Tag: bus

Posted on

Rock the Kasbah

It’s a 1980s song where the lyrics are often mistaken. It’s a 2010s film I’ve never seen. In 2019, I did my own rocking in Morocco. The first time I’d set foot on African soil. Will it be the last? Keep reading.

My friend Jud and I decided that we wanted to link up and explore the wonders of this North African country. I’d heard friends rave about it. Contrarily, while in Europe, I’d heard incredibly poor reviews. Still, it seemed like it was worth taking the chance.

I landed in Marrakech about 3 days ahead of Jud, so I had a chance to familiarize myself with the customs and surroundings. As with many, if not all, of the poorer countries in the world, cash is king. When I arrived, I planned to get some in the airport. I retrieved my bag and noticed just about everyone exchanging money at a single, very central currency counter. I searched for an ATM without any luck and decided to follow suit with the rest of the crowd. FYI – brutal conversion and service fees. There are plenty of cash machines in the city, which I’m sure charge far less per withdrawal. Since my goal was to take a local bus into downtown, I needed it right away, unfortunately.

That plan was a somewhat wild ordeal. No surprise, even in early November, Morocco is hot. I walked about 15 minutes in the baking sun to the bus stop. I was trusting Google Maps even though it had a warning about uncertain schedules. The warning was accurate. I waited there for what seemed like over an hour. Many, many other buses came and went. Just when I was going to surrender for a taxi, the L20 arrived. I was without question the only white person on board. I ignored and/or smiled politely to the onslaught of stares.

A mere 30 minutes later, I was dropped off outside the southern wall of the medina. That’s what a “kasbah” (“casbah” in English) is by the way — an old city or fortress.

I walked among the cramped, often dead-end streets before I found my hostel for the next few nights. The check-in process was interesting as there was no formal reception and no one to greet me for several minutes. That being said, there was a cool vibe with 3 floors surrounding an open-air courtyard with rooftop hangout areas as well. The 2 proprietors took time to sit down and chat with me about life as well as some pointers about the main attractions.

After a shower to wash the 20+ hours of travel off, I did a cursory walk around the main square. It was a blistering cacophony of…just about everything.

  • Motorbikes weaving around cars that barely had enough space to traverse the streets.
  • Mosques.
  • Walls within walls.
  • Snake charmers.
  • Juice vendors.
  • Handcraft stalls and pushy shirt-sellers.
  • Plenty of barber shops.
  • And let’s not forget shawarma.

I was mainly prepared for orange facades and the mix of French and Arabic culture. It was a lot more than that. I grabbed some food from a small eatery and headed back to the hostel to digest this first impression.

There wasn’t enough time to take a 2-3 day excursion out into the Sahara, so I booked a day trip to the Ourika Valley instead. The itinerary was super appealing on paper, so I had decent expectations. It promised a visit to a Berber village, a look at how Argan oil and handcrafts are made, as well as a trek to a waterfall and a camel ride.

It was mostly a let down. Everything was a crowded tourist trap, nature walk included. The camel ride especially was disappointing. The boys were lasso’d to one another, and it was just a 10-15 minute walk next to a main road. The village built into the mountain was sweet to gaze at from afar, but I’m not sure it was enough to save the day. Still, it was $45 USD (including tip for the guide) so at least it was affordable.

That basically brings us to Jud’s arrival. Our Moroccan adventure was essentially split into four parts based on where we spent our time.

MARRAKECH (PT. II)

Jud was more or less my sugar daddy on this trip — covering the AirBnBs and some other transportation costs.

We met up at the first accommodation in the north medina, which was somewhat difficult to find even with a map and specific instructions. Thank the lord for their very specific blue front door.

Even though he had been traveling for 20+ hrs with no sleep, we decided to go for a wander. I was familiar with some of the souks and the main square but that’s about it.

After some time weaving through the maze, we were approached by a “friend” who “just wanted to practice his English.” Many of the vendors and street goers are aggressive in getting your attention. It wasn’t a surprise. But this guy implanted himself into our walk, since “his house was the same way we were going.” Once he brought up taking us to a tannery, I knew it was a scam. An elaborate one.

The thing is, a tannery at its peak definitely looks worth a visit. I’ve seen some enticing photos, this dude even showed us one. The reality was not the same.

