to as many people as possible that we had gone on a really freaking sweet vacation. A local magazine called The Improper Bostonian has a section in each issue which is dedicated to showing pictures of people (some of them actually famous) holding a copy of the "Improper" all around the world. They are typically those types of pictures that make you want to say: "well look at that pompous, bragging d-bag." In an effort to become several of those d-bags, Lauren had us pose in about 30 different strategic spots throughout our trip.


Upon our return, Lauren then promptly submitted a photo to the magazine. Weeks and months passed, and no picture in no magazine. Lauren soon began to feel that the picture that she submitted was too politically incorrect. Judge for yourselves:

(*I think it might be the fact that you can't really see the magazine, so it kind of just looks like we sent a vacation picture)


Never unswayed, Lauren submitted yet another image. Months go by, and NOTHING. Then, one morning I hear a shriek across the wall in our office, and Lauren comes bouncing around the corner. "We're IN THE IMPROPER!!" Although I mask my excitement, and call her a D. - I have to admit, it was purrty dern cool.

Also, purrty dern cool was in the following week getting emails from people I hadn't talked to in years saying they saw our picture in the magazine, and our trip must've been amazing. As Kristen said: "we are the famous now"...and the EGO was the satisfied.

B-b-b-b-b-uying Spree in the Souks!

Have you ever returned from a vacation and thought: "okay, so exactly what kind of crap souvenirs did I buy?" This thought just flashed through my mind as I unpacked all of my knick knacks aka trinkets aka chachskis from Morocco. In the heat of my buying binge deep in the souks of Marrakesh, I swore those bright little special somethings seemed like they were truly one of a kind, were made of real sterling silver, had never been duplicated, and would definitely be treasured by my great, great grandchildren. Why O why was I so focused on my next purchase, and not taking the opportunity to take in the smells and sites that were all around me?

Foreign lands will do that to you. Every single object you see holds the potential of a memory. The important thing is to not become the crazy bag lady of the country you are visiting, or have nothing but tagines to cuddle on early fall evenings.

(I don't have time to go to the gym, but hugging tagines, yes)

With that in mind, here are just a few tips for keeping your vacation souvenir spending in check. Ask yourself if you could potentially find or have actually seen that very item in a cart in your local mall, or being peddled by a street vendor downtown? Be honest with yourself. It's generally not worth the money if you didn't need to leave your own zip code to buy it. Also, is there a 95% chance that the item wasn't even manufactured in the city or country you are currently visiting. Yes, you can't know for sure, but one really easy move is to turn that sucker over. Is there a stamp that says "Made in China"? While it is potentially cool if you are actually in China, it isn't if you're in say, oh I don't know, Mexico (true story, didn't realize until I got home). Finally, do you actually have a spot in your house or apartment for this souvenir (or at least a friend to pawn it off on)? I disregarded this last tip, and now my new apartment could be mistaken for a Moroccan Kasbah (note the wee little camies standing guard).

Survivors of the Sands

After everyone in our group successfully dismounted their camels, we were welcomed into our lodging for the evening by our guides. I should mention that they do not actually ride camels on the journey out to the middle of the desert, but rather lead caravans across the "desert rocks" barefoot. I'll give credit where credit's due, and in my opinion, that was certainly an appropriate occasion.

In addition to the 6 of us and our guide, Ahmed, we were joined by 2 lovely British folks, Irene & Marshall, from the farm country of Spain. The moment we sat down for tea, Irene exclaimed that her "groinsy" hurt. I conclude, Irene.. I conclude. My lady parts would have been happy to have never seen the hump of a camel again.. unfortunately, we only had hours to adjust to the notion of the return trip. In the mean time, I think we were all set to chow down on our tagine dishes.



Note: This may come as a surprise, but there was not a water supply out in the middle of the desert. In fact, I think I might have actually seen a mirage of an over-sized Poland Spring bottle surrounded by giant cobras.. that were wading in a pool the size of the Playboy Mansion.. simply to add insult to injury. Randomly, several of us had brought what was left of our bottled waters, but it definitely wasn't enough to split and certainly did not satisfy the salivation. So- if you ever decide to do a camel trek, be prepared to pack some liquids.

The sun sets quite early in the desert, so after our attempt at climbing up a steep dune followed by our tagine snack-down, we were ready to hit the sand. Inside the tent or out under the stars? No-brainer. When else would I be snoozing in the Sahara? Probably not soon.. and if ever again, likely not by camel.. but if so, definitely with padded "ladies pants".

Sorry for exposing your rear-view, Burger.



Quick Desert Dos...

• Pack liquids, i.e. water
  
• Pack padded underroos
  
• Bring a small sack that you can wear on your back or attach to the camel harness containing necessary belongings
  
• Bring a head-scarf and clothing that will completely cover you to protect you from intrusive desert bugs
  
• Remember that there are zero man-made urination stations, and plan accordingly
  

Quick Desert Dont...

• Assume you've experienced something similar.. EVER
  

Any questions?

Dismounting a Camel

You probably can't tell in this picture, but I was flexing every muscle in my body in order to make this dismount smooth. Despite my valiant effort, it closely resembled Kerri Strug's infamous vault dismount in Atlanta at the 1996 Olympic Games. Except I didn't win any type of gold or medal. And it wasn't my ankle that was injured.



