It’s true though. I really feel like I don’t make friends particularly easily, which really sucks when you feel like you need some.

Oh I do have some really special people in my life who fall under both friends and family who would be there in an instant if ever I really needed them.

And we certainly get invites to “important” parties held by friends and acquaintances (by “important” I mean holidays, birthdays, things of that ilk) and dinner parties, BBQ’s, etc.

The people I’m missing (and it’s really been a near-constant sore-point in my personal life) are the friendly acquaintances that you can hang out with, without having a reason. Other than say, it’s Wednesday, let’s sit down and have a glass of wine (tea, go for a walk, chat, whatever).

I mean, I guess I have a reason for wanting that right this moment: Neil’s out of town, I’ve run out of TiVo’d shows to watch and no matter how much I talk to her, the dog doesn’t talk back. Which makes it seem like I’m looking for last-resort companions, but believe me, if I could think of someone to call, the TiVo would’ve stayed full. And even when Neil is around, there are people we’d rather hang out with than eachother sometimes (both separately and as a couple).

I’m basically at a point where I’m bugged enough about the situation to stop deluding myself into thinking that it’s not a problem for me.

Not that I’m asking for a pity-party or play-dates (okay, maybe I am, just a little), but seriously, how do you transition past the point of being friendly with people when you happen to see them, to being friends with someone and comfortable enough to actually pick up the phone or email and say “hey, let’s go ride bikes get together this week” without seeming weird?

Feel free to follow me here.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous or edgy at all on our wedding day. I’d planned myself into a corner - the months of both self- and vendor-inspired angst had finally rolled themselves up into a neat little ball of an event that was just going to happen - and there was really nothing left for me to do.

Nothing, that is, except socialize with the flock of family and friends that had descended on the venue. I was sort of deluding myself into thinking that I would get some alone time and wouldn’t mind being the total centre of attention. I tried turning conversations to other people’s lives - no dice. So after the eleventy-frillionth time I was asked “how do you feel? are you nervous?” and with no last-minute details to distract myself with, I was a complete basket case.

Thankfully that didn’t manifest into more than an uncontrollable lip-quiver during the beginning of the ceremony. Neil was having just as hard a time holding it together as I was - but we both made it through like the rockstars we are!

We had a few people ask about the ceremony and vows we put together - when I get around to turning on the other computer, I’ll post a link to a .pdf with the ceremony text in it.

Of course the ceremony seemed to flash by in an instant, then it was off for photos. I heard the canapes and cocktails were good, but we were too busy being swarmed and shutterbugged and exclaiming “holy crap, we’re married!” to enjoy them.

And on to the party!

And when I posted the day after the wedding that it was the best party we’d ever thrown, it wasn’t an exaggeration. Everyone seemed to have a great time, multiple guests made a point of gushing about how our wedding was the best they’ve ever attended. The most rewarding bit from a bridezilla perspective was that every detail we’d thought of - from food to drinks, to decor, to the fact that we had babysitters, to the favours, the surprise outfit changes and just the mood of the evening - someone made a point of thanking us for, or just commented on how clever, unique and awesome we are.

Even the band emailed the next day to thank us for throwing such a great party where they really enjoyed the chance to jam and rock out (apparently not usually the case at weddings). And while everyone loved the fireworks finale, I think the pyrotechnician was most excited of all about the show he managed to put on (the guy was literally bouncing up and down shouting “did you see that? It was AWESOME!”

We left shortly after the fireworks, but apparently everyone else continued to party well into the night. Neil’s brother managed to find himself in a hottub fully clothed, and one of my brothers passed out under a bush.

I think that means we can officially call it a success.

If you’d like to view the photos, visit www.blueolivephotography.com/jen&neil. Slideshows are a nice sampling of the event. The full 800+ photo online gallery is password protected. The password is the name of the small town we were married in (lower-case). If you don’t know, comment and ask!

Traveling for work is A-Okay.

I got a whopping 15 hours in Vancouver before flying out again, am now in Orlando, jetlagged to hell with the end trailings of a migrane. At least I’m the only girl on this trip, so I have a hotel room to myself!

I make it back to Vancouver on Wednesday afternoon, sleep in my own bed that night, head to Semiahmoo after work on Thursday for a night there, then back home on Friday, then fly to Vegas for a week on Saturday.

Assuming I survive into May, that’s when you can expect the honeymoon stories and pictures to appear!

Hasta Luego.

Morocco is a hard country to visit as a tourist. Totally worth it, but definitely more difficult than any trip I’ve taken before. I’ll get more into that in a post once we’re home.

Anyhow, just as we finally thought we’d at least figured out Marrakech and the Djeema El Fna, Morocco gave us one final fuck you.

Food poisoning.

That set in on the train at about 4:30am of the 12th of April and didn’t cease for the rest of the train ride to Tangier, or the trans-Mediterranean ferry to Algeciras, or the car ride into the Ronda Mountains to Gaucin, or indeed the rest of the day. And night.

Today, the 14th of April at lunch was our first real meal since the nefarious foodstuffs (not willing to try anything riskier than plain bread and weak tea). Needless to say, our simple homemade pasta primavera and salad (with all fresh, local produce, thankyouverymuch) was the best meal we’ve ever tasted.

In that fateful 36 hours, we’ve thrown up and pooped more times than I can count, in three kinds of transportation, across two continents. We have shared the kind of embarrassing bodily-function moments that guarantee we can never split up now for fear of the secrets getting out.

If we can make it through that, we can make it through anything!

Right?

Thankfully, this particular internet cafe has the option available to change the keyboard from French to English layout, so typing will be much faster than last time.

