Morocco!!

Morocco. Gosh, I don’t even know where to begin. It’s a bit daunting looking at a blank piece of paper (or digital representation of one) with the goal of translating the entirety of my experiences into words. I honestly don’t know where to begin, so I guess I’ll start at (duh) the beginning.

DAY ONE: I started off my Morocco visit with a lecture given by a very impressive woman about “The Evolution of Women in Islam.” Her talk covered topics like why women choose to wear or not wear the veil, women’s rights in Morocco, and other similar topics. Although the topic was one that interests me, her delivery was subpar. Every statistic added weight to my eyelids. By the end of her talk, the majority had already left the boat. Since it’s not safe for a single female to wander around Morocco unattended, I put together a group of girls from the speech who wanted to explore Casablanca. This was definitely a learning experience. There were 3 of us total. I figured that it didn’t matter if our personalities didn’t quite match up because all I wanted to do was wander the city and souks (markets). I didn’t need good conversation. Little did I know. . .

One of the girls I was with had COMPLETELY different ideas than me of what it meant to go into the city. Instead of walking leisurely, enjoyably through the souks she power walked and expected us to follow – which we did. We ended up in an area that was definitely for the locals as opposed to the tourists, which I was completely stoked about. But she kept complaining about how “lost” we were (how can you be lost when you don’t have anywhere you’re trying to go or want to be?) and how everyone/everything was dirty and disgusting. In order to appease her desire to rid herself of anything “unclean” we exited the muddy souks. I kept a positive attitude and decided that this outing was just practice for another one I would take later with people who had a mindset more similar to mine. Plus I told myself I was learning what types of people I am a good match to travel with and that this kind of information would be important for later and longer excursions. Everything is practice. We ended up at the mosque, which was absolutely beautiful. The tile work was intricate and beautiful, and the wet marble reflected the tower and columns. Picturesque to say the least. Then we took a taxi home.

I had a long, exhausting, wet day in Casablanca, so when I got home I mostly just wanted to sleep. But I also didn’t want to sleep away my time in Morocco. I decided to take a nap and then see if there were spare tickets to a welcome reception being held by a local school. If there were tickets I would go. If there weren’t tickets, I wouldn’t.

There ended up being tickets. We crammed WAY too many people into a tiny little school bus and headed off to a school where local university students waited for us. The food was delicious – soup, mint tea, and some unidentifiable (but good!) finger food. Talking with the students was a really great experience. They were really a lot of fun. At my table there were two guys who had grown up in Casablanca. I loved talking to them about . . . everything. We talked about what we do for fun, school, governments, and just normal teenage stuff. We made plans to meet up later in the week, but it didn’t end up working out. I was really bummed about that, but it was such a great experience! They were super funny.

Then I went home and went to sleep. I love sleep.

DAY TWO: Up bright and early to board the bus for Marrakesh. The bus ride was a couple hours, but I really enjoyed it. Just looking out the window and seeing the Moroccan countryside was . . . so different to what I was used to. I saw sheep with shepherds, donkeys pulling carts or carrying people, lots of red houses that looked like they were made of clay, a lot of cacti, and a lot of just nothing. When we got to Marrakesh, we went to a beautiful garden. They say that Morocco is a country of three colors: red/okra (dirt & buildings), green (plants), and blue (sky). I couldn’t agree more. The green looked so intensely green compared to the red that surrounded it. Walking into the green garden from the okra everything else was like when Dorothy walked into Oz from her black and white house. I really couldn’t believe how GREEN everything was. The first section of the garden was all cacti. Dad, you would have loved it. I’m sorry I can’t put up pictures right now, but believe me, it was amazing. I noticed one plant called the “Lilacea” which made me happy (for obvious reasons). Past the cacti were all sorts of other plants, all the same vibrant green. It was incredibly beautiful. I love gardens.

