All American Girl

My past two nights have been completely polar opposite and, as usual, quite Molly. Two nights ago, Elise and I went with some friends to our favorite Irish pub. That night I decided my body needed a break as it has completely and continually takes a beating. (Lack of nutritious foods like veggies or meat, we eat mainly bread, too much alcohol, too little sleep, too much second hand smoke, too much coffee, Moroccan poops, lactose intolerance to the cow's milk that isn't refirgerated, etc. etc.) So anyhow, I decide not to drink. What a night...I always notice when guys make comments or cut eyes at you or whatever these Europeans think is appropriate, but without a glass of wine to, as we like to say, "round the edges," I was completely appalled! I've never felt like such a piece of ass in my life. And don't get me wrong, sometimes a cat whistle gives me a little extra perk in my step but for whatever reason, this night I thought I was gonna brawl! (which also isn't all that uncommon for me). After we go out drinking we always stop at these nasty ass Schwarma places and get food, which should only be eaten when drunk, it's that bad, but I chose to eat it sober anyway. It was okay but I couldn't get over the greasy schwarma man calling me a drunk because everybody else was....Guys just want to convince themselves you're drunk so they'll grow a pair and be able to tell you what they really want to say. Then I had this BEAUTIFUL, I mean BEAUTIFUL German guy talking to me at the bar. He is kind of a friend of a friend. Anyhow, I wrap up the conversation and go sit elsewhere with Elise and some of our closer friends. This German walks past me to the bathroom, and of course I act like I don't see him so I don't give myself away too quickly, and he did the same. In my head I just quickly thought, "bummer." Whatever. Then as he is walking back from the bathroom he completely hits on me, begs me to go to the club, asks me where I'll be the next night and kisses my cheek after I politely decline every offer of his. Once he is out of ear's reach, my friend Connor, Elise's Irishman, tells me he has a girlfriend back in Germany! I thought I was going to brawl with this boy....Who do you think you are to sweet talk someone when you've got a girlfriend! Ooooo just wait till I see that kid again! haha. I've reached a point where I just have to laugh at literally how low and plain stupid some people can be, especially foreigners! Between that, schwarma man, and all of the cat whistles it was a rough night. At the end of the night my friend Mark walked me home, completely Platonic, we refer to him as our big brother, and he tells me about this famous graffiti artist in Spain, who lives in Granada, and calls himself, "El nino de pinturas" or son of paintings. Apparently, he finds old shabby buildings, and at night goes spray paint these fascinating murals on them! I walked past a ton of them and they really are amazing. I can't believe he did them with spray paint. On top of that, Mark says he never takes a step back to see what it looks like, he just goes. Mark took me past his house and it is covered with amazing pieces of art...I felt like I was staking out batman's house or something! Anyways, that was my Wednesday night. Thursday night comes along, and with it comes my first club or "discoteca" experience. After one night of acting like an appalled, semi-inferior girl, I got back to my American self. Discoteca, here we go: we get to the discoteca at about 2am (which is early to arrive here in Spain). Kathleen and I prance on in to find that a group of Americans didn't make it in to celebrate our friend Chase's 21st birthday. They most likely didn't make it in because they weren't dressed cute enough, but the bouncers claimed it was because they were American. I didn't really think stuff like that happened, now I know. So anyway, we get into the club and they play mostly techno which you can't dance to, but when an American song comes on we all cut loose! A few American songs come on and all of the Spaniards just watch the American girls and guys go to town as they try to sing along. As the night approaches 4am, the club is