I tried explaining what would happen to Jud since I was almost wrapped up in the same scam a few days before. I thought we would arrive and be able to leave at the entrance. Our guy was in the midst of handing us off to his pal, the friendly tannery tour guide, when I asked how much it would cost. “Don’t worry about price,” he said (as if it was a dumb question). Jud and the guide continued ahead as I walked dejected, 30ft behind. It was a very uncomfortable feeling.

The place was in absolute shambles. It was apparently the last day of its operation for the next while. But we “had to see it” because “the Berber people are down from the mountains” and “only for today.”

The shallow pools used to color animal hides, normally filled with a beautiful array of bright tones, were completely brown and smelly. The dredges of mud and pigeon shit used to seal the stain. It was abysmal.

A 5 minute spiel ended and we were shepherded to a shop that sold the completed goods. Yet another handoff, this time to a salesperson. After we clearly weren’t interested in buying anything they let us leave. The first two guys magically appeared a few steps away from the shop and asked us to pay them for their services. An argument ensued from my end since I was never told the price. It wasn’t a good look, but I was careful not to be taken advantage of. Since Jud is a stand up guy, he paid them something to leave us alone.

Be warned: if you’re ever in Marrakech, don’t accept a tannery tour from anyone other than an agency or your accommodation.

On our walk back to the AirBnB we had to fend off another guy pining for money for trying to show us the way even though we didn’t need him and he didn’t know where he was going. That left me with a sour impression of Marrakech. I mean, I guess you can’t blame them for trying to make money, but honesty when prompted is kind of the decent thing to do.

The next day we made our own tour of some main attractions. First we visited a very disappointing tomb. It was a 40 minute line to see an intricately tiled room for a handful of seconds. Then, we went to a place called Bahia Palace which was built in the 19th century by the head of government. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the main courtyard was surrounded by 12 rooms, used by his 24 concubines. An incredibly detailed place, with carved molding and ceramic designs aplenty. Afterward, we checked out the highly regarded Secret Garden. It was nicely manicured, though I couldn’t help but think that it was only championed because it was a refuge of greenery in the middle of the desert.

So 1 success out of 3 made for an unimpressive day out. However, we finished it off with a rooftop sunset, a liter of beer and some shawarma.

A mistake was made somewhere along the way in terms of street meats eaten because that night was the beginning of a few rough days for the butthole. Another lesson learned.

Personally, I was happy to bid farewell to the hectic ambush of Marrakech for something more relaxed. The following day, Jud and I boarded a bus bound for “the blue city.”

ESSOUIRA

We enjoyed a pleasant yet windy walk along the coast to reach the medina. There was significantly less people and a lot more open space. Our AirBnB host walked us up a few flights of narrow stairs to reach his flat. He showed us our room and the excellent rooftop eating area where we would later watch the sunset.

It was early evening, so we got a restaurant recommendation and took a casual stroll. The wind was bitter after the sun was too low to pierce the slender streets. Jud and I made a wildly unnecessary, in-person reservation considering we were the only people in the place for the first 20 minutes of our meal. A pair of girls (Dutch and American) were eventually seated with us and we chatted for over an hour. I was continually distracted by what was going on with my insides that I didn’t eat or contribute much.

We parted company somewhere in the chilly avenues of the old city and returned to our a accommodation. That night, I nearly oozed the bed, which I’m assuming is a brand new sentence. I roughed it through until morning and turned to a medicinal solution.

It was a low-key start to the day. Breakfast overlooking the sea, no big deal. Afterward we strolled around the port which was bustling with vendors and gulls hoping for fish scraps. We were walking along the top of the sea wall when a rogue wave crashed over the rocks, completely soaking Jud. It was possibly the most direct hit the ocean has ever made. Somehow, I was lucky and only got a little salt water mist on my camera.

Once Jud changed into dryer clothes, we explored more of the city streets and gates. We saw the 18th century cannons and people making handcrafts.

We roamed the beachside path outside the medina for quite a while. There were kitesurfers, ATVs, and camel rides happening even though it was largely deserted. I wondered how different the vibe would be if it was more lively. Perhaps the wind was a deterrent. Strong gales whipped us back from time to time, took my hat for a ride once, and created an invisible sheet of sand that peppered our faces. We took refuge on a tree-lined cafe patio to have lunch.