Unfortunately, thanks to an influx of sand and bad wine (oh those Moroccans, so proud of their awful, AWFUL wine), my brain isn’t actually that fast, so I don’t have anything particularly poignant to say about the latter half of the Morocco part of the trip.

But I’ll share a short adventure tale:

After we left Fes (getting there from Marrakech via Casablanca and Rabat for those playing along at home) we made our way south to Merzouga to embark on our overnight camel trek.

Unfortunately we got a full-on Saharan sandstorm instead.

But the itinerary must be adhered to!

So picture this: complete beige-out conditions, we’ve got about 3m visibility in any given direction, and sand is blowing into the vehicle through any possible entry-point (air vents, window cracks, door jambs, etc.). Mini-dunes are building up on the road behind any available obstacles: rocks, trees, uneven pavement, abandoned vehicles - the mini-dunes are anywhere from a couple inches to a full two feet high. Palm trees and concrete power poles are toppling in the powerful winds.

And we’re carreening through this, over the tiny dunes, around the fallen trees, past frightened camels.

At 100km/h.

To say we were relieved to finally reach the resorts at the dunes is perhaps the biggest understatement I’ve ever made.

Needless to say we did not embark on the camels that evening.

The tour company did pull through though, and arranged for a suite in one of the nicest kasbahs in the area to wait out the storm. Typically they (the storms, not the Kasbahs) die out overnight and don’t start up again until the next afternoon.

So we whiled away the hours hiding from the sand and drinking Moroccan beer (marginally better than Heineken, but MUCH better than the wine) before we fell asleep.

And the desert sands lived up to the promise: the wind was gone at 5:00am and we headed out to catch the sun rising over Algeria from the Dunes of Erg Chebbi.

It was exactly as impressive as you’d think.

Unfortunately, I can’t share a picture right now, because USB connections, card readers or cd burning seem pretty nonexistent in this neck of the woods. But trust me, it was pretty awesome.

(Oh god - the person across the aisle in this internet cafe is blasting Fergie: must finish quick and run far, far away.)

After Merzouga we went to Ouarzazate, then back to Marrakech (our favourite city in Morocco so far). Tomorrow night we take the night train (Marrakech Express) to Tangier, then a ferry to Algeciras, rent a car and drive for a couple hours into the middle of nowhere (Gaucin) and just chill out for a week.

Hopefully the internet situation in Spain is a bit more favourable.

Hasta Luego!

Hqve you ever touch)typed on q FrenchùQrqbic keyboqrd§ It co,es out so,ething like this:::

(Have you ever touch-typed on a French/Arabic keyboard? It comes out something like this…)

Anyhow, Morocco is amazing so far. It was really hard to feel comfortable at first, and we’re still pushed heavily toward tourist traps most of the time, but we’re slowly getting the hang of the country.

Average temperatures have been 28-32 degrees celsius, which is perfect (though still damn hot when wandering around outside). There’s no AC, but the stone and plaster architecture keeps it very comfortable indoors or in the narrow streets of the medinas.

Interesting tidbits:

The country is COVERED in cats. Seriously. It’s because Arabs consider them to be very clean as far as animals go, and they keep the mice down (there’s really a lot of garbage everywhere - seems this ancient society still hasn’t figured out what to do with their water bottles and snickers wrappers). But yes, cats everywhere.

The food is amazing. There only seem to be three major dishes: tajines, pastilles, and couscous. All three come in beef, chicken, lamb, seafood or vegetarian. And thanks to very strong traditions of Moroccan hospitality, we’re fed a LOT of all three at nearly every meal. When we come home 20kg heavier, you’ll know why.

Driving is an adventure and lines & signs on the road are merely suggestions. Throw in kamikaze scooters, fearless pedestrians, countless horse-, donkey- and hand-carts (not to mention an abundance of random herds of sheep, goats and cattle), well we’re just very glad we have a driver, instead of attempting to navigate the roads ourselves. Inshallah (God willing) we’ll make it home safe and sound.

There is no experience in the West quite like the traditional Moroccan hammam. If you had any modesty or inhibitions (or nipples) before this process, you won’t by the time you’re done.

Anyhow, internet has been spotty to say the least, but we’ll try another update in a week or so and report on the desert and our camel camping trip. And of course we’re journalling the rest of the trip to share (with photos) when we’re home.

Bon Soir!

I’m currently hanging out in bed at the Fairmont YVR, drinking coffee and slowly waking up before breakfast. Our flight leaves at 15:10.

For the wedding, the weather turned around completely and we had beautiful sunshine as the perfect backdrop to a really lovely ceremony.

And the reception was definitely the most fun party we’ve ever thrown.

For pictures, stalk the Blue Olive site. I’m sure many of my flickr contacts will also be posting photos (we totally felt like celebrities with paparazzi all night).

And now I’m going to go get ready to fly away with my husband (and try to get more used to the words husband and wife).

In the meantime, check out my flickr page for honeymoon updates, and see ya when we’re home!

Preamble: now that we’re on the top floor (instead of wedged in the middle) we get a great deal more birds wheeling by outside our apartment than I am used to. I am still regularly surprised by them.

Anyhow, the other day, Neil and I were watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

As with the rest of the Harry Potter movies, this one was no less able to sweep me into its crazy world of ghosts and mer-people and wizards and flying brooms.

So it shouldn’t come as that much of a surprise that I was, once again, caught off-guard by a winged creature soaring past my window at dusk. And then surprised again that it wasn’t a dragon outside my window, but instead just a seagull.

The nutty thing is, once I realized that yes, I am still tied to this mortal coil and living in reality, I was COMPLETELY and utterly disappointed.

I really wanted a dragon.

In fact, I still do.