Lalitpur

We are staying in Kathmandu in the Patan district, in the Lalitpur “area” – I think? There are no street signs, or true addresses. The only way to get back to your house once you’ve left is to remember the directions you turn, backwards, and to constantly look behind you to see something that hopefully won’t move before you return to reference. We live by a giant Adidas sign and a tall blue building. Without these two, I’d wind up very lost.

Our neighborhood is nice – there is construction, or at least it sounds like it, on three sides of our building. It begins at 5 am and goes until 9 pm. Earplugs are our new best friends. It’s not really surprising, seeing how we’re visiting an area that has a lot of rebuilding to accomplish after the earthquake they had just 7 months ago. There is a dog that lives on the property, and several that hang outside the gate. One of them rubs his face on your legs, jumping up and down the whole time you walk.

“Loadsharing” (which is a fancy way for saying they’re turning off your power) happens every day, at least twice. That’s when you hold your breath for an hour and a half, hoping it comes back on before your groceries thaw and you risk bacterial infection, or wasting a ton of food. Today, I wanted breakfast (reasonable, yes?), but milk is non-existent or terribly expensive, so we went with instant oatmeal and toast. Nope – couldn’t make toast, or boil water, thanks to the loadsharing, so I sat and waited. Some of you know that I’m hypoglycemic, or at least my body acts like it is, so I have to eat every few hours or I get shaky and a little psychotic. You should have SEEN my face when I heard the refrigerator kick back on…it was like seeing that you had created fire after rubbing sticks together for an hour and a half. Pathetic? Perhaps. But it’s life. And waiting for an hour and a half isn’t that big of a deal if you have granola bars…note to self, find more biscuits (cookies) to keep around for breakfast (there are no granola bars – that’s an invention of Boulder, CO). Cookies for breakfast? Sounds like a win to me!

Momos are literally the greatest thing on earth – I was told by a friend to stuff down as many as I could get my hands on, and true to my word, I’ve had them once a day since arriving. They are little dumplings stuffed with meat and veggies that you dip in a spicy tomato sauce. My culturally-deprived Rochester stomach is literally hoarding them. Restaurants have very limited menus because of the Petrol Crisis, but fortunately for me, momos seem to be too great a staple for them to have dropped off the available list…at least for now.

When we first arrived, our driver pointed out the MILES of cars parked in line for gas (petrol). The lines were so long that I didn’t see a gas station almost the entire drive that they were aiming to get to. It takes 3-4 days to get gas. A new friend of mine at YWAM Kathmandu said his brilliant wife filled their car’s gas tank before the crisis hit its critical point, and the family is siphoning gas from its tank to fuel their motorcycles, which can go much further than cars on the available gas. Trade has stalled – India is Nepal’s main goods supplier, and they’re not helping anything. The next concern is clean water’s availability – India supplies that too. This place seriously needs a break – pray for the whole nation. Pray for their political groups and government, that they’ll take this seriously and act swiftly.

Yesterday, I met with representatives from YWAM Kathmandu. This Christian organization is one that I’ve worked with in many cities all over the world, and I’m excited to lend my business and operational acumen to a new project to document the 26 ministries that they support. My new friends Nar, Dilli and Ishak will work with me this month to meet with leaders of all 26 NGOs to record their missions. Want to donate, or pray for them? Do! You can find them via Google, as you can with many things J That is, unless your internet is spotty, or non-existent, like mine is. Typing this up in my kitchen in a word doc until the power comes back on and maybe I can get online. Want a break from constant connection? This is your place!

And Derek? Well, he’s working at Patan Hospital – they call him Dr. Derek. I don’t know exactly what he does there all day…I guess I’ll let him do the next entry so you can learn about his adventures. Meanwhile, I’m off to schedule cooking classes to figure out how to make my own momos back home, and maybe land myself some time at the Yoga “school” down the road. Also, I paint, did you know that? I almost forgot myself…it’s been at least 4 year since I picked up a brush, so I’m committing to get back to that while I’m here. Hold me to it! 