That evening, after soaking in the sunset, we tried a traditional Moroccan restaurant. It looked upscale based on the fancy table dressings and golden wall decor. However, the entrance was awkward considering basically everyone looked up from their dishes to stare at us. We had the good fortune of sitting side by side facing them, so that was fun. The food was solid though, so we left happy despite having spectators for every bite.

The remainder of the evening was uneventful. We woke up for another rooftop breakfast and then caught a bus back to Marrakech to snag a train to Casablanca.

CASABLANCA

It seemed like nobody had anything good to say about Casablanca. “It’s a very industrial place.” “There’s nothing interesting to do there.” “Meh.”

I guess we should have listened.

The AirBnB was super nice, with lovely hosts, but the city left something to be desired. It was the most sprawling, but the least interesting in terms of visuals. There were some newer buildings under construction, but no consistent theme.

Apologies for this unimaginative section. The absence of descriptive writing reflects the blandness of the location.

We made our own walking tour to look at the purported interesting architecture. An old post office and bank, several hotels, and then some more banks. It didn’t offer enough to get my camera out of the backpack. “Meh.”

Even the medina was dull. Maybe it was the path we took, but there seemed to be very few remnants of history and alluring sights. We followed a boring street for a while until we got to Rick’s Cafe. Again, my expectations were different from reality. It was sandwiched between two other buildings and had a security guard out front. It appeared rather new and lacked any sort of unique 1940s vibe. I mean, the design was inspired by the movie, but that was difficult to ascertain from the exterior. The interior probably did a better job but since we didn’t want to get gouged by steep beer prices we passed.

Instead, we made our way along the water to check out the world’s third biggest mosque — Hassan II — an ominous sight, with a low layer of fog hugging the building. The minaret is the second largest in the world, so that had no problem sticking out of the translucent white blanket. Unfortunately, we were there at a weird time so we missed out on taking a tour of the inside. It was still by far the most interesting attraction we saw on our journey around the city.

(As a caveat, we didn’t visit La Corniche, which is apparently the beachy area where “the golden youth” hangs out. The nightlife was supposed to be decent there, but I’ll have to give that a shot on another trip.)

RABAT

Since we were unimpressed with Casablanca, we spontaneously decided to take a day trip to Rabat, which was a short train ride up the coast. It turned into a very worthwhile audible because it was easily the coolest place we encountered across our entire Moroccan adventure.

The main city had a slightly modern European vibe in terms of the layout and architecture. We made our way through the medina quickly until we reached the kasbah nestled on the mouth of an inlet. Inside, there were beautiful alleys of white and blue houses from around the 12th century. It would have been an awesome place to get lost in for a few hours. However, some guy took us on an unwanted 20 minute tour, whisking us through the place before requesting a ridiculous amount of money. A 2 hour walking tour in any major European city has more information and costs a quarter of what this guy was trying to charge. It was the only downside to the entire excursion.

Once we left his company, we found a free art museum inside a gorgeous palace courtyard. Then, we took a jaunt by the water and had lunch on a nice cafe patio.

From there, we made a gigantic loop around the freshly constructed part of the city until we wound up back at the train station.

Rabat had the potential to be a great 2-3 day destination, if only we had known beforehand.

On our last day, we took a train back to Marrakech and then a taxi to the airport. Jud disappeared through security in the early afternoon but my flight didn’t depart until around 7am the next morning. I made a quick trip back into the city to spend the rest of my dirham on some decent Christmas gifts. I rearranged my luggage for another 20+ hours of travel and stayed up chatting with friends until I was able to go to my gate.

Due to the lack of sleep and new destination excitement, I left my laptop smushed between bins at the security checkpoint. Surprisingly, I didn’t panic when I noticed hours later.

Thanks to a random travel mate connection, I was able to get it recovered. It was a painful and expensive process receiving it in Mexico, but now it’s back in my possession. Hooray! I’m going to blame that ordeal for the tiny abyss between posts.

Next I’ll have a summary of Morocco as well as a big look at my European leg. Hopefully sooner than later. Stay tuned!

Posted on

Ongoing Conflict Resolution

Everybody said that once you’d seen the bridge, you’d seen Mostar. But were they considering all the different angles you could find? Unsure.

It’s true that you can walk through the old town in around 15 minutes. However, there are a myriad of terraces and miscellaneous paths you can wander down. Like 7.

