I am sorry I haven’t been blogging this month! It’s not because I am so busy, I have just neglected my blog. Today I read my sister’s and was reminded how fun it is to be able to read about people’s experiences so I’ll try to be good and blog a little more.
I finally went to the church here which was an interesting experience….well weird is really the right word. It was great but weird b/c the service was so American and I was expecting it to be more, I dunno, African? Anyways I’ll be going back so maybe I’ll have more to write on it later. There were no Moroccans in the church because it would be illegal for them to be there. It was all Europeans, Americans and Sub-Saharan Africans. It was strange sitting in church and hearing the call to prayer from the mosques outside and yet there is something so right about that. There are very few places in the world where a mosque and a church can sit so peacefully beside each other. That is how Morocco is, a place full of so many contradictions and yet delicately balanced in a peaceful position. I must say that the king of Morocco does an incredible job of keeping peace in a place that faces so much pressure from every direction. He has the Islamic/Arab world on his back constantly pressuring him to be a good Islamic country and from the other side the Western worlds of America and Europe who have been good allies (well America at least).
Two of my friends that I met at the cyber by house got married last weekend! I didn’t go sadly because I was in a different city, but I got to see lots of pictures. It was a two day event and weddings here last a very long time with a ton of music and food involved. The wedding on Saturday was a wedding thrown by the groom’s family and it was in a different part of town while the one on Sunday was thrown by the bride’s family and was here in the medina. The wedding started at 6pm and went until 3am! The bride changes dresses several time, my friend had 6 different dresses (or kaftans rather) and they were all different colors. I saw pictures of her in a red one a white one and a green one; they were all beautiful!
So I went to the city of Fes which was so so cool. I think I would like it better than Rabat if it was on the coast and if I knew people there. It is so quintessential Moroccan. The medina is the largest in Morocco with somewhere around 9,000 different streets/alleys, which we thought would be a problem but after living here for so long we seemed to get a lot more lost when we were outside of the medina than in it. Our friend’s told us to go to this awesome scarf shop that they loved and where they know the guys that work there. With their vague instructions which went something like “when you see a tricked out door on your right take the creepy alley way on the left…”(you get the idea) we managed to find it. Just goes to show how use to the layouts of the cities we are. Fes was a great city but I always love coming back to Rabat, which has become home.
We are on our independent study time right now which has been rather stressful and I’m nervous I’m not going to get all the information or interviews that I need. Plus I’m one of those people that needs pressure on me to get work done so 4 weeks with no schedule, well let’s just say I don’t know where those first 3 weeks went! Thankfully I have an incredible advisor for my paper and sometimes it helps to be an American abroad because the people at the UN think I’m more important than I really am. Today I got a call on my cell phone from the project director at the UNHCR trying to set me up with an interview for next week. So I’m pretty sure my project will get done .
It has been great getting to know locals my own age more. Through my traveling if I’ve learned anything at all it’s that it doesn’t matter where you are but rather who you are with. Like an old Moroccan saying goes, “choose your travel companion before you chose your road”, or something along those lines. I’ve had some great conversations with my neighbor who is 23 and speaks almost perfect English. Sometimes we talk about his future, which he is very pessimistic about. It is sad because he has no hope for his future. He is graduating from college soon and is searching for an internship preferably outside of Morocco. He is looking into places like India and China. If anyone knows of a marketing internship in the states he could have let me know! He doesn’t believe he will be able to find a job and he has given up hoping and dreaming for things. He told me he doesn’t like to hope for things because they never happen. At home I think if someone said this people might respond with something like “oh just work really hard and you will be able to get a good job”. Here it doesn’t really matter how hard you work it is very rare that people work themselves out of poverty. It is all about who you know and how much money you have.
My program is ending in 2 weeks but I am staying until the end of June insha’allah (God willing). I can’t imagine going home in 2 weeks! I am not ready! It will be nice to be here and not have the pressure of school. I have one more week living with my host family who has been so great to me and been such a blessing to have. I will be moving out of the medina and into an apartment in the Kasbah with another friend who is staying all summer. The kasbah is just across a big street from the medina, overlooks the ocean and is a lot prettier and cleaner than the medina. The only down side is that there aren’t markets in the Kasbah it is all residential with a few shops along the main street. It will be a beautiful place to live and less hectic than the medina. I could probably stay with my family here in the medina if I wanted but it will be nice to have the freedom to come and go as I please and eat what I want when I want… that kind of thing. Also I will probably be spending my time tutoring a child in English 3 time a week, going to the beach (if it ever gets warm! It is warmer in Boston than here now!) and maybe traveling a little.
