In the little beach town of Essaouira this is particularly true. Everywhere you look there are tiny little men in hooded robes, walking their ancient, alien camels across the sandy coast line. All of this back dropped by decrepit castles nestled within romantically cozy, white sand dunes. On one day in particular, I was marveling at how the tide had pulled back so far, that the setting sun had cast the most striking beam of white light that swept across the entire horizon. I nearly cried as I sat on top of this sand dune, watching silouhettes of jedi's and their tauntaun's gliding across a beacon of light, embraced by space above and below.
That would be the more magical side of Morocco. Morocco is also the land of hustlers, wheelers and dealers, subservient women, 4 generations of cats feeding off of one momma cat, and a night life as active as Newt Gingrich's sex life (there's rumor that it happens somewhere in the night, but you KNOW it ain't bangin').
With the adventures of Chefchaoun and the weed farm now a few days behind us (read in my 2011 blog posts "Sticky Situation in Morocco"), my band of intergalactic warrior clowns and I continued on to the gorgeous town of Essaouira.
Now here's a little thing you probably don't know about me. Sometimes I see ghosts. Like many people out there, I have this clairvoyant side, a side that can tap into different forms of the metaphysical...Man, I kind of hate saying that. I always feel like like people who say that can often times be so indignant..."I see energies. I'm pretty much a shaman, I've done Ayahuasca every weekend since my mid life crisis...I used to be a really shitty person but now I know that I'm better than you and you'll be hypnotized by my glassy eyes as I speak s l o w l y to you in my galactic tongue. Are you confused by my made up mumbo jumbo? Good...that's how I display my higher self worth...did I mention that I'm a shaman and that I get visited by aliens?" God I know that's terrible, but come on...like you've never met that person?!? Anyhow, I'd hate to be confused with that guy. I do however, believe all people have an ability to tap into the metaphysical, and I've definitely had my experiences.
Before my trip, it had been a long long time since I had run into any scary ghosts but once I arrived to Morocco, I was being attacked almost every night. Truly terrifying nights, the details of which I will spare you, or you can coax me into giving you after you buy me a beer. Anyhow, I was scared. Like really scared. I hadn't been attacked that frequently and to that intensity ever. At one point I had this demonic little creature attack me as I walked from the bathroom to my bed, and after we conversed, I blinked and was standing in another part of the room. I was spooked and knew that I needed to cleanse myself in the ocean the next chance that I got.
A day or so after we arrived, my buddies and I headed to the beach to spend the afternoon/ evening. Shrine and I were on our own kick, rocking the minds of the local Moroccans. Shrine with a greasy piece of wax paper, that had pastry flakes stuck to it, approached every Moroccan man we crossed on that beach playing a game that he made up called "Hustle the Hustler." Now these Moroccan men, they know how to hustle! They are constantly barking at you, trying to make you a deal. If you're not used to it, you'll either get angry, cower away, or do what Shrine does which is "Hustle the Hustler."
With his wax paper in hand, we made our way down the beach, telling all the locals that I was a Mongolian princess and that he was my man servant. With my boots dangling from his outstretched fingers like a proper butler, and the words "man servant" spilling out of his lips, these Moroccan men looked at us as if we had transformed into a birthing werewolf with deviled eggs for teets. Oh...and if you don't know the looks of Shrine, now add a curly mustache, crazy tattoos, a button up vest, and red elf shoes to the picture. Not your average tourist encounter.
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| Damn Technology erased my most epic pictures of this moment, but here's a picture of the infamous Shrine |
"Just wait right there! Have you ever heard of Princess Gnomey Gnome?" Shrine's voice now booming with the perfect circus barker vibrato.
"My dear princess...show them your dance." And sure enough, there I was seconds later, swinging my butt around like a ninja gnome, pollinating some flowers.
And still...no sales.
SHRINE: "No royal ear wax for you? No problem! I have something else for you young man. Something special and precious indeed. How about this lovely fig?"
ME: "Ahhh yes! This lovely fig!"
We both knelt down in the sand and reached out towards what we both thought was a sandy fig.
ME: "OOOooooo Yes! This fig? How much are you willing to pay for this fig?"
Shrine knelt down to pick up our new prized possession. A perfectly plump fig, resting in the sand. He held it between his spindly fingers and offered the fig to the by standing Moroccan men. With the intense class that only Shrine can pull off, he pulled back his cuff, flipped his wrist, held this succulent piece of fruit at the tips of his outstretched fingers and right underneath their noses. The men immediately jumped back in childish horror. They pulled their faces so far back into their skulls, that their teeth imprints were coming out of their ears.
What? What could be the problem? What would get a reaction like that? Shrine and I both peered down at the fig, with our faces pressed up against each other and gave it a good stare...wait...what is that? Could it be...no...no...definitely not....wait....seriously...what is that?...no really...what IS that?...oh shit...serious?...oh shit...no...wait...it is!...oh shit... After a good game of mental badminton, it was concluded that what Shrine had between his fingers was a beautiful specimen of camel poop.
Camel poop? Did we really try to sell a piece camel poop as a fig? We nearly lost it but knew we had to reign it back in quickly. Oh noooo. This game of Hustle the Hustler is not OVER! How much will you pay for the fig?!
We were duped for a second, but we weren't ready to give up. Fully knowing what he had in our hands made the prop so much more enjoyable, and we were NEVER going to let on that we knew the truth. We waved it around a few more times, insisting that it was a delicious fig meant for kings, but one by one they ran off, shaking their heads out of sheer confusion. Shrine and I continued down the beach, dragging our feet across the sand, laughing at the top of our lungs, determined to make a sale that day.