By the way, I’m talking about Bosnia & Herzegovina.

Ok. So, you can see Mostar in pretty much a day. If that’s the plan, you have to make Sheva’s walking tour a mandatory activity at some point on that day. It’s the only one that exists, presumably because it’s such a small town, but it’s also amazing. My group consisted of 4 people in total (low season). That was the perfect size to get in-depth on certain topics and make it more of a discourse. It seemed like every resident knew him, and in turn he knew everything about Mostar.

We started in the center of the old town and learned about the ancient history. The Muslim influence of the Ottoman Empire explained the plethora of minarets among the skyline. The name ‘Mostar’ means bridge-keeper, so…it makes sense that the thing is such a staple there.

Apparently it’s a rite of passage for every man to jump off the bridge into the river below. It’s a distance of 22 meters aka about 70 feet. They have their own method and everything. In the summer, there’s an entire diving competition. Even being in the middle of autumn, with the water temperature at 9º Celsius, there were still daily jumps. I witnessed one. Sheva told us that anybody could jump if they wanted, they just had to pass a test run of 16m. My interested was piqued.

That’s where it remained. Should I have done it? Perhaps. But I also enjoy being conscious and having my faculties, as dim as they may seem sometimes.

Once the foundational history was established, Sheva began to describe the more recent and difficult past surrounding the Bosnian war that spanned 1992-1995.

As Bosnia & Herzegovina is home to 3 different cultures of people (Bosnians, Croatians, and Serbians), it was complicated when Yugoslavia began to disband in 1991. Once the conflict really broke out, Mostar was divided into two halves: Croatians to the west and Bosnians to the east — the line of demarcation being the main road. We stood on a spot that was in the middle of two buildings that were still devastated.

From that point, he showed us an old bank building on the Croatian side of town that was used as a sniper tower. To this day, some 20 years later, it still sits there abandoned and a symbol of the death and destruction that occurred. A day later, I went and “snuck in” to take a closer look. Nowadays, it’s just a few stories of graffitied concrete and errant weeds. But if those walls could talk.

From Mostar, I took a bus to the capital of Sarajevo. Much more sprawling. The city center had clear influences of the two ruling powers. In fact, there was an actual line separating the Ottoman Empire section from the Austro-Hungarian side. The former featured short stone buildings, fountains and, of course, an important mosque; the latter had square, colored architecture with intricate detail. A relic of that era that I completely spaced on was the assassination site of Arch Duke Franz Ferdinand and his wife. I stood where Gavrilo Princip pulled the trigger and ignited World War I. Pretty wild to think about.

My favorite spot was an alley full of shops that offered hand-chiseled copper goods — an array of coffee sets, jewelry, and ornamental plates. Taking a stroll down this tiny avenue came with a soundtrack of ticking and tacking. It’s a shame I don’t enjoy coffee. Blasphemous in this region.

During my other exploring, I took a cable car up to the top of the nearby mountain and walked down. This gave me the opportunity to become an honorary olympian, albeit sledless. As Sarajevo hosted the 1984 Winter Olympic Games, there was an entire bobsled track up there…also abandoned and graffitied. It was a unique attraction, but I think it actually sounds cooler than it was.

The last major thing I did was tour the City Hall. It was originally the National and University Library of Bosnia. During the war, it was shelled so bad that almost all of the 1.5+ million books and rare manuscripts were damaged/burned beyond saving. The building was renovated over the course of almost 20 years and reopened in 2014 as a national monument. The interior molding, paintings, and sculptures are quite stunning.

As a special exhibit, they were screening a film called “Scream For Me Sarajevo” that documented a concert Iron Maiden played in the city while it was under siege in 1994. It was a well-crafted narrative from members of the band and citizens that attended the show. They gave their accounts of what life was like during the war and how they were willing to risk their lives to see Bruce Dickinson sing. The amount of influence and inspiration that one band and one gig had over the morale of a city’s population is astounding. I’m not sure it gets any better than that from a musician’s standpoint. The most meaningful show they’ll ever play I’m sure.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gYuNEF7Snok

Ending on a high note, I departed Sarajevo just as the consistent rain was rolling in. It was one more European bus journey before flying to Morocco to meet up with ole pal Judson. Onto a new continent, climate, and culture.