Then we went out to lunch at a restaurant called Al Barak for lunch. I was really excited by the banana tree outside – I’ve never seen bananas growing before! The meal was multi-coursed; meals in Morocco are pretty much always mulit-coursed. None of that American “put everything on your plate and eat it at once” mentality. It was a very slow, drawn out, delicious process. First course consisted of 5 dishes from which you served yourself: eggplant, beets, tomato stuff, pepper stuff, carrots, and potatoes. Delicious, absolutely delicious. Next course was chicken cooked in a tanjeene. Also amazing. Then there were oranges with cinnamon and almonds. Oranges and almonds were two of the major foods in Morocco. Almonds were in pretty much everything. If you were allergic to almonds, you would pretty much have to choose whether you wanted to die from starvation or an allergic reaction. I would vote for allergic reaction – the food is too good to pass up. Final course was a plateful of pastries that were supposedly really good but I didn’t try. The meal, like all other meals, ended with Moroccan mint tea. I absolutely LOVE the mint tea. Make sure to try it if you’re ever in Morocco.

After lunch we went and visited two palaces that were absolutely beautiful. The detail in the painted wood, tile work, and molding was inconceivable. If I worked for years on a 3”x3” square that came out half as good as what I saw, I would consider myself well accomplished and amazingly talented.

Next we went to a Moroccan herbalist/pharmacy where he showed us herbs that cure just about everything. I was really blown away by how he really did have a “cure” for any ailment you could possibly think of. He said there were over 3,000 plant varieties in the one pharmacy alone – and I believe it! Jars lined every wall filled with powders, sticks, and dried leaves in a variety of colors and textures. I ended up buying a couple things, and I’m looking forward to seeing whether or not they work.

Then we had some free time to explore Jamaa el Fna, which is the main square in Marrakesh. We went in the souks for a little bit, but our time was limited. I had just enough time to buy really cool presents for Kerry & Chris (be excited!) and accompany some friends on their shopping trips.

I didn’t rush because I knew I would be back the next day. I was determined to stay in Marrakesh, even though everyone I had asked so far had turned me down. I didn’t let that dishearten me, though. I trusted God with my plans and knew he would give me just the right travel partners. And if not, then I would go back to Casablanca and have a fun time there. It’s nice being able to trust God with issues like that; he really does make the best travel agent.

So from there we took a bus to our hotel. The hotel was very nice and pretty and a good place to relax for a bit before heading out again.

That night we went to a show called Che Ali. I absolutely loved it. We had dinner (multi-coursed, again) in a beautiful, deep red, tented dining room. During dinner people would come and perform at our table and then move on to the next one. Delicious food, good people, good conversation, and fun entertainment. And that was only the first part! For the second part of the night, we went and sat outside and watched performances by fire-eaters, belly dancers, and trick horse riders. I absolutely loved every minute of it. The fire eater wielded the fire skillfully and the horse tricksters jumped around the speeding horse the way a 10 year old jumps around a couch. Except maybe a little more gracefully. If I could ride a horse that quickly even without turning myself upside down, backwards, jumping, or doing anything crazy, I would be incredibly proud of myself.

Back on the bus I was raving about how wonderful I thought the show was, and I received some dirty glances. “Are you amused by my enthusiasm?” I asked them. “I guess you could say that” they replied. Some people didn’t share my positive feelings about the night. They thought it was
too touristy or dumb or whatever. But you know what? I AM a tourist. I know that not all Moroccans eat fire or ride around backwards on horses, but I can still enjoy watching it. And I can still enjoy a delicious meal and fun company. PLUS we all already paid for it, so the way I see it you have two options: Enjoy it or don’t. Frankly, I find it much more enjoyable to enjoy it. They may be able to take comfort in thinking they’re superior to me because their refined taste prohibits them from being susceptible to tourist traps, but I enjoyed my night.

I win.

DAY THREE: Woke up, loaded up the bus, and head out to the Atlas Mountains to visit a Berber village. The drive was – again – absolutely beautiful. Everything was either red or green. Red rocks, dirt, houses, roads, bridges. Green cacti, bushes, and shrubbery. At one point we stopped at a place with a really beautiful view of a palace and there was a guy nearby with a couple camels. Since I was determined to ride a camel in Africa (even if it was just for a moment) I paid him 20dh to let me ride his camel in a circle and take some pictures. Totally worth it (equivalent to $2.50). The camel lurched up while he was standing up, which was a very weird feeling. I’m happy I was able to stay on. Then he was so . . . stable. I can see why the camel is the animal of choice for transportation in these areas. It’s pretty sweet riding one.