so packed you can no longer dance, and the groping begins. I'd be standing as a group of guys would pass and I'd feel a hand graze my ass. I'm not sure what their thought process entails, but every guy that groped me seemed to think when he got my attention I'd look up and smile as though I was pleased. Well to their suprise, I'd let em have it, while all the other girls tried to ignore it...No way...I flipped one guy off and asked him if he knew what it meant. He looked like he'd just seen Satan. Another guy touched my but and as I looked up, he looked away. Again, I don't understand their thought process...Is it pleasing to get a load of fat in your hand? Do you enjoy grabbing buts and looking away? That just seems so foul! So I proceed to tap him on his shoulder. He is definately thinkin I liked the but grab...He probably thought he scored; then I ripped him a new one! My night seriously entailed reaming people, which I'm not going to lie, was kind of fun. Other guys grab at your wrist and they ALL say "que guapa" (how pretty) or "rubia" (blondie). I just wiggled one finger in front of their face indicating no and gave them the death stare, then left them with the "I will kill you," smile. After all of the greasy gropers, we meet up with some of our American guy friends. Well my friend Fabian, who also is also amazingly attractive and from New Orleans, so no wonder I'd find him attractive amongst all of these girly Spaniard men, give his number to some spaniard man in the club. I assumed it was a friend of some sort because Fabian has dual citizenship in Spain and the U.S. Then the guy comes up to me and says, "I-a-likey-you-friend-a-fabian." I laugh hysterically and tell him I do too. (not in a serious way, just like yeah he's my buddy). As the next two hours pass, this guy keeps coming up to Fabian and hits on him. Fabian, being the all American boy thought it was a joke, and as he realized it wasn't, was completely dumbfounded. Every time the gay guy came around Fabian would put his arm around me and act like I was his girlfriend (which I had NO problems going along with). That didn't phase the spaniard at all. He kept coming up to Fabian and even tried to kiss him! My family will appreciate this: Mom always used to tell me the funniest story about she and dad in New York at a club. Apparently my dad was hit on by some gay guys, which sent him into orbit and mom had to handle it. Well mom, I assumed the Sue Devers way once again. I looked at poor Fabian's face and he looked like a little kid who just could not understand why the big kids were being mean to him. Soooo, I turn around and tell this guy in spanish, "look, no more bothering my boyfriend." We proceed to have a conversation, and then he just starts to piss me off because he's not listening to me. I finally get him to leave and I raz Fabian a little bit for having to take care of him, but he got the coloring back in his face so I knew it was appreciated. I should have known that wasn't the last of this guy. He comes back and reaches around me (as I'm facing Fabian while we talk) and grabs Fabian's neck!!! Fabian pushed his arm off and he kept grabbing, so I push his arm off and give him the boyfriend talk again. He looks at Fabian, and in English, says he doesn't like me. haha! I honestly thought last night was going to be my opportunity for fullfilling my dream of fighting a boy. Eventually the club turned on the lights, signifying it was time to go, so Fabian snakes the line and gets Elise and my coat and we head outside. As we're sitting on the curb waiting for the rest of our group, guess who shows up? The gay Spaniard!!! This time Fabian repeatedly told him to "Get the fuck away" and to leave him the "fuck" alone. The guy, fully knowing what was being said, asked him in English to speak more slowly in a totally snotty/flirty voice. Fabian clearly had had enough as he told him "GET-THE-FUCK-AWAY means LEAVE-ME-ALONE." Anways, the night was hilarious as usual and ended at 6:30 am...I am now posting what happend, freezing in my host families house, smelling last nights disgusting second hand smoke in my hair and peacoat. Well, off to dinner, but more to come!
