Essaouira

Ok-I need to finish this trip up. This will be one rambling post as my original was lost and I made the stupid mistake of tossing the hand written notes thinking it was all online. Learned lesson there.

The small child that sampled all the drinks yesterday is sick (not surprised on that one), so is her mom. Today, we pack up from the mountains and head to the coast. It is a long windy drive in a small van with widows that barely open and if they do the smell of exhaust impales your breathing passages and makes an already car sick stomach more so. I gave all the kids their bracelets and some Dramamine and end up taking a migraine pill for myself.

We make a side stop to a village that has a nice little garden to walk around. This was meant to show us the saffron plants, but they are already harvested so we really just see plants that grow in nice warm sunny places-nothing new to a Californian but different for our fellow British travelers. Today is a holiday…damn, I wish my post didn’t disappear I had so much on this.

Not only is it New Year’s Eve, but Aid el Kabir as well. This is one the oldest and most important religious festivals of the Islamic world, based on when Abraham was going to sacrifice his son Isaac, for God. Each Muslim household that can afford to do so will sacrifice a sheep; the head of the household turn’s the animal’s head toward Mecca and then slits the throat. None of the animal is wasted-our guide told us that the family eats 1/3, gives 1/3 to the poor and shares 1/3 with family, friends, or neighbors. The women of the household cast a few small pieces of the heart and liver into the corners of each room in order to keep away evil. So along our route we see gatherings of the people in each village on the mountainsides participating in special prayers and ‘masses.’ It is an arresting view to see an entire village dressed in white robes against the red mountains.

Of course this festival attracts controversy and outrage around the world from animal rights workers, who see the ritual as exceptionally cruel as the animal is conscious when their throat is slit and causes a bloody and painful death.
We had to drive all the way back to Marrakech in order to get to the coast-the roads are supposed to be better this way. Along the roads in random open fields we see plumes of black smoke and smell burning flesh. It appears that the portion given to the poor is the head of the sheep-they are all being roasted on makeshift fires. Kids no older than ours proudly hold up the blackened heads as we drive by. The smell is sickening and I wonder how long it will linger.
After 3 hours of driving and a lunch stop, we arrive in Essaouria. This is a nice sleepy coastal area. After checking into our rooms, we spent the remainder of the day walking around the town center and relaxing. Unfortunately while walking around the town center we did encounter one too many roasting sheep heads down small streets. After a pizza dinner, we retired to our room and fell asleep to the sound of dance music from the New Year’s party in the restaurant below.

Different Worlds

(Don't forget you can click on the photos for larger & better views)

This is such a different world from ours and there is so much to observe, if I don't write the date each day, I loose track. Tomorrow is a big festival here and everyone is traveling to see their families. We are lucky to get donkeys for our trek today, the group one day behind us will not get to start their ride until after lunch.

After breakfast-bread, some round bread made from semolina that appears to be last nights left-overs, coffee & juice-we piled in a local transport bus to go about 3 km up the road where our donkeys/mules were waiting. We had two pack animals to carry out lunch and seven others to carry the kids or adults who couldn't walk the trek. No saddle-just layers of blankets. Jilly and I rode 1, Jason claimed he was too big and walked, Kaitlyn & Griffen talked two members of the Scottish family into riding with them.

Our trek went straight up a mountainside into what seemed like nowhere. We had to stop along the while while locals made their way down either on foot or donkey's. Several times the donkey came too close to the edge of a drop for my taste. The trip back down is going to be a bit perilous.

About half way up we stopped to rest our legs (I think I'd rather be walking) and eat a snack of dates, figs and nuts. Our
resting spot was near a tiny Berber village and about 7 young boys aged 2-8 sat and watched us with great curiosity. One of them even looked like he could be the twin of my nephew, Logan.

About 40 minutes later a large village nestled into the mountainside appeared. The houses all built from the dirt and rock around them-all a saffron red color. The land in front of the village was all neatly terraced with bright patches of green all the way to the river. Some women were down by the river washing clothes, rubbing them against the rocks and laying them out to dry over bushes. As Jason was taking a photo of them from afar, one of the donkey guides stopped him and shook his
head no.