I leave for Turkey in two weeks and please keep it in your prayers since there was just a terrorist attack there in the city of Ankara. I’m meeting Brishon, Alizabeth, Mark (who currently are all in Nepal), Barrett, Barry and Patty all in Izmir. Hopefully I will meet up with Barrett and Barry in Istanbul and then we have the same flight to Izmir. Ok well I will try to blog more a little later b/c I have a lot more to say but this is long enough :o). Baslaama!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
Crossing Borders
I went to Spain!!! Last week I was in Northern Morocco and then Spain for 3 days. It felt so good and so refreshing to be in a European country. I can’t even explain in words how refreshing it was. It was nice to walk down the street and not be stared at, followed or harassed. There was a normal ratio of men to women on the streets. When I walked into a café it wasn’t a room full of men staring at me, men and women alike were inside and didn’t even notice me walk in. I was able to go out after dark, something I haven’t really done for 2 months! It was just nice to experience some normality for the first time in 2 months. We stayed in the city of Malaga which was gorgeous! The Spanish architecture with slight Moroccan influence was beautiful. The hardest part of the trip was changing my dirham into euros….that was painful.
Let me start at the beginning of the trip. First we went to Chefchaouen (I think I spelled that wrong) which is in Northern Morocco. The landscape reminded me a little of Colorado. It is an adorable mountain town and if you are ever in Morocco you have to go there. We also stopped at an incredible Moroccan villa for lunch on our way to the border town of Fnideq. It is a villa owned by two of the professors that work at my school and it was absolutely stunning. It was in a random town that really has no significance other than the olives that grow there and the whole area operates off of drug money. The one thing that ruined the Northern cities for me was all the drugs. In Chefchaouen there was weed everywhere! Like shopkeepers would just sit in their shops all day smoking pot. On the bright side this made everyone very chill and shop keepers wouldn’t hassle us! But Chefchaouen was like a druggy’s utopia. Ok now I need to tell you about the strangest town I have ever been in in my entire life (and I’ve been to a lot of towns), the eerie town of Fnideq. It is a town on the border of Morocco and the Spanish enclave of Ceuta. It is hard to put into words and honestly you just have to experience it to understand the weirdness of it. The town runs entirely off of contraband goods. People smuggle things over from Spain and then sell them in this town. We were only there for one night thankfully but it was like living one night in the twilight zone. I’ll try to paint the picture for you. It looks like it used to be a normal functioning town with a main road lined with shops only all the shops are abandoned. One girl in our group described it as an anti-utopian world. There are no cars in the streets, instead the sidewalks and street are covered with men who spread out one or two tables or blankets covered with things to sell. It didn’t seem like a lot of people were buying things but there were tons of people standing around trying to sell things. There was barely any room to walk around because the ground is covered with everything ranging from food, pots, blankets, underwear, sunglasses, etc and men the men who sell the stuff all stand around talking to each other. Then we saw what looked like an abandoned mall and we gave it the fitting name “Contraband Mall”. It was a giant concrete structure like a mall in America without all the fancy signs. We went inside and it was basically just that, an abandoned mall. Again people had things spread out inside and filled the shelves of the stores with random goods. We didn’t venture to the second floor because it looked creepy and we were creeped out enough as it was. None of the stuff being sold was aimed towards tourist and come to think of it I didn’t see any other foreigners there other than our group. I don’t think outsiders go there very often. There were almost no women on the streets and the only ones we saw were wearing djellabas and hijabs (the traditional Moroccan robes and head scarf). So after roaming the streets with my eyes the size of saucers for about an hour and seeing the best contraband Fnideq had to offer, we bought the essentials (which in this case were two boxes of Oreos!) and retreated to our hotel room to be comforted by Oprah. I wish I had a picture to show you but since the entire town is covered in illegal sales none of us wanted to find out how the locals would respond to us taking out our cameras.
