You know the gist of these posts by now. The drive was beautiful. The people looked different. Blah blah blah. We stopped by the beautiful Todres Gorge. Same old, same old, right? Wrong.
Today we had two twists to our plans. Twist one: people asking for help on the roadside. When we started driving from Merrakech, we had encountered a few people who had broken cars on the roadside and who we had stopped to see if we could help. Both men, dressed in traditional clothing, with strikingly good English had asked if we could help give them a lift somewhere. We hesitated. They kept saying, "but we are Berber." I don't care who you are, that means nothing to me. We're two women in an unfamiliar country, but safety first. The second guy we just left by the road. The first guy, however, asked if we could take a note to his family. He gave us very specific directions and wrote something in Arabic. We left. As we drove, we decided that no way would those guys wait for us to deliver a message before trying to get another ride. They'd definitely just thumb the next ride they could. As a result, we decided NOT to go to their house.
I feel like such a bad Christian to just drive off and not help at all. It's like being the bad Samaritan. When we arrived in a few of the towns, we asked our hotel hosts about these curious incidents, and they all told us it was a scam. They just get in the car and direct you to their cousin's carpet shop. Pallavi had the genius idea to take a picture of what was written in Arabic on the message the first guy had given us, and send it to one of her friends who speaks Arabic. We got the results of the message yesterday. What did it say? "Request donation for Yemen" (or something like that). I knew that that map got drawn way too quickly! Another scam averted!
Twist two: We happily drove along the road to our hotel at the Dades Gorge. Pallavi had a shutterbug that just wouldn't quit. We had checked the directions to our hotel on the phone at the last major town and just before reaching our first turn before our hotel, Pallavi asked me to pull over the car so she could click some pretty vistas. She clicked away, got back into the car, and we drove to the town. I then asked Pallavi for information about our turn and the distance between it and our hotel. She turned to get the phone.....then she turned another way to get the phone.... then she commented to the abyss, "where's the phone?"
I pull over at a gas station and we tore the car apart looking for the phone. No phone. We already are one phone down (see birthday phone breakage incident). Where could the phone be? If it's not in the car, the only possible place it could be is 9 kms down the road where we pulled over for Pallavi's vista, where it could have fallen off Pallavi's lap or off of the door when she opened it. How in the world could that possibly happen and we not notice it?
We drove in silence. How could we lose the phone? How in the world would we remember where we pulled over? How would we be able to spot the phone? Good thing there is photo evidence. We found the relative area where we had pulled over. Pallavi went one way and I went the other. As I walked, looking in areas that had a median big enough for me to pull over, I saw something gleaming in the sunlight. It was our phone! There it was. Just where it had fallen out of the car.
What was Pallavi's first response? "Is it broken!!!" Nope. Not broken, just dusty and happy to be found.
Now we know why I hold on to the important stuff. :)
Today we had two twists to our plans. Twist one: people asking for help on the roadside. When we started driving from Merrakech, we had encountered a few people who had broken cars on the roadside and who we had stopped to see if we could help. Both men, dressed in traditional clothing, with strikingly good English had asked if we could help give them a lift somewhere. We hesitated. They kept saying, "but we are Berber." I don't care who you are, that means nothing to me. We're two women in an unfamiliar country, but safety first. The second guy we just left by the road. The first guy, however, asked if we could take a note to his family. He gave us very specific directions and wrote something in Arabic. We left. As we drove, we decided that no way would those guys wait for us to deliver a message before trying to get another ride. They'd definitely just thumb the next ride they could. As a result, we decided NOT to go to their house.
I feel like such a bad Christian to just drive off and not help at all. It's like being the bad Samaritan. When we arrived in a few of the towns, we asked our hotel hosts about these curious incidents, and they all told us it was a scam. They just get in the car and direct you to their cousin's carpet shop. Pallavi had the genius idea to take a picture of what was written in Arabic on the message the first guy had given us, and send it to one of her friends who speaks Arabic. We got the results of the message yesterday. What did it say? "Request donation for Yemen" (or something like that). I knew that that map got drawn way too quickly! Another scam averted!
Twist two: We happily drove along the road to our hotel at the Dades Gorge. Pallavi had a shutterbug that just wouldn't quit. We had checked the directions to our hotel on the phone at the last major town and just before reaching our first turn before our hotel, Pallavi asked me to pull over the car so she could click some pretty vistas. She clicked away, got back into the car, and we drove to the town. I then asked Pallavi for information about our turn and the distance between it and our hotel. She turned to get the phone.....then she turned another way to get the phone.... then she commented to the abyss, "where's the phone?"
I pull over at a gas station and we tore the car apart looking for the phone. No phone. We already are one phone down (see birthday phone breakage incident). Where could the phone be? If it's not in the car, the only possible place it could be is 9 kms down the road where we pulled over for Pallavi's vista, where it could have fallen off Pallavi's lap or off of the door when she opened it. How in the world could that possibly happen and we not notice it?
We drove in silence. How could we lose the phone? How in the world would we remember where we pulled over? How would we be able to spot the phone? Good thing there is photo evidence. We found the relative area where we had pulled over. Pallavi went one way and I went the other. As I walked, looking in areas that had a median big enough for me to pull over, I saw something gleaming in the sunlight. It was our phone! There it was. Just where it had fallen out of the car.
What was Pallavi's first response? "Is it broken!!!" Nope. Not broken, just dusty and happy to be found.
Now we know why I hold on to the important stuff. :)
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