Our guide told us the village consisted of 1 tribe and the people all marry within their tribe. Most villages negotiate with the government for water (wells), electricity and a school.

Once we reached the village, we dismounted and were led to a house. We climbed up some very crude steps to an open area where we all sat on a mat. For shade could remove our shoes and go through a door to a room that had a carpet covering part of the dirt floor, pillows around the walls and a TV sitting in an armoire. The TV was tuned to Al Jazeera and we deduced that Saddam had been executed.

Back outside a gentleman was brewing mint tea for us and our guide was preparing lunch with some local women. The drink
of choice in Morocco is mint tea-90% mint leaves and 10% green tea leaves brewed and poured into a sort of shot glass with about 4 cubes of sugar. While in the Western World you tend see people sitting around have a glass of wine, beer or soda; here in Morocco it is mint tea.

We had to snatch our cups quickly as the youngest child of our group (not one of my kids) decided she would add even more sugar to the cups and then sample each one. The adults of her family thought it funny and didn't do much to stop her. Despite the primitive living, this turned out to be the most unsanitary moment of the day.

Me and 2 other women decided we needed the toilet. This turned out to be below the steps, through a door that led to some empty rooms that looked animal housing or storage. Through another door we found the actual toilet-a hole in the wall at the corner of the room that had a slight downward slant to the floor. As I sat, squatting on the floor and staring at the pile of potatoes in the opposite corner, I wondered where one had to go for a poo. I will be sure to step over the clear paths of wet coming from each house as well.

While we each waited for our turn to pee-a few local children gathered whispering and giggling at our marvel of their toilet. When we returned upstairs we found a teapot filled with water, a bucket and a bar of soap to wash with. Is is amazing to see that so many people still live off the land and nothing else. Nobody seemed unhappy with what they had or didn't have for that matter.

Lunch was simple yet delicious-fresh cut tomatoes, olives, red onions, green peppers, pasta, tuna and a spicy red pepper sauce. We had fresh mandarins and apples for dessert.

I put Jillian in the baby backpack and walked around until she fell asleep-I was then able to pass the backpack onto Jason and he started off down the mountain. I rode on the donkey with Griffen and Kaitlyn went with another adult from our group. The trip down was a bit spooky with the donkeys walking very close to the edge and all the locals coming back up with full loads on their donkeys or visiting family. At one point the donkey walking behind Griffen and I slipped and its hind legs went over the edge. Thank goodness no one was riding that one. After watching this happen, Griffen got spooked enough that we walked down the rest of the way.

At the bottom, the donkey guides surrounded us waiting for tips. I wish our guide had told us what was a fair tip or took all the money and divided it as each of us gave a different amount and it wasn't a nice way to end the day.

Ourika Valley

Today we are leaving Marrakech for the Ourika Valley in the Atlas Mountains. It was going to be a bout a 70 km drive to our hotel. We stopped along the way for pictures of the valley. Out of nowhere 3 little boys appeared with a bucket of lychees to sell.One family gave them 1 dh and they got 12 lychees in return. He was really very friendly, but we didn't want any-so we gave him some coins and took his picture with the kids instead. He wanted to the see the photo, when Jason showed him he smiled and said, "c'est bonne."

We arrived at out hotel around 11:30 and the staff seemed surprised to see us, none of the rooms were ready. Our guide warned us that there really wasn't anything around and we had all packed a picnic lunch which we ate on the hotel's rooftop terrace. We had to eat quickly and move away as lunch is the biggest meal in Morocco and this hotel's biggest trade was lunch for well off Marrakechi's.

We checked into our very cold rooms, turned the heater on and left to sit by the pool wondering what to do next. Our guide said he would return around 3:30 or so to take anyone on a walk that was interested. After the craziness of Marrakech we all just sat around the pool while the kids played around the hotel grounds.