Over and out,
Molly "I'll ALWAYS tell you what I think / I'm not afraid to kick your ass" Devers

Morocco: Worse than Montezuma's revenge

Today was my the most glorious day back in Spain as it was my first day back from Morocco. I didn't notice the smell, dog poop on the ground, ample bread with sparce veggies, or anything else that used to bother me...Why? Because I experience first hand that it can ALWAYS be worse! That being said, Morocco was actually amazing. I have more or less a love hate relationship with it however. A group of about 60 students, mostly American, embarked for the African continent at 4 am Friday morning to cross the straight of Gibraltar 3 hours later. My roommate and I thought strategically that if we stayed out all night until it was time to leave then we'd sleep like babies during the long trip. Everything went to plan until the rain started as we boarded the ferry to cross the straight. The first few waves were fun, then our laughs got a little more nervous. My laugh altered into a silent sweat as I noticed everyone around me is sleeping peacefully from the dramamine that I failed to take. "Shit," I think to myself as I hear the glasses from the bar clash together. I practice my yoga breath until the boat takes on a wave so huge that as it goes down the other side there is a huge crashing noise that wakes EVERYONE. We complete the crossing and I refuse to throw up when we disembark...that was a success. We then reboard the bus (that crossed the ferry with us!) and continue to the Morocco boarder. Nothing exciting there except we weren't allowed to take pictures, so there's probably some sketch action going on there. After another 12 hours or so in a friggin tour bus we arrive at our hotel in Fes, Morocco. We ate like Vikings and went straight to bed because the next day we had a tour. I'm peacefully stretched out in my bed, middle of the night, when I hear this loud siren. "What the hell?" is all I can think. I lay still and it keeps going. I try to figure out what it is saying or if I'm completely hallusinating. It sort of sounds like an old school evacuation or a hurricane alert on the Hawaiian islands. Being the proactive individual that I am I get out of bed and go to the window, pull the curtain back, and realize I'm probably the only person in the world phased by whatever is going on as the rest of the city is completely peaceful. Whatever...I went back to bed. Day one: tour of fes and fes Medina (which I really still don't know what it is). Bus tour wasn't too exciting, we got to go to the gates of one of the kings palaces and see a view of fes Medina, which is only a sight to see if you're from a third world country (no offense to anyone). Meanwhile our tour guide is telling the bus that since 9/11 not many American's have visited, and that we're missing our second home and we're so welcome here and we'd want to retire in fes Medina after seeing it. He also said that the United States and Morocco have never had any problems....Probably because there are absolutely zero resources there (again don't be offended, you know it's true). Then he tells us when the Jews were expelled from Spain they fled to Morocco, and when Hitler wanted all Jews, the Moroccan government protected them: They too have a home in Fes. Sweet and pretty interesting, however, I felt like I was attending a church service for a church that was going bankrupt and asking for money by beating around the bush...Can't fool me...I'm an American! haha. Okay so we get into fes Medina, a small city with tons and tons of side streets, donkeys carrying everything you can think of, and an inescapable stench. We proceed through the streets with a Moroccan guide at the front and back of our group and ISA directors everywhere so we don't get lost. The first stop was a carpet dealer which was cool. The building that the store was in used to be the home of a man with many wives, each having their own room upstairs...yada yada. Sidenote: I have a pretty foul sense of humor and am very difficult to offend, but the Moroccan humor is all based around sex - normally funny, but NOT when you know it could be you as a heram! I was thoroughly disgusted by the jokes of what the rugs could be used for etc. and even more disgusted when they tried to sell me the "fact" that rugs were worth even more once they were used! We left the rug place and continued through the creepy streets of Morocco where I abandoned all relationship with friends and decided it was "every man for himself." I stayed right on the guides ass! I've never wished so badly for a huge smock dress to go over my pants and head gear to hide my blonde hair. Those of you who know me know that I'm not one to take comments from men on the street, I'll tell you where to go and what to do with yourself when you get there, however, in Morocco I put my sunglasses on, head down and made eye contact with NO BODY! I know when and where to be a badass...At one point I even grabbed one of the guys from my program and told him "I'm so sorry, I don't even know you, but I do not want to be traded for a camel." He laughed and said not to worry he'd been looking after me!!!! (Did I mention he was totally cute? More details to come!) Okay, then we make it to this leather good store. I already feel like I'm in my element as I see a bright yellow purse. I regain focus and follow my guide up a shitload of tiny strairs. On my way a man hands me a stem of some leaves...Don't really think I need them but whatever, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. THANK GOD I DID! we got to the rooftop to look over at these tiny pools