Team Semi-competent strikes again!

This weekend began with a very wonderful party in an apartment in Ifrane.  I had forgotten how much I enjoy wine since I hadn't had it since leaving the U.S.  Due to our lack of bottle opener, knives were used to push the cork all the way through the neck of the bottle where it would float like a ship in a bottle until the contents were gone.  The best game of the night was what is known as the Ha ha game.  I was recently informed by one of my friends that they used to play it in junior high P.E, but I prefer this setting.  Everyone lays in a circle and puts their head on the previous person's belly.  The first person starts with a single "Ha" and then second person gives a "ha ha."  So it continues until someone breaks down and starts giggling which means they lose and the game starts over.  We would generally make it to about four "ha's" until someone would lose composure.  The next event of the evening was the apartment key got lost which resulted in a general scramble and much turning over of furniture because someone was standing outside the door knocking.  For some reason, we couldn't open the door from the inside without using the key.  I decided that an alternate escape route was called for and went to the window to inspect the options.  Misunderstanding my intent, several people let off the search in order to coax me away from the window.  The key was eventually found under the teapot.
The next morning was the epitamy of a beautiful fall morning so after a leisurly breakfast at the cafe next to the apartment called Cafe Beethoven, we cleaned the apartment and set off for the town of Taza which is generally thought to be about three hours away from Ifrane.  Nine and a half hours, a ride in the police car, and one bottle of wine down the toilet, we finally were in our hotel room and able to relax. 
When we first arrived in Taza, we wandered around in search of a cab but couldn't seem to find any and while we were stopped at a little shop next to the road to ask directions, the man in front of us in line offered us a ride in his car.  He took us right to the hostel we had asked about and flatly refused any payment we tried to give him, merely saying Welcome to Taza.  The hostel did not have any rooms left and feeling rather biblical, we retired to the stables (not really). We caught two taxis back down the hill to another hotel.

The ride in the police car came as a result of Mike and Sam not bringing the proper documentation to the hotel.  Anywhere you stay in Morocco, they require your passport or residency card in order to document when you entered the country.  Since they didn't have these, the hotel owner told them to go to the police station.  I was instructed to hold down the fort and stay in the room since I already had booked it and the petit taxis only hold 2-3 people.  I locked the room and fell asleep and was awoken by the other three who were very excited having just returned from the police station,which was full of kittens, having recieved made up numbers from the police for their passport numbers and gotten to ride back to the hotel in a police car.  Needless to say I was jealous.  The son of the hotel owner drove us up to a restaurant that was owned by his brother.  The food was delicious and the waitress even brought us two free flans to share for dessert with yet another "Welcome to Taza."  When we left the restaurant to head back to the hotel, we found a car parked on the sidewalk and the original brother waiting to give us a ride back down to the hotel!  On Mike's instructions, In a fit of ingenuity, Sam opened the bottle of wine that we had brought along with us with his toothbrush.  Unfortunately, after it was open and the cork irreplacably floating in the liquid inside, we realized that none of us were remotely interested in drinking wine.  This resulted in the wine being unceremoniously dumped down the toilet to avoid awkward questions from the hotel owner or maids.

The next morning we caught a grand taxi to the caves.  We commisioned a guide and descended 500 slippery rock steps into the largest cave system in North Africa.
                                                      Notice the steps behind us in the gloom
 There were no lights inside the cave apart from our headlamps which I did not have since we were being thrifty and they were $10 each to rent.  Instead, I used a tiny flashlight that says Association for the Blind that my mom slipped into my suitcase saying that it would probably come in handy.  It did! Thanks Mom.  Unfortunately, halfway through our descent into the depths, it did indeed become a flashlight for the blind. 
                                 

Now, the next pictures may be a little bit upsetting to those of you who have been indoctrinated on cave etiquette in Lewis and Clark Caverns. It certainly took me awhile to participate in such sacrilege.  I grabbed onto a stalagmite as I was slipping down ledge and I suddenly became ok with it. Our guide, Jumbo, had us climbing all over the "delicate cave formations" and generally behaving in a way that would make any respectable speleologist cry.  We played songs by tapping on the hollow stalactites of different sizes, and made little clay figures from the omnipresent clay that we were covered in.
                                        
In fact, speaking of being covered in clay, Jumbo persuaded us to put war paint on from this clay and then took a picture of us making war-like faces.  We were discussing the possibility that he and the rest of the guides make bets with each other once they see us as to whether or not they can convince their group to put mud on their faces.  I feel like no one would have taken that bet though, we were a given.
  Team semi-competent: Sam, Rae, Me, and Mike (left to right)
There was absolutely no one else in the caves and we came out blinking in the sun after being down for about two hours.  Once we made our way back to the Taza train station, we discovered that our train wouldn't leave for another four hours so we decided to make our way back to the resturant from last night. 
As we passed the hotel we had stayed at, one of the maids came running out and gave me the shirt that I had accidentally left in the room.  Now that's what I call service!  We lingered over lunch and were once again presented with complimentary flan, this time chocolate!  The train ride was uneventful back to Fez.  After we secured a grand taxi, we got in and prepared to nap all the way back to Ifrane since it is a one hour ride.  However, our driver put in a CD and giving us a sly grin, he turned up Enrique Inglesis.  This resulted in us having a fantastic drive up to Ifrane and down memory lane of junior high having a sing along with our Moroccan taxi driver.  All in all, it was a great weekend!