BirdBrain sent me these photos of her son, Chris, at Western New England College. Looks darn familiar.

Hi Mike,

You can’t really see the bubbles floating away here, but this was taken in a village in Zambia, enroute to Botswana game camps. As you know, I always like to travel with a few bottles of bubbles. It’s a great ice-breaker for kids and adults, both. In remote areas, kids often have never seen the bubbles before and the excitement is great fun to watch. And in cities and places where children are begging, it is a nice diversion for them (and me). I always bring enough to leave behind (usually with a local teacher, monk or some adult who can distribute it fairly).

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BirdBrain

By Birdbrain

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Mike — long overdue….

I am completely enjoying(vicariously) the trip to Japan. Clean and clear writing, photos, even the food looks clean and clear. In contrast, I’ve promised you a story about my trip to Morocco…which was delightful….but hard to grasp….particularly for a white, blue-eyed female….it’s hard to connect with the locals. With a few notable exceptions:

Towards the end of the two week trip – we were in the famous main square in the heart of Marrakesh’s old city. The square is completely mis-named — as the “Square of the Dead”, it is neither square nor dead. It has to be one of the livliest places I’ve ever seen. Crowded at all hours of the day and night with snake charmers, monkey handlers, jugglers, musicians, transvestite belly dancers, and everyone selling everything, it puts Times Square to shame. I even spotted one fellow with a table full of false teeth available to sell (and a large pair of pliers to remove yours!)…… There are oranges, dates, olives heaped all around, storytellers surrounded by pensive audiences and mounds of incense, frankincense and every other conceivable herb. Horse carts, taxis, women in veils, men in jellaba pixie hoods, and the call to prayer in the air….This is not a tourist attraction; there are plenty of Moroccans in the square.

Selling is brisk, constant, and always in-your-face. “Regarde ceci ? Aimez-vous ceci ? Combien?” Constant tugging at your sleeve…look at this, buy this….”Non, merci” became my mantra. I’m a reluctant shopper at best, and this was daunting. But it was live theatre and once or twice I stepped up and haggled in high school french. No mean feat.

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In any event, in this midst of this crazy place, I found myself standing quietly waiting for 2 friends to finish the time consuming process of buying $2 perfume….wondering why it was taking so long. A fellow salesman came over and tried to get me to make an offer on his stuff…we started in French…

He: “Aimeriez-vous acheter ce parfum” (would you like to buy this perfume?)
Me:….”Non, merci”
He: Just smell it! It’s jasmine, heavenly!
Me: No thank you.

Him: Where are you from (In English)
Me: USA. Your English is good. How many languages do you speak?

He starts counting on his hand…looking up to the sky…. “Arabic, French, Berber, Italian, a little English and a little Spanish….” I start to laugh…

I ask: Do you know the joke? What do you call someone who speaks 3 languages? Trilingual.
What do you call someone who speaks 2 languages? Bilingual.
What do you call someone who speaks 1 language?? AMERICAN!

We laugh loudly together. Clapped and started a long and wonderful conversation about Americans and the rest of the world…. “Why are we the way we are??” (was his theme)…. while I would blither “Don’t judge us on basis of our government actions….people are people…” Which led to talking about our shared joy in traveling, learning and meeting new people.

At the end of this exchange – he touched his heart, bowed and said: “this conversation has warmed my heart”.

“Moi aussi”