Sleep is near...

Holy Macaroni. In the words of a weekly comedy sketch that I, along with many friends across the pond, hold so dearly in our hearts – Have I got News for You. So I get to Philly along with 15 other early arrivals; 9 of whom are also from California. I’m the only so-cal. The rest of the bastards are Frisco kids. It’s fun banter though. Oh, right, and one of the aforementioned went to St Andrews for a year abroad. How bout them apples small-world theory?! Brenden something-or-other. He wears cowboy hats. He’s from San Francisco. The verdict is still out on him. He knows this. Hi, Brenden. Roommate was/is delightful, Yorda is a crack-up. Who also brought pink hair straighteners – oh yes, we did… I know – and matching ballet flats. And fell asleep to Rachael Zoe/Kardashian nonsense for our last American guilt trip TV sesh in the hotel room before takeoff. ‘Whaaaaaat?!?!’ – you ask. No CNN did not get that honor, not MSNBC, not even John & Kate. Rachael, Kim & Kourt got our full heading-to-third-world attention and we loved every minute of it. So sue me Christiane Amanpour. We all start somewhere.

So we then hopped on a bus to JFK. Spent an hour and a bit driving from Philly to New York City. Spent approximately the same driving through Brooklyn. Auto-shops anyone? Get to JFK… about seven hours early. Give everyone their new passports – group leader status, what-what – and we grub until check in time. Last meal = sushi & eggrolls. Delish. So we boarded the plane, embarked if you will, swindled a window seat (and by swindled I mean was kindly offered before I even asked by the dude sitting with me) and awaited the, or rather - what was expected to be, a rather normal flying experience ahead of me. Let me tell you, Royal Air Maroc is anything but normal. Dude, we taxied without the overhead bins closed. Tray tables were down; seatbacks were most definitely not in their upright position; pure mayhem ensued. We had not even arrived at proper elevation, still in obvious vertical assent, and the seatbelt light was turned off. TURNED OFF. wtf mate. Periodically, they decided to up the anti, and give us a bit of a rave effect with some strobe lighting. The guy at the overhead light switch seriously had a nervous twitch or something. And if not, they needed to have an epileptic disclaimer cuz there was some serious retina destruction going on. Apologies, I feel like the airplane protocol nazi. The service, however, was truly delightful. Polite? Yes. Concerned about my safety and well-being? Not so much.

So we air-force-oned it off the plane, glided through customs to be greeted by a bunch of the local staff. Such nice people, seriously. Obviously sincere in wanting to help us, welcome us, guide us. Straight to a 3 hour bus more specifically. Worst ride ever, not that it was anyone’s fault, just no sleep on plane + limited space and no sleep on bus = no sleep in like 48 hours. Dying. Still dying. Yet I still sit here typing. For you people.

Anyways, arrived to delightful little beachside town, was served an unbelievably large amount of delicious food. Scarfed. Had like three hours of orientation which pretty much everyone needed to repeat/hear again. You see, staff is just as zonked as us, they are rocking Ramadan right now. They are starvin’ Marvins if I’ve ever seen any. Energy was low across the board. But after some evening grub, a shower, & like 15 hours of sleep, I think we’ll all be on the same page tomorrow.

So far this trip, Crosby, Stills, & Nash have been the theme music - funnily enough not due to the cliché presence of the Marrakesh Express – but with You Don’t Have to Cry and Helplessly Hoping ringing through the mundanity of our Royal Air Maroc flight. The aim was to send me to sleep, but you now understand why that was not an option – with the addition of our pal Neil, Teach Your Children also sent a rather appropriate prophetic message through my dazed and confused, barely cognizant internal hearing receptors. Yeah, still desperately in need of sleep it appears.

As I listen to my fave CS&N tune Suite: Judy Blue Eyes (so bite me if it’s everyone’s favourite) I figure, what have I got lose on this trip? Time away from home? Culture Shock? Some of my American female independence? Chump change compared to what I’m gaining. In just 48 hours I’ve met 62 new people who could potentially be larger influences in my life than I’m currently giving them credit for. Truly, great group of people, naturally a few oddballs, but they keep things interesting, and obviously have their hearts in the right place. I’m still a bit ‘ahhh’ over intense language submersion, but planning on giving them more than I gave Mr. Neumann back in French class. That’s what she said? Anyways, for anyone out there concerned or worried about me: I’m fine, more than fine, I’m really happy; really full; really tired. And for those who are just curious, you need to get out there, live life uncomfortably. And if you don’t know what that means, that’s just your problem.