What a crazy month February has been! It has flown by, whereas January creeped and crawled. Two weeks of this short month were spent gloriously on vacation, in which Chris came to visit me! I picked him up at Charles de Gaulle airport on Feb. 14^th (yes valentine’s day, no not BECAUSE of valentine’s day) and we headed to our hotel near the Eiffel Tower. Chris was pretty exhausted that first day, as was I because I couldn’t sleep the night before I was so excited! Those first couple days in Paris were nothing short of amazing (except FREEZING cold) because Chris and I got to catch up and spend time in person for the first time since Christmas. I also got to show him around Paris, where I lived and studied abroad for a summer two years ago. It was the best feeling ever to show him things that meant to much to me, and have him finally understand my love for Paris and my desire to come back for a longer period of time.

Paris was absolutely freezing, but luckily our hotel was right next to the metro on line 6 (our old line, anne-tyler!) so I got to take 2 hot showers a day, ha ha. On the first day, we took pictures by the Eiffel tower (notice my frozen face, it was hard to smile!) On February 15^th, Chris and I went to Montmartre so I could show him my absolute favorite spot in Paris. We walked around the lovely cobblestone streets filled with artists painting and ivy-covered cafes and restaurants, and looked out on Paris from the top of the steps at the Sacre Coeur. Montmartre was still beautiful in winter, even if under a cover of gray clouds and an icy wind. Chris said he wanted to come back and take a picture of the view of the city at night, so he told me I could pick out whatever restaurant I wanted to for dinner, and we would walk around the rest of the city and come back that night. Afterwards, we got coffee by the Moulin Rouge, and walked around Pigalle so he could see the not-so-classy district J. We also went to Galeries Lafayette, the Louvre, Jardin des Tuileries, and Place de la Concorde. I was so happy I could remember how to get everywhere, and even where metro stops were! Haha.

Since we could barely move for the cold, we went back to the hotel to take another hot shower before going back to Montmartre for our dinner. We made it back up the hill about 8:30 pm, and went back to the beautiful little restaurant down a side street we had found earlier. It wasn’t cheap, but for Montmartre it wasn’t too badly priced. We each got a three-course dinner, with a small pitcher of wine and a basket of bread. My appetizer Salade Nicoise was enough to fill me up, but I couldn’t resist the Poulet Basquaise. Chris ordered French onion soup for his appetizer, Beouf Bourgignonne for his main dish, and crème caramel for dessert. After dinner I wanted to roll back down the hill and go to bed I was so full, but Chris wanted to “take pictures” of the city from the top of the steps at night. We took some beautiful pictures of the city while the Eiffel Tower was lit up and sparkling, and then all of a sudden Chris said “hey, stop here by the fence, can you take the camera for a minute?” I could hear his heart pounding, and I asked if something was wrong- I thought maybe he was sick (ha). Next thing I knew, he was down on one knee, getting something out of his jacket pocket. The next hour is a complete blur to me, due to shock and probably the good red wine at dinner. I’m 95% sure he said “I love you so much; I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” but I could be slightly off J. Apparently I scared him a bit, because it took me just a little too long to say ‘yes’ and I just kind-of stared with my mouth open. Then, I said, ‘hold on, I need a minute’ and walked away….but then came running right back. The rest of the night was spent racking up long-distance phone bills with our families, and of course I didn’t sleep a blink.

The next day, I had no idea how to tell Janie and Jenna. It came out to Janie when walking down the street, and I hit my left hand on a pole on accident, and it made a “ding” sound and I said “Ow” really loudly. She gave me a funny look, and I took off my glove to show her why that had hurt so badly. Jenna didn’t find out until later- that’s another funny story. We spend the rest of the day wandering around freezing Paris, getting ready to spend the night in Charles de Gualle before leaving for Morocco at 6 in the morning. We had to spend the night in the airport because our flight check-in time was so early, and no metro gets you to CDG early enough in the morning. No one slept that night (except Jenna of course) and Janie and I had a battle with 3 bags of stuck Madeleines in the vending machine at 3 a.m. We made beds of luggage and clothes on the floor, but no luck with sleep ever came. There was an astounding amount of people sleeping in the airport that night, and Janie informed us that CDG is rated number one for the worst airport to spend the night in. All the stores and even some of the coffee machines close by 9:30 at night, and the seats are bucket, not bench, thus much harder to sleep on. We ended up pacing the airport, looking for open coffee machines.

I had been flashing my ring all night, scratching my nose and playing with my hair, right in front of Jenna. Finally, when I was reading a magazine and not thinking about it, Jenna comes over and goes “wait. Wait. What. Is. That. Oh. My. God” and proceeded to flip out for the next half an hour, and periodically through the rest of the vacation. We recorded her initial reaction on Janie’s camera, but then had to delete it (sadly) later due to lack of memory for Morocco pictures.

Marrakesh was absolutely insane. After 3 hours of sleeping on the plane, we landed in much warmer, sunnier Morocco, and the culture shock ensued. We stayed in a Riad in the Medina, or Old City Center, surrounded by a huge wall. On the outside of the Medina is the New City, complete with a Mcdonald’s, gelato shops, a mall, and new bars and restaurants. In the Medina, it was rare to see a Moroccan woman without her head and body completely covered; however in the New City there were many native couples walking holding hands, without the cover of long robes and head scarves. The Medina is a beautiful, if not sometimes destitute, center of snake charmers, dried fruit and orange juice vendors, and more markets than the eye can take in. We visited the Souks, ramshackle stacks of shops selling Moroccan rugs, lamps and lanterns, scarves, shoes, wallets, spices and tunics. The Souks went on forever, winding through the mud and muck, up stairs and through tunnels. Voices yelled out “Hello, hello, fish and chips? You want to come here. Come and look at these pretty scarves! Oi!” everywhere we went. We girls wore our heads covered, but Jenna’s bleach blond hair stuck out like the sorest of thumbs in the dirty marketplace. The sights, sounds, and smells were almost too much. Fresh tiger and zebra skins hanging next to beautiful silk blue tunics, across from shining lanterns and Berber pottery, all while the smell of grilled meat, couscous and Tajine wafts from the crowded city center just outside the tunnel of Souks.

It was weird to get back to Nancy and shop at a grocery store and not feel hassled or flustered. Every tiny shop we went to (with the exception of a few) was complete with one or two Moroccan men who called at you and tried their hardest to get you to come into their shops. If they succeeded, sometimes by being way too pushy and in your face, it was necessary to barter to get what you wanted. For example, I bought to leather wallets, and got him down to 75 dirhams instead of 150. That sounds like a lot of money, but in actuality 10 dirhams is about 1 euro. So, I got two original leather wallets for about 7 euros. Not too bad! The haggling and harassing was scary the first day, but after a good night of sleep and a fantastic breakfast in the Riad, we were prepared to face it with confidence the next few days. We also had Chris as our one male bodyguard—he often heard calls like “oh man you lucky, you got three wives!” and other inappropriate things I won’t mention….

….which brings me to the Riad. A Riad is a Moroccan hotel/hostel, and was it ever beautiful. The building was square, with a hollowed out center courtyard. The courtyard had a red floor, out of which fertile orange trees grew and shadowed rustic wire tables and chairs. There was a little nook carved into the building with white cushioned couches and chairs, which we tried to claim every morning for our breakfast of Moroccan crepes, butter, honey, coffee, fresh orange juice and famous mint tea. If nothing else, we took Marrakesh for all its worth in trying all the cuisine it had to offer! That’s another page in itself. Hassam, the main man at the Riad, spoke to us in mostly French and some broken English, to generously take care of our every need.