story

BFFs

For our last few nights in Shimla, the capital of Himachal Pradesh, we moved to a nice little hotel in the Laakar Bazaar district in order to be more central. 

The hotel was decent enough and everyone who worked there was quite nice. But there was one employee who went above and beyond the call of duty. 

He was kind of like a bellhop, but also worked in the restaurant and just kind of helped out with whatever needed to be done. As we were checking into our room he began to converse with us. "What country are you from?" "What are your names?" etc. 

He was quite nice and so we indulged in some light conversation with him. At the end he wanted a selfie with us, which isn't unusual. We've taken millions at this point. But then he asked if he could meet us in the evening because he wanted to talk with us more in English.

We said okay, he left and we went on with our day. Sadly by the time we got home from touristing it was quite late and we honestly had forgotten to look for him (he was working anyway) and we went straight to our room.

The next day we saw him and there was a sad look on his face. Turns out he waited for us until midnight! We felt terrible.

We weren't actually able to meet with him until the last day. It was actually just me (Nate), who met with him. I agreed to talk with him in the restaurant and I brought my computer armed to show him some pictures of our trip and our blog etc.

As soon as I sat down the first thing he asked me was, "can you get me a visa for the UK?" I looked at him shocked and said I was from America. He then asked if I could get him one for the U.S. Sadly, I told him I couldn't for reasons obvious to anyone from there. I explained that the process was quite complicated and expensive and that I had no connections or authority.

After that we chatted a bit more and he insisted on giving me a gift which was quite sweet. I tried to refuse but he wouldn't have it. He also invited us to his village to stay with him and his family and said it would be "his greatest honor". At the very end he told me "we will be best friends and I will write you on Facebook every day". Well he's kept his promise. 

I've received messages almost every day ranging from, "how are you?" to "where are you?" to "I love you", "I miss you" and "please come back to Shimla!". Marta and I were a bit worried and quite shocked that we might have an actual stalker.

But since talking with other Indian friends we think it's a combo of things. One is a "lost in translation", two is a cultural difference, and three, he's never been treated this way by a foreigner before. The hotel we stayed at was really a locals place where Indian tourists stay. I don't think many westerns have stayed there. And the fact that two exotic foreigners walked in, talked with him gave him probably far more respect than Indian tourists do, he couldn't help but wear his heart on his sleeve.

With that perspective in mind, we're still in touch and he think he is a great guy. His messages still "weird" me out a bit but I try to remember they are coming from a good place. And although we don't always get it, we have to say the people of India are some of the sweetest, most sincere people we have ever met. 

... and that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Moroccan Stories

STORY 01

While walking in Fez, i had a little boy, he was no older that 5 years old runnign behing me demanding i gave him and his friend a bag of figs I just both. He sure was adorale and he was calling me "hermosa" all the time. I have gave him some furuit to get rid of him, but sure that didnt work. He kept following us yelling "hermosa, hermosa" and after i turned around angryily said "enough, no more" he slapped me on my butt. Yep, a 5 yer old slapped my butt.

 

STORY 02

This also happened in Fez. We asked our friendly riad host manager (man), if we could do some laundry. He said that the house keepers would have not problem doing our laundry. Ok, great!! They next day, after having nothing to wear, we went to ask for our clothes. The same friendly manager didnt know where it was exaclty but pointed out to the room, where we all went in. There were few piles of clothes laying in different corener of the room. Before I spothes sometime that looked like it coould be my pair of jeand Mohamend was there before me. He proceeded to pick up every single pieces of my claundry inlduing my inimated. Eveyrthing he picked up a pair of color thing he lifted it up, strething it and asked politely with an accent and a big grim " Is this your", and evrything time staring blankly i said "yes". I thik afte rthat excericse he knew my "size" and underwear better than I did.

 

STORY 03

 I mentined that women are wonderufl in morocco and so are the men. 

