a stranger: eid in marrakesh

it hasn't been but a few days since i last walked the streets of marrakesh during the holy day but the sights and smells of that day are still quite fresh in my mind. 

the day began with some tea and bread atop the hostel roof terrace. junice and i met up with stephanie and edith, two french girls we had the pleasure of befriending over the weekend. we quickly stuffed our faces with bread dipped in fresh apricot marmalade and walked downstairs. 

as we meandered through the dusty streets, i noticed something strange. the daily buzz of running children, motorcycle engines, local haggling, all of it was non-existent. the streets were all filled with an eerie calm. i looked at the time and it was 10:07am, which meant that the residents of marrakesh had already begun the slaughter. i'm not sure what exactly i was expecting, it was all just very strange.

by the time we got to souks market and medina square, we found it to be practically empty. no henna tattoo artists, no snake charmers, no monkey wranglers, all were gone for eid. we kept walking and spoke with a man we had met the previous night while i was getting my beard trimmed (an experience in it of itself). he recommended we check the tombs next to the palace walls, or something like that. we walked towards the direction he pointed us but when we got there we found it to be closed. 

it was a bummer at first, but we kept walking, aimlessly really. after a few beats though, we found ourselves in small corridors deep inside the unknown neighborhoods. this is the part where things really began to get interesting. 

as we walked through these long skinny corridors the light and mood of the place began to change. a teenager walk outside with a basket filled with freshly stripped sheep skin, wool intact; they were practically sweaters. he gave us a kind smile and quickly walked past us and headed to God knows where. i looked at the girls and even though they didn't really want to verbalize it, they knew what was up. deeper and deeper into this catacomb, we would see the same thing, but then it changed from sheepskins to stomachs, then limbs and eventually heads. 

from the corner of my eyes i would see doors opening and quickly closing as we walked past by them. "what was behind them!" was all i kept asking myself. my curiosity burned until i finally saw an opening. a little girl with mom opened a door and were about to quickly close it but i smiled, waived and yelled "salaam!" the mother slowly opened the door and returned the greeting. behind her, hanging from the roof, the fresh carcass of a naked sheep hung freely. the husband was right next to it and he waived at me with his butchers knife. i asked for permission to take a picture and he smiled and said of course. the girls were behind me the whole time and they were troopers, mostly. edith was probably the most visibly affected by the sight of the hanging carcass. 

we began to move our feet again. the streets now began to come alive as bikes quickly and sometimes dangerously zoomed by us as they carried their precious cargo of random sheep flesh - one bike actually crashed head on with a french or spanish woman. she was ok i think - outside homes teenage boys pulled out wood and old metal mattress frames and other types of metal amalgamations. soon after this was when the heads began to show up. once the fire was going, homes would bring out the heads of their former livestock and began placing them on the street fires to cook. it was definitely a sight to see. we came across a group of teenagers who were in charge of one of the many fires and asked them if we could take pictures, they said sure. 

we came across more of these as we walked and edith and stephanie's curiosity of the burning heads led us to ask a group of both teenagers and elders exactly whay they did with the heads. in a nutshell, this is what they told us: 

we cook the head, we crack the head, we eat the brains, we eat the tongue, and we eat whatever is in the middle. 

sounded wonderful to me

it was barely one in the afternoon when we got back to our hostel. everything was pretty much closed in marrakesh so i went to my room, laid in bed and reflected on the events that had just transpired. 

and i continue to still do so 

the motherland will have to wait

in this crazy economy, who in their right mind would ever voluntary choose a three month leave of absence? that would be me. especially when someone(like me) works for a company like virgin america who lets their employees keep full flight benefits.

so what does a person do with a blank boarding pass? he gets scared, lands a job at a restaurant and forfeits the gypsy lifestyle.
ok, not quite entirely. did i mention i'm in panama?

panama city, panama is a trip! pun unintended. separated by six hours of flight time, panama originally was merely going serve as our launch pad to the long awaited return to the motherland aka cuba. long story short: it didn't quite happen like that due to the complicated mess of the us embargo. but thanks to the helpful tips of jesus -the friendly copa ticket agent- i will definitely be giving it another go in the near future.
but in the meantime, with no plans, no reservations, and with quite an empty working knowledge of panama, what does one do? he smiles a hails a cab.

save the headache and do yourself a favor, grab a taxi. the cab scene didn't seem like it was dominated by bureaucratic bullshit like in bigger airports. these panamanian cabs come in different size and colors. you'll prob get hit up for a ride as soon as you walk past the terminal so poker faces on people and let the haggling begin.

the cab driver charged us $18 for both my buddy phillip and i. it took us about 40-60 minutes to get to the city from PTY airport. traffic was miserable. with all of the pretty shiny skyscrapers, you would think that panama city would buy into the concept of infrastructure; nope.

