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Published: April 16th 2008
We finally went on our trip to Morocco a couple weekends ago! Anneli of course wasn´t with us due to passport problems. She got hers in the mail yesterday and looks quite angry in her new picture...I don´t think any thieves will be touching that one. I traveled with Elizabeth Berrick, Elizabeth Watkins, our Belgian friend Laurie Habousha, and Steve Beery.
We left on Friday april 4th and arrived back on Tuesday. I didn´t have work/internship at all last week because of the feria in Sevilla. We traveled by bus the whole time in Morocco, had one guide from Spain, and a main tour guide from Tangiers, who speaks 6 languages but spoke to the group in Spanish since the trip was from a travel agency in Sevilla. His name was conveniently Mohammed... There were about 20 on the tour, the majority being students in Sevilla for the semester.
First we took a 3 hour bus to Tarifa, where you can actually see Africa from Spain looking out across the straits of Gilbraltar! There we took the fast ferry. I spent the majority of the ride standing in the passport line but didn´t mind as soon I saw the fresh ink of a passport stamp in arabic. When we arrived in Tangiers we changed our money to dirhams, and I liked when they handed me more money than I had handed them. (The exchange rate is about 11 dirhams:1 euro)
Our first stop was in Volubilis, the site of ancient Roman ruins. I was a fan of the huge stork standing in his nest on top of a pillar. Apparently when these nests are built on top of homes or building they are untouched because the house is thought to be blessed! The ruins were neat, many of the mosaic floor tiles were still in tact. A couple interesting parts: one of the rooms used to have a vomit bowl in the center, they would recline and drink and drink and then run to it. Another was a small circular bath area with about 9 grooves as back-rests for the men to lean back on and be waited upon. Watkins and I tried it out, the hard rock was surprisingly not uncomfortable!
Our lunch stop was in the middle of nowhere, but we ordered some great Tagine. It is served in a dish with a cone-shaped lid. We ordered one with chicken and citron, and another with lamb. I´m not sure what was in ours, but traditionally it is flavored with cinnamon, saffron, ginger, garlic, cumin, and peppers. Topped off with carmelized onions and olives we definitely enjoyed our first meal!
The first nearby city we went to was Meknes. I´m pretty sure every single car parked in Meknes was an 80´s -looking light grey mercedes. In this city we went past the main plaza, and into a mosque. It was weird to see a mosque actually in use after being in so many in Spain as museums. We had to take our shoes off and casually darted our eyes side to side lest anyone discover it was OUR feet that were not bringing sanctified odors.
We stayed the night in a hotel in Azrou, and were again served Tagine!
The next day we drove through the Middle Atlas mountain range chock full of cedar forests. During our trip we could even see snow capped mountains in the distance- I was not expecting those in Africa! We stopped on the side for about 15 minutes to gawk at some friendly monkeys. They were not frightened by us and continued to politely pick at each other´s backs the duration of our visit. We stopped in Midelt for lunch and had some great couscous. I can still remember when Uncle Pete gave me my first taste of couscous years ago! Inside was the sweestest looking dude playing a twangy african stringed instrument, and wobbling his head side to side so the top tassle of his hat was flying a continuous 360.
We drove past a valley oasis for a long time, and saw many little towns along the way, some richer than others. Our guide said that although school is required between ages 6-16, it is not well enforced and many children who live far from a village with a school do not go. During this part of the journey he was also talking about the role of the women. Although they are taught to cook and clean, and expected to do so, women are theoretically allowed the same educational opportunities as the men. Morocco also has a larger female representation in government ministry than the other African countries. I actually don´t want to go into detail here, I fear tweaking the facts because I was hearing this all in Spanish....
