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Published: December 12th 2005
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I remember reading in Candide that in order to understand the world, one must travel. Now whether or not this is an absolute, I cannot say, only that, the more I travel, the more I learn about my own place of origin, if only by explaining it to others. It is quite possible that I have learnt more in books about places than I have in actually going to them, but then who would deny that regarding facts? It is almost as though we neither believe what we have read, nor are believed by others until we can claim to have actually 'been there' or 'done that'. Ernst Junger, a German soldier in WWI, noted in his journal Copse 125 that a sound opinion finds many advocates, but absolutely no martyrs, and that it is only faith that has created any power that has existed on earth. If knowledge truly equals power, then faith must indeed be the catalyst for that equation; and, it would seem, that faith comes far more easily when someone involved has had their faith 'proven' by experiences which have confirmed that which before was 'read'.
This seems to suggest the importance of personal relationships to increase
Our Ride
I was just excited about how fast these things go, even with hundreds of people and several dozen cars. I for one had never ridden in a foil craft of any kind. participation, involvement, or reaction to that which is 'known' or 'read.' If 'seeing' isn't possible for everyone, many great books and sound arguments will do little to catalyze knowledge into empowerment (participation): these rarely generate faith in anything. Ask any human being, and I imagine you will find they say it is easier to follow a great leader with whom they have a personal relationship, than to follow their book without any relationship. How do I follow this blueprint in my own work?
As these ideas and thoughts float through my brain, I and Matt Veenstra float, well skip, over the Strait of Gibraltar on a hydrofoil ferry headed for Tangiers, Morocco. It's Friday, October 28, 2005 and we've just rushed from our the end of our 16th century Spanish Literature exam at 10:00am to catch a 10:30am bus for the port city of Algeciras. We have 9 days of vacation and we are determined that we have a more adventurous trip than any of our classmates (a very friendly competition to be sure) as they embark for the more traditional destinations of Western Europe like Germany, Switzerland, England, Ireland, Italy, and France. Looking back, I'm awfully glad we
Power outage
As ghostly as it may, look we had a blast exploring our friend's labrynthine and ancient store in the dark. May I point out the irony of our light sources' design? went to a peaceful country like Morocco rather than a war-torn place Paris. Although, I'm sure we would have gotten some impressive pictures of Molotov cocktails and the some 2,000 cars and buses engulfed in flames throughout the country. Ahhh, Paris.
Anyway, since my original journal is either sitting on a French/Arabic cabbie's kitchen table (in case you see him, his name's Saiid, and he's a great guy) or it's with my friend Sarah and might eventually find its way back to me, I have decided (much to the joy of my classmates I'm sure) to write down the short version of our adventure in lieu of a later, longer version. By that same Friday night, thanks to a fisherman named Muhammed combined with a forgotten 2 hour time change, Matt and I were able to make it all of the way to Casablanca. In our few hours of waiting in Tangiers we experienced the first of many sessions of Moroccan hospitality in the store of a gentleman named Rashiid. He proudly showed us pictures from an issue of Vogue magazine writing about his labrynthine store, that carries almost 600 years of history as everything from an Arab bathhouse to
The shop
With a little more light, you can see what's so cool about this place. a rich merchant's home.
During a massive power outage in the Medina due to the rainfall he invited us in to see his store. Lighting up candelabras to see, I felt a bit like I was exploring some ancient treasure chamber in an Indiana Jones amidst treasure chambers piled high with silver and brass objects, separated by sliding down hallways piled with ancient costumes and blankets, while overhead a myriad of glass and brass lanterns reflected our ironically Jewish light sources. Later on as the train rumbled towards Casablanca, we had another entirely new experience. You see, in Moroccan, as in most Arab cultures, one never eats in public without first offering it to all those nearby. In our case, when the call to break the Ramadan fast (a meal called Al-fitr, as in their word for breakfast) came, everyone in our car pulled out a small banquet of dates, juice, milk, hearty sandwiches and snacks. With our contribution of dried fruit and apple wedges dipped in Peter Pan peanut butter, Matt and I partook of a gargantuan rotating feast of exotic and familiar gastronomy. I must say that one experience not to be missed is seeing a Moroccan try
Spot the American
These guys were an awesome help to us on the train as well as sharing a lot of laughs with us. Between French, Arabic, and English, a US army soldier, two Moroccan engineers, and two midwestern American Spanish students can have quite a conversation. peanut butter for the first time in his life. It may be one of the strongest good reactions I have ever seen, as well as being awfully funny. I ought to open a store selling peanut butter products in Morocco.
Saturday we awoke in the hotel room some tech. Engineers & a US Army soldier on vacation with his two Moroccan friends had helped us find. While not the best Hotel Ibis I had ever seen, it was as steal for $20 with breakfast & being 50 feet from the train station we had arrived so late at. We met up with our local friend who rode the train up to the airport to meet one of my high school friends Sarah who had four days off of her work in Poland and came to travel with us. The first thing we did was to find our next night's stay, which at a lovely little hotel downtown cost us roughly 6 dollars each. Our local friend took us to see the Hassam II mosque, the second largest in the world and home to the largest minaret at some 200 meters in height. You really can´t get picture it until you
Hassam II Mosque
I know this may spring debate, but it definitely helps give some understanding of scale. According to my guidebook, St. Peter's Basilica could fit comfortably inside this mosque. see it; it´s HUGE. While it is one of only two mosques in Morocco that we infidels can tour, we weren't there in time for one, and instead took pictures from outside while gaping at the sheer magnitude of this 500+ million dollar birthday present built for the present king's grandfather. Seating around 125,000 worshipers, the complex sets on top of what once was an entire neighborhood on the shore of the Atlantic.
The next day, Sunday, we hopped a train for Rabat, the capital city, where we encountered a world of much more relaxed French colonial architecture, against Casablanca's modern monsters, and a culture that followed suit. Marching for the beach from our lovely, spacious, and well furnished yet 7 dollar hotel, we followed the rumor that one could find surfboard rentals, suits, and 90 minute lessons for nine dollars at the Royal Surf Club. According to my trusty Lonely Planet, a young surfer managed to catch the king's ear and complained about the absence of surfing facilities for young surfers and somehow the Royal Surf Club was founded, with the king as the founding member. I've heard he is very much a people person and now I truly
How big?
Yep, it's huge, but Matt is bigger. believe it. Tragically, the club was closed for Ramadan. Somewhat, disenchanted we settled for a long nap on the beach watching the 6-10 foot breakers crash and tumble before some guys playing a makeshift game of soccer as the sailing club dripped one by one into the sound and washed up onto the shore one boat at a time. A young group of boys worked with a gymnastics teacher doing flips and handsprings over a bag of seed set on the soft sand. After a great dinner to break the fast (you don't want to know how cheap) we headed for the medina, where we found a new world of sights and smells, along with good prices made even better by the laid-back style of sales for which Rabat's medina is known.
... In order to keep from overloading the pictures and as I'm still writing this one, I've put the next part of the trip on the next blog.
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jim
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nice pics and great commentary
hey brother... ran into your parents and they reminded me to check out your travel blog. what a great adventure!!!! looking forward to seeing and hearing some of your stories in person