We were traveling with 2 other families; one family from the London area had 2 children aged 5 and almost 4 I believe. Our kids got along quite well with them. The other family was a pleasant Scottish family consisting of 2 children, their parents and various aunts, uncles, and granny. Although the adults outnumbered the children in their case, the kids seemed to get the best of even them at times.

Around 3, a family with 2 kids from London suggested we walk on our own as the sun was fading quickly with the mountains. Since our kids were playing together we thought that was also the best way to make them want to explore.

Down by the river we were met by an old Berber man speaking a combo of French and Berber. He seemed very intent on telling us all he knew about his home, showing us a picture of his family and a card from a professor recommending him as a guide. He carried the kids across the water and then showed us what he made for a craft-it looked like a wooden mortar and pestle. He gave the kids sparkly rocks, picked mint for them, showed us a few cars that had gone over the edge of the cliff. After a while we took photos of him, paid him for his time and started back to the hotel. Along the way we saw a man selling tajines by the roadside-we could tell he was proud of his creations as he opened each one for us to admire.
Back at the hotel we sat in the lounge of the restaurant around the fire for a few hours, drinking mint tea and trying to get warm. After dinner we went to bed, huddled together in order to stay warm.

The Streets of Marrakech

Griffen is still sick-but he troops along anyway. We started him on a re-hydration sachet.

After breakfast (bread, oj, hard boiled egg and coffee) and meeting the rest of our tour group (3 families-18 people) we pile into some caleshes for a tour around the 'red city.' There is so much going on-I can hardly take it all in: Men wearing the traditional djellaba cloak, women wearing head scarves, donkey carts full of people, bikes, men pushing carts full of food, cars, horns, scooters carrying anything from food to entire families. All three kids are wide eyed and silent.

We are let off at the Djemaa el Fna-an open square full of snake charmers, monkey handlers, musicians, produce sellers, and more. All will pose for a photo-and that is how they make their living.

From here we head into the souks-each little alley devoted to a different craft-tea pots, leather, pottery, souvenirs and food. The alleys are crammed with people battling for space to walk between the random scooter, carts of goods and the occasional sheep. It was so intense, Kaitlyn soaked it all in without her usual litany of complaints.

We stopped in a Berber pharmacy where we got to sample a few items and purchase spices. Jas & I got neck massages for 20 dirhams each-about $2.50. We also bought 30 grams of saffron threads for what 2 grams would cost in the US.


After the souks we made our way back to the Djemaa. A quick picture with he snake charmers-I gave him 20 dh and he asked for 20 more. I said no and the guide came to our rescue, said we paid enough and we walked away.

Time for lunch. Griff had 1/2 a Sprite, Jilly had some bread, Kaitlyn ate pizza while Jas & I went for the traditional tajines. These are dishes cooked in a tahine pot for a long time at low temps. Mine was chicken with lemons and Jason got beef. The meals came with 3 baskets of bread-which all the moms stored away in their backpacks for future use.

Here our guide left us on our own till later that night. Previously he told us to only take petit taxis and to make sure they had a meter. HA. The petit taxi drivers all told us they could only take 3 people we had to take a grand taxi-and they don't have meters. We told him where our hotel was-there are 3 here with the same name so we had to make sure he got the right one-and agreed on a price. Although Dirhams are the local currency they will take Euros quite readily as well.

Back at the hotel Griff and Jilly napped, Jason and Kaitlyn went to the store for snack and then to find a garden while I wrote and watched from the window.
The hotel was not in a nice fancy area, but there was a grocery right next door and it was within walking distance of the Jardin Majorelle. The Jardin is a sub-tropical garden offering a peaceful getaway from the craziness of Marrakech.

