In case you were wondering, these are the number of hours we spent in a van during our three day tour of Morocco.
At least the scenery was spectacular...you might say. Which it truly was.
However...
you could also say that we may have gotten carsick from the crazy turns and crazier driver
or that our driver was mentally insane as he legitimately was. he spoke to himself continusously, and only interrupted himself to sing to the entire van in short bursts of 3 second bits. He also stopped to buy meat from a slaughtered pig stand baking in the heat. we didnt know where he had gone, but did note that he had left the motor running...
he did not tell us where we were going ever, but would yell to hurry up and get in the van. we had places to go, but he refused to tell us where or to provide any information on them once wearrived.
Lara had been tolerant of him, calming claire by explaining that it was merely a language barrier.
but after an hour in the front seat with him (and one of the many random hitchhikers he kept picking up) they had to szitch seats for the mans safety. claire at least entertained the entire van by trying to explain that her name was not Fatima, as they call every woman they see in this country (and every man is mohammad) . Alas, to no avail. By the end of this 12 hour day, we were a van full of unhappy fatimas and mohammads.
2 comments:
this comment by farmerm seems really deep and somehow true. I'm just not sure I totally understand it. Perhaps an elaboration by farmerm is in order.
"because your life from now on will only truly be understood by someone who has gone thru this particular trial by fire" or by those you have emailed about it.
love,
it's as if i'm there with you except not
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