having an unlocked smartphone comes to be super handy in times like these. while in traffic, i looked up hostels and hotels nearby. we found some but all were booked so the cab driver brought us to hotel terra nova, which in panama translates into prostitute central.
we paid the cab, grabbed our room key, and just like that we were in the heart of it.

the night scene is pretty lively, nothing crazy. just your typical clubs on one side of the street, gentlemen's club on the other, a schwerma shack in the middle, and a pub at the end of it. i hit that schwerma shack hard. then went to that pub called the londoner and had some of the local brew. after, we tried walking into this locals looking club/bar called "ashe" but the tall black panamanian demanded money. he did let us chill in their patio and have a few more brews. in the midst of it all, a parade of scantily cladded women walked in and out of the classy establishment, with customers hand in hand. kinda sad to watch but it is the oldest profession in the world. business was good

in between then and now, we ditched the hotel for a hostel a few blocks away. and now perched up on top of my bunkbed i lay awake with my faithfull ipad while phillip snores his hangover away. what can i say about panama city? i can't say much honestly. from the little i've seen i feel like this place has alot to say. there are so many different shades of skin, slant of eyes, width of hips, that really has me wondering how they all came to be here. but with all those variances, the panamanian people are warm, welcoming, and friendly, which is why i'll be coming back again.

westerners

five days ago, in the city of old riga, i stood alone inside a crowded bus station holding a one-way bus ticket to vilnius that was no longer valid. standing there, below a dark cloud, i laughed. to the latvians around me, i must've looked mad, maybe i was. there i knew there was absolutely nothing i could do to change my situation. so i kept laughing all the way back to my hostel

but now, a few thousand feet above the english channel, i'm inside an aer lingus flight with two of my closest friends headed to dublin after spending the best week ever in western europe.

we spent the first night in paris in this sheik hotel called the 'le mondrien'. it was nice but we didnt spend much time inside. we walked around the city, played typical tourists while taking countless pictures of the same sites you see on your friends facebook page. we made our way back to the hotel, showered and quickly headed to the eiffel tower for some lambrusco time. as soon as it got dark, the eiffel tower went paparazzi. hundreds of sparkling lights lit up the massive A as we zipped our sweet wine.

the dazzling light show went on on every top of the hour. the next morning we walked to the train station where we caught our train to brussels.

from what i gathered over the years, brussels was not a happening place to be. but o contrare, we was wrong! the city has a unique vibe, one which i cant quite fully describe. normally a city looks similar to others but i cant think of a city to compare belgium with.

the belgian people were extremely friendly, but this might have been due to the fresh rudeness the french had given us the day before.

we stayed in a neat hostel next to the 'godiva' chocolate factory. we also knew coming into to belgium about their famous beers along with the renown monasteries that produced them. as the night progressed, we stumbled into the delirium cafe/bar, which was a three-level cave. it was there where i discovered 'delirium's' nocturnum. if you haven't tried it, do so. it has such an interesting flavor, one that i can only describe as sweet, dark, and refreshing. i usually go for the bitter side of brew, but the nocturnum won me over.
we pretty much did the same the next day.

from brussels we rode the train up to amsterdam where i had amazing time as well. at first, walking outside the train station was a bit overwhelming. all you see is people on their bikes and one false move can have you laying in a hospital. we walked for about thirty minutes looking for the 'flying pig' hostel. we finally found it, and off we were. we bought some of the native brew 'amstel' , some bread, cheese, turkey, then headed to vondolf park. everyone was out, the day was sunny and breezy; the day: perfect.

as the sun's rays began to get weaker  the park began to change the color of the trees. the whole park had a neat amber glow.

the next day we rented bikes and pretty much did the same as before. as we rode our bikes through small streets over the canals we rode right into the outskirts of the red light district, which was not what i thought it was going to be. i found it to be a very organized operation. people walked towards the ladies behind the glass, prices were whispered to each other, and many transactions were done.

a few hours later and we arrived in the emerald island.

once again the sky was open with blue skies and warm weather. we tossed our bags in our hostel and once again we took to the streets. andy and i had already been to ireland the year before, but we primarily stayed on the south side of the river leffey. on this trip we stayed on the north side, which isn't as touristee as the south. we went on a quest to find a store called 'penney's' in order to buy towel. our hostel was charging 6 euro but the kind lad at reception told us that we could buy cheaper ones, which we did. along the ways, i couldn't resist to stop at a kebab shop. later that night, we walked on over to temple bar where we had some guinness and listened to some traditional irish folk.

we ended the night with 'papa johns' pizza.
the next day was pretty uneventful. we did the 'john jameson' tour, which was very informative and fun.

it began to rain so we spent some time inside the hostel. you could tell in our gazes that we were tired. we found a place to eat and from there we stopped by for some souvenirs. sleep came next.