My views out the window: I watched a man with a sheep appear and wait on the side of the road for a taxi. Once one stopped for him, he tied the legs of the sheep together and put it in the trunk of the taxi and off they went. Must have something to do with the sheep festival. Two groups of people were waiting for a taxi-as one pulled over both groups ran towards it and then argued over it. While they argued, the taxi left. At any given time there are 20 or so buses coming and going. A truck goes by loaded with plastic crates 16 long, 8 high and 6 across each full of oranges and nothing secured. A man driving a scooter with flats of eggs 10 high in front and two such stacks behind him. A old woman pushing a man in a wheelchair up the street amongst the other traffic.

After our rest we went for a walk around our hotel, an area called Bab Doukkala. This area is definitely poor. There was rubbish everywhere-the sidewalks filled with dust, old bits of food, trash, stray cats. Street vendors lined one street with wooden carts full of bananas, mandarins, dates, figs. Every doorway was full of craftsmen-woodcarvers, slipper makers, butchers. People were even selling just piles of straw. We had Jilly in the backpack and several women were eyeing it-they all had their young ones in slings across the back. We saw maybe 3-4 other westerners walking about-yet we felt safe. The locals might be staring but they were smiling as well. Several children even yelled "Bonjour" to us. We had to constantly dodge scooters-some carrying the driver with a child standing in front of him and the mom in back either holding another child or large bags in each hand. A smell invades us-raw meat, spices, sheep, smoke, there are so many cats you can actually smell them. Is this the smell of poverty?

Just as we were walking back to the hotel a man turned and smiled and patted Griffen on the head. He stopped ahead of us and came back to kiss him on the cheek with a big smile. We told Griffen it was good luck.

For dinner the hotel recommended a restaurant on the edge of the Djemaa. After watching the difficulty locals had catching a taxi, we asked a man in front of the hotel to help us flag a taxi. After about 10 minutes a man pulls up in a car and they all smile saying, "welcome, Marrakech taxi." We piled in and agree on a price-Jason just showing him what we thought was reasonable. As we are driving to the Djemaa-I tell Jason that there are no taxi markings on the car and I think we just hitched a ride with a total stranger.

The Djemaa was alive with activity-even more so than earlier today. The center area was transformed with hundreds of tables filled with dinners and men flagging us down to entice us to their table. The smoke from the outdoor grills is so thick it stings the eyes. The musicians, dancers, and storytellers were entertaining locals as well as tourists.

The restaurant was nice-tile walls, pillow lined seating along the walls. There was a set menu, but they let the kids just eat off our plates and also let us order a side of couscous for them as well. There were two musicians entertaining the guests as well-taking turns playing the qraqeb (metal cymbals) and the guinbri (3 string guitar type instrument), singing and swinging their heads ever so slightly making a large tassel on their fez hats swing around in unison. When they are finished and second set come in playing drums. After a short break the drummers come back with a belly dancer. Once Jillian saw her she said, "mommy when you are going to sign me up for that?" I know belly dancers aren't Moroccan, but it was fun. She tried to get Griffen to dance with her, but he refused. He'll regret that when he's 16.

Walking to the taxi stand after dinner a small boy no bigger than Jillian approaches us, hands out begging. He is alone. Once he realizes we won't give him money, he kisses Jillian on the cheek and walks away. It is hard not to give all the begging children money, but our tour leader as well as everything we have read warns against giving to them, it only encourages them.

All this in one day.

"We're off on the road to Morocco..."

"We're off on the road to Morocco" today (taken from lyrics by Johnny Burke). Our flight leaves at 5. We left the house at 11 and traffic reports said we should have a clear way. We have tried to time it so we will leave the car at Jason's office in Uxbridge and have a bit of time for lunch and to buy diapers, water and a book on Morocco. The clear traffic didn't last long.

Traffic jams in LA are nothing compared to here-there is never an exit every few miles and there are really no side streets for detours unless you want narrow,windy country roads. We had only about 45 minutes (pushing that) when we got to Uxbridge. Time for the convenient but unpleasant McD's.

While standing in line to order, Griffen clamped his hand over his mouth-I took one look at him and we raced out the door with the inevitable splat just clearing the entrance. Thinking it was just car-sickness from stop & go traffic, he went back in and a ate his burger and fries.

