Abbie's Life!

I'm copying and pasting the story I wrote to you guys in a long email ... I think it describes last weekend pretty well.
I'll add some pictures too. Obviously at the best (hardest) parts of the climb, pictures were IMPOSSIBLE!

We went to Chefchaouen again. The name of the city itself has a story. I've
been exposed to so many languages that I've seen Chef spelled at least four
different ways--not to mention the Fussa and Darija variations. I was supposed
to go to Agadir with my close friends, but a LONG story short, it didn't work
out. My closest friends ended up going to Rabat (a more expensive, touristy,
but beach city). I went with another group of three that I'm close with to
hike in the mountains.
What's great about Chef is that I've been there three times and I still haven't
seen even half of what I want to. Ironically, it's a small city. You HAVE to
walk from one tip to the other, because there isn't a road system; only series
of blue alleys and sidewalks lined with blue houses and BEAUTIFULLY decorated
doors (look at the blog and my Facebook for pictures--I'm bringing a LOT home
too. I'll attach some to this email. Have Dad open them for you). To recap
my other emails/blogs: first trip to Chef I went hiking to the waterafalls and
cascades and saw monkeys, trip two was spent in the city walking literally
every inch, and trip three's story is below.
I'll admit that I've separated myself from the big group of exchange students
here. There are a lot of 18 and 19 year olds who haven't traveled much and who
LOVE to take the big group buses all together on giant group adventures. I
like the people in small doses and I've gone on some of those weekends, but
I've spent most of my time with the grad and upperclassmen who travel in groups
of three or four to the STRANGEST and most exciting spots! I LOVE IT! Don't
get me wrong, the group trips to Voulibilis, Marakech, and Erfoud (the desert)
were exciting too!
SO- this weekend we went to Chefchaouen 3.0 and wanted to do try to attempt the
day hike to the Bridge of God. I say attempt because the first hike we went on
was very difficult, and we were told by our Moroccan friends that this other
hike was much harder. But we did it! We consists of Jake--a third year grad
student at Penn State, Megan--a senior at Emory, and Isaac--another senior at
Emory, and me! We hiked up the high Atlas of Arfoud, Morocco just outside of
Chefchoauen (where we were staying at Hotel (hostel) Barcelona--the night
before I played guitar on the roof with the two of the sons and their friends
whose family owned the hostel--a story in itself). It took awhile and we were
dying of heat. The sun was hitting us the whole time because the bridge lies
in between two canyons. Once we saw it, we were so excited because of just
how "worth it" it was. The bridge extends over two rock canyons and below it
is the river (arfoud). Arfoud is the cleanest and clearest blue water I've
ever seen. I've drank it so many times that it's hard to count. It's just a
wooden bridge, about 15 feet wide and 100 feet long, and from it the looks of
it, was built at least 50 years ago. There was a blue climber's rope hanging
down from the bridge to the water (I would say three Skyscraper lengths below--
think St. Louis Arch height for one--we're talking HIGH BRIDGE HERE). On the
side of the bridge closest to our trail was a little hut where a Moroccan guy
in his early 20's was selling water and other drinks that he drug up from the
ground using that rope.
Isaac, Megan, and Jake are all in the Advanced levels of Arabic. So they used
a Fussa/English mix to ask this man how to get to the water. We were SO
disappointed when he said that we had to go back the way we came (which seemed
impossible to do--that hike was UP rock cliffs, climbing DOWN those things
would be SO hard). I was excited when the conversation stopped. They couldn't
understand each other so I got to use my French. I'm definitely improving my
French even more than my Arabic. That's probably not a good thing. I find
myself mixing Fussa and French way more than Fussa and English though, and I've
been complimented by Moroccans--not my teachers, though. In fact, my teacher
told me today "Muschki Kabeer ma anti kabool" (big problems with your
vocabulary). ANYWAY--about halfway through Isaac and (I think the Vendor's
name was Atta) Atta's conversation, he seemed to change his mind, and we tired
idiots didn't notice or care until after the fact. Atta decided that we could
take the right ( we came from the left ) and continue down to the water. He
told us it would be hard, but easy. What is hard, but easy? Our heat
exhausted minds weren't paying attention and, to be honest, we've been up for
almost any new adventure that came our way. We didn't want to go back the way
we came. We wanted to continue a different way. It was actually Megan and I
(who were wearing dresses and carrying side purses and cameras) who talked the
boys into going!
So we went! Atta showed us the trail head and off we go. Megan took the lead
and I followed her. Atta said something about american men following women and
Megan (who's borderline fluent, I would say--in Fussa, not Darija)
answered "Always! As it should be!" Atta thought that was hilarious.
We realized about five minutes in that we were either going to die or have the
first story for our grandchildren. I literally free climbed down a rock face
hanging over Arfoud in the High Atlas mountains. At minute 6 of the climb down
(I can't express to you how serious I'm being--foot on a ledge the side of a
digital camera and hands reaching into any dark hole--which by the way house
scorpions and snakes--it can find) we came to a small plateau where Megan and I
could stand together and Jake and Isaac were 6 feet above us. Megan climbed
down a few more feet to another plateau and I joined her. Then I climbed to
the next below it. There was an embankment that basically slid to a fourth
plateau. It was about 20 feet long, but looked like if we could take it slow
enough, would barely let us escape without falling hundreds of feet to our
bloody deaths. We were debating. I didn't even know if I could get back to
where Jake and Isaac were standing. Megan, who is about 5'4" and 100 lbs, was
sure she couldn't. We were screwed.
Just then, literally and I confirm, sent by God descended Aiesh (Life) and his
friend Mohammad. Mohammad carried a fishing pole, though in the Arfoud there
aren't even fish. Aiesh was screaming "La! LA!" (No! NO!) and pointing over
Megan's shoulder. These two men, both dressed well for the area in khaki
shorts and cotton t-shirts, actually leaped off the mountain side and over
Jake, then did the same to Isaac. They both grabbed into the mountain like
they had done it expertly 1,000 times. I'm sure they had. When they got to
Megan (Mohammad got their first), they pointed over her shoulder and I thought
that I was definitely dreaming or had already fallen off the cliff to my death
and this was some sort of disillusioned vision. Mohammad wanted Megan to jump
from the plateau she was on to another higher plateau with nothing but empty
canyon below her. Let me stress, NOTHING but rocky torment of bloody death
BELOW the jump! And I had to climb back to where she was and do it too--at
least that's what I got from the hand gestures. OK. So Megan made it. If Megan
can do it, I can do it. And I did. That's where we lost the boys. IT WAS
HILARIOUS. I could hear Isaac like a little girl saying something like, "No
way. There's absolutely no way. I don't even think I can move right now."
Jake was SO mad. He just kept cussing and saying "What are we supposed to do?
There's nowhere to go?" Aiesh went with Jake and Isaac and Mohammad went with
Megan and I to either our deaths or the most earned swim of my life.
We had to separate. There was absolutely no way that four of us were making it
down that mountain together. We were literally causing rocks to fall on each
other and none of us knew the way. We were going to die without these two
guys.
Megan was great. I was terrified at first. I kept thinking that we should go
back--but I knew it was impossible (it just wasn't an option to go back. The
only option was following Mohammad).
So we did. He kept looking back at us and separately staring at us and saying
VERY slowing, "Shiah, Shiaway Shaih" which means"Slowly, very, very, slowly."
Before we took one turn where we each had one foot on a ledge, one leg free
hanging, one hand hold in a rock and one begging a branch not to break,
Mohammad pointed down, then to his eyes,then shook his head no. I took that
as, "Don't look down." So of course I did. Now, I'm glad. Then, I could have
lost my bowels if I wasn't so dehydrated. Nothing, but everything was below
me. Just down. Nothing but Down. I didn't know how scared I was of heights
until now. Before the prayers were in my head. At that point I started loudly
and openly praying to God for our lives out loud. Somehow I went first; I'm
honestly not sure how that happened. I think at that point hanging on a rock
face is hanging on a rock face and if you can get to the next grab, you do it.
That point was at about minute 30. It's embarrassing to admit, but I actually
thought this could be it. I thought "I'm 22, and I'm going to die on this
mountain. This is pathetic." At minute 40 we were finally able to stand!!! WE
KNEW WE WERE GOING TO BE OK!
I knew when Megan said completely seriously, "I bet if we fell from here to
there (pointing at another plateau) we wouldn't even die." I answered equally
as seriously, "Yup."
That was the best swim of my life!
When we got to the bottom, Mohammad showed us his ID. He was a sheriff! So was
Aiesh! Ahamdaleelah! Thanks to God!