now, like many time before, i'm overlooking the atlantic thinking to myself what comes next.

didn't quite make it to vilnius...

i frantically paced back and forth looking for my correct bay as i stood in front of riga's crowded bus station. signs all in latvian pointed to cities i've never heard before. all i cared about was getting to vilnius. even with all of those strange dotted letters, i was still able to make out some of the cities; vilnius was being displayed at a later time. it was at that moment when i felt my heart sink. 
i instantly knew the huge mistake i'd made. i looked at my bus ticket and the departure time read 2:55. there was no pm or am because in the rest of the world countries use universal time. i knew that my ticket was long gone, but i still tried talking to the agent about possibly catching another bus. "this tiket, no good." the agent said with a lazy swoop of the hand. 

there was no point in arguing, all i could do was smile and walk away. i went back to my hostel where i was welcomed back with open arms. the next two hours i desperately searched online for other buses and flights to get to vilnius but all were either ridiculously overpriced or the timing didn't make sense. i opted to stay one more night in riga in the hope that lufthansa would still honor my ticket that originated from vilnius...not riga.
i slept for the next 15 hours on a empty stomach. i was on a strict budget so one more day of spending in riga was definitely out of the question. the next day i woke up and i headed straight to the fridge where i had my cold sandwiches ready. they weren't that great, but did the trick.
it was then where i met ryan, samantha, and this other kind man who i've forgotten his name. they were new yorkers who were also backpacking europe. we instantly hit it off! i think i had more fun in the three hours we hung out with each other versus the whole 48 hours i'd spent in riga. 
sammy kept bringing us shots of this medicinal herbal liquor that resembled jagermeister but with a much more bitter taste. after three of those shots, we headed to a restaurant where we had a latvian take of mongolian bbq. a few moments later we were at the bus station, the same one where 24 hours before i stood with a decimated look. it's crazy, i think i learned more about new yorkers in the few hours we spent together, than what i learned about the rest of the people of latvia. it's something that i'm not proud of but it's also something that i'm not ashamed of. we said our goodbyes and off they were.

now, i'm on a lufthansa flight a couple of thousands feet above eastern europe eager to see my kin, andy and phillip. usually i can go for weeks on these trips without being home sick, but the baltics has made me miss what i hold close. i cant wait to see them 

beef in the baltics

there aren't that many things that i can say about latvia. this city, with its cobblestone streets and post-soviet defaced churches looks neat from the outside. but there are strong tensions between the russians and latvians that are hard to avoid. yesterday i hung out with a group i met during a walking tour of latvia, and the tour guide was giving us the breakdown of latvia's history. we were standing in front of the jewish ghetto when an older man approached the tour guide. the man spoke in russian, but our tour guide could not speak it back. she understood almost everything he said and the end of his rant, our guide's eyes became glassy from the anger. russians in latvia will not learn latvian, and i guess they still think that the soviet union lives on.

anyways, today is a new day. in a few moments my carry-on will be stumbling across the cobble stones headed to the great country of lithuania. vilnius is where i'll stop and find my next meal. 

and again i find myself in frankfurt.

i'm not sure if i can describe the wide spectrum of feelings i've felt during the last 24 hours. currently, i feel exhaustion. didn't get much sleep two nights ago and i certainly did not get enough sleep on my trans-con flight with lufthansa. yesterday i awoke with the task of packing two weeks worth of clothes into one roller bag and a backpack. i gave myself a two hour buffer before my flight to san francisco. i made a quick stop to the bank but in between the car ride from my house and the bank, my debit card disappeared. luckily, by the grace of God, my friend Hugo a.k.a "juice" happened to be working. he's the bank manager so he quickly cancelled my debit card before a "paco" or "chuy" had the chance to use it. a couple of minutes later Hugo had a temporary ATM card ready for me to use. 
i made my way to LAX with a heavy foot. i got there fast but was stuck inside a shuttle bus for about 30 minutes, all thanks to the genius behind the wheel. by the time i got to terminal i had about 25 minutes before departure. i got through security quick, and made my way to the service center. breean was controlling the SFO flight, she told me that it was completely full; my heart sank.
the boarding agent was checking on a seat and it turned out that the guest was not boarded. and being that it was a little under 10 minutes before departure, i got the seat! i did get scolded though by my supervisor : / but either way, i wouldn't have been able to get the seat any sooner since they had to check if the seat was open. 
that was probably the most stressful leg of this journey so far. the SFO--->FRA flight was smooth. the agents were nice and gave me a seat as soon as i got to the gates. one thing about the A-380: it is huge! the seats comfortable, leg space generous, the food tasty. though the filipino lady next to me kept bumping my shoulders every hour leaving me in a perpetual state of half-sleep. 

well, i'm back in frankfurt. hopefully i don't get to spend the night here. if i do, i've already picked a great spot.