Last days in Morocco....

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After a week or so, Drew and I departed from Tagazuit on a solid mission to achieve a visa for India . During our stay in the surf town, Drew blew out his eardrum in a gnarly surf fall. Our good friend, Sylvain gave us a lift to Agadir so we could visit the hospital and request a diagnosis. The effect was not too harsh, but would have to keep Drew out of the water for at least a month. After obtaining (medicament), we found the bus station and carried on our way to Rabat .

We stayed in Rabat for a week, met the kind India Visa staff, applied for our visas and tried to make the most out of the busy city. We found some great places to eat, sat on the 5 story roof to people-watch all the humans running around, Drew and I wrote a song (in dedication to a dear friend, Hassan) and played it near the city Medina. We attracted few people, but met some skater kids and had fun skating around for the first time in months. After we applied for our visas, we found out we had no reason to stay in Rabat for a week while they were being processed...soooo......

Onward to Casablanca ! We reunited with Khalid...again, as well as several old friends and some new ones. We met another traveler by the name of Sander, from Belgium . We stuck together for quite a few days, listening to him play Bob Dylan songs, speak of bee-keeping in New Zealand , and so much more. We had a wonderful time reconnecting with our old friends, wandering through Casablanca and exploring the Old Medina. No tourists could be seen for miles. The streets were teaming with Casa's population of Moroccan shoppers. We were pushed along down the streets, consumed by the flow of eager bargain hunters. It was such a cultural experience to see so many women about the streets and to view the ordinate system of Moroccan shopping. We also wandered through an enormous lot of sheds, all filled with seeds, nuts, wool and other processed goods in their early forms. It was absolutely wild to stroll through such an interesting factory. Wide-eyed, I observed 80 Year old women crouching over floors of scattered seeds, while sorting, weaving, and sincerely working with devout, heavy labor. I doubt I have seen such hard work in my life. This was not a labor one can watch and measure in one instant, but one that displays a tale of endless years of repetitive labor. Harsh images like this tell their own story.

Drew and I decided to make a break for Marrakesh with three days to spare before we were required to return to Rabat for our Visas. With Sander at our side, we hopped on a train. On the ride, we met a “stranger on a train”. Not just any typical stranger, but the most interesting man I have met in my life. Steven L. Worsley has got to be one of the world’s best story tellers. He is a complete epitome of human art expressed through a lifetime of adventurous travel experience. He gave us a taste of his life, standing there in the door way to our train compartment. We made arrangements to meet after dinner at his hotel. We sat in silence in a dark, candle-lit Moroccan Hiram (loft room for royal dining parties), listening with wonder to his tales of saving lives, stealing ruby's from the Chinese mafia, raising money for street children in Nepal, living homeless in France, working as a head chef in a 3 star restaurants all over the world and so many others. Each story was fused with emotion, gasps, rich dynamics, exciting and unbelievable plots.

The next day, Drew and I bid farewells to Steven and Sander and decided to chase a dream. Snowboarding in the Atlas Alps of Africa ! We met a pure-hearted friend right off the bat in our attempts to find a cheap taxi ride up into the mountains. Omar invited us to company him and three Moroccan ski racers in their taxi. He set us up with a place to stay in a rustic ski lodge, a taxi driver to pick us up and take back in three days, a free ski-lift pass and a few cups of hot chocolate! Omar spoke to us about his religion. He defined the core values of Islam with honest passion. During our stay in the mountains, we met genuine Moroccan people who blessed us with gifts and friendship. Even with six blankets piled on top, we nearly froze in our bunks each night, but this was no damper on our trip. At night, the stars were as bright as I have ever seen them. I felt apart from the rest of the world on various occasions.

On our first ski day, Drew and I rented some outstanding gaper gear just before hitting the slopes. Bunny slope that is. The small resort’s largest lift was disabled in effect to an avalanche that took the life of a young snowboarder just two weeks before. We still made the intermediate hill a joyous one, until the repetitive tow-rope run got old. We decided to hike. Drew boot-packed a trail as we trudged up the mountain. The exercise was arduous, but well worth every step. Each time I raised my eyes to view my surroundings; I was blown away by incredible beauty. It did not stop there. We came to a ridge line. I raised my eyes again, to speculate the most divine landscape. I apologize now, for my inability to ever re-create this moment through words. There was a point when the howling wind, that had battered us throughout the duration of the hike, ceased to exist. We were engulfed in complete silence that consumed everything that we were. A world of mountain peaks, coveted in snow. A mass of slow swirling clouds, so honest and graceful in motion below us that were ignited in majestic colors from the setting sun. I held my breath. Lost in the moment of flow. Perfection.
We mounted our skis/snowboard for a powder decent after pushing the vertical limit ever farther and taking a rest to chill inside an abandoned house of stones. I'm not sure if snowboarding has ever felt better in my life.
On other days Drew and I had a blast dropping off snow-covered, stone Nomad homes, walking across an icy meadow to stare at the stars, watching the ski racers practice their course....
Many memories, many adventures....too much to go into detail now.

On the ride back down through the mountains, we pulled over to gander at layers of farming land created high on the hills. Lush green mountains swallowed in whips of gray fog. I have never been to Machu Pichu, but I am assuming this sight could easily compare.

We took an old, run down bus to Rabat . Before reaching the city, the bus driver became involved in a full fledged fist fight with an angry passenger. After much panic, blood and confusion, the bus returned to the road we arrived at last. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED. Visas in hand, it was time for a big move. After much consultation, Drew and I decided to go our separate ways. We stayed three more days in Rabat to sell Drew's surf board, met some more interesting characters, and indulged in companionship before we said our goodbyes.

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Comments

[Leif Huot]

How delightfully Fascinating
I really appreciate this entry, it was throughly enjoyable to read and very evocative. I felt almost as if I were there watching you and Drew go about your adventures. The vernacular you used was quite spectacular. I devoured your words with enthusiasm. My main point, I suppose, is your method of relaying tales of your peregrination is wondrously compelling.