Morocco

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I'm in Africa! The statement itself is unbelievable; 2 months ago I had no idea I'd be here. Yesterday I went to La Medina in Fes, it's one of the largest and oldest surviving markets (dating from the 8th century) in the world. I haggled with the best of 'em and purchased two exquisite pashminas, herbs from the natural pharmacy, and a legitimate, handmade, silk carpet that will look amazing beside my bed. The shopping was endless and had we not gone back to the hotel after lunch, who knows what else I would have come home with.

Right now I'm sitting smack dab in the middle of the desert in a room full of a hundred other people, all in the same boat because the nearby river flooded and left us stranded here; it may be an hour and it may be 6, but for most of us it doesn't matter because WE'RE IN AFRICA!!! Some are playing music, some are talking and there's even a group in the corner doing yoga; as for me, I'm simply watching them. It's amazing how at the beginning of the hour a majority of them were strangers, and would remain so but for the common interest of the situation in which we were placed. The guitar and drums have given the room a pulse and the room is alive with dancing and singing, and conversations about home and those involved realizing that they're in fact from the same state sometimes even the next county over. Either way, when we leave this big room, our sanctuary from the confines of the bus, we'll all have a fun story to tell, and maybe even new friends with whom to remember it.

We've been in Africa for 3 days now, and it feels like we crossed on the ferry yesterday. When we first arrived in Spain it was a small culture shock, but in comparison, this has been a culture earthquake. It's a very different experience to be in a Muslim country, especially as a woman. The first night in Fes, 7 of us, 3 of which were men, went to the supermarket near our hotel to pick up water, food, and (of course) wine. The liquor store was separate from the grocery area and in more ones than one. The moment we walked in I noticed that the 4 of us were the only females in the room. When it was my turn at the register, I thought for a moment that he wasn't going to let me pay. Every time we stepped out of the hotel we had to be conscious of what we were wearing, whether or not our shirt sleeves were long enough, or our collars high enough. Despite the concern we gave our clothing, it didn't damper the cat calls and jeering as we walked through the Medina. Everywhere we went we had a train of locals, usually small boys trying to sell us trinkets and knockoffs, all trying to make a buck, all just trying to live.

The poverty was greater than I had imagined. The primary mode of transportation of goods within the Medina were donkeys and mules, a tradition you would think was a relic of the past, however because the Medina is so old, a majority of the streets and alleys are too small to allow anything bigger than a mule. This is when the realization that you just stepped back into a medieval market hits you. Not much has changed in 1200 years, and probably never will.

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