After scarfing down our food, Jas let me off on a corner with vague directions to his office. He took the kids to wait for our taxi at his office and I ran to Tesco's for diapers, water and tissues. By the time I got to the Amgen building, the taxi was loaded and waiting for me.

We were not sure where the Air Morocco check-in desk was but a board at the entrace of the terminal said to use the Air France desk. I asked an agent waiting by the line just to make sure and she said yes. So, we stood in line for 30 minutes only to be told by the check-in agent that no, Air Morocco does not work with Air France, we have to go to the Lufthansa desk. We trudged back to the other end of the terminal where the Lufthansa agent tells us Air Morocco has its own next at the end. After another agonising 20 minutes (I swear they typed with one finger), we are checked in for our flight.

Thankfully the security line was quick. Our departure gate hasn't posted yet, so we decided to run into Boots for forgotten deodorant, sunscreen and sudafed for Kaitlyn's aching ear. Another stop at WH Smith for snacks a novel for Jason and tour book on Morocco. By now the gate is posted and thankfully its a close 10 minute walk (it can be up to 30 minutes or a bus ride away).

Once in the air we smell dinner-fish. A strong yucky smelling fish. Beef was another option but we are stuck at the back of the plane and the beef runs out at Kaitlyn. The fish was just plain nasty and unedible. The rest of us ate bread and the pudding dessert. Griffen and Jillian are feeling ill and really don't eat anything. Great start to our big holiday and I am having a deja vu from our last winter break.

The plane lands in Casablanca where we have to change planes instead of the listed touch down only. The first agent we meet off the plane tells us to go to gate 3. The agent at gate 3 tells us to go to gate 7. Back at gate 7, the agent walked away without answering when we asked him. A passing agent said no, go to gate 3. After waiting at gate 3 for 5 minutes with a now frustrated crowd of passengers we end up back at gate 7.

Gate 7-a quick security check and a long wait with no information. Our 20 minute touch down turned into a 45 minute delayed flight to Marrakech. Once in Marrakech we run into the chaos of passport control where we pick the slowest line. It is now about 11 pm.

Our guide met us and we drove for 15 minutes to our hotel. On the way he apologizes for the business of the airport, there are lots of things going on with Christmas, New Year's and the sheep festival, Aid el Kabir and many people are traveling to be with their families.

Immediately after getting off the bus, Griffen christens the ground with his stomach contents. Wonderful. Off to bed in our rooms that face the bus station and very busy road and beds that are as soft as the tile floors.

Winter Wonderland

We walked to school this morning in a winter wonderland of fog and frost. Even though the kids have all seen frost-quite a few school children marveled at the crunchy ground and cobwebs on the way to school this morning. We were running a bit late after a Jillian fit and as I ran out from the drive I just about landed on my bum-there was an ever so slight layer of ice on the sidewalk.
Although it was fascinating to see the cobwebs covered with frost-it was a bit of an eye opener as well to see how many are around that are usually invisible.
A down-side to all the wintry beauty was that the fog didn't lift at all and with the dampness in the air and the cost of heating we are all walking around our homes with scarves on. I may have to bite the bullet tomorrow when everyone is home from school and keep the heat on all day.

Paris, Take 3-Photos

Paris, Take 3

I hope the kids realize how lucky they are-they've been to Paris 3 times in one year.

Jason decided we should make one more quick trip and do a bit of shopping. It was a lot of driving for such a short time, but worth it. Since we got a late start on Friday, we stayed in Calais and then drove into Paris Saturday morning. Our regular hotel was full but we found another one in the same area that had parking and a kitchen. After checking in and cleaning up we went out to find something to eat.

It is always a challenge to feed kids-but we managed to get Griffen to eat some onion soup and Kaitlyn cleaned up on a quiche. Jillian just ate some bread and a few bites of my omelet. We gave Vania the afternoon off and went out on our own.

