Hotel Horrors: A night of TENTation

After spending a few days visiting Essaouira, Safi and Oualidia, British guy and I made our way to El-Jadida, a small town on the Moroccan coast well-known for its beautiful Portuguese port (as in boats, not wine). Upon arrival we checked into the Hotel Bordeaux.

It was cheap and cheerful and all was going well until about 11:00pm when we were getting ready for bed.

Me: What is that and why did you use my CHACO FLIP TO SMASH IT?!

British guy: It was nothing.

[I wasn't going to be deterred that easily.]

Me: Was it a mosquito?

British guy: No...

Me: Was it small?

British guy: Yes. Sort of.

Me: Why are you still looking for it? Did you kill it? Oh my God. Was it a roach?!!!


It was. I tried to be philosophic about it. Really, I did. Instead of screaming and fleeing the scene I sat on the bed with my knees up to my chin and compulsively scratched every inch of bare skin. But the problem with roaches is that there is never just one. Never.

Sure enough they suddenly started surfacing behind the curtains. We went through our stuff and found them skittering along the sides of our backpacks. I suggested that we burn everything, but British guy said that was a ridiculous idea. Sometimes he feels threatened when I come up with good ideas. Or maybe he's just so used to my ideas being ridiculous that it was an automatic reaction. Or he's just attached to his Karrimor pack. It's 15 years old. He had to super glue it back together on this trip.

Anyway.

In reality I am certain that we only saw a total of 6 or 7 roaches. In my head however it was Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom. There was no way I was going to sleep that night. I planned to stand in the middle of the room all night armed with one of British guy's shoes (I'm not killing them with my shoe. That's gross) and whatever pesticide spray I could find at 11:00p.m. in El-Jadida Morocco. Nevermind that I am an environmentalist. These are roaches we're talking about. Roaches. I don't care what sort of chemicals are in that spray as long as it results in a dead bug. And there was no way I was turning any of the lights off. That's when they get you.

Our original intention had been to camp along the coast, but the pouring rain had driven us to this hotel. The roaches as well it seemed. It was a nice enough hotel, but it was a budget hotel. At 13 euro a night for a double room we could hardly complain and the admonition "you get what you pay for" rang in my ears.

I bemoaned the fact that we wouldn't be sleeping safely in a 0.5 person tent far away from roach infested hotels.

British guy suggested pitching the tent on the bed in the hotel room.

Sometimes he has really good ideas.

Except that two people in a 0.5 person tent with only one little mesh panel in a tiny hotel room in a very warm climate is only slightly more comfortable than sleeping in a bed with no sheets in a roach infested hotel. It was the equivalent of sleeping in a sauna wrapped in non-breathable nylon. This particular tent is not a stand-alone tent and despite the fact that we tied it as best we could (well, British guy did. I stood in the center of the room and made sure that no roaches touched me) the tent kept sagging lower and lower until it was basically a bivy sack. And then there was the TV stand. Personally I would gladly have foregone a TV (it was the only hotel we stayed at that had one) in favor of a roach-free sleeping environment, but it seems that the hotel management did not share this sentiment.

Once we (British guy) had the tent set up, we climbed in and it was only then that I realized we were sleeping directly below the TV stand protruding from the wall.

Me: Do you think it's safe to be sleeping under the TV stand?

British guy: What?

Me: Well what if it collapses. We'll be killed instantly or severely maimed at the very least.

British guy: I don't think the TV stand is going to collapse.

Me: This hotel has roaches. Anything could happen.

At this point British guy got up and out of the tent to check to see if the TV stand was securely fastened to the wall. It was. But I still had nightmares about rogue TV stands falling out of the sky while being chased by rabid coyotes in the Negev (There aren't any. But it never hurts to double check).

Camels: Not as cool as I thought

 I don't like camels.

I'm about two seconds away from spitting at you. Stupid human.