After surviving a night in Fnideq we headed for our next challenge; crossing the border! Originally our bus was supposed to drop us at the border; we would walk across and then be picked up by another bus on the other side. Thankfully when our bus dropped us off the other bus was there on the Morocco side waiting to drive us over the border. Let me give you the scene so you can see why I was so thankful we were able to drive over the border instead of walk. When we arrived at 7 am at the border there was already a line about half a mile long, not single file but about 5 men wide waiting to cross. Next to the line of men there was a line for women. The line for women is not even a line it is women showing their papers and walking through. The reason for this is b/c there are a lot more men going in I believe, but also women are not searched at the border due to the social gender codes. The male guards cannot search a woman so they are able to walk through, while a man can be searched by the male guards so it takes a lot longer to get through. Until about 50 meters before the actual border there isn’t any sort of boundary between the men and women line except for guards every 8 feet and these guards do not hesitate to get violent. Whenever the men step out of line or if the line just seems too big they push the men back or beat them with a big leather strap. I’m not sure if we would have walked by this line but 15 American girls just waltzing through the border seems a little bit like we are laughing in their faces or something. It just seems wrong. So I am glad we got to hide in the bus while all the passports were being stamped and then drive across the border. They never even came on the bus to make sure it was only us on board. We could have been full of Moroccans and I’m not sure they would have known. Crossing the border on the way back was the same except there was no long line of Moroccan men and a guard boarded our bus and drove over the border with us. When he stepped on our bus we all went silent haha. I don’t know why we were so intimidated but none of us said one word as he went around checking our passports. It was a great trip!
I have two weeks left of classes and then we start our independent research projects, which is for 4 weeks. After the program I am heading to Turkey! Me, Brishon, Alizabeth, Mark and hopefully Barrett and some friends from Hawaii, Barry and Patty will all be renting a villa in Istanbul for a week. I am so excited and can’t wait to see my siblings! Oh and this week a friend was visiting the woman I live with and she grew up where Alizabeth and Mark live in India! So we spent an afternoon drinking tea in a café and she told me all about where they live. It was great to hear about where they live from someone who lived there, but made me miss Alizabeth more than I already do. That is what I love about traveling; all of the people God puts in your path! I think about my friends and family at home a lot and miss you all very much. If anyone wants to visit please do! I love writing these blogs because when I stop and reflect on what I’ve done and the experiences I’ve had it makes me all the more excited for the experiences to come! Thanks for all the prayers and know you are in my prayers too! Much love from North Africa!
Let me start at the beginning of the trip. First we went to Chefchaouen (I think I spelled that wrong) which is in Northern Morocco. The landscape reminded me a little of Colorado. It is an adorable mountain town and if you are ever in Morocco you have to go there. We also stopped at an incredible Moroccan villa for lunch on our way to the border town of Fnideq. It is a villa owned by two of the professors that work at my school and it was absolutely stunning. It was in a random town that really has no significance other than the olives that grow there and the whole area operates off of drug money. The one thing that ruined the Northern cities for me was all the drugs. In Chefchaouen there was weed everywhere! Like shopkeepers would just sit in their shops all day smoking pot. On the bright side this made everyone very chill and shop keepers wouldn’t hassle us! But Chefchaouen was like a druggy’s utopia. Ok now I need to tell you about the strangest town I have ever been in in my entire life (and I’ve been to a lot of towns), the eerie town of Fnideq. It is a town on the border of Morocco and the Spanish enclave of Ceuta. It is hard to put into words and honestly you just have to experience it to understand the weirdness of it. The town runs entirely off of contraband goods. People smuggle things over from Spain and then sell them in this town. We were only there for one night thankfully but it was like living one night in the twilight zone. I’ll try to paint the picture for you. It looks like it used to be a normal functioning town with a main road lined with shops only all the shops are abandoned. One girl in our group described it as an anti-utopian world. There are no cars in the streets, instead the sidewalks and street are covered with men who spread out one or two tables or blankets covered with things to sell. It didn’t seem like a lot of people were buying things but there were tons of people standing around trying to sell things. There was barely any room to walk around because the ground is covered with everything ranging from food, pots, blankets, underwear, sunglasses, etc and men the men who sell the stuff all stand around talking to each other. Then we saw what looked like an abandoned mall and we gave it the fitting name “Contraband Mall”. It was a giant concrete structure like a mall in America without all the fancy signs. We went inside and it was basically just that, an abandoned mall. Again people had things spread out inside and filled the shelves of the stores with random goods. We didn’t venture to the second floor because it looked creepy and we were creeped out enough as it was. None of the stuff being sold was aimed towards tourist and come to think of it I didn’t see any other foreigners there other than our group. I don’t think outsiders go there very often. There were almost no women on the streets and the only ones we saw were wearing djellabas and hijabs (the traditional Moroccan robes and head scarf). So after roaming the streets with my eyes the size of saucers for about an hour and seeing the best contraband Fnideq had to offer, we bought the essentials (which in this case were two boxes of Oreos!) and retreated to our hotel room to be comforted by Oprah. I wish I had a picture to show you but since the entire town is covered in illegal sales none of us wanted to find out how the locals would respond to us taking out our cameras.