The plan was to go back to Luxembour Gardens, but the rain halted that plan. Two more options-dinosaur and mineral museum or to try to find ice skating. The museums are free in London, and probably better so we opted for ice skating. Buying metro tickets tunred out to be harder than usual. We only needed a pack on 10 single rides, but the ticket attendant said he didn't speak English, and we had to buy those tickets from the machine. Ok. We see 2 different ticket machines, one to add money to passes, which had both English and French, and the other machine which you bought tickets from, and only had French. Tell me who is more likely to add to a pass and who is more likely to buy a ticket? We couldn't get the machine to take our credit card and it didn't take bills only coins. The attendant wouldn't give us change and told us to go across the street to the other station-even though he said he didn't speak English. That all taken care off, we were off.

So was everyone else. I felt like a cow being herded into a pen, no need to hold on. We never did find the ice rink. We walked around a bit and found a creperie instead. After the crepes we decided to take a taxi back to the hotel rathet than brave the Metro again. As we drove past the Eiffel Tower, we noticed large crowds and a lot of tents. We asked the driver to let us off here instead of the hotel. Good move. The ground was saturated with rainwater, turning the sandy paths into a nice pasty muck.

The smell of cheese, mulled wine and sausage soon assulted our senses. Apparently-for just this weekend-people from every region in France had set up stalls offering free samples of thier specialties. While wandering through the stalls, a group of Brazilian drummers walked up and down as well-I am only assuming they were Brazilian by their chosen attire of Brazil Football shirts. The kids were soon rewarded for walking thru the muck-At night the Tower is normally lit up-but on the hour for 10 minutes, the twinkly lights go on. Since it is winter and dark early, they got to see it this time around.

Having our fill of wine and stinky cheese, we started back to the hotel only to be distracted once again. The church bells were ringing for 6:30 Mass. Much to the kids' dismay, we took it as a sign to go now instead of Sunday.

After Mass we picked up some dinner for the kids and went back to our room-where Vania took over so Jason & I could eat without the kids. We strayed away from our normal dinner spot and found an out of the way restaurant filled with locals. I asked the woman who brought our menu if she could speak English and she laughed. I pointed to what the diners next to us were eating (looked good) and when I didn't understand her response, she went "baa baa" and laughed. We ordered the duck.

Sunday morning we wandered around the market as the kids marveled at the different foods-cow tongue, some sort of hearts, livers, whole bunnies, pigs, chickens with feathers still on, octopus ('you can't eat octopus thats disgusting' from Jillian). As we entered the market Jillian said, "mommy I smell that market smell" ie stinky cheese. We tried to go up the Eiffel after that as Vania said there were no lines the day before. It was probably the rain, because now there were lines. We promised Griffen next time and he said he wanted to skip breakfast next time and come straight to the tower before anyone else.

After one last crepe we loaded up the van and headed for the boarder. We made pretty good time, hoping to give ourselves 2 hours to shop at the boarder. We almost did, except Jason has a heavy foot and he couldn't get the cruise control to work. We did think it odd to see a large white car with a man hanging out the window just sitting on the side of the motorway. About 5 miles later as we paid our toll, a Gendarme flagged us down and told us to pull over.
He first asked if we spoke French, then said 'thats ok, I speak English.' Apparently that man sitting in the white (unmarked) car was his collegue who clocked us at 150 km/hour. He asked for Jason's drivers license and seemed puzzled with the California one-as he was expecting UK. He then asked Jason if the car was his, we said yes. "Ok, that will be 45 Euros fine please. You pay now with cash, no credit cards." We had no cash. So, he gave us directions to the next town, 10 minutes away and kept the drivers license. We debated not returning. After 1 wrong turn and 20 minutes later, we retuned with 40 in bills and 5 in coins (not going to make it easy on him are we?). The Gendarme asked Jason to come to his van while we wrote his ticket. I think we were targeted because we were in a GB car and once he found we were not British, had to fine us anyway, saying we almost were at the next fine level. At least no points will be added to the UK license!