After hours of treking down the beach, selling ear wax and poop while gnome dancing, our faces were sore from it all. The sun had epically set, while we coasted across light beams reflecting off the tide. We retired in the cozy white sand dunes as a silver auric moon rose in to the sky and everywhere we looked, there were brilliant stars beaming above us.
By this time we had rejoined with our dear friend Dream, while Rajiv had gone off on his own adventure. Life couldn't have been grander. We sat on the crests, kicking and laughing...I felt like I was playing in a mountain of cinnamon and sugar. Dream in her black turtle neck and jeans quickly ripped off her pants to go slide down the sand dunes, and shortly thereafter we all followed. Though it was really more out of function, than out of the sheer need to be ridiculously sexy, it indefinitely became ridiculously sexy. Her wild blonde hair flying around her as she plummeted down the dunes in her undies and black turtle neck....it was so Bond...60's style.
We all rolled down like children, laughing as the rising dust created this glowy haze against the moonlight, and everything looked like it was made of magic.
After my abs and my face literally could not take it anymore, I decided to venture off to have my own moment. I needed to take a dip in the ocean. Not only to wash myself from all the sand, and filth of the day, but to give myself a proper spiritual cleanse and rid myself of anymore scary spirit encounters.
I knew it had to happen right away, and it felt even better that it was under moon light. Something was with me and I needed to let go. To release. To surrender and submit and make space for healing. I slowly approached the water and decided that I wanted to get fully naked and bathe myself in the discretion of the velvety night. So I did. And as I got in, I just floated with my eyes closed, asking God over and over again to heal me, and to work through me, and to allow me to let go of any darkness or negativity that I might be holding in my body. As I floated around, lost in my own prayer, I suddenly heard "Lisa! Lisa!" and it was Dream on the beach waving me down, calling me to come back. She seemed so panicked as she waved her arms. What could be the problem? Suddenly I see this guy on his bike, circling back and forth like he was waiting for his prey. Oh I see...That's right. I'm in Morocco...and I'm naked.
Where women wear Burkini's to the beach and I'm naked. And to tell you the truth, I thought I was going to get away with it, because I was on an empty beach in the dark.
Oh God...what am I doing? Ahhh! Sometimes I am such a stupid hippy! I quickly ran out as Dream handed me my clothes and helped me dress. I darted and ducked behind Shrine to shield me as I dressed. But bike guy, kept circling us, for the better view. We hopped around in circles as to keep having Shrine block me, and Shrine needed to keep eye contact, so he could maybe finally sell his ear wax and hustle the hustler!
He pulled out the greasy paper, "Young Man! Have you ever had Mongolian Princess Royal Earwax. Only the finest! Yours at a very special low price!"
But bike guy didn't give an ef. He kept circling and I was getting so nervous. He was freaking me out with his predatorial energy, and finally it occurred to me. This guy is freaking me out? This guy? I don't like being freaked out. So you know what? I'm going to freak him out! I'm going to FREAK THE FREAKER!"
ME: Dream, we have to Freak the Freaker!
DREAM: What?
ME: Freak the Freaker!!!
And as soon as she heard those words, something came over us and we started wailing and screaming like monkeys. Me still half dressed, flinging my arms around, jumping around and yelling like a primate on attack mode! Within seconds Shrine was in on it too and instantly jumped down on all fours chanting like a wild ape. We were going buck wild like this man just stole our baby and we were all silver back mamas, pounding the floor, jumping up and down, waving our arms, and screaming at the top of our lungs.
Clearly stupefied by the situation, the man stumbled back off his bike and immediately reached out for a huge piece of drift wood nearby by. All of us immediately understood the situation and dove toward the drift wood before he could get to it, but none of us ever touched it or picked it up. Instead we kept pulsing our hands toward it, like it was wild and sacred. Screaming and chanting like possessed primates. Baffled by the situation, he stumbled back, not able to understand what exactly was going on. Just as he was about to attack or run, in came Rajiv from out of nowhere running into the scene like a black stallion, pawing his fists into the sky, naying between his loose, flapping wompy lips. The timing and action could not have been more perfect and bizarre. Now this guy was really tripping. He comes in to what seems like an easy enough moment to feast on some lady, her and her friends go buck wild, planet of the apes style, and now comes this stranger out of nowhere, with these bulging biceps, wild eyes, and uncontrollable hair, galloping into the scene like a stallion...not the knight in shining armor riding the stallion...no Rajiv IS the stallion. Where did this guy come from and why is the whole world acting like animals? But the animal kingdom only got wilder and crazier as we threw our hands into the air, beating our chests, and he just stood there completely frozen. Then all of a sudden we heard Dream. "Hey guys? Hey guys. Stop! I think we are really scaring him stop!"
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| Rajiv, clearly posing because he is actually the most gentle man in the world. Photo by Cat Healy |
Silence. We all transformed into compassionate human beings suddenly, and Rajiv, the horse man stood there offering his water bottle to the man. He hesitantly grabbed the water bottle with his trembly hands, stared at us as he took a gulp and us starring back at him...still thick, palpable silence... He then slowly backed away, awkwardly picked up his bike, turned to look at us one last time, and then gently rolled away.
Now there's a slight discrepancy re: bike man's intentions. Because the final conversation happened in French and I don't understand French, Dream seemed to think he had only stopped by for water in the first place...like he couldn't have asked any other Moroccan homie, he had to ask the naked chick who clearly didn't have water on her. And oh wow, what a hoot that we all acted like crazy fools. But apparently that's what he told Dream. I think it was a big fat lie.
Either way, lessons were served that day. He learned that you never know when a galloping stallion man will nay you so hard you nearly pee your pants. We all learned never to attend the beach without your Birkini. But best of all rule number one in street fighting...you gotta be crazier than the crazy guy. So when someone, life or a situation is freaking you out, all's you gotta do is Freak the Freaker.