Shanghaied to Kathmandu

Tips for traveling to Nepal:

1) If you have a deep desire to spend 3 hours in Shanghai’s immigration “box,” by all means save money and get tickets through China Eastern airlines. Our outgoing flight was canceled the month before, we weren’t notified, so we were placed in time out and monitored by police until they rescheduled us. Yes, the thought of going to jail in China was, to Kendra, a very real fear, but while she was crying about it, Derek fell asleep and was so pale that the officers were looking at him like he might have Asian Bird Flu (yes, they were checking forehead temps of people passing by). Three of our four flights through them were rescheduled.

2) If, after the box incident, you spend another 3 hours trying to figure out where your bags went, how to get a shuttle and a hotel, then that wait is appropriate. No one telling you what is happening? Being straight ignored when asking about anything? Totally normal. Stupid Americans, wanting to know where in China they’re being shuttled to…why can’t they just follow simple point and grunt directions? We were loaded onto an incredibly packed van (yes, that’s how I know I’m in Asia if I’m ever not sure: Is someone on my lap? Yes. Is it a baby that I took willingly? No = In Asia) and sent to a free hotel and handed a baggie of very “unique” looking foods (including Chinese Ramen, which we called our Victory Ramen, and committed to eating it only if we made it out of China). The free breakfast was nice, but having China Eastern eff up once again and this time cancel the flight they JUST re-booked 8 hours before to put us on an earlier flight kind of ruined the digestive process. Bonus – they sent an airline rep to rush us through immigration (no box!) and security, only to find it was delayed (their own airline, and they didn’t know about the delay = professionals).

3) If you have to be stuck in one international airport for five hours, the Hong Kong airport is the place to get stuck.

4) Sit next to an elderly Nepali woman and try to interpret her stories while being repeatedly touched. Give her your number when she asks for it because it’s not like your phone will work for the next month anyway. Watch a dozen B-rated movies that you’d never waste your time on if you weren’t stuck in a seat for the 40^th hour in a row with an inch and a half of wiggle room (*cough - Hot Pursuit and San Andreas).

5) Finally make it out in the Kathmandu airport and go through the metal detector which sounds off constantly without anyone being stopped (the point?). Wait an hour and wonder whether China Eastern actually put your bags on the right flight. Try to change cash at a window marked “Cash Window” and get laughed at because, clearly, they don’t change cash. Finally change cash, ask for a receipt, get told no, point to the plaque above his head that says you have a right to a receipt, still have him say no. Give up.

6) Order a cab ahead of time – avoiding the headache that is caused by those offering taxis when you arrive is worth the premium. Who wants to think about fair taxi prices after you’ve traveled for three days?! Two days? I’m not sure – we skipped a day somewhere.

7) Crash in your bed and wake up four hours later to cat fights, dog barking, spitting, radios, and construction. Ok, so Nepal wakes up with the sun at 5, does it? Makes sense, given the power outages, that maybe alarms aren't reliable. Great. Derek, is your complete lack of sleep going to affect your ability to doctor people in 3 hours? Par for the course – this is actually more sleep than he got in the states! 

Hiking, Honu, and Hula: Day 2 in Maui.

 Day 1 in Maui kicked off with a phenomenal breakfast courtesy of the wonderful staff at our Bed and Breakfast. Each meal began with a fruit appetizer, complimented by fresh tropical fruit juice and coffee. On pancake day, there was also coconut syrup for your pancake to relax in during its final moments.
  Stuffed on a delightful breakfast, we first made our way up to the Iao (pronounced eee-owe) needle, the site of the battle where Maui's warriors made their last bid for independence against the Chief of the Big Island. Unfortunately, they were massacred here. Perhaps making your last stand while completely surrounded by impassable cliff walls wasn't the best idea, but the Big Islanders had an ace up their sleeve courtesy of a cannon borrowed from the British that they nicknamed "Roger."

We parked at the trailhead then made the short walk up to the overlook. The steep mountains surrounding the narrow valley gave you vertigo even though you were only looking up at them. 

We then walked down to the creek bed, past some weird people quietly zen'ing out during a vision quest, so we could dip our feet in the water and have a natural photo shoot. 

Kendra got me AQUASOCKS for the trip and I have never loved her more than when I unboxed them. The AQUASOCKS and I would be inseparable during the trip. Their convenience all-terrain comfort proving to be an invaluable ally across stream, beach, and boardwalk. 

 We then walked through a lower area which had the outlines of buidlings from an ancient ceremonial site where human sacrifice was conducted. Our at least that's what Daddio opined, turns out they were irrigation channels. We had a good laugh.