After surviving a night in Fnideq we headed for our next challenge; crossing the border! Originally our bus was supposed to drop us at the border; we would walk across and then be picked up by another bus on the other side. Thankfully when our bus dropped us off the other bus was there on the Morocco side waiting to drive us over the border. Let me give you the scene so you can see why I was so thankful we were able to drive over the border instead of walk. When we arrived at 7 am at the border there was already a line about half a mile long, not single file but about 5 men wide waiting to cross. Next to the line of men there was a line for women. The line for women is not even a line it is women showing their papers and walking through. The reason for this is b/c there are a lot more men going in I believe, but also women are not searched at the border due to the social gender codes. The male guards cannot search a woman so they are able to walk through, while a man can be searched by the male guards so it takes a lot longer to get through. Until about 50 meters before the actual border there isn’t any sort of boundary between the men and women line except for guards every 8 feet and these guards do not hesitate to get violent. Whenever the men step out of line or if the line just seems too big they push the men back or beat them with a big leather strap. I’m not sure if we would have walked by this line but 15 American girls just waltzing through the border seems a little bit like we are laughing in their faces or something. It just seems wrong. So I am glad we got to hide in the bus while all the passports were being stamped and then drive across the border. They never even came on the bus to make sure it was only us on board. We could have been full of Moroccans and I’m not sure they would have known. Crossing the border on the way back was the same except there was no long line of Moroccan men and a guard boarded our bus and drove over the border with us. When he stepped on our bus we all went silent haha. I don’t know why we were so intimidated but none of us said one word as he went around checking our passports. It was a great trip!
I have two weeks left of classes and then we start our independent research projects, which is for 4 weeks. After the program I am heading to Turkey! Me, Brishon, Alizabeth, Mark and hopefully Barrett and some friends from Hawaii, Barry and Patty will all be renting a villa in Istanbul for a week. I am so excited and can’t wait to see my siblings! Oh and this week a friend was visiting the woman I live with and she grew up where Alizabeth and Mark live in India! So we spent an afternoon drinking tea in a café and she told me all about where they live. It was great to hear about where they live from someone who lived there, but made me miss Alizabeth more than I already do. That is what I love about traveling; all of the people God puts in your path! I think about my friends and family at home a lot and miss you all very much. If anyone wants to visit please do! I love writing these blogs because when I stop and reflect on what I’ve done and the experiences I’ve had it makes me all the more excited for the experiences to come! Thanks for all the prayers and know you are in my prayers too! Much love from North Africa!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
I'm an alien
“For the Lord your God is God of gods and Lord of lords, the great God, mighty and awesome, who shows no partiality and accepts no bribes. He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt.” –Deuteronomy 10: 17-19
I read this verse in a friend’s blog who is living in China right now and it was such a wake up call for me. I don’t ever remember hearing a sermon preached on loving the aliens. It is hard to understand the extent of what it is like to be an alien in a foreign land unless you have been one. Living here I realize how lonely it can be and also how frustrating and confusing. Being unable to understand the language constantly makes me feel stupid and completely inadequate to do anything. I never realized how important it is to be kind to the strangers in our lands. Now I know the impact a friendly smile or a stranger’s help can have on someone who is living in a new land. So here is a little reminder to be extra patient and extra loving to someone who is new to your home town. There is such a large immigration community in America right now so what God told the people of Israel is just as relevant to us as it was to them. After working with an NGO last summer that works with the immigration community in downtown St. Louis I know the amount of people who would die for the chance to have one American friend. I met an older immigrant lady who had moved from Bosnia after the genocide, to America. She had been living in St. Louis for nine years and when we asked her how many American friends she had she said, “Just you”. Trying to buy anything here is always a process, trying to communicate what I need and what price it is. Sometimes it can make or break my day depending on how the shopkeeper treats me. If they get frustrated really fast with my lack of language skills and try to take advantage of me with the price of something it can put me in a bad mood but if they are patient and try to help me (which most of them are like this, the mean ones are the exception) then it leaves me in a completely different mood. Knowing that people are willing to be so kind and so helpful is encouraging. So for my sake, if nothing else, when you find yourself dealing with someone who doesn’t speak English very well or is unfamiliar with American customs go out of your way to be kind and help them. Just think of it as me trying to get around in Morocco.
