August 4th, 2009, 15 Comments »
Let’s be clear on something: I hate exercise. I have ever since Phys Ed class in high school. It was my poorest class–I probably averaged a C+. Whenever we did any kind of long distance running, I would usually come third to last in the class. I’d beat the corpulent Chinese kid and an asthmatic Brit with skin the colour of flourescent light.
I actually don’t mind competitive (though not too competitive) sports like soccer or Ultimate frisbee, but lately my schedule has prohibited much of that. And hiking is nice.
These days I go to the gym twice a week, and loathe every minute of it. It’s a necessary evil, though, and I’m planning on adding some cardiovascular activity to the routine.
When we lived in Morocco, I did most of the Couch to 5K running plan jogging barefoot on the beach. It’s an interval program where you start with lots of walking and a little running and, after nine (though I’ll probably take 12) weeks, you’re running five kilometres.
Because it’s an interval program, you spend a lot of time glancing at your watch and saying to yourself “okay, run until the second hand goes past the three, twice”. I found it a little tricky to focus on the audio book or podcast I was listening to when this time-tracking sub-routine was always running in my head. And the audio book or podcast is critical, because it’s the only enjoyable aspect of exercising.
I’m embarking on the Couch to 5K routine again. This time, I’m going to do so armed with this nifty little iPhone app:
It provides vocal cues–in male voice, female voice or beeps–to tell you when to switch from walking to running and vice versa. You can listen to music or other audio and it just interrupts for a moment to tell you to slow down or speed up.
I’ll still hate jogging, but this will make my morning runs 4.6% less excruciating. Which is a good deal, at $1.99 for the app.
15 Comments »
April 11th, 2008, 3 Comments »
Before Julie came home from Morocco (she stayed on a couple of weeks to host a family member), she had henna applied to her hands. You can see it here moments after she had it done:
It was applied to both the front and back of her hands. It’s lasted at least two weeks. I’ve been interested to observe, however, that the dye on the back of her hand has faded more quickly than that on her palm.
I had initially assumed that the inside of her hand would fade first. After all, that’s the part that interacts with the world. I assumed it would slough off more skin cells. Apparently I was wrong.
I have two possible explanations for the actual fading pattern:
- The palm is more oily than the back of one’s hand. Maybe the oil helps to preserve and protect the design?
- The back of Julie’s hand was exposed to more light, and that’s faded the design more rapidly.
I think this second thesis sounds solid, but I really have no idea. What do you think?
Just a note for potential henna recipients: henna is not black. If you’re anywhere, and somebody wants to apply black-coloured henna to your skin, run in the other direction. It may contain a hair dye that includes para-phenylendiamine, which can cause permanent scarring on the skin.
3 Comments »
March 7th, 2008, 4 Comments »
Over the last few years, I’ve done a fair bit of international flying. For sundry reasons, I’m hoping to curtail it. Among them is the fact that flights from Europe and Africa all the way to Vancouver can be pretty heinous, and I often suffer from some serious jet lag. What are the worst bits?
- Long layovers in Heathrow, a special kind of hell on Earth.
- Changing terminals in Heathrow, or changing airports across London.
- When they take you in a bus from the tarmac to the terminal. I’m not sure why this bugs me so much, but it does.
- Absurdly long lines at passport control.
I could go on. However, I’m pretty pleased with the flights I’ve got coming back to Vancouver this time. Check it out:
- On Sunday, a driver takes me to the Marrakesh airport in the afternoon, a trip of about two hours.
- I fly to Heathrow. Yes, it’s Heathrow, but I immediately leave the airport to stay over night at a nearby airport hotel.
- The next day, my flight leaves at the extraordinarily civil hour of 12:00pm.
- The flight to Vancouver is direct. No stops! I get in at 3:00pm, drag myself around for a few hours, watch a hockey game and go to bed.
- Thanks to the conference I’m speaking at, I’m staying at the Wall Centre in Vancouver for a few nights when I arrive. I find that hotels are excellent for overcoming the jet lag.
I suppose the perfect trip would avoid Heathrow and include first class, but this is as good as it gets on the cheap. No layovers, eight hours of sleep between flights and very reasonable arrival and departure times. Now, if I can secure an exit row, life will be sweet.
4 Comments »
March 4th, 2008, 3 Comments »
We’re back in Essaouira after, all told, about 1000 km of driving in and out of the desert. I’m catching up on email and such, but I wanted to post to say that we’d survived, and to point to our 88 photos from the trip (here’s a slideshow, if you prefer).
In honour of my Aunt Lynn, who only ever wants to see one’s best three vacation photos, here’s five. Click for larger versions:
Photographically speaking, this trip kicked my ass. Looking at the photos, I recognize how much more care I need to take, how much more practice I need, and how I could really use some instruction on technique. When we get back to Victoria, I’m going to look around for a good 200-level photography course.
3 Comments »
February 26th, 2008, 4 Comments »
I keep saying that because, frankly, it sounds cool.
Tomorrow we’re taking six days and heading all the way across Morocco to the edge of apparent nothingness in the Sahara Desert. We’ve hired a driver to take us most of the way, and then we’re hiring a car for the last stretch.
In the hopes of not becoming a page A16 news item about ignorant, lost tourists, I figured I’d post our itinerary here:
- Our driver takes us from Essaouira across the Atlas Mountains to Ouarzazate. That’s going to be about eight hours but trust me, it’s less heinous than the flight options.