After talking in the fresh air, we drove down a bit to a nature gardens area for a Daddio sponsored picnic of pita chips, hummus, and cheese. We chilled out in a Korean veranda, apparently there's a substantial population of various Asian ethnicities in Hawaii (Chinese, Korean, and Japanese). 

We then drove over to find a beach to soak in some sun. In typing up this blog entry, I'd forgotten the name of it, so I googled "hippy Kite surfer town in Maui" and Paia immediately came up! 

Apparently it's quite the spot for kite and wind surfing, and it was really cool to see all of the different sails flying around over the break while we guiltlessly laid down in the soft sand. Kendra and I took a walk down the beach, soaking in the sun while our feet sunk deep into the sandy beach with each step. 

Reaching the end of the beach, Kendra flipped out when she spotted a TURTLE just off shore! The mighty Honu was floating about in the waves just 10 feet off shore. 

                                  

It was surreal to see such a large reptile floating about right in the water, and we rushed back to tell Dad only to find him staring at two! I waded into the water to join him and they were just 10-20 feet away. Little did we know we'd practically be tripping over Honu for the entirety of the trip. 

After another photoshoot, we drove down to rent snorkel gear and go to a local's only spot to snorkel. Taking advantage of the sunshine was a priority for us, and we grabbed some gear from Snorkel Bob's. Then we drove to a secluded beach near Lahaina, threw on our Honu snorkeling shirts that Dad got us, and went into the water in search of Honu.

  Dad had recon'd this snorkel spot and we were primed to track down sea turtles. Despite some moderate surf from the wind, the water was quite clear, warm, and tropical fish abounded! We saw brilliantly colored parrotfish, lolo (yellow-tail wrasse), and kihi kihi (the moorish idol). I was on constant lookout for tiger sharks,  mostly so that I could try to keep Kendra from instantly drowning herself upon sight of one rather than to get a jump on fleeing from the shark. We snorkeled around the 15 foot deep water above elaborate coral-covered boulders, and suddenly, there in the distance, approached a Honu! We were overjoyed, and floated near enough to watch but not disturb the Honu looking for some seaweed to munch on. Then all of a sudden there were two more, we were thrilled! Then there was another one, and we were moderately entertained, then there were like 15 more and we were simply one with the Honu. It was a lot of fun to float alongside them, see them resting down at the bottom among the coral, and follow their antics as they bounced around the rocks trying to get the best buffet spot. We did two long trips in the water and had a blast.  

 We then rushed back to the B&B to get dressed in our nice clothes for an amazing Luau over in Lahaina. We stopped at a scenic overlook on the road to Lahaina and saw whales swimming about in the distance. 

I was very excited to be wearing the linen pants that I received for my birthday. 

Arriving at the Luau, I was thrilled to learn there were free drinks! Beautiful Hawaiin hosts would check in with you on the gorgeous luau grounds and cracked some hilarious jokes during the ceremonial un-Earthing of the Pig. After taking in the sunset over the water, we headed back to our table and met the nice adjoining Canadian family before we settled in to watch a really thrilling performance. 

Beautiful Hawaiian men and women danced athletically onstage in different outfits representing various phases that Hula went through during history. From the indigenous grass skirts to the comparably repressed clothing "suggested" by missionaries later on, it was an exciting tour through Hula's history. The food was also incredible, with a variety of Hawaiian dishes of all sorts. If you every want to feel bad about yourself, just go to a Hawaiian Luau and gorge yourself on food while attractive, scantily clad Hawaiian people dance on stage. It was awesome to say the least. 

Maui Wow-ie : Maui Day 1

"Hey... do you think we're in first class? Our tickets say 2A and 2C...." I asked Kendra.

"First Class? Umm, maybe it's a small plane."

Such was our innocence at the thought of being on a first class trip to Maui, but our suspicions proved true and we were welcomed into the sheer luxury of the first class cabin. Surrounded by so much space, we sipped on our pre-takeoff wine while the peasants boarded the cabin behind us. If only we hadn't gorged ourselves on Vietnamese food at Pho 79, we wouldn't have felt so guilty when we continued to gorge ourselves on the flight! "Hot cookies for you sir? Another Diet Coke?" I ignored Kendra's criticism of my choice of beverage as we flew to Washington. Kendra's observations became less frequent as her personal wine tour of Alaska Airlines took effect. It was a great flight.