I can really feel the weight of my blessings when I am here. I don’t really know how else to describe it other than weight. I see just how elite America is in contrast to the rest of the world. That sounds kind of arrogant but I mean it in the way that we are such a well educated country and have so much wealth, not that we have a superior culture. My education and my wealth has given me an immense responsibility and that is why it feels like a heavy weight. It’s a good burden to have but I am still in the process of learning how to give this one over to God. Beggars are something that I have really had to struggle with here. In America there are several organizations and NGOs that help the homeless get off the streets and in my opinion there are several ways for people to work there way out of poverty. Here when one is born into poverty you die in poverty or immigrate to another country. There aren’t really rags to riches stories here. Only the wealthiest can afford a decent education, but even then a decent education here would equate to the worst college in America. Upward of 70% of the economy here is black market or in other words people selling things on the streets. Only around 11% of jobs are secure (these are government jobs that once you get hired you cannot be fired which creates a whole host of other problems but don’t get me started). The beggars I encounter here are children, old women, the disabled or Africans who have left their war torn countries and basically walked here to try and have a better life. In America I have been taught not to give money to beggars b/c they will probably just go buy drugs or alcohol with it, but here it is a completely different story. The government makes it impossible for people to improve their economic standings. I keep trying to reason myself out of why I shouldn’t give but I can’t. God calls us to give. He gave his son so I should be able to give the few durhams in my pocket….the comparison is pathetic. I’ve always thought of myself as pretty generous but I see the depths of my greed and materialism when I am face to face with people who have nothing everyday. There is a man who sits right outside the door of our school. Every morning someone brings him and his chair and sets him there for the day and then at the end of the day they come back and take him home. He has one leg and is mentally retarded and every time we pass him (which is several times a day) he gives us a big smile and wave. I don’t know why but he brings me so much joy just to see his joy. He sits in his chair in the same spot all day everyday and he is always so happy to see us, he doesn’t beg and we don’t give him money but in a strange way we have become friends. On days when he is not there I get kind of worried.
This Saturday we are leaving for our northern excursion. We are going to see some of the cities in the North of Morocco and then we are crossing the border and will be in Spain for 5 days. Crossing the border should be an experience! We are doing it on foot (did you know that part of Spain is actually in North Africa? We have been calling it fake Spain) and then we are taking a ferry over to “real” Spain. It should be somewhat like crossing over from Mexico to America, there will be a lot of people and things going in and out that shouldn’t be. It will be interesting! Thanks everyone for your prayers! We have had a couple instances of theft and one guy in our group was mugged at knife point one night. They took everything his computer, ipod, wallet but threw back his passport as they ran off. The guy is fine except for being shaken up and having a small cut on his neck from the knife. It was a bit of a wakeup call for all of us since we have all become so comfortable here we still need to be smart and cautious. Keep up the prayers b/c they are working :o)
if you want to see pics and aren't on facebook here are the links:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2014797&id=1305870107&l=5a62c5fee7
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2014986&id=1305870107&l=11610f8906
I read this verse in a friend’s blog who is living in China right now and it was such a wake up call for me. I don’t ever remember hearing a sermon preached on loving the aliens. It is hard to understand the extent of what it is like to be an alien in a foreign land unless you have been one. Living here I realize how lonely it can be and also how frustrating and confusing. Being unable to understand the language constantly makes me feel stupid and completely inadequate to do anything. I never realized how important it is to be kind to the strangers in our lands. Now I know the impact a friendly smile or a stranger’s help can have on someone who is living in a new land. So here is a little reminder to be extra patient and extra loving to someone who is new to your home town. There is such a large immigration community in America right now so what God told the people of Israel is just as relevant to us as it was to them. After working with an NGO last summer that works with the immigration community in downtown St. Louis I know the amount of people who would die for the chance to have one American friend. I met an older immigrant lady who had moved from Bosnia after the genocide, to America. She had been living in St. Louis for nine years and when we asked her how many American friends she had she said, “Just you”. Trying to buy anything here is always a process, trying to communicate what I need and what price it is. Sometimes it can make or break my day depending on how the shopkeeper treats me. If they get frustrated really fast with my lack of language skills and try to take advantage of me with the price of something it can put me in a bad mood but if they are patient and try to help me (which most of them are like this, the mean ones are the exception) then it leaves me in a completely different mood. Knowing that people are willing to be so kind and so helpful is encouraging. So for my sake, if nothing else, when you find yourself dealing with someone who doesn’t speak English very well or is unfamiliar with American customs go out of your way to be kind and help them. Just think of it as me trying to get around in Morocco.