Then the bus kept going. We drove deeper into the mountains and valleys, passing houses and villages on both sides. Eventually we stopped again at a place with a janky little walking bridge. Obviously I had to cross it. Three thick wires overlaid with wooden planks. Two wire railings. All kind of strung together with (you guessed it!) more wire. When I say wire, I mean half inch steel stuff, but wire just the same. I swiftly crossed back and forth over the redish brown river without a problem. Other people inched themselves on slowly only to turn back after a couple feet. You may think that I’m reckless or dumb, but it wasn’t an abandoned bridge and I wasn’t the first to go. It was the only bridge used to get to the house on the other side of the river, so we knew it was stable enough. Plus it was really fun.

Then we hiked a bit into the villages and visited a Berber home. People complained that it wasn’t authentic and that it was all a set up. I wanted to say “did you really think that the average Berber family would be able to accommodate 50 people?” Obviously that house wasn’t a perfect representation of all the other people living in the area, but I was okay with that. It was a really wonderful opportunity to get to see inside ANY Berber home, talk to the family, and see how mint tea was made. Again that choice came up: Enjoy it or don’t. I enjoyed it.

Then back on the bus and into Marrakesh where we had lunch at the same place. Delicious, again. Seriously, the Moroccans know how to cook!! By this time I had rounded up two girls who wanted to stay behind in Marrakesh with me. As we were talking over our plans during lunch, two more people decided they wanted to join. Great! Our travel group ended up consisting of Marissa, Dave, Becky, Becki, and me. The bus pulled away for Casablanca and left us standing in Marrakesh. No plans, no food, no place to sleep, no way home, in the middle of a country in Africa. We felt liberated.

Armed with only a travel guide and our backpacks, we headed into the square to find a place to sleep for the night. Our first choice was a place called Hotel CTM, which was right off the main square. There couldn’t be a better location. We walked in and asked if they could accommodate 5 people for the night – they could! After haggling the price a bit, we ended up paying 1,600dH total for a double and a triple. That’s only $20 each!

After dropping off our stuff, we headed out into the square and souks to do a bit more shopping and wandering. Our plan was to explore a bit more and then go out to eat pigeon pastilla after sundown. We didn’t want to eat before sundown because of Ramadan. After exploring and bargaining and haggling and dodging monkeys and secretly taking pictures of snake charmers we were exhausted. We rewarded ourselves with glasses of DELICIOUS fresh squeezed orange juice. When I say fresh squeezed, I don’t mean that I sign somewhere said “Fresh squeezed.” I mean that we say ever orange get squeezed into our cup. Really, really, really good.

Then we went back to the hotel for Siesta. I guess we were still on a Spanish schedule . . .

After Siesta we headed back out into the square, and it was COMPLETELY different. Food vendors had been set up in the middle, groups of people crowed around story tellers, the monkeys and monkey throwers were mostly gone, but the snake charmers remained. Let me pause and tell you about the monkey and snake people. You had to be careful to avoid them because if you walked to near them they would throw their monkey or snake on you and not take it off unless you paid them a lot of money. I heard the best tactic is to just walk away with their monkey/snake without paying; then they would have to take it off. Luckily, I never had to try that out.

The square was alive. Everyone was laughing, breathing, living together. I loved the energy. PLUS everyone was so much more friendly now that they had eaten and drank. In case I didn’t mention before, we were in Morocco during the month of Ramadan which is the month of fasting for Muslims. Nobody eats or drinks from sunrise to sunset, which makes for a very aggressive, agitated, irritable late afternoon crowd. But after sundown everything is wonderful. As we walked by people beckoned us into their shop or restaurant. One guy did a particularly good job of beckoning, starting off the conversation by asking Dave, “How many camels?” meaning either how many camels did Dave pay for us or how many camels would Dave sell us for. We he learned we were from America, he proceeded to recite a large portion of the Obama speech – pretty impressive, if you ask me. He joked and talked with us for awhile. We told him we would be back for dinner when we got hungry, but we weren’t quite hungry yet. Stand 117. We would be back.