We landed in Washington and Meo picked us up. Our one day layover in Washington would allow us to have a delightful conversation with Meo, see Lauren texting, have drinks with TheRhys, Bourne-style ambush Ben Drum while dining on donuts with Aaron Seo while Kendra takes a table for 1 at Portage Bay, have Middle Eastern food at Mamnoon restaurant with the Khorsands (and see Rain Wilson ), then have coffee with the Mitchells (which now means you're talking about 3 people). The layover was a phenomenal trip in its own right, but we were shortly off to Maui on, oh yes, another first class flight to Maui.

The decadence. The elitist comfort. People catering to your every whim, things simply falling into place. It's the closest I'll ever get to realizing what it feels like to be Ian Hamilton.

Anyway we land completely refreshed, as far as 6 hour flights go, in the rater tiny and almost developing country-esque airport on Maui to the world's coolest and most enthusiastic welcome party. Daddio brought us leis, which Kendra would enthusiastically wear during the entirety of the trip, as well as the car he rented for us! Man, this trip is going to be off the hook.

He gave us the lay of the land as we drove to our residence in Wailuku. He agonized over his choice of residence for us in Maui... and knocked it out of the park! We stayed in an absolutely charming, colonial Bed and Breakfast run by local Janice. We were immediately enthralled with the decor, particularly Kendra who decided we would have to move there. We stayed in the expansive _____ room, which was bigger than the apartments Kendra and I had for the first three years of our marriage. It also included an imperial level bathroom with a tub with a jacuzzi tub.

One of the best moments of the trip then happened, when, despite our jet lag, we joined Daddio on the garden veranda for some wine and fun conversation. It was priceless time together and a great way to begin the trip.

Flamenco, Cathedral & the Alcazar

Oh, Seville, I could visit you time and time again! This place is magical - it's like a non-creepy version of the Stepford Wives tale, where perfection is everywhere. Children are all well behaved, well dressed, and happily and lovingly playing together. Everyone is dressed in their finest attire, all the time - the little older couples in their vests and hats and the financiers in their three piece suits, escorting the ladies in their white blouses and flowing skirts.

We were back for just a day before heading to Madrid for our flight to Mexico, so we had to make the most of our time. To Pension Javier we went to secure a room (really important, we've found!) and then on to La Tapeteria next door for lunch where beer is just 1 euro. We grabbed a taxi (normally this goes against our preferred travel methods, but we've been lost miserably twice before in this city and couldn't spare the time) to Casa de la Memoria, the cultural center for Flamenco to get our tickets for that evening's show. There are tons of Flamenco options in town - this is the ONLY ONE you should consider. The other ones have food and drinks, yes, but they scream "tourist." If that's what you're going for, then great! You can get tickets at any hostel in the city. But if you want to see serious art, passion flooding from a small group of incredibly talented individuals in an intimate setting, then make no mistake - this is your show. We almost missed out - they sell out quickly - but we managed to land our tickets and grab another taxi back to the Cathedral.

The Cathedral de Seville is the world's largest Gothic cathedral and the third largest church in the world. This is the most impressive church I've visited to date, and my goodness, you need some serious time to devote to this marvel. We were short on just that, so since we had been inside on a prior occasion, we focused on the Giralda tower and the inner rooms of the church.

The Giralda was completed in 1198 and was once a minaret belonging to the city's mosque, but when the city was taken by the Christians, they added the top third and converted it into a bell tower, leveling what the earthquake of 1356 did not, to create this gargantuan church. We climbed the ramp up around the inner edges along with many others to the top, to see the city and through the windows as we rose, other parts of the massive church. The ramps were once stairs, converted they say because the watchman was unable to walk and had to ride a horse to the top of the tower every hour to ring the bell.

And then, there is the church itself. One could write for quite a long time about all the intricacies that can be experienced in this place, and indeed, some have. I loved the detailed wood carving, the massive marble floors, and the masterful paintings and alter pieces. I flew around, from room to room, taking pictures quickly and gawking until Derek hauled me to the next one. If the Palace wasn't the last thing on my list, I could have stayed all night.