We stopped at a rug/turban place in Rissani, but the only rug I was interested in cost about 5000 dirham. We were turban-ated by the store owners, and upon deciding that we did indeed look mighty cool, we purchased them. We were off to go experiment the nomadic lifestyle in the sahara! Steve bought one of the dark blue ones like the Tuaregs. The Tuerags are known as the ¨blue people¨because the indigo from their traditional garb sometimes stains the skin. Their faces and hands are also blackened by the sand and wind.
From Rissani we packed up the only thing we need need in the desert - one change of clothes for the night. We loaded into 4 X 4´s and were driven to the oasis of Merzouga. Our drivers had some fun racing the other jeeps on the way, as there was only sand on the horizon. It was dark when we were cruising along, but to prevent sand to eye collision while I was sticking my head out the window, I wore sunglasses. It was kind of painful because my head kept banging on the sides of the window...
There were several haimas (tents) at the oasis. After some musical entertainment (One was holding the violin completely vertical and rocking its strings off ), and some roasted chicken we visited with two of the children that had helped serve dinner, one named Mohammed, one named Eunice. They spoke mostly arabic, but our friend Laurie managed to converse in french for awhile. They etched our names in the sand in Arabic for us! I ventured away from the oasis to do some exploring under the saharan stars, and came across a wall of sand. I tried to climb up but it was impossible to do with the fine sand falling at the slightest touch. I found a lower section and managed to heave myself up the dune with only about 30% sand full shoes, hoping I wouldn´t accidently grab one of the many scarab beetles running around. The view of the shadow of the moonlight covered half of the dune I was standing on, and the breeze was blowing ripples across the fine sand. Then I returned to camp and Steve and I took some sweet mummy pictures with my turban and stolen toilet paper..
After a night sleeping in the haima, I checked my shoes for scarab beetles and was loaded onto the camel by 5:30 am. Different guides took us two by two , and I was riding in front of Laurie. To mount a camel, it is first sitting down. After you are on the back it lurches forward as it raises its hind legs, and then lurches the other direction to fully stand. I was holding a water bottle so as it was walking I was imagining the water swishing around in its hump. Yes, it only had one hump so I suppose I should correctly call it a dromedary. The ride was very peaceful through the dunes of Erg Chebbi. We stopped our camels and the guide laid down a mat, from which we watched a white sunrise, and later slid down a dune on! Our guide explained that during the summer, when it is too hot for tourists he cuts fossils from the rock. He had even conveniently brought a satchel of them for sale. I´m telling you, you can´t escape commerce!! Even in the sahara desert!!! Back at the camp we ate some great bread with honey, and hard boiled eggs for breakfast.
We hit the bus again for a lengthy ride to Fes. The tour guide told us an interesting story about the "wedding market" in Morocco. Thought of by the elders of the tribes, each year the women and men ready for marriage would travel to the wedding market. After dancing and enjoying the day, they were lined up on each side, the fathers behind the daughters, the mothers behind the sons. The first male would walk up to his woman of choice and present his hand. If the woman would take the hand, she accepted the offer. If not, he would elect another. If you didn´t get picked... you would wait until next year! The wedding market still exists, but only to maintain tradition. Most of the future spouses make agreements before the day arrives.
Before reaching Fes, we stopped in Ifrane, the ¨switzerland¨of Morocco. It was very clean and very wealthy, quite a contrast from the poverty we had already seen.
When we came to the city walls of Fez I breathed in deeply because it reminded me of a campfire smell. After I was told that it was burning trash by another girl in the group, I retracted my comment, hoping she wouldn´t remember me as the girl who likes inhaling litter.