On the outskirts of the souks we met this one kid who was trying to get us to buy stuff from his shop. We didn’t buy anything, but we stopped and talked to him for awhile. He was 13 and spoke 5 languages. He was funny, nice, charismatic, and intelligent. When we asked him what he wanted to do when he got older, he said he just wanted to stay there and work in the shop. It was really eye opening for me to see that this kid with so much potential would probably never move up in life. In America I think there’s the overarching mentality of “if you would hard you can make something of yourself,” but it’s not the same in Morocco. It’s not just about moving yourself forward; they have a lot more hurdles and walls in their way, plus they have to think about supporting the rest of their family. If that kid was in America, he could become a doctor, lawyer, fire fighter, teacher, etc. Not to say that working in a shop is a “lowly profession” or anything, I definitely don’t mean that at all. I simply mean to say that it’s important to acknowledge how many opportunities we have in America, and how it’s not the same everywhere else.

From there we returned briefly to the hotel to grab our giant water bottles then went to an orange juice stand to fill them up. Fresh squeezed again. Delicious. We wandered a bit and then returned to stand 117. He had said that he had pastilla, and we were determined to eat pigeon. Turns out, though, that he only had chicken pastilla as opposed to pigeon. So we had two options: Go try to find the restaurant that we knew had pigeon pastilla and pay 200dh each for a set menu OR Eat in the awesome square and only pay 30dh each for chicken pastilla. We chose chicken. The food was – again – delicious. Pastilla is a weird combination of crust, chicken, and almonds. It’s not like anything I’ve ever had in America, but I really enjoyed it. I’m so glad we didn’t go to the expensive place; I really loved eating in the square.

While we were eating at stand 117, a whole bunch of police officers came and surrounded the neighboring stand. We watched for a bit and then called over the guy that originally beckoned us to his stand to ask what was going on. He proceeded to tell us that each stand was allotted a certain amount of space and it was illegal for you to go out of your boundaries. Every stand sold the exact same thing purchased from the same growers/farmers at the same prices. Sometimes (although admittedly rarely) stands would call the cops on each other out of jealousy if one of them was having a particularly good night. Going out of the boundaries didn’t used to be a problem because “we used to just bribe the government,” he said. (I thought it was hilarious how blunt he was). Now under the new government that was no longer an option.

So we finished our delicious dinner and then meandered over to the snail stew vendors. This was another thing on my list of foods to try in Morocco. This stew is not like any stew you’ve ever seen before. It is a bowl of dead snails still in their shells. To eat it, you hold the snail shell in one hand and stab the snail with a toothpick to pull it out. Then close you eyes and chew. We got a small bowl and I went first, then the rest of my group followed. The vendor was completely amused by how we squealed and made fun of ourselves while we were eating it. We talked about how everyone must be looking at “the squeamish white people who can’t eat snails.” It was only when he started cracking up that we realized he spoke English. He was so amused by us that he wanted to take a picture with us to have us send to him later – which we did.

From there we wandered a bit more.

I really wanted to see a storyteller. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to understand them, but I just wanted to see it. So we joined a crowd circled around a man in the middle speaking in Arabic. The man saw me, said something, and suddenly 40 heads turned my direction to stare. Awkward. He said something and they started laughing. Then he gestured to the hat in the middle where there were a couple coins. Usually they only charge if you take pictures, and I hadn’t taken any so I didn’t feel the need to pay. But he kept talking to me and soon everyone was talking in my direction. I didn’t know what to do, so I pulled out 2dh and threw it into the hat. The whole crowd cheered. We stayed for a bit longer, and then moved onto the next circle.