Finally, we walked next door to get in line to see the Royal Alcazar, the oldest palace still in use in Europe. The castle was built over the first settlement foundations of Seville in the 11th century, and ever since then, every civilization and culture that has occupied the Iberian Peninsula has used the palace as the capital of its kingdom, and the architecture reflects it.

This is where Derek experienced "palace burn out." I didn't know it was possible, but as soon as we went in, Derek kind of listlessly looked around, bored out of his mind. I honestly wasn't that impressed either. I couldn't believe it - we're in Seville, Spain, in a palace, older than just about anything else we've seen, and for the life of us, we weren't impressed.

But, then we moved into the inner chambers and the upper levels of the palace and were overwhelmed once again with the ceilings, the walls, the courtyards - a mixture of mudéjar architecture and European design. It was odd to see symbols that we had seen in Morocco with family crests featuring lions and crowns the likes of which I saw in England years ago. Derek and I searched for what seemed like hours in the Patio de las Munecas (patio of the dolls) for a single doll face very carefully hidden right above one of the pillars.

The courtyards were lovely, but most impressive was the singing fountain, where on the hour, it plays 5 minutes of organ music. There are only 3 working fountains of this kind left in the world, and only one known person alive who can fix them, so it was a rare sight to see.

Derek got a pastry for dinner (it's the thing to do on vacation, apparently - this trend had better not roll over into real life!) and we got a taxi to the flamenco show. It was mesmerizing, but there aren't any videos, because it's not allowed. No harm done, though, watching it on a video wouldn't do it justice. The dancers moved with such precision, and so much passion that they poured sweat and somehow made it look elegant to do so.

We followed the epic show up with some gelato (naturally) and made our way through the streets to find ourselves our trip souvenirs - azulejos. We found ourselves some pretty ones with green and gold and blue and white. These tiles were in all three countries we visited, in all of those same colors, since they are traditional for the people that settled the peninsula and built the incredible cultural wonders that we saw. Then, we had a quick dinner at Bodeguita Tomate y Sal to get the paella I had wanted for days (it was disappointing - find paella somewhere else) and very inexpensive sangria (LOVE).

Our trip to Madrid the following day was rather long and uneventful, and we had a nice single evening in the city, enjoying the crowds that gathered for a few political demonstrations and the like. The architecture is amazing, but this city is a true city not unlike those in America - it is nothing like Seville. None of the cities in Spain, I am told, really mirror one another - they are unique in and of themselves.

Ugh...Algeciras

Then came the travel day, a necessary evil when moving around as furiously as we did on this trip. We met Phillip and Monica, two Americans traveling during Monica's school break, on the train to Tangier, who had spent their time camping in the desert. As jealous as we were (we had considered a trip like that as well, but didn't have the time), we found that they had a difficult time of it, with sand storms and pouring rain and other natural fun that somewhat tempered their enthusiasm for their trip.

Since they hadn't before crossed the straight, we helped them navigate from the train station in Tangier to get a cab (the bartering was fierce, and pointless, since we were short on time and they knew it) to the docks for our ferry ride back to Tarifa. Once the ferry landed, we had to catch a bus to Algeciras, but it takes 25 minutes after it loads itself to the gills, so we knew we were screwed for our next step as soon as we left. We were trying to catch a 4:30 bus back to Seville and missed it by 15 minutes, but we sure as hell tried our hardest - we ran back and forth with both good data and bunk suggestions until we found the bus station. It was just too little too late, and devastated at having to spend the night in the miserable port city instead of magical Seville, I mourned the whole evening. Algeciras is not somewhere anyone should spend any more time than is absolutely necessary - stay in Tarifa, that place is happening! But not Algeciras. We spent the night at Pension La Plata and got our bus tickets for the first bus out the next morning, than wandered around the rather sketch streets to get cash and a shawarma snack. We tried to find a park, a beach, anything, but all we found were questionable casino shops with bars on the window.

When dusk arrived, we ventured out to find food and thankfully happened upon the main square, where we found a fountain covered in pigeons and a pet shop that was selling our favorite - GUINEA PIGS! How I wanted a Spanish pig! But the shop owner just handed me a kitten, one of those little ones with the big doll eyes. It was ok too. We stopped for a beer (we were the only ones in the pub) at Cairo and a bakery, Granier, for donuts. Then, we figured we should probably be responsible adults and have dinner, so we hit up La Alhambra for tapas, which were phenomenal.