where men are stretching, dying, scrubbing, conditioning (and anything else you can think of) camel and goat leather. The smell was indescribable. I completely missed whatever the guide said as I shoved mint leaves further up my nose and tried to contain my dry heaving/vomit. That made for some funny pictures and a light headed shopping excursion in the floors below, where I bought nothing. (probably subconciously punishing the leather men for making me smell that). After that tortue the group continued to a pharmacy. To my suprise it was the coolest place I'd been! Two men who were 5th generation pharmacists showed us a huge array of Moroccan medecines, spices, perfumes, all natural. Made a few fun purchases which I can't explain in further detail as they are presents, and then FINALLY got lunch. Lunch was Moroccan, but the coca-cola was SOOOO AMERICAN! I feel like no matter how horrible/un-edible the food it, coke is always there to save me. Later that night we went to a belly dancing show that was cultural. The women were far from attractive except for one who looked like she could have been part of the Chinese Olympic Gymnastics team she was so young. Next day we had an early start to a 12 hour trip to the desert. 10 hours in we get off of the bus in to old 4 x 4 jeeps. It is now dark, raining and lightening! The drivers take off in the dark, off roading! Elise and I held hands, the 6 of us in the jeep laughed, nearly cried at parts, and all lost our breath when the driver turned the headlights off just for fun. The hour long off roading was an experience that words will do no justice. We then got to camp where we had some food and got settled in our tents made of camel fur blankets. The rain picked up, as should be expected on a Molly trip, and soaked through the tents one drop at a time. The smell made us all light headed as we slept, so we wore sunglasses, layers of clothes, and what we referred to as a "punjab" more commanly referred to a a pashnima (scarf). We made it through the night, ate breakfast that consisted of assorted breads as usual, and got ready for our camel rides! Elise and I were paired on the first camel whom we immediately named Action. It is amazing how the sit, their back legs bend in one too many places, and when they stand they are incredibly tall! Kathleen got stuck with some guy, which she immediately turned into a negative situation and complained about. Anyhow, after a laughter filled ride we all ended at this GIGANTIC sand hill. There were local kids running up and sliding down. Now, because you can't see that hill, you'll never fully understand its enormity. It took about 10 minutes to climb up, and as I reached the top I looked down to see Elise being pulled up the hill by a little boy! On that note, throughout our entire stay in the desert natives from the area followed, watched, talked and helped us. The kids were the most precious little things I've ever seen. One little boy named Yusef stayed with Elise and I the entire camel ride and kept asking us if we were okay. Returning to the hill, once we got up there we could see sand dune as far as our eyes could see. It was amazing! And to get down I jumped straight out as far as I could, knowing that eventually I'd hit sand. It was so much fun! After that we proceeded into a little Bedowin town full of poverty and stench and precious children. We got a tour of a Bedowin carpet store where they explained that the carpets were made by women as messages to men seeking their hand in marriage. The women would stitch into the carpet things they felt and thought. For example, if a woman stitched in a cross with open space in it with an x on the inside she was saying she was okay with living inside the home with each of the other 3 wives, each prong on the cross being a room for each woman. We also learned that children are "insurance" in Moroccan culture as the more kids you have, the better chance you have of being taken care of when you're old. We were also shown the differences between a young girls carpet work and a grandmothers. When a grandmother reaches the point where she can no longer make carpets she makes on final carpet that is the most extravagent of them all and gives it as a gift to whomever will take care of her. All in all, Morocco was such an amazing, eye opening experience. I changed career plans at least 3 times on the bus ride to the desert as all I could think was, "It is only by pure dumb luck that I was born as me and not as one of these Moroccan kids." In addition, EVERY hotel we've stayed in, in Spain and Morocco, have a slot to insert your room key, and only when the key in the slot will your lights work. Everyone has water saving shower heads, and in both Morocco and the apartment complex that I live, you have to turn on a light in the hallway that stays on for about 3 minutes. Oh yeah! We had lunch, literally, in a tent in the middle of nowhere on our way out to the desert, and THEY HAD SOLAR PANELS! What the hell America? We need to get on that. I'm thinking a little less about law, a little more about the environment and other people...We'll see. All I know now is being on the African continent was a phenominal experience, but I am glad it's done. I always seem to have a hard time when I lose my ignorance about things - I'm always so disgusted, and Morocco was one of those moments: I am so disgusted at how lucky we all are and how much it is taken for granted. It's good to see though because now I'll never complain....I mean really, never complain. One more continent down on my quest to hit every continent (less Antarctica) before I graduate!

