My Life is Complete.

People of the Islamic faith have Mecca, those who follow Judaism have Jerusalem and I have... the Old Course at St. Andrew's. If my trip ended here and for some reason or another and I had to return home right now, I would be 100% satisfied. Yesterday, Sandro, Vincent and I walked the entire Old Course (excluding holes 11 &12). We sneaked on after the last tee time and took a stroll through paradise.
It seems as though computers here are few and far between, so this may be my last post. No pictures still, but I hope to put some up post-trip.
With 11 days left in the trip we're heading North into the Cairngorms (a national park) then to Inverness, Gairloch and the Isle of Skye.
My life is complete.

Island Hopping

Tuesday May 12 1:00A.M.
... We're finally in Dublin. Note to self: Do not bus to the TDot to take a delayed flight to Manchester, then to spend 12 hours mindlessly walking the sketchy side roads of the home of Manchester United. Everyone there looked as if they wanted to pick a fight with the lovely Canadians-- Oh and try and avoid making plans with errupting volcanos. Our first scheduled RyanAir flight was for Tuesday 9:30, and we only hopped on the plane at midnight all thanks to Mount asfdoiuwreufnv,cmxv's. The people thus far are also quite pleasant. Should be quite a great time. Photos to come-- as soon as I find an SD adapter that is.
Andrew, Vincent, Conor and Sandro.

Better Late Than Never

As I sit at my desk on a cold and dark January evening contemplating the slim chance that I may have at doing a study abroad, my mind can only drift to thoughts of last summer.
I last left off writing about a planned trip to Zagora. After spending what felt like days on a bus from Inezgane to Ouarzazate, and then another bus from Ouarzazte to Zagora, we finally arrived in the sun-struck, dust-ball of a town called Zagora. The city sits on the outskirts of the Sahara desert and looks like it belongs in an old western movie; abandoned buildings, run-down hotels and soulless streets were begging for use. Exploring the streets in the 60 degree temperature(Celsius) we finally ran into some local tour guides. After some haggling (and tea, no doubt) with some locals, Vinny and I booked a mud hut, tour guide and “quatre-quatre” for our journey into the desert.
The next morning we began our voyage into the Sahara. Departing from our mud huts and shoving ourselves into a Toyota Land Cruiser, our 4 hour trip into the desert began. Vinny and I sat at the very back of the SUV entertained by a bitter (but hilarious) English couple and a very lovely couple from Bordeau, France. Vinny and I took the moment to laugh at the strange ties that the six of us had. Not one to assign events to destiny and fate, I couldn’t help but think that it did seem a little strange that we would find ourselves in this company. The two colonizers and the colonized Quebecers... I digress--Vinny and I were no doubt the translators of the trip helping the bitter Englishmen communicate with the French. After gallivanting across the massive dunes of the Sahara for about an hour, our hosts cooked us an outstanding display of Moroccan cuisine.
With regards to the desert: It was truly amazing to see how dark the night really is without any sort of light pollution, and although I’d love to describe the silence that we experienced, I think it might be a little ironic to do so with words. So instead I’ll leave some empty space to describe the silence of the Sahara:











After returning to Zagora and to our bed-bug-infested mud hut, we eventually made it back to Marrakesh where we had a day or two to shop and decompress after 35 days of constant travel. Sleeping on the roof for 3euros per night was the best thing we could have done to end the trip.
6 flights (7 or 8 for Vincent), countless days spent on buses and trains, bed-bug-ridden nights, sore feet, aching muscles and a high jacking later, Vinny and I can truthfully say that we have never spent a more fulfilling month in our entire life. (I intentionally refrained from writing about our high jacking in order to avoid being airlifted out by our mothers, fathers and/or grandparents).
When we first set out on this trip, we wanted to be satisfied by the answer to the following question every day: “So what did you do today?” Here are some examples of the responses:
“You know, visited the Eifel Tower”
“Not much, did a walking tour of Barcelona”
“Same old, did some shopping in Fes”
“Mehh, I hiked the 36th most prominent peak in the world”
“Oh I surfed off the coast of Africa”
“Spent a few nights in the Sahara, after being high jacked but it’s less exciting than it sounds”
(In case you are wondering, there may be a hint of sarcasm in the responses).
While this entry has been motivated mostly by procrastination, it is also the best way to eternalize the memories of the trip for myself, family and friends before the events become too “Marseilleai.”
Brazil, Argentina, Chile and Peru... Here we come!