I can really feel the weight of my blessings when I am here. I don’t really know how else to describe it other than weight. I see just how elite America is in contrast to the rest of the world. That sounds kind of arrogant but I mean it in the way that we are such a well educated country and have so much wealth, not that we have a superior culture. My education and my wealth has given me an immense responsibility and that is why it feels like a heavy weight. It’s a good burden to have but I am still in the process of learning how to give this one over to God. Beggars are something that I have really had to struggle with here. In America there are several organizations and NGOs that help the homeless get off the streets and in my opinion there are several ways for people to work there way out of poverty. Here when one is born into poverty you die in poverty or immigrate to another country. There aren’t really rags to riches stories here. Only the wealthiest can afford a decent education, but even then a decent education here would equate to the worst college in America. Upward of 70% of the economy here is black market or in other words people selling things on the streets. Only around 11% of jobs are secure (these are government jobs that once you get hired you cannot be fired which creates a whole host of other problems but don’t get me started). The beggars I encounter here are children, old women, the disabled or Africans who have left their war torn countries and basically walked here to try and have a better life. In America I have been taught not to give money to beggars b/c they will probably just go buy drugs or alcohol with it, but here it is a completely different story. The government makes it impossible for people to improve their economic standings. I keep trying to reason myself out of why I shouldn’t give but I can’t. God calls us to give. He gave his son so I should be able to give the few durhams in my pocket….the comparison is pathetic. I’ve always thought of myself as pretty generous but I see the depths of my greed and materialism when I am face to face with people who have nothing everyday. There is a man who sits right outside the door of our school. Every morning someone brings him and his chair and sets him there for the day and then at the end of the day they come back and take him home. He has one leg and is mentally retarded and every time we pass him (which is several times a day) he gives us a big smile and wave. I don’t know why but he brings me so much joy just to see his joy. He sits in his chair in the same spot all day everyday and he is always so happy to see us, he doesn’t beg and we don’t give him money but in a strange way we have become friends. On days when he is not there I get kind of worried.
This Saturday we are leaving for our northern excursion. We are going to see some of the cities in the North of Morocco and then we are crossing the border and will be in Spain for 5 days. Crossing the border should be an experience! We are doing it on foot (did you know that part of Spain is actually in North Africa? We have been calling it fake Spain) and then we are taking a ferry over to “real” Spain. It should be somewhat like crossing over from Mexico to America, there will be a lot of people and things going in and out that shouldn’t be. It will be interesting! Thanks everyone for your prayers! We have had a couple instances of theft and one guy in our group was mugged at knife point one night. They took everything his computer, ipod, wallet but threw back his passport as they ran off. The guy is fine except for being shaken up and having a small cut on his neck from the knife. It was a bit of a wakeup call for all of us since we have all become so comfortable here we still need to be smart and cautious. Keep up the prayers b/c they are working :o)
if you want to see pics and aren't on facebook here are the links:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2014797&id=1305870107&l=5a62c5fee7
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2014986&id=1305870107&l=11610f8906
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