Fes was created in 791, and is the religious capital of Morocco. My favorite part was definitely the Medina of Fes el Bali. It was a timeless labyrinth of over 8000 narrow streets, with vendors, mosques, and homes in every corner. Many of these crumbly buildings are a sandy color. The only way to transport cargo is by donkey, so each time a donkey came through the street ... "BALAK BALAK!" (GET OUT OF THE WAY!) We lined up, backs against the wall to let them pass, some of the donkeys looking quite abused. There were so many mysterious corridors to my left and right that would barely even fit one person! The way the sunlight passed through the roofs of some of the alleys made a neat contrast of the sandy tones of the walls. The poverty in this area is the most extreme I have seen, and the smell was often pungent. The most insistent vendors were selling tiny brass mirrors or other trinkets. Others would snap wallets or coin purses loudly in our faces. There are different sections of the Medina, including the blacksmith workshops, carpentry, and textiles. There would be corridors full of bees that were resting on the sweets, and in other alleys, cats probing at fish heads lying on the ground.
We had a great time in one of the clothing stores, and I am sad that I did not purchase the one I tried on! We also went to a spice/herb store. I definitely went to town in here, and now I have a plastic bag full of Moroccan headache remedies, soap,henna, spices etc. sitting in my room. I keep wrapping it in an extra plastic bags because it is emitting a strange combination of odors..
I found a little music shop, and the owner and I jammed, first me on the strings, him on the drum, then vice versa. I couldn´t resist so now I picked out the smallest drum that would fit in my suitcase.
I have been told the two best places in the world to buy leather are Argentina and Morocco. We went into a leather shop with a balcony , overlooking the main yard of leather tanners. The bird´s eye view appears almost like a honeycomb. It is full of various tubs filled with natural dyes, with the scantily clad male workers leaping around in bare feet, either stamping on the hides with their feet while holding onto both sides of the tub, or bending over the side dunking them over and over. Before reaching the balcony we were given mint to counter the stench. The hides are first placed in white tubs of limestone. Pigeon dung is also used to soften the hides. The dyes are natural, such as indigo. I wish I could remember all the origins, I know pomegranate was used for the red tubs. To dye the leather yellow, saffron is used, but has a more elaborate dyeing process to the side, as it is so expensive. The men are paid by each hide they dye, and only make about 2 dirhams every hide. Fifty hides can be dyed each shift... so converted to euros the pay is not the best, but our guide said it is not unreasonable in the medina.
We had an arabian night later.. at a palace! We sat at tables with mint tea, arabic pastries, and vino. There was a band, all wearing fes hats, and had creative ways of playing their instruments. There was again a vertical violin, but also a tambourine, with just one bell being tapped rhythmically, a bolbous "guitar" and some sweet drums. A new performer came out each song. There were a couple belly dancers that were disappointingly untraditional, making some MTV type gestures. There was a sweet Berber dancer, and a fun magician. There was a lot of crowd participation, so my friend Steve got picked to display his hip-swaying and hat-tassel-rotation skills ..
The next day we set off for Chaouen, the a very beautiful pueblo tucked in the Rif mountains. All the walls, stairs , pots, and houses are all painted different shades of light blue. It was absolutely gorgeous!! We had lunch here, walked around a little, and set off on our way again.
Forty minutes from Tangiers the bus broke down. It was sooo windy outside, and we stood around on the side of the road for an hour, before they decided to move the bus a little further down the road by a convenience store. Here we watched mr. deeds with arabic subtitles and then took turns using the turkish toilets... AKA the room with a hole in the ground. I went in, bent down, and the slippery ground made my feet slide forward rapidly! Luckily I caught myself by catching the walls with my arms, but I was inches away from death,( the equivalence of falling onto a grotesque hole.) There was a bucket on the side, for filling up with water and sloshing onto the hole once you completed your business.
We missed our scheduled ferry, although no fast ferries were being permitted to cross the straits due to wind anyway. The next large ferry was supposed to be at 8:30 pm, so we spent two hours in the waiting room, two hours on the loading dock, and another two hours waiting in the ferry before it even left... it was a tiring journey. A few of us went out on the windy deck for awhile, it was a cool experience to see the wrath of the straits on the side of the boat.
I will have to write about Sevilla´s feria and other news later in a later blog... and we only have 2 weeks left in Spain!
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mom
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Epic and epicurean! and enjoyable reading.