Travelling with balloons

by Poppy Kitts (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

Making a local connection Morocco

Travelling with balloons is a great way to travel. You can take them to any country, and in most situations are received with a smile, regardless if it starts off bemused. Morocco was my last destination, its begins at customs where I have to explain that its just balloons in a pump. An example follows, and an entertained gaurd stands there in a giraffe balloon hat as I wave my way through saying, "baslama", (see you). I don't know how this became about; my bag consisting of a balloon pump, balloons, then juggling balls, other odd tricks, pebbles I'd found on my way and miscellaneous bits and bobs a woman has. Anyhow, Id bought a oneway ticket to Spain during my lunch hour in school at seventeen, and I busked in Nijar on my way hitchhiking to Morocco 15years before, always promising to return. I guess it just became a useful and friendly way to cross continents. This time in 2weeks I made friends with my apartment owners on the 1st day, they had small boys who were now armed with swords and captain hats. The friend who helped with the handy work invited me to his home for dinner, where I taught his 9year old daughter the art, in return received a lesson in Arabic. We now consider one another as family. They have asked me to go and stay with them during the building of a new house near Paradise valley, balloon modeling not being my only misfit talents. My explorations took me to Essaouira, where I made small boys into pirates in the tight castle alleyways; young flower princess, transformed shy girls hiding behind brightly coloured skirts of their mother's bejeweled kaftans. On the surf beaches of Taghazout to Ipswan I made infants animals when they grew tired of the sun and clingy to their mothers, later the children would come toddling over with sandwiches or home cooked cakes as a thank you. In the Atlas mountains I stopped to take photographs of a picturesque village. As I walked around feeling an ignorant tourist taking pictures of actual peoples homes; not knowing enough of the language past basic pleasentries, I was relieved when children came out with curious faces turning to delight as I blew the first balloon. Three women stood higher on the mountainside watching, and after waved with big smiles signalling to sit and have tea with them. Balloons don't just work on children. I met a fellow Brit in my apartment block, I'd already been discribed as the nice balloon lady by the gaurd, and Debi had been told to find me as I seemed fun. We do have a great picture now of Debi and I sunbathing on the beach with our balloon hats on and in the background other adults, children, and even a camel wearing brightly coloured balloon accessories. Either way I have never been dissatisfied with the smiles it brings and the conversations it starts. I always use all the balloons I take, whether arming a whole apartment block of children when visiting my new family, or giving a lesson to a quiet few sitting in the communal gardens. An empty pump is a commodity space on flying home. This time the balloons were replaced with rocks, fossils, then spices for my tajine at home... You can imagine this all provides a completely different explanation to the customs at home. Next time I must remember to save a few balloons to help with cheering the staff, it must be hard seeing so many tanned holiday smitten people each day. Especially when asked if they have anything to declare, the crazy one dressed in a kaftan holding a pump full of spice shouting, " YES IV HAD THE BEST TIME".