- We stay over night in Ouarzazate at the Hotel Mercure Ouarzazate.
- The next morning we rent a car from the local Budget Rent-a-Car (a little odd? Yes) from and drive southeast about 200 km to M’hamid.
- We stay three nights at M’hamid at a kasbah called Dar Azawad. The second night we ride camels out into the desert to stay at a camp. Yes, sort of a CamelCamp. I’ve explained to Julie that camels are hateful, smelly, spitting beasts, but she’s insistent that we give it a try.
- We have one free night. We’ll probably drive back through Ouarzazate, head through Skoura to Kelaa El Megouna. We’ll stay over night somewhere before returning to Ouarzazate to get picked up for the long drive back to the coast.
Not to worry any parents–I’m sure it’s very safe. Here’s the route:
View Larger Map
As a matter of interest, this will be the longest time I’ll be without internet access since, well, since I can remember. Of course, who am I kidding? I’m sure all our hotels will have public terminals, or there will be internet cafes a-plenty. I may really try not to check email.
4 Comments »
February 25th, 2008, 3 Comments »
This is some sad news from my host country:
A Moroccan computer engineer has been sentenced to three years in jail for setting up a Facebook profile in the name of a member of the royal family.
Fouad Mourtada was arrested on 5 February on suspicion of stealing the identity of Prince Moulay Rachid, younger brother of King Mohammed VI.
Yowza. That’s hardcore. It’s a tragedy that all nations can’t offer the freedoms that we enjoy in Canada.
3 Comments »
February 25th, 2008, 4 Comments »
Morocco is, among other things, renowned for its leather products. There are shops throughout the medina selling all sorts jackets, ottomans, shoes and every size and shape of bag. I’m in the market for a new weekend bag and a valise, so I’ve been shopping around. This is the one I chose (clicky-clicky for bigger version):
It’s handmade from camel skin. Pretty cool, eh? I talked the guy down a bit (I’m no great bargainer) to just over CAN $100. It smells a bit odd, but I assume that’s just the camel. We’ll find out in a few days, when we go to the desert.
4 Comments »
February 13th, 2008, 6 Comments »
I interrupt your Wednesday with this insane cuteness. Yes, that’s a big box of kittens (super-size the cuteness)
Taken near our house in Essaouira. There’s another photo here, and a little more context for where the kittens live.
There are cats everywhere in Essaouira. I see at least a dozen every time I walk 100 yards from our riad. Moroccans seem to love them much more than dogs. We can probably chalk this up to their cherished role in Islam.
6 Comments »
February 12th, 2008, 3 Comments »
Here in Morocco, we hear the adhan or call to prayer five times a day. For me, they are to Morocco what the church bells were to Malta. That is, a clockwork reminder of religion, shared by an entire community.
You’ve probably heard the call to prayer on television or in a movie (wasn’t it in The English Patient?). You’ve certainly heard it if you’ve visited a Muslim country. You can listen to some samples of the adhan here. The local ones have a droning, haunting quality that sounds, well, really foreign to my Western ears.
What is the muezzin–the chosen person who leads the call to prayer–actually saying? We’ve got a book on Islam, and here are the phrases that comprise the adhan:
- God is great.
- I witness that there is no god but God.
- I witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God.
- Rise up for prayer.
- Rise up for salvation.
- God is great.
- There is no god but God.
These are repeated a number of different times. There are also some differences between the Sunni and Shia versions, which you can read about on Wikipedia.
3 Comments »
February 8th, 2008, 4 Comments »
Ages 0 to 5: I have no idea.
Ages 6 to 12: Barber that my father went to in Park Royal mall. He’s still there, apparently.
Ages 12 to 17: John at a now-defunct hair salon in Royal Centre mall. My Mom went to him, and he was also a commercial fisherman, if I recall correctly.
Ages 18 to 23: A Greek woman at a salon kitty-corner to Hillside Mall in Victoria.
Ages 24 to 26: Alice Jasmine at Axis Hair Salon, just off Broadway. She was lovely.
Ages 27 to 29: Sundry stylists at Toni & Guy in Dublin
Ages 29 to 32: Karen at Sweetpea Hair on Richards St. (highly recommended).
Ages 32 to 33: A different Karen in Malta, and some dude at the end of the lane here in Morocco.
From an early age, I guessed that good haircuts and nice shoes were ways I could differentiate myself from the regular smelly boy horde. I remember that my first two girlfriends remarked, unprompted, on my footwear. Score.
On the hair front, I’ve mostly gone to salons, which, while rather effeminate, generally offer higher quality cuts. A good haircut also lasts longer, which means I have to go less often. As for the salons, you just have to embrace the scalp massages, peculiar temporary garments and Sarah McLachlan on the stereo.
How Much Have I Paid For Haircuts
Earlier this week I got a haircut from one of the many coiffures on our street. His little shop was empty–his buddy had to call him to come down and coupe mon cheveux.
It occurred to me that I’ve now gotten my hair cut in at least six countries. That might become a thing–getting a haircut in every foreign country I visit.
So how much do haircuts of the world cost? Good question. Here’s what I paid, in Canadian dollars:
Canada: $45
United States: $110
Ireland: $45
Malta: $15
Hungary: $30
Morocco: $5
That US figure is ridiculously high, and the most I’ve ever paid for a haircut. I was staying at a fancy hotel in San Francisco for a conference, and had the concierge book me it for me without specifying a price range. It was a bit of a shocker.
4 Comments »