The next circle was absolutely not what I expected. In the middle were two boys, each about 12 years old, with boxing gloves. The fight started after a couple minutes. They charge you if you take pictures, so I took one picture, gave a little bit of money, and then hit “record” on my camera and let it hang around my neck for the remainder of the fight. I think one of the kids was onto me, but the adults had no idea. Anyways, ask to see the fight later and I’ll show it to you. The kids were pretty impressive with the way they could punch and juke. Chris, I’d love to get your opinion on it. There was a creepy guy giving me weird looks so I inched closer and closer to Dave until we decided to move onto the next circle.

The next circle was fishing for bottles. I paid the 3dh to play – why not? I got a long stick with a string and what looked like a donut on the end, except the donut was pretty heavy. The goal was to loop the donut around one of the standing soda bottles and whatever you looped in 5 minutes you got to keep. The five of us passed the fishing pole amongst ourselves and ended up with a total of exactly zero bottles of soda. It was really, ridiculously hard – but still a lot of fun. Then we noticed the same creepy guy, so we decided to make one last loop around the square before heading back to our hotel.

While we were doing our last loop, vendors continued to yell at us and beckon us to their stall. We told them we were full, but they were relentless. I tell you, you’ve never felt so popular as when seemingly hundreds of people are simultaneously inviting you to dinner. One particular guy beckoned us to his stall, and when we told him we couldn’t possibly fit any more it developed into a conversation. He spoke pretty good English, and we soon learned that English was only one of 4 languages he spoke. Wanting to level the playing field, I asked him to teach us some Arabic. He agreed. After him talking and us repeating somewhat failed, we followed him to the table at his stall where he could write everything down for us. Soon all the workers from the stall were crowded with us around a table, speaking to us in broken English and teaching us how to speak Arabic. We learned the basic phrases (thank you, hello, etc.) and the ones they thought were essential (“Are you crazy?” “Get your hands off of me!” etc.). Apparently I have a perfect Arabic accent when I say “Are you crazy?” . . . but everything else I completely butchered. We stayed there for over an hour until the store owner kicked us out so all his workers would get back to work.

Then back to the hotel. Sleep.

In the morning we took a taxi to the train station and then a train back to Casablanca. The train window served as a peephole into the countryside of Morocco: red countryside, sheep & shepherds, houses, villages, donkeys . . . I would call it unconventionally beautiful, although some people had much less flattering words to describe it. I absolutely loved it.

Once we got back to Casablanca, we headed back to the ship for another siesta. That night I went to the union to hopefully go on “Dinner With A Moroccan Family.” They said the trip was full, but I was hopeful that they could squeeze one more in. And they could!

My group ended up going to dinner with a really nice family. The husband was Moroccan and the wife was American. They met while she was interning in Morocco and now they have a home and three beautiful kids together. I loved hearing her perspective on what it’s like being an American woman in Morocco, and it was really great to get all my questions answered by someone that kind of knew the perspective I was coming from.

The next morning I went to the Coca Cola plant, which was pretty cool. We got to see where the coke was made and all the bottles getting filled up, capped, and packaged. I felt a little bit like I was in Willie Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. It was a really awesome experience, and something you would never be able to do in the states. I have a short video of it – I wish I could show you but the bandwidth from the ship is insufficient. Ask me some time.

On the way back from the Coca Cola plant, we had the bus drop us off a little bit early so we could spend a little bit more time in the souks. I wanted to get a tanjeene. They were absolutely everywhere in Marrakesh, so I figured I would be able to get one just as easily in Casablanca. I figured wrong. The only ones available were painted, and I didn’t want to risk led paint poisoning. Eventually I was able to find one and only one. It was only for one person, as opposed to the big family style one that I was hoping for. But I figured that it was better than nothing. It also had a small crack in it. Better than nothing, plus I could probably get it for cheaper. The storekeeper came over and I asked him how much it was. He didn’t understand English except simple numbers – not enough for me to ask if he had more or tell him I didn’t want to pay very much because of the crack. Dang it. He tried French. I don’t know French. Dang it. Then he said “Español?” Hurray! “Tú hablas español?” I asked. “Sí.” Hurray! In Spanish I was able to ask if they had more and then negotiate a price around the fact that there was a small crack. I was actually pretty impressed with myself. =-) And I ended up paying only 30dh, which is less than $5.

That was basically the end of my