Nearing the End

With a week left before I'm back in Montreal, Vinny and I are still waiting. We woke up bright and early this morning (7.30) and caught a bus from Taghazout back to the beach town of Agadir hoping to find a bus to Ouarzazate. Due to the fact that the CTM website (the something Transit of Morocco) does not post updated schedules, we missed the 9 o'clock bus to Ouarzazate by 15 minutes. With only one bus per day to the isolated location of Ourzazate, we eventually made it to our current location in Inezgane; the transit hub of the Anti-Atlas.
As my guide book accurately describes Inezgane, ''Inezgane is far more Moroccan than the touristy district of Agadir.'' Inezgane resembles Fes in the sense that it is very much more compact than anywhere else in Morocco that we've visited. Plus, the combination of ronchy smells and sights is wholey reminiscent of the Old City. With a three hour wait in front of us, and another five hour bus ride in front of that, we found the only internet ''cafe,'' and some time to do some blogging before we get home.


Day one of surfing-- longboards in hand

Next stop: Zagora. Using Dario's friendly advice, we plan to do one night in Zagora instead of two in order to both cut costs and allow for more time for surfing.

Also, two of my Chines-knock-off memory cards are corrupted, so there are very few pictures from my camera now, sorry folks (especially to the Hodders who no-doubt long for a picture of their son in sunny places...)


Sunset in Essaouira

Surfing the Coast

After a couple of minor setbacks, instead of heading straight to the desert, Vinny and I decided to pack our bags and head back to the coast on Thursday morning. Now in Essaouira (pronounced essa-weera), we're really just taking it easy. Despite the constant wave of hustlers and their salespitches of ''Cervesas, Coka, Fanta, Hashish, Opium'' (in a whisper), we find this town nice and easy going. But as we're not ones for the sedentary lifestyle tomorrow we're heading off to the regions surrounding Agadir in search for some killer waves-- well actually, just some small ones so that we can learn. Who knows, maybe we won't even make it to the water.
At this point in the trip we've come to expect the fact that everyone here will try and take advantage of you. At first we were truly disturbed by this, but now, we're simply tired of it-- almost to the point of giving up, but no worries, we've only got ten days left so we expect to find our second wind tonight when we grab ourselves some pizza!
Andrew and Vin

The 36th Most¨Prominent Peak Takes its Toll

Yesterday we succeeded in climbing the world's 36th most prominent peak. Jebel Toubkal, North Africa's highest peak, leaves those who climb to the top at 4167m above sea level. For half an hour, Vinny and I stood above everyone in Africa with the exception of those who might have been in Kenya climbing mount Kilimanjero. The excursion took three days to complete as experts reccommend two days to acclimatize to the altitude-- once at 1700m and once again at 3200m. Day one of the hike, after a day in Imlil acclimatizing to the mountain air, proved to be a challenge for both Vin and I. By the time we arrived at 3200m, neither of us could feel our legs, lungs, or head. Discouraged and intimidated by the day to come, we got six hours of semi-restful sleep at the ''Refuge'' and awoke the next morning at four-thirty to start the final ascent.
Each step that we took yesterday was a challenge. Think of the steepest slope that you've seen, and add ice-- that's exactly what we were climbing. Taking a zig-zagging path through the ice, the two Montrealers, still fresh from Montreal's harsh winters seemed to fare quite well. Both Vinny and I were really unphased by the ice-- in fact; we preferred it to the crumbly rock that Toubkal offered otherwise. After three hours of relentless slipping, stumbling and suffocating, we finally reached Toubkal's peak.

A view of a moderate slope at Toubkal
Through all of the panting we only managed to take a few photos, but those we took seem to have turned out great; however beautiful the pictures look, no photo, video or blog can do this experience any justice. The combination of the climb and views provided by the mountain is simply unreal. Here are a few photos from the hike:

A view from the summit

See if you can spot Vin on The Toubkal Massif
This morning was rough, very rough. We were able to sleep in for once, most days we're up by 8, but today we woke up at 11. Unable to walk properly, we didn't have much motivation to do much at all, but the fact that we hadn't done laundry since... Barcelona forced us out of the hotel and into the streets in search for ''European'' laudry -- aka a machine and not a washboard. After two loads, we were exhausted, and returned back to hotel Essaouira for a well deserved shower, shave and general clean-up.

And Now the Real Fun Begins

Taking in the view from the coast off Rabat
May 14, after a nice dinner at Rick's Cafe, Vin and I are ready to bounce from Casa after only one afternoon. Even the locals say that there isn't too much too see, so we're off to Marrakesh tomorrow morning.

Searching for a good shot
The view of the Atlantic from the Kasbah in Rabat was beautiful, but after spending almost a week in cities with the Moroccans, Vin and I are ready for some hiking. We will start our hike up Toubkal on the 16th of May if everything goes according to plan.


Fishing in Rabat
I'll only be writing next after our mountain trek, maybe even only after our desert trek, so until then,
Andrew and Vincent