Sometimes when you're in a country, you feel that there is a bit of
You-vs-Them.  Of course, we don't want this:  Harmony and piece are
the way to go.  But people and places and countries are different -
by no fault of anyone's - things will be different.  Different isn't
always bad - and it sometimes makes you think a bit differently.

Take for instance toilet paper - some countries believe in it - and
some don't.  Is toilet paper really a good thing?  Have you ever
thought about it?  I for one, am a big fan of toilet paper, but that
is only because one large manufacturer of toilet paper (the veritable
Charmin) paid my way around the world for a few years.

But of what use is toilet paper? The answer, I suppose, like all
things in the world, is that "it depends."  I'd wager that some 80%
of TP in the world is used by women doing "Number One," and in that
instance, I have no experience.  The other 20%, well, we all know
what that's for.  And is it best?  Feel free to comment.

Anyway the point of this wasn't about TP.  The point was Me-Vs-
Morocco.  And Morocco is a tough place - the people there are very
aggressive and are always looking to rip ya off.  If you know how to
bargain, well, this is the place to do  it, and bring your A-game. 
You'll need it.

So with all the hustle-and-bustle (a nice way of saying everyone will
ask you "what you look for" and "hello look my shop") sometimes you
want to retreat to the safety of your own bedroom.  This trip was a
bit of a test as well - I brought along my laptop so I could journal,
edit and upload photos, and start on that Great American Novel that
I'm always pining that I'll get around to writing.

So there it is, at the end of a fulfilling touristy day of rocking
casbah's, avoiding snakes being thrown around my neck, eating strange
looking food that I hope was chicken, not getting run over by some
crazy form of transport, and (being Morocco) only drinking Coca-Cola,
I set down to charge my iPod and look at pictures on my computer back
in my room.

Alas, the room has no electricity.  I look about for an outlet - no
outlet to be found.  I was all ready - I had the proper conversion
plug - I knew the local voltage - and in all my worldly travels to
far-off places - I've always managed to charge my batteries.

Until now.

Jetlag kicks in.   First, it appears, I sleep.

Anyway, I didn't like my room, so I decide to switch hotels. 
Switching hotels is easy:  wake up early, walk around without your
pack, find a place, check out of old place, and you're set.

As I looked around, no one had electricity!

Ok, I'm not being completely honest - these places had electricity. 
In fact, they had electricty in the room.  There was a light bulb. 
But as I was staying in the "Mecca" aka Casbah aka Old-Town aka
theseplaceshavebeenhereforever, they don't have quite the amenities. 
And as you get what you pay for, and I don't pay much, well, there ya
go.

So I check in, but I have a new plan.  I called it the Shock the
Casbah.  So I wander looking for a hardware-store-cum-electronics
shop, and sure enough I find one.  There is a doorway with all manner
of stuff hanging from it, plugs, adapters, things that light up,
things with LEDs, so I walk in the door, which immediately runs me
into the counter.  I look for what I want on the wall.  No dice.

The conversation goes like this:

Me:  "Speak english?"

ShopKeep: <Puzzled look.>

(note, rest of conversation is pantomime)

Me:  Scratch chin.  Touch nose.  Point to my chest ("Me need"). 
Point to light bulb in room.

ShopKeep:  Face lights up.  Puts up index finger in a "ah-ha"
gesture.  Moves hand in a back-and-forth motion that is the universal
symbol for screwing in a lightbulb.  Starts mulling around

Me:  "No!"  Wave finger back and forth.  Then wave palm in a twisty
motion that means "almost" (or I'm sick, if you are Padi-certified). 
Stick out first two fingers in a V and do an in insertion gesture. 
(This whole thing would have been easier if I had brought along a
plug...alas...).  Then, I make UnivsersalLightBulbGesture then
immediately after I make the two-finger insertion gesture.

ShopKeep:  Touches chin.  Thinks.  Mulls about, and pulls out a drill
bit.

Me:  Wave finder back and forth again.  He's close.  Pretend to have
drill in hand.  Make gesture of using drill.  Then follow drill down,
pretending to find the power cord, and pretending to find the plug at
the end.  Then again, UniversalLightBulbGesture, then V-plug
insertion gesture.

ShopKeep:  Touches chin again and smiles.  Makes
UniversalLightBulbGesture, then holds his hand in that Bill Clinton
thumb-grasping-something-we-can't-see gesture.  Pushes thumb towards
imaginary wall.  The Universal-Gesture-For-Plugging-Something-Into-
The-Wall.

Me:  YES!

ShopKeep:  Nods.  Very satisfied.  I made his day.  Mulls about and
pulls put a thing with a light-bulb screw on one side, and a plug on
the other.

Me:  Wave palm in twisty motion.  Close but not quite.  Put up index
finger.  Gesture up with index finger, then
UniversalLightBulbGesture.   Then make an upsidedown V with my first
two fingers, like the legs of a person.  With my other hand (and
probably the wrong one, as they're quite into their RightHandIsRight
and I tend to be LeftHanded) I make a V again and do the insertion
gesture to both of legs.   Then I point to the, ahem, groin of my
imaginary person, and to the UniversalLightBulbGesture.