Oktoberfest

Oktoberfest is by far the most fun thing I've ever done in my life. I felt like I was on the Disney ride "It's a small world." I met people from nearly every country, and because of that, I can hit on anyone in almost any language! haha! More importantly, however, God was truely on mine and my friend Parissa's side...It very easily could have ended up as the worst trip in the world but everything fell into place. It was so perfect I was almost expecting to be shot or something, like it was God's last treat for me before my time. Luckily it wasn't though! So the trip started off with me waking up super early and walking out of my room in a towel Friday morning to take a shower, when I ran into the 22 year old son of my host family in the hallway wearing his super skimpy European boxer Briefs - akward moment number 1 - I promptly got in the shower and got ready, assuming wouldn't really get a good shower all weekend traveling via hostels. (Additional detail: Parissa and I had nowhere to stay Friday night so we were planning on crashing in the airport). After showering as best as you can in Europe I made the 40 minute run/walk to the bus stop to catch a ride to the airport. I stopped on the way for some cash and of course my bank card was not working...Great. I continue to the bus stop where the bust is 20 minutes early! Thank God I made it on time, considering the bus only ran on the hour and I'd have been too late for my flight. (Lucky moment 1 of at least 100). I was floored considering nothing in Spain ever starts on time...The Spanish are always late. I make it to the airport and try to call my bank on a payphone that won't work, my flight to Barcelona is delayed an hour, and I was already there too early so after 3 or 4 hours of nothing I get on my Lufthansa flight to find that Luftansa has a deal with Spanair (who recently had the runway crash that killed 45). "Great," I think, "first flight on my own and it's with the shitty la-bomba airline." I board and try to stay posetive and not scared until I go back in time about 2 decades when I get on the plane it's so old. Have you ever been on an old shaky Hawaiian hopper flight during turbulance and rain? This was 10 times worse! The wings on the plane were teeter tottering during landing! So I finally make it to Barcelona where I quickly proceed to buy a mini bottle of wine and a Toblerone chocolate bar. Healthy I know. Board my next flight to Germany and talk to some German people and some guys from Capri. I have never felt so ignorant as I did waiting to board that flight. Everybody speaks English, knows about our politics, hates bush etc, and I can't even tell you where their country is in the world or what form of government they have! I sat next to a German who actually studied abroad at UCLA so I quickly picked his brain about Germany and got lots of good info. I land and am so excited to meet my friend Parissa until I realize I don't know what airline she flew in from France! I run hot laps around the airport about 3 full times until we miraculously find eachother. We proceed to call some people who offered us to sleep on the floor of their hotel only to find their phone off. Okay, plan B, sleep in the airport, early start the next day. Until we are told the airport completely closes! We run over to a help desk where we decide we'll just have to pay 300 Euro, or about $500 on a room when the lady tells us she found room for 99euro with a shuttle and breakfast! We literally jumped up and town and screamed, accepted and were on our way. We got to the hotel and it was AMAZING! Pink pillows, a rubber duck in the bathroom, great food! You name it, we got it! We started out the nexy day with every intention to take a bike tour of Munich but it was TOO cold and we were too excited at the sight of everyone dressed up in liter hose and dresses! After tons of walking we find our way into Oktoberfest where a man is passed out at the entrance. A little scary but funny as the police were trying to pick him up. We weren't there but 5 minutes and decided the beer maid outfits were a necessity so we ran all over town via subway until we finally got some! We proceeded back to Oktoberfest and promptly started socializing. We met some Spaniard with whom I spoke Spanish and they were very nice. However, we'd finished our beers and were ready to move on, so we set a time to meet them later, as