1. They're mean.

2. They spit.

3. I can't think of a third reason. Probably because hatred is usually justified by false information and ridiculous exaggeration. Meaning that I don't have any real reason to hate camels. I just do. I was trying to give you reasons so you would think "Ah, yes. That makes sense. I can see now why she hates camels." Now you just think I'm a bigoted, species-ist camel-hater. 

I wasn't always this way. 

In fact, I was once extremely excited about camels. When I was 11 my Dad took me on a llama pack trip. That should just about sum up my childhood experience. At any rate, during this particular father-daughter trip, I had a llama named Roger who was really cute and sweet and I somehow figured that all camels would be exactly like Roger the llama. Llamas=sort of remotely related to camels therefore one nice llama = all camels are nice. Look, logic really isn't my thing. I prefer to go blithely through life making all sorts of ridiculous assumptions about camels. 

Prior to living in the Middle East I had never actually been in the proximity of a camel. I might have seen one once at a zoo, but I can't be sure. I was charmed by the camels standing on the side of the road everywhere I went in the West Bank. In fact, I was surprised to see so many camels. Everywhere I looked there were little clusters of docile looking ungulates. It was like showing up in the jungle and going "OH MY GOD! YOU GUYS, LOOK AT THE MONKEYS. IN THE TREES! I TOTALLY THOUGHT THE DISCOVERY CHANNEL WAS JUST MAKING THAT SHIT UP! MY WHOLE UNIVERSE JUST EXPANDED."

That's how I felt about seeing camels everywhere in the desert. 

I could not wait to get on one. But I didn't want to have just any camel-riding experience so I snubbed the camels hanging out at the gas station waiting to take tourists on an exotic trek around the Shell station parking lot. If I was going to get on a camel, I wanted nothing less than a 2-day trek in the desert so that I could realistically pretend to be Lawrence of Arabia. If you go on a camel trek in the Middle East and DON'T pretend to be Lawrence of Arabia you are failing at life. Individuals who go to Petra and don't pretend to be Indiana Jones also fall under this category. 

After living in the West Bank for nearly 4 months, I finally got my chance. I made plans to head to Jordan with two friends to go on a two-day camel trek in Wadi Rum. My Australian friend had been on a camel trek before and she tried to warn me. But because she's an awesome Aussie with an "anything goes" attitude, she was willing to go ahead with it even though she knew the tortures that lay ahead (I may be slightly exaggerating in referring to a camel trek as torture, but only slightly). 

After a few days in Petra we made our way to Wadi Rum. 

I couldn't believe I was so close to realizing my long-awaited adventure. There just before my eyes stood three camels awaiting us. 

But....three camels. There were three of us and one guide. That equals four. But there were only three camels. I couldn't comprehend how the guide was going to keep up with me and my camel galloping across the desert. 

That question was answered within 30 seconds of getting on the camel. 

Camels don't gallop. 

Camels do not do anything that falls under the category of "moving quickly." 

A camel's gate is the definition of "plod." When I envisioned a camel trek I did not envision plodding through the desert for two days on a spitting ungulate (new favorite word) who is adorned not with a cushioned saddle, but with a piece of wood that looks like an upside down V placed on the camel's hump and has a few cushions lashed on for good measure. Saddle sores like you wouldn't believe. To make matters worse we were spread out on our camels so we couldn't actually pass the time by talking to one another. Our guide didn't speak any English. And there was no Wi-Fi so I couldn't obsessively update my Twitter to give everyone a play-by-play account of how bored I was. Also I think my camel was kind of slow on the uptake. I think camels are generally kind of slow on the uptake, but mine especially. I'm pretty sure they gave me the "special" camel. I'm still trying not to take that personally.

After what seemed like an eternity we reached our Bedouin-style campground for the night. 

It was spectacular. We sat in silence on red rocks watching the sun set and the stars rise. After dinner we spent hours sitting around a campfire staring up at the kind of night sky you can only see in the desert. 

And the camels? 

They were tethered off in the distance...which is how I've come to appreciate camels. Tethered. At a distance.