On Bowling

Last weekend Peter had his birthday party. We gave him the choice of venues...there are a lot of cool Dutch places to hold a birthday party. There is a local farm that has all kinds of cool activities for kids - for example the kids hide their presents in a maze of hay in the barn, get a tour on a big tractor of the farm, make Gouda cheese by hand...yes make their own cheese and then you can buy it. In Amsterdam, the Maritime Museum offers parties, as does the NEMO children's science museum. I thought for sure one of those three would be a winner for a birthday party. It turns out, no...not a one. He wanted to have a bowling party. Bowling? How boring and American is that? I wanted to lecture him on the silliness of his choice when he had all these exotic choices that he couldn't get in America. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. But I held my tongue...and good thing I did. Who knew bowling could be so entertaining.

Bowling is so American. Right? I mean, everyone knows the basics of bowling... If you grew up in the 70's and 80's - who hasn't been bored on a raining Saturday afternoon and was forced to flip through the television channels (before cable people) and landed on watching professional bowling because there wasn't anything on?

Well, apparently, I was wrong. There were 2 other parties at the bowling alley last Saturday. We had the 2 most middle lanes, and were flanked by 2 other very large parties. To the right of us...loud, screaming at the top of your lungs, Dutch boys - probably around 1st grade. They knew the game, they just did damage to the eardrums. To the left of us, around 15 Asian and Indian children - not one older than the age of 5. They had 3 lanes and had CLEARLY never set foot in a bowling alley.

Several of the children would every now and then migrate over to our lanes and roll their balls on our pins. You can imagine the look of incredulity on Peter's face at the injustice of it all. The shock of "they just took my turn" clearly painted on his face - eyes popping out, jaw to the floor, hands in the air. We chuckled over it because Peter was on the lane directly next to the roaming 5 year olds and we weren't. We chuckled until this very nice little old Indian man, bent over with age, shuffled over his 3 lanes, over Peter's lane and into our lane - laden with a bowling ball that looked like it would tip him over. Slowly, he stood facing the pins, and while staying stationary dropped his bowl on Brett's turn. We kindly told the little old man, and the 15 little 5 year olds that they needed to stay in their own lanes.

Those 3 lanes were utter chaos. Since no one knew how to play, it was a free-for-all. 15 children 5 and under running back and forth from the ball return to the lanes and dropping bowling balls consecutively one after the other so that the lanes became peppered with multi-colored spheres. It didn't even matter if the pins were put up. Sometimes, a child was even thrown in the mix as they walked up and down the lanes and gutters to free the balls that had gotten stuck in the gutters (despite bumpers), gotten stuck by the pins, or had just run out of steam in the middle of the lane.

Have to tell you, it was the most bizarre bowling experience in my life. And much more entertaining than those Saturday afternoon professional bowling events on TV.

Cheers,

Noel

Growth

Recently, we spent a week in Morocco. The Moroccan landscape is a cacophony of differences that somehow work in harmony with each other. Marrakech is flat and red, but drive an hour and a half to the coast and the landscape turns to rolling hills of grass seas and juniper trees. The forests run into the sand dunes that hug the beach and sea. In another direction, the flat landscape that marks Marrakech dead-ends into the breathtaking Atlas Mountains. Snow envelops the peaks and, similar to the Colorado high country, robin blue sky forms the backdrop to these rocky peaks, and Berber villages exist on the steep hills of the mountains.

The people of Morocco were extremely nice and welcoming. Sure, we were bombarded daily to buy something...but we were in tourist areas, we expected it. Even when they only spoke French, and I didn't, I felt that they were out to help. We also met other European travelers along our way, and having them on part of our journey enhanced our experiences and enriched our memories.

We met several families from the UK, and a family from the US living in Amsterdam. Such a small world. We shared meals, camel rides, a 1960 VW bus ride with families we hardly knew, but had much in common simply by the fact we were all in Morocco at the same time doing the same thing. For half a day, we took a private tour of Marrakech. Our guide was extrememly knowledgeable about art/architecture, agriculture and custom and tradition. There were times when I felt he felt he needed to validate and explain his culture - he is muslim. And I felt bad. I wanted to say to him 'I am here to learn about your culture, not challenge it, you don't need to justify your ways.'

I learned many things while in Morocco. It is quite amazing, that no matter how long a person is in your life, there will be a lasting impact on your own as a result of you knowing them. I learned that the world is not going to crumble and fall apart if you get lost in the labriynth of the medina of Essaouira and Marrakesch. You will find your place again. I learned that our children are much more open now to new things and ideas. Most importantly, I have finally memorized my European mobile number...it's only been about 7 months.  

On our last day of our trip in Portugal this past December, Henry said to us "What is our next adventure?"

Exactly...

Cheers,

Noel

Essaouira

Our ride to the camel trek 

Henry's Camel

Our campground 

On the road to Imlil - in the Atlas Mts. 

Our lunch

Marrakech

Riad Samsara - where we stayed in Marrakech -
Breakfast served to us everyday, dinner 2 nights. We were treated like kings and queen!

Where we ate. We had the Riad to ourselves for 2 nights, and shared with another family for 2 nights. Great fun sharing this table over dinner and breakfast.

Princess - the house cat.

The front door to our Riad