Additionally - I will, hopefully, shortly have a video for you demonstrating that our 5 year old selves are definitely still inside each and every one of us.

Check out all those precious, desert rocks.. Things that make you go Mmmmm.

Camel Cruisin' Across the Sahara

Last night, in order to stimulate brain cells, I tuned into 'Exiled', a new show on MTV that revisits the families of former 'My Super Sweet 16' brats.. I mean "privileged youths". What can I say - I was still trying to calm myself down after watching another emotional episode of 'The Hills' - why can't LC & Heidi just patch things up already?!.. and someone tell Spencer that he should just dress up as a jack-o-lantern for Halloween.. his melon lends itself well, barely any money needed to fill out that costume.

Anyway, last night's episode featured spoiled teen, Bjorn, who was sent to the sweltering deserts of Morocco. The Moroccan lad that he lived with was dressed in the same garb that our camel guides had sported, including clothing color, head-scarf & all. Prior to participating in a camel trek across this magnificent desert, I had never ridden any animal [depending upon how you define it].. not even a horse. From the second we took off in Boston, I was so excited - wanted to virtually fast-forward our time in Portugal & Spain just to sacrifice more time for the camels. If I could turn back time.. I kid.. a tad.

You know how if you ride a bicycle for too long, you start to feel a bit tender and bothered in your special parts? Well, riding atop a camel hump intensifies this by about 100 times. Just mounting the cami and awaiting his 6 foot jump from lazily lying to somewhat steadily standing was more of a workout than I was prepared to endure. Courtesy of a camel-induced adrenaline rush, I think we got past this initial pleasure-pain fairly quickly. For some reason, I had envisioned a 24 hour journey to the middle of the desert.. fortunately, it was only 1.



We were in a caravan of six. While riding Sammy, the creative name I dubbed my living chariot, I had the pleasure of watching Lauren's camel [I'm going to call him Pete] release feces for the next 60 minutes. Before I had laid eyes upon Pete's buttocks, I had been foolishly smiling to myself as I was mesmerized by the beautiful "desert rocks". I'm not sure if any of you have ever had the pleasure of riding a camel, but if you do in the future, my suggestion would be to request the first creature in the caravan. Not only because of the proverbial [read:literal] sh*t-storm, but also because of the fear you may experience when watching your cute cami walk. I could barely calm my anxieties once I'd convinced myself that Pete was obviously going to trip himself and take the rest of us down the desert hills, scraping us across the "desert rocks" as we hit the Sahara sands like a house of cards. If ever a nip would have come in handy..

Press on! This we did, but not without a couple of scares. Sammy & I were fifth in the caravan only to be followed by Skidz & Cam. Because I had forgotten a portable bag for our over-night in the desert, I had to resort to Lauren's hot pink sack. Note to all: Apparently, camels become hypnotized by fluorescent colors. CAM WOULD NOT STOP TRYING TO RIDE UP ON ME AND SNATCH MY BELONGINGS OUT OF MY BAG. Of course, this got Sammy all "I wanna look in the bag too, Cam. She's on my hump".. and always as we were heading downhill. I was convinced my legend would be left in the Sahara.

Needless to say, we did make it to camp that night.. stay tuned for Part II.

Morocco: Don't Drink the Water

Morocco, Morocco, Morocco.. what can I say about Morocco? Don't drink the water. Seriously. When someone of international authority instructs you not to drink foreign water, do not take this command lightly. Do not test your digestive system. If you disobey, you will pay.. for up to 2 weeks.. on an airplane, at work, watching Roseanne, and in every other once comfortable or uncomfortable place you can imagine. I would not will the illness I contracted upon my worst enemy [see Jerry*, even you're safe]. Apparently Depends do serve a legit purpose in the adult world.

Given that we were on a guided tour with a native of Marrakech back in late April, we were fairly well-informed as to foods we should probably not ingest, or at least in excess (for me this meant: meat, rice, salad, um - essentially everything.). Now, back to the water. And maybe I'm alone here, but I thought that "don't drink the water" meant not to drink pure tap water. What a silly piece of advice - I did not see anything that would have qualified as tap water. Every time we sat down for a meal, we asked for BOTTLED water. And every time we took a sip of this BOTTLED water, it was lukewarm. The brain-bell should have rung right there, but when you're in 95+ degree weather, what is the first liquid that any human naturally craves slash NEEDS? Do you see the dilemma here? I rest my case.

To this day, I still don't know what the alternative to H2O would have been, so unfortunately I cannot direct you down a different path.. I couldn't ask because of the severe dry mouth I had the pleasure of experiencing, and Coca Lights just weren't going to satisfy my hydrational demands. Although my body never fully adjusted to the African version of our aquatic necessity, my eyes were certainly able to alter to the Moroccan landscape. It was unlike anywhere I'd ever seen, and certainly had a strong influence on opening up my mind to new philosophies as well as a very different way of life.

Perhaps, my most touching personal experience in Morocco occurred during our drive down the High Atlas Mountains and back into Marrakech. As we descended into a small town, there were young children gathered in groups running alongside the road, and enticing each passing car to purchase homemade rose necklaces. When in Rome, right? Driss, our guide, pulled over and bargained with the youth of Morocco so as to successfully get each of us a lovely smelling rose necklace. I'm so short.



*I'm sorry, Seinfeld.