If I could only eat one type of food the rest of my life, tapas would surely win that contest.

Pure Bliss in Volubilis: A day visiting Moulay Idriss, Volubilis, and Meknes

Having traveled by bus, train, ferry, taxi, and foot across Portugal, Spain, and Morocco, the intercontinental travel was beginning to exact its toll. Yet we knew that we still wanted to see the ancient Roman ruins of Volubilis outside of Fez. To accomplish that would require an intercity train from Fez to Meknes and then an expensive private taxi, or an unreliable (and crammed) shared grand taxi, to Volubilis. Not to mention several hours more than we had to spare. But we also didn't want to join a commercial tour group, with their throngs of people, pre-set agendas for each site, and exorbitant prices. We needed a solution, and sure enough, one was handed to us by fate in that little cafe outside of Place Rcif in the Fez Medina.

We had made the acquaintance of Nour, a charming Moroccan guide, the previous day, and he was kind enough to offer up the services of his company, babafrica.com. Meaning "Gateway to Africa," we would find BabAfrica to be the perfect solution to our dilemna, balancing our interest in seeing as much as possible with our disinterest in joining a tour group.

Nour picked us up from our hotel right at 9 am. He was accompanied by BabAfrica's driver, who was just as nice as the 4x4 SUV. The day's agenda was ambitious- a visit to Moulay Idriss via the "Old Road to Meknes," then the world's coolest photo-op at Volubilis, and finally the fast highway back to Meknes to see that beautiful city's famous sites.

The Old Road to Meknes

With Berber music playing in the jeep, we drove past New Fez (a large suburb that has sprung up in the past 15 years), and out towards Moulay Idriss. Rows and rows of olive trees rolled by, kept company by numerous shepherds and their flocks of sheep. Kendra and I kept calling out "sheep!" like five year olds. As the rolling green hills kept coming, I started thinking that even an Italian would be impressed by the absolutely gorgeous countryside. The music was a great compliment to the view, with berber and arabic artists covering the full spectrum from mournful to fun.  We kept asking about the agriculture as well and Nour filled us in, jokingly and truthfully saying that, though Morocco is an Islamic country forbidding alcohol, 80% of the wine produced here doesn't leave its borders!

Our first rest stop at the Shahed Lake overview, replete with wildflowers, mountain vistas, and quietly grazing cows, only hinted at the scenescapes to come. We learned that nearby, local villages make Moroccan whiskey from figs and dates.

After the lake, other tour groups head along the highway to Meknes, but Nour had the inside scoop and took us up into the mountain massif that stands between the two cities. This was the 'Old Road to Meknes,' now abandoned to local use given the cushy new highway linking Fez and Meknes. Here we were awed by the view out over the plains, red rock cliffs and hawks circling above, with children playing, men herding sheep, and women accompanying donkeys carrying firewood.

The views were ridiculous. We stopped a couple of times (the benefits of a private guide! Nour went out of his way to impress upon us that our set itinerary was open to adjustment), and lingered at this beautiful spot. While we were waiting, a young man walked by and happened to have olive oil, so Nour bought two liters. Can't get fresher than that! 

Moulay Idriss
All of a sudden we found ourself pulling into a small parking lot, alongside some parked donkeys, in  Morocco's holiest city, Moulay Idriss. The city is uniquely laid out to comprise the entirety of a single hill, which contrasts sharply with the lush green of the countryside. It's said that 5 trips to the city is equivalent to one to Mecca for a Muslim, so the city had even earned the nickname of 'Poor Man's Mecca.' Back further in history it was legal to kill Christians here (like Kendra and I), so it was a fascinating place to visit. We soon found ourselves following Nour to the Mosque. Non-muslims aren't allowed in Mosques, of course, but Nour cleverly took our camera and was able to capture some beautiful images of the interior.

After Nour returned from the mosque, we headed up the hill towards an overlook of the city. It was a spontaneous lesson in Islamic society as well. On the way up, Kendra and I learned about the 5 essential components of an Islamic society: a public fountain (water source for the poor), a pharmacy, a school, a Mosque, and a bakery. We even visited the latter on our way back down and got to learn about the surprising variety of breads, as well as the "underground economy" for stale bread. It's frowned upon to throw it out, so leftover bread is either given to the poor, or collected by networks of the poor who sell it back to suppliers so that dessert cakes can be made (not unlike how in the States the homeless recycle cans). 