ShopKeep:  Eyes light up!  Touches his forehead quickly.  Mulls about
in his gear and pulls out this, the magic tool to defeat Morocco and
Shock the Casbah.

The combination plug and light bulb receptacle adapter!

The rest is, of course, history.  We make the deal - I don't bother
to bicker on the price because I think he enjoyed the experience so
much that he didn't bother to raise it too high.  It was about $3.  




Worth every penny, as my camera batteries were almost done, and I was
off to the Sahara to ride some camels.

And finally, hotels in the Casbah seem to be made of zero percent
wood and one hundred percent rock hard concrete.  Flammability is of
no concern - you could sooner burn down the sidewalk in front of your
house.

But your home is different, so please, don't try this at home....

Friday morning I rolled into the Czech Republic. 

I arrived at 7am and while I had a sleeper on the train, first class no less,  I didn't sleep too well.  

Rolled into the Old Town square and wandered taking pictures.  Finally rolled to the hostel I wanted - but what I really wanted was a nap!  

They were full and wouldn't be able to let me know 'till 10am, so off for Breakfast.  A little food and coffee and I was ready to go!  Roll back to the dorm, I'm in they tell me, but checking is between 1-6pm.  After 6, I'm SOL.  So off I go!

I wander the streets and call up my friend Pavel that I came to visit.  We planned to meet up later.

So I wander and get lost among the hordes of tourists and the twisty winding little streets.  I'm looking for a bar I went to the last two times I was here, the Marquis de Sade, a not at all sadistic place.   Couldn't find it - appears it is kaput!

The square is hopping tho!  People everywhere, and all of a sudden I hear bagpipes and look around and sure enough, the Northeast corner is just PACKED with guys wearing Kilts!  I remember seeing some bars were going to show the football game tonight, Scotland v Czech Republic, and it looks like they came for the game.  Guys in kilts, drinking beer on the town square!  I'm in!

So I go buy a beer and figure I can mingle my way into their little party.

I take some pics too.  They're half in the can, so don't mind being photographed.  Check out this guy - I managed to get him digging in his nose!

The Scots are quite a sight - this lassie wants a picture with them.

There's an empty seat next to this guy, so I sit down, and we get to chatting.  Turns out he's here with his wife, and she's off getting him more beer!  Genius!  

So they insist I sit and tell them all about "American Tailgating."  "

"So I don't get it, you just pull up in your car, and pull out food from your, what do call the boot?  The trunk?"

So I explain in great detail the tradition of college football on Saturdays and tailgating.  

The Tartan Army is what these guys are called.  The "Army" invades a town when they have a "friendly" or even a real game.  The Scots aren't too good at football tho.  

They took me around to their friends.  You get a pin for each game you attend, just like the players get one for playing.  The guy on my right here had a huge bottle of Johnny Walker that he was working on.  Been to a few games he has, although I couldn't understand half of what he said, the Scottish accent being a pretty rough one.  

Well, by this point, I was their new best friend, and it was decided for me that I was being captured and taken to the game.  

I even got to wear the hat!  

The Scots were quite a scene in the town square.  Must have been a thousand of them.  They were singing, and like I said, bagpipes were piping off, and everyone was having a great time.  The Scots remind me of Wisconsin fans - friendly, happy, just here for a good time.  They are everything the English aren't when it comes to being fans.  They even picked up their trash!  

These are two of my favorite pix from the day:  Check out the guy with the blue arm-band.  Hey, what's he doing!?  Well, it sure looks like he's taking an up-kilt picture.  And true to form, just like the song Donald Where's Your Trousers.  The Scots were quite up front, telling me that the men of the Tartan army aren't wearing any trousers.  Hm, I thought that a myth.  Alas, my friends, it is not.  And best to avoid the conversation of disbelief, as they are eager to demonstrate by showing you a full Scottish moon, as I learned the hard way!

So that was the scene.

It was 90 in Prague yesterday - insane hot!  So the guys were topless a lot.

The police rolled in, but the Scots were just having a loving peaceful time.  I ran back to my hostel to check in real quick, then back for a last beer before we began the "March".  We all start walking, the cops close the streets off and off we go, singing songs.  Well, songs is a stretch.  They have one song:  Doe a Deer.

Yup so there we are,  people waving flags, loving life, Scotland this and Scotland that, and singing their one song.  It goes like this:

Doe a Deer a Female Deer

Ray a tropic golden sun

Me the name I call myself

Far, a long long way to run

So something something

La something something

And that (and it gets really loud when they get to this part) BRINGS US BACK TO DOE!

I tried teaching them the beer song (Ya know, "Dough the stuff that buys me beer, Ray the guy that sells me beer.   Me, the guy, who drinks the beer.  Far, a long run to get beer.  Soooo...I need another beer...."

Ah yes good fun.  I had a riot at the game, learning soccer chants, singing, talking about football, drinking cheap Czech beer, and learning all about International Soccer.  The fans are separated by walls!  We had the entire corner of the stadium, the rest of the stadium sparely filled with Czechs.  They weren't as much fun as We were!  

The Scots got their ass handed to them - but they did score a really lucky goal, and that made everything OK.  Lots of singing and chanting, and after 90 minutes, it was a great time.

Then off to meet Pavel and his friends, for a night on the town with the Czechs!  Ah wonderful Prague!