We return to Isobel’s World Challenge Adventures. It’s fun to comment, so I have. Note: Bel sends pictures with every update, and I’ll post the ones I don’t think are a giant violation of strangers’ privacy when the entire diary’s been published.
7th April 2012, 8.23am
WE MADE A FRIEND! The whole of our group is hanging over the terrace, which in turn, is creaking, shouting at some kid sitting on the wall beneath us in French. Luckily, half of us remember some French, and four actually take it. His name is Mohammed and he’s nine. We have photos of him too. Poor guy. We’ll be leaving in a bit, so bye for now. 😀
We walked 20km today, in this heat. My legs are worse than karate will ever make them1, and it’s so bloody hot. We looked at 4.00pm, and it was 26°C.
We’re at camp now, and I’m sharing a tent with Franki and Hana, my “tent buddies.”
We made more friends here too2. A bunch of kids who claim to be 12-14, that are actually probably 6-10. But there was a huge, flat sloped rock, that we stood on, and taught them the Macarena. I believe we have that on film too. They even remember the music, which we kind of sang. I only remember the names of three of them – Jamal, Syed and Mohammed.
God, there’s so much to talk about. Our guide, Yusef, is the guy that brought us tea at the hostel. He’s very nice, as well as all the other Arabic guys, who help out with everything. However, none of them speak English either, so once again, we’re relying on French and sign language.3
The scenery today was alright. But we had to walk up a long dry road, that kept going up. That was horrible, and right in the sun. But after 2 hours on that road, we just sung to pass the time. I forgot to say yesterday, that when people weren’t sleeping on the minibus, we just sang. It was pretty awesome actually, even the driver said so.4
On that road though, we passed a load of women carrying huge piles of sticks on their backs – poor people. Most of the women here are some kind of agricultural farmer thing, but either way, it’s not a job I would want.5
1: I beg to differ, and so would Sensei.
2: Where is ‘here’? You should have attached a map. Most people I know can’t point to Morocco if you shove a drawing of Africa in their face, let alone work out from your diary where you are. And don’t comment saying ‘the middle of the freaking desert’. Google Maps would know.
3: I knew there was as reason I don’t sign up for foreign trips. My French and sign language knowledge consists of curse words.
4: I would beg to differ here to, had I been present.
5: That final paragraph sums up Western living, your education, your intelligence all that is wrong with the rich/poor divide at once.