The highlight of this little trek was, of course, the viewpoint overlooking the beautiful city:  

Now back down off the hill, we walked over to the entry gate. A peeved off donkey told off the world as he walked by with his entourage, and we settled into a mint tea cafe. Old men were playing a spirited card game, as is customary among older males in Morocco, and we enjoyed some mint tea in the shade with two of the elder gentlemen, while Nour filled us in on Berber magic. Apparently, if you ever want mint tea in Morocco and are in need of mint, this is what you need to do: take a tissue and drizzle on some olive oil, then rub a fig on it, then hang it in a tree. Flies will be attracted and poop on it (I sh*t you not). Bury the tissue and then presto Mint will grow! Another trick, to get a scorpion (that's right, should you ever randomly need a scorpion we've got you covered), is to bury an eggplant. Dig it back up in a couple days and where there was once eggplant, there will now be scorpion. Berber magic.

The offended party, back left

Volubilis
Refreshed by our mint tea, we drove the 5km out to Volubilis. Now every resource I read, from our guidebook to Wikitravel, mentioned the direct sun of Volubilis, to such an extent you would think the Romans built the thing on the surface of the sun. So I was expecting a barren landscape. You can imagine my surprise when we were greeted on entry with yet another beautiful landscape of wildflowers (purple, red, blue, yellow) in bright green countryside. The museum they're building onsite to house the artifacts that are currently in Rabbat is nearing completion, and there was a great display of tombstones and column heads upon entry.

We then headed out onto the grounds and were blown away by the stark beauty of the ruins. It was like being able to explore the ruins in Greece but without throngs of tourists! Columns, archways, and mosaics all stood in silent testimony to what was once Ancient Rome's thriving North African capital. Built up on the back of the olive oil industry, a donkey-powered olive press is even still standing! The city was first created around 100 AD, and was overtaken by local tribes around 285 AD, becoming a Christian and then an Islamic city over the next 600 years. Eventually it fell to ruin when Islam relocated to nearby Moulay Idriss. This was perhaps the coolest part- no rennovation, no excavation, just the stillness of a ruin giving quiet testimony to an ancient society.

 One moment you could see the Seal of Rome on the giant arch, and the next you're studying the mini-aquifer system between the basin and baths within a bathhouse. We found it curious that, among all of this stunning architecture, a majority of the tourists were standing and gawking at a stork's nest... Kendra was in seventh heaven, and took a picture of everything, her images describing the stunning setting better than I ever could.

Volubilis was easily a highlight of our two week trip, and far from 'a daytrip if you have time during a visit to Fez,' we would consider it mandatory for any trip to Northern Morocco. Or for life. It was too cool. 

Meknes
Having thoroughly enjoyed ourselves in Volubilis, we would've been happy to have even called it a day, but Nour had even more in store with a quick hit of the highlights of Meknes. We stopped by the beautiful Bab Monsour, and adjacent marketplace which is trying to make itself into something of a Jemaa el-fna a la  Marakesh. The Bab Monsour is the most famous of its kind in Morocco, comissioned by Moulay Ismail as the capstone for his architectural vision, it even has columns appropriated from Volubilis.

 We then had lunch at a lovely, if overly-expensive, Moroccan restaurant in a private terrace overlooking the city. Sharing one of the multi-course meals allowed us to keep the price down, and we greatly enjoyed satiating our appetite with a classic Moroccan meal: bread, olives, Harira soup, lentils, tajine-cooked chicken, and surprisingly refreshing orange slices with cinnamon for dessert.

No longer hungry, we were able to satisfy our cultural appetite at the adjacent Tomb of Moulay Ismail, one of Morocco's holiest sites. It was beautiful in the late afternoon light, and we removed our shoes before exploring the peaceful ante-chamber (Muslim visitors may walk inside the tomb proper). Lavishly decorated, apparently the grandfather clocks even have a fascinating backstory, as they were given to the sultan by the French King Louis XIV after he rejected the sultan's offer of marriage to his daughter. 

Now sleepy after our jam-packed day visiting Moulay Idriss, Volubilis, and Meknes, we took the fast highway back to Fez and were dropped off by our guide-turned-friend Nour, very grateful for an amazing day in the countryside of Northern Morocco.