they weren't very cute but were VERY nice! We went on our way until we weasled our way into a beer garden, where upon entering, about 100 people cheered for us! We realized the Spaniards were there! It was hilarious! We met some of their friends and spent the rest of the day at that Graden. That was my first liter of beer! At one point I was standing on a table taking pictures with our newfound friends and I saw people taking pictures of my from across the garden. (Everyone thought I was German b/c of my dress and Blonde hair - I even had people speak to me in German!) I proceeded to take a picture of the people taking a picture of me when I noticed the man was wearing an LSU sweatshirt. I ran over to him and met a group of Americans who were SO cool! After a wild day Parissa and I made our way back to the hostel but stopped at McDonalds for some food and to hydrate! We get back to the hostel and sit in the lounge to watch people stumble in, and before you know it, I'm tanked because people keep buying me beers! I met a group of beautiful Itallians who begged me to go to the club, which I kindly declined, a german who also wanted to go to a club, whom I also declined, and a BEAUTIFUL "Kiwi" / New Zealander! He and his friend hung out with Parissa and I and this group of older guys (about 60-70 years old, who'd run every guy off that would talk to me! haha! everyone thought one of them was my dad). Anyway, the night was calm, few drinks and hit the hay for an early start. The next day we went all out to get ready and left the hotel before our designated meeting time with friends because we didn't want to be tied down. It was a beautiful day, and on our walk to the tents, we found a cafe with Chocolate Crossoints (which we had been craving an unable to find!) Another one of God's gifts. We quickly eat and sneak into a tent that is SUPER difficult to get into and take a seat with two American boys who go to UCSB! We all started chatting and having beers and had a great time. Then....The band started playing and everyone went WILD! It was like in the movies where people slosh their beers through the air and hoot and yell, but even better because it was real! People asked for pictures and of course we took them. At one point, a German police asked me for my passport and then just smiled and left. (that scared the shit out of me becuase I had no idea what he wanted). Then the German girl at my table said she was a lawyer and he wasn't allowed to do that! Oh well, I continued to have a blast until I swung my beer around to cheers with the table behind me and spilled all over a husky beer maids boobs. It was like the whole room stopped. My jaw dropped - I honestly thought she was going to hit me. Luckily she moved on and I continued to cheers. 12 noon rolls around and I say my good byes as I have to catch my 3:00 flight after I got back to the hostel to get my things and ride the train to the airport. Unfortunately, the 2 liters of beer I had in 3 hours (9am-12noon) hit me the second I sat in the cab...I made it to the train station and immediately puked which somehow caused me to miss my train and later my flight! I had to pay to get another flight, and because I was a little out of it, there were some American boys who also missed their flights who offered to help me - of course I did it on my own. However, I was not going to have to sleep over night in the Barcelona airport...That was hell! I was frozen and hung over and ready to get home. I made it through and got home safely, a full day late. The funny thing is, Parissa had an expired passport and she's studying in France for the year so we were worried she wouldn't get back in the country and I turned out to be the one with technical difficulties. Made it home safe and sound to find my room mate sick from too much to drink also! we swore off alcohol for at least a week until we found ourselves drinking the next night with all of our friends. That was 2 nights ago. I met a really sweet guy from England named Nick who is teaching English over here and is fluent in Spanish! Nothing serious, just another friend added to our group and another escort home! Anyhow, from one excursion to the next I shall go. I leave for Morocco @ 4am tomorrow morning for 5 days. As usual, more updates to come. Someone please call Grandma and read this to her so she it in the loop too! Love you all!
Moroccan Molly