Posted on

Temple Squad Assembled

The bus/shuttle game in Cambodia is an interesting one. The arrangements and scheduling are all very loose and ill-explained. Some people on the stretch from Kampot to Phnom Penh had tickets and some didn’t. We changed vehicles a few times. We ended up being crammed into a small passenger van for about 5hrs on a drive that should’ve taken 3. Once in PP, it was unclear what our next move was. 

Thankfully, it was only an hour until the next ride to Siem Reap. It was another full passenger van. Six more hours of transit with a non-functioning seatbelt and a race car driver insistent on overtaking other vehicles in the opposite lane of traffic.

I arrived nonetheless and my hostel was in walking distance from the drop off point. What a hostel it was as well.

Lub d (whatever that means). The vibe was very welcoming. Awesome amenities with a bar and pool right as you walk in. It seemed social and the staff was incredibly friendly. The dorm rooms and other facilities were super cozy and clean. This place has slotted into my overall top 5 accommodations on the trip. I immediately extended my stay there by one night, partially because the place was sweet and partially because I needed the extra time to organize all of the activities I wanted to do.

Unexpectedly, there was a clan of other Americans also staying at the hostel. By far the most Americans in one place that I’ve encountered on my travels. Kaitlin (29, Maryland) and David (26, Wisconsin) did the free walking tour with me in the morning. The tour was underwhelming and quick but it gave us a chance to get to know each other. David and I hung out for most of the day while Kaitlin did some stuff on her own. We reconvened for a cycling tour of the nearby lotus fields that evening.

Cue several other Americans entering the fray. There was a fleet of westerners on biking through the streets of Siem Reap chatting to one another. It took around 30 minutes to get out of the city. We stopped very briefly in one lotus field and then continued onto a more scenic spot to watch the sunset. We drank a beer with the kind staff while playing Heads Up. Somehow one of them was all about the Friends category and knew everything. It was another guy’s birthday and he sang us a song as the sun dipped below the horizon.

We had another 30 minute ride back to the hostel that destroyed everyone’s asses because of the rock-hard seats. Even in the dark, it was ridiculously hot and humid. It was time for a dip in the pool when we returned. Meet Sara (39, Florida but living in the UK) and Michael (47, Delaware but current nomad). While enjoying our temperate soak in the pool, we decided to coordinate a sunrise tour of Angkor Wat together in the morning.

After that was arranged, we went for dinner as a group and met the birthday boy out at a Pub Street spot for a beverage. X bar had a grungy atmosphere with a decent view of the city. There was also a small half pipe on the 3rd floor. We did our best to behave since we had a 4am wake up call. By that I mean we left at midnight. I ended up trying to stay awake to watch a soccer match which was a poor decision.

The team was responsible and on time in the morning. Props. David, Kaitlin, Sara, Michael and myself comprised the Temple squad. We boarded our tour bus and had our day passes purchased by 5am.

We unloaded at Angkor Wat after some blue had already spilled into the sky. There was a crowd surrounding the reflecting pool but we weaseled our way into the mix and got spots.

The city of temples was overwhelming at first. So many massive 12th century structures to explore. Angkor Wat was built in 37 years which seems insane based on the size, detail, and material needed for construction.

Eventually we went inside and made our way to the third floor by climbing a steep set of stairs. The internal layout was a grid of hallways that led to large, open-air sanctuaries. Incredible. None of the pictures from the day can do any of the buildings justice.

On the way out, David was lightly attacked by a monkey that was after a coconut. Luckily it was a non-rabies altercation.

The second stop, Bayon (The Temple of the Faces), was difficult to enjoy because it was overrun with boisterous Chinese tourists. Everywhere you turned there was either a gaggle of people or a stone-carved face, so part of it was interesting.

Next, we glossed over a site where elephant fights were held, paused for lunch at 10:30am, and briefly scoped a Buddha archway.

The last stop of the tour was Ta Prohm, otherwise known as “the Tomb Raider temple.” Much of this site was in ruins, thanks to several large trees growing right through the middle of everything. Again, the scale was difficult to capture with a camera. I just hope my eyes don’t forget.

Just like that, the tour was done and we were back at Lub d shortly after 12pm. We did so much, but it also felt like it wasn’t enough time.

We had a full day pass, so we negotiated with our awesome tour guide, Vishnu, to take our squad back for an afternoon expedition to visit a few new areas and catch the sunset somewhere.