What did you do this weekend?

The Sahara.... well, it's hot. It's really hot. It's really hot and sandy. And that's just about it.

This is a bit late - but for the past week and a half I've been backpacking everywhere! We're taking planes, trains, automobiles, and even horses, donkeys, and camels ALL AROUND MOROCCO! I am so in love with this country!

The Sahara was neat to see. I'm glad I went, but I doubt I'll be making that trip again. The best thing we did was go to see a Sufi village. The elders put on a ritual and ate dinner with us. That's what the first two pictures are. (anyone who can, look at my facebook for the rest of the pics--carey, will you show mom and dad the rest?) The fancy doorway is an entrance to a palace sitting room. The monarchy has old castles all around Morocco (and by all around, I mean ALL around--I've already been to 10+ and I've passed on a few) that are used by the locals when the royalty is finished with them. This particular palace is owned by a king's cousin who still lives there, but it is so worn down that it will literally disintegrate within a couple years. Most of the buildings (I would say 85% at least) are made of compacted dirt--crazy looking stuff. Some of the palaces are carved earth. If they aren't properly taken care of and restored, they literally blow away. Ten of us had tea with the king's cousin in his sitting room at this palace.

The hotel we stayed at was really nice....except for the giant, man eating cockroaches EVERYWHERE. At this point, cockroaches are the least of my worries. The other night, I found a beetle that was literally the size of my hand in my bed. The frogs in Ifrane are some of the weirdest creatures I've seen so far. They get so big that they have to crawl on all fours instead of hop. They're about the size of Joe's head if that gives anyone a clue to their gigantic-ism.