Sunday Ramble

After church today, we decided to partake in a new tradition. A Sunday Ramble around the village. There are numerous footpaths around-some of which Jason & I run on during the week. Every Sunday it seems families are out walking either before or after roast-so we thought we'd giv it a try. The kids put up the typical fight but I hear it so often now I've grown immune to complaints. Once we were out though-Griffen decided he had so much fun that he wants to go every Sunday now. Kaitlyn's scowl broke for the occasional smile but won't admit to any fun.

Because of the cold, Jason led us on a short walk, but I think we will add this to our list of regular activities.

Christmastime Abroad

So, this is our first Christmas over here, a bit different than the states. For one thing-even though the kids are in a 'state school,' it is Church of England, so there is a Christmas tree in every classroom and a huge one in the hall. Although the anti-Christmas sentiment from the US is gradually seeping over here, it is still acceptable to celebrate, and in public. Company parties are still called Christmas parties, decorations are still referred to as Christmas not holiday. The school play depicted the Nativity and Jillian's pre-school has a show as well (she's an angel).

Another interesting occurance-the kids at school pass out Christmas cards much as they would Valentine's Day cards in the US. Although there is none of the PC method of giving them to every child in the class all at once-its just random-every day the kids come home with a handful of cards. This is good-as you have all either forgot us over here or the post is slow-we have only received one card!

After being raised in cold climates, I must say that Christmas in California was always a bit of a let-down weather wise. Its kind of invigorating to be here in the cold for the Christmas season. More sun-light would be nice, but there is only another week and the days will start getting longer again.

Next week our village shop is having mulled wine and mince pies along with caroling. By the way there is no milk and cookies for Father Christmas here-its mulled wine or whiskey and mince pies.




Last night Jason and I went into London to see The Producers. I know this play is shown all over, but there is something cool about seeing it in the West-End with a sell-out crowd. We ate dinner afterwards at mid-night and looking at the Christmas lights as well. Vania (nanny) was staying the night so we had no need to rush home. When we left London at 1 am-the streets were still packed and there was plenty of buzz going on.

Night Out

One of the many advantages of having a nanny is that Jason and I have a date night once a week. Another advantage is a nice authentic Italian meal every once in a while!

Last weekend we went to a pub in Cambridge for a quick Thai dinner and then to another (The Red Lion) one close by for a drink. There were not too many people in the Red Lion-an office Christmas party and a table of drunk mostly Scottish men. They were quite entertaining and we got a few chuckles from watching them. Mulled wine and mince pies are the tradition this time of year, so when the Christmas party had leftovers, the pub staff walked around offering free warm mince pies to everyone.

Tonight we opted for heading into Cambridge for pizza and drinks. Since its Christmas time-most restaurants were full with Christmas parties but we managed to snag a table at the Tapas restaurant. One of the problems we have run into going out in Cambridge is that the crowd is pretty young. So after dinner we decided to check out a pub in Sawston (village next to ours) where Jason had seen a pool table earlier on.

In the past when we have gone to our local, 'The Bees in the Wall,' we get that everyone stops what they are doing to stare at the intruders kind of feeling. Sawston is more of a blue collar town so we were hoping there would be a more welcoming reception.

Once we stepped in everyone turned to to look and waved a hello with a smile. We sat at the bar and ordered a beer for Jas and water for me. A woman sitting at the bar apologized for the noise-"X Factor" was on tv and the votes were in. She detected we weren't local and proceeded to engage us in a conversation. Turns out her son is named Jason, after Jason and the Argonots as well. Every once in a while someone would walk over and shake hands with us and say a few words. It got a bit crazy after half an hour and she bar maid started yelling at someone. Next thing we knew another woman and then the one we were talking to went behind the bar and started serving. We thought-cool she needs help and all these people jsut chip in. Wrong.

We were talking to the owner-made sense then why she kept getting her class replaced with fresh beer every 15 minutes. It was quite fun sittin around talking to these people, noticing all the missing teeth with the camradery. Wish our local was more like this.