After individual rest sessions, the 5 of us piled into Vishnu’s tuk tuk and rode back to hot spots.

We had a small hike up to a hilltop temple that offered a good view of the surrounding landscape.  Then we had a really worthwhile stop at a temple we had all to ourselves. The lighting and the architecture were a pleasant pairing. We had a fun photo shoot and moved onto another wooded one that was technically closed but we wandered through quickly. Finally, we got to Pre Rup where we witnessed the last gasps of the setting sun before being kicked out.

Vishnu drove us through a very large local market on the way back to the hostel. We were barely able to drag ourselves to dinner before calling it a night.

Most of the next day was a rest and recoup situation for me. I walked around the city for a while in the early afternoon and made a morning bus reservation to head to Battambang. Then it was time to chill more in the AC.

Once the group assembled, I found out that Sara and David were also planning on going to Battambang so we combined forces on a room booking and they got bus tickets like me.

We walked around some of the night markets, had a late last dinner together and then hit the town to have some fun. The hostel was having an organized bar crawl, but we made our own and met up with them for a little bit. In the middle of pub street, there were promoters handing out flyers for free shots everywhere (coincidentally one of them was doing that as a Workaway — good to know for the future). The pamphlet shots became problematic. There were many and they tasted terrible.

We had an odd experience at a place slightly off the grid. Then before I knew it, we were back at X bar. There was dancing, more drinking, a random fire show on the half pipe, and a very overt $30 offer for sex. Nope.

Time evaporated. Either the bar closed or I left. Not entirely sure which. Not entirely sure at what time. I had a dalliance with a local girl and by the time I got back to Lub d it was light outside. I rounded up my packed belongings and successfully managed not to forget anything in my drunken stupor. I was starting to fade in and out when Sara and David came down to join me. We boarded our bus on time and I finished watching Tottenham Hotspur miraculously advance to the Champions League final over cellular data before passing out hard on the bus.

I woke up pretty much in Battambang. Another 3hr trip that took closer to 5. The reduced squad checked into our new digs and went down to get a meal. We sort of got strong-armed into a tour on our way out, but it was all stuff we were planning on doing anyway.

Post lunch, we were taken to the bamboo train, which is basically just a sheet of bamboo propelled by a gas engine. It kind of flew down the tracks. It gave us a chance to see rural Battambang at pace. We stopped in a tourist trap where the highlight was a cute little puppy. Then we tracked back to the beginning.

Next, we went to see thousands of bats flying out of an elevated cave. We also climbed a very eerie hill that had many labyrinths of pathways, abandoned worshiping areas and dissonant music playing from somewhere. There was a killing cave that we never found. But we did brave a slew of monkeys to arrive at a hilltop pagoda with a scenic lookout. The creepiness factor of the entire area, combined with the looming darkness convinced us to bounce after a short time.

Battambang wasn’t much to explore at night. I think we ended up doing the same walk to Street 2.5 about 7 or 8 times. All the interesting cafes and bars weren’t far off that strip.

I caught some sort of bug either at lunch or dinner that kind of sidelined me for the following day. Although we did get a triples, traditional Khmer massage which was worth it — a light deep tissue experience, with loads of pounding and clapping. Somehow I made it through without exploding, which was good.

I was planning to catch a bus to Bangkok after the second night but that didn’t seem in the cards. Sara and David found an interesting “tour of the North” that seemed like a good thing to entertain and do some mending.

We had an early start on Saturday morning. There were supposed to be 8 stops but we only got 6. We survived 500 crocodiles and even got to hold a baby, ate some fresh bamboo sticky rice, nearly vomited at the fish market, saw two temples and a killing field, as well as tried some fresh spring rolls while watching rice paper be made. Definitely a good opportunity to get a glimpse into local life and witness some of the culture of Battambang.

The rest of the day was spent relaxing and making arrangements for our upcoming travels. Myself, Sara, and David had a solid dinner and watched a bit of live music before packing and heading to bed.

I’m currently in the midst of a marathon in-transit day, featuring at least 4 buses/shuttles, a break down, a land border crossing, a can of real BBQ Pringles, purchases in multiple currencies, and 15+ hrs of wheel rolling. I think I’ll make it to my destination. I hope I do…

Update: I didn’t. Lolz.