We have met a wonderful man, name Khalid in Morocco. Khalid before out best friend in Morocco simply bcause he is a genorous kind mand. My husnad I went there one day durning lunch. I had a bad ear infection from a recent pieercing. Khalid came to our table,doing his job as a manager, aksing about our meal. We said everything was great ( food is amazing at LA Salama) but he turned at me at he could tell something was wrong. I expleaing my ear was hurting. Khalid told us tha he would take us to the pharmacy to help me get some medince, after our meal. Of course at first we thought " omg, he probably wnats some money" ( btw we didnt mind paing for help), but when we offered to tipp him he refused saying that he want to help and he hopes I get better. ok, i know it so simple, but when you have been huggiing and refusing any help on the steer from starnger becaue youahve been told all the want it moeny. this felt nice and humane. My ear healed fast and our firienship with Khalid grew even faster. He is a womenrul man and a friend!

STORY 04

I felt so stupid trippping falling down on a street in a busy medina, Marakkesh, but let me tell you i have ever had so many men rushed to my rescue. I am only 115 (well maybe 200 lb inlcuding my big ass backapc)  but 20 men lifted me off the ground. They brough water to wash my scratched legs, some suggested to pop y back ( hell no!!) and some wated to take me to a woan massage placae. After decling all the wise the offers many times, and paying the firendly old man for his generosuiy in a shot of Poish vodka that he spoted in the grocery bag that broke while i smahed on the ground, we were free to go. We also lreaned that that that yes, muslims, do drink and we leared what they drink ( stay tuned for out drink blog on Morocco).

STORY 05

this one is a bit hard to tell. I wasnt sure how to wirte this or if i should wite this at all. It is almost a bit painful to wirte this one. We hired a drived in Morocco, who was a friend of a friend. We had a wonderufl time till the first small incident. I take partical blame for it. I jokingly said to our guide after he asked us if we had I good time that I hated him. I am a very sarcatic person and sometimes I forget that saysting thing like that can get lost in a translation. I honeslty didnt even remember when I said that I accidentally insulted him. After hour of explanations what sargasm mean, tear of frustration we got over it and we were best friends again. Our last night, we spend at a camping side. It was a hot day, we decided to eat some food, drink cold beers and hang around the camp site. It got late my husband dozed off next to me in a communical lounge with beds. Some other local ( guide, i am not clear) came to hang out with us. Since beer is in high demand in Morocco, I am sure that was one of the reason he wanted to "talk" to us. He asked for some of my beer. Sure, pal you can have as much as you want I replied. Those who know me, I would share my last beer with you. That is the kind of a gal I am. He was enjoying the beer  holding it for a while under a table. He said i could have it back, which at that point, I didnt feel like taking back. I get paranoid and I thought that maybe he could have "slipped" something into my drink because it was weird that he kept it under the table. I didnt know him and for sanitary reason it didnt appeal to me to drink after him. You are proably thinking why is she saysing all of this. WHat this is all revelant. The two guides ( our) and the stranger started talking in a local langue, I got bored and fell asleep spooning my husband. At no point I let the tent. After sometie our guide woke us up and we all went to our camp site. Once we got tehre shit gets crazy. Our guide accoused me of apparently wanting to have sex with the stranger. When asked how is this possible he responed that he belived the other guy because:

A) the other guy speaks the local language ( berber) and he was very serious and convinving. So basicaly just because i speak english and I am a woman I can not be trusted. WTF!!

B) I offered the other guy my half of beer which apparenlty was interpreted and invitation to sex.WTF!!!

At that point I lost my cool. The whole camp was awake fro my screaming and yelling. The owner of the camp told us that this thign can happen somethimes and they escorted our guide out of the camp

This whole situaton was so crazy I still am trying to piece it together. 

The next morning was SO AKWARD and the guide and our taxi driver were commited to drives us many hour to a bus stop. The guide tried to apologize, said that is not what he meant, that his english is bad, and that he was angry with the other guy. I want to give him a benefit of doubt and belive that this was ost in translation, but the night before his english was perfect. 

Moral of the story. Dont assume you know somebody after few days. Becareful who you drink with becaue not everybody knows how to handle alcohol and some people have "dark" thoughts. I have never been more dissapointed in somebody that clearly had gained my rust. I hope there will be a day in the feature that I will forgive him. Inchallah!!