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Published: October 12th 2006
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The waiting was well worth it. After a few flight delays and a trip northeast to Barcelona before we could fly south, we were there. We finally landed in Africa. Morocco. The northwestern tip of the continent. The airport was small, immigration was packed, and the taxi haggling to "la madina" (city center) had begun. We arrived to the famous Djemaac el-Fna Square and were overwhelmed with what was going on. The place was packed. Women were covered from head to toe peering out at us from behind their veils. Some older women proudly displayed their tattoos on their faces signifying to which tribe they belong. Many men wore their religious robes, too. All sorts of designs and colors. Some had hoods and looked like members of the KKK. People were out and about at 10:30p. Happy. They had a full stomach. They finally ate. It was Ramadan, the Muslim holiday where they fast from sunrise to sunset. Nothing passes their lips during the day. We quickly dropped our bags and roamed the square to join in on all of the excitement.
There were food stalls everywhere. Orange juice carts. Dried fruits and nuts. Mint tea. Musical troupes. Storytellers. Boxers.
Beggars. Lots of beggars. Everyone trying to make a few dirhams (the local currency of 9d to $1). We simply looked in the direction of people and they greeted you with a huge smile trying to coerce you to come to their stand and "have a look". Bicycles, motos, and people crisscrossed the square. You had to look over your shoulder, around your back, and under your legs just to avoid being run over. People were hawking just about anything. Spices, toys, carpets, Muslim hats, teapots, henna tattoos, pointy shoes, and monkeys lying on your shoulder to snap a picture. A huge market was located by the square that sold just about everything. We stayed in a little hotel located down a maze of alleyways for just 100d (about $12) and quickly got accustomed to the squatter "toilets".
We awoke early the next day to catch a bus to Essaouira, aka Windy City, Africa, located on the western coast We drove through the desert to get there. Known for wind and kite surfing and the place where Jimi Hendrix got his inspiration for his song "Castles in the Sand". My friend from college and current Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV),
Essaouira
Sunset at the Harbor Jen, greeted us at the bus station and led us to the apartment where PCVs stay when they come into the city. We grabbed some brunch at a local shop, one of the only ones open because of Ramadan. They eat communally and our eggs were served in a big, round pan with some round bread eaten at most meals. It was delicious. Cumin, paprika, eggs, and local cheese. One only eats with their right hand as the left is considered "dirty" and reserved for use in the bathroom. We washed the eggs down with a mixture of local fruits blended together in a smoothie.
We later met up with some other PCVs and had the opportunity to share stories and all of the similarities and differences of Salvadoran and Moroccan culture and overall Peace Corps life. We took a walk to the madina and immersed ourselves in the craziness of the alleyways and packed streets to purchase some food to break the fast. It was as if people were delirious from not eating all day. You could sense the edginess. We weren't fasting though. There was no way I could do that for just an hour let alone
Fishing Boats
Essaouira Harbor a full day. But the PCVs were. And they were ready to eat. Their eyes were bigger than their stomachs, but rightly so since they hadn't eaten or drank anything since the night before. They bought out the whole market. They do this, or try at least, to do it during the entirety of the month-long holiday.
We were still in la madina when the pray calls and siren belted from the nearby mosque signifying the end of fasting. The streets were beginning to empty. People were ready to eat and eager to go home. The shops closed down. The late stragglers were running to get to their houses to break fast with their families. The streets became empty. Like a ghost town. We, of course, had a huge spread of breads, fruits, sweets, crepes, and other local foods. A few hours later the town resumed to normal. People were happy again. They had eaten. The cafes and streets were packed. The local shops had reopened. It was now dinnertime after they dabbled in some traditional soup and nibbled on some sweets and breads. We met up with some more PCVs and some of their Moroccan friends at a
Breaking the Fast
Our first Ramadan spread cafe. One of them actually had done some work in El Salvador.
We checked out the fish market and saw the biggest crabs ever the following day. One little girl was dragging one home like it was her doll. Its body had to be at least 15 inches long. Huge! The small blue boats were all docked in the harbor one next to the other. There was a huge wall around the madina and canons along the port. We walked along the beach watching the kite and wind surfers in the water and arrived to our destination. We were going to ride camels. After bargaining the price for over 20 minutes we mounted our own camels as they were tied into a caravan. The jumped up from the sand with us on their backs. They are much taller that we thought. A man led them down the beach until we arrived at Hendrix's place of inspiration. We dismounted after they literally fell down to let us off. They drop to their front knees after beding at the "wrist" followed by a strong drop of their back legs. Quite the ride. Tenille got kissed after she got too close to
Essaouira
On the waterfront my camel's face as she tried to pose for a fake kiss. His droopy lower lip caught her smack on the face.
The following day we went with Jen and a few of her friends back to her site, Bezdad. It is in the middle of nowhere. There is nothing but rocks and sand. A few shrubs and aragon trees. Goats, sheep, and donkeys, too. Her apartment is much bigger than what we both had back in our PC days. She even had indoor plumbing. However, we would much more prefer a latrine over her squatter. We made a pizza, calzones, bread, and cookies from scratch in her tin-boxed gas oven. We took a walk through town that lasted all of 5 minutes. There's a butcher, small store, cafe, and city hall. Not much else around. We walked tthe road to a hill where there was a run-down stone building inhabited by a small family with a pack of dogs for protection. There were sheep and goats roaming the countryside, but unfortunately we didn't catch any goats up in the aragon trees chomping on some nuts.
The final two days were spent back in Marrakech near the square.
We visited the tanneries where they process and dye leather. There were sheep skins piled up everywhere. Their shaved hair was lying all over the ground. Flies were rampant. They gave us mint leaves as our gas masks to tolerate the smell. Men were knee deep in all kinds of murky water cleaning and dying the hides. They dipped them from one well to the next. We hung out in the square again gaping at the activities going on. We finally caught sight of the snake charmers. We got lost in the market for a few hours. And later on we ate traditional chicken tajine and potatoes at the food stalls and had a real Moroccan experience. So delicious that I had it for brunch the next day. We finished it off with some tasty mint tea.
A week in Morocco simply was not enough. There was so much to see. So much to do. Back to Western Europe.
Next up: Seville, Spain; October 13, 2006
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Kevin Crawford
non-member comment
wow
Great stuff. I'm hung over talking about the American Revolution all day and this definitely helped me get through the day. The picture of Ryan with a huge beer and huge pretzel is exactly how i remember Munich. Congrats on the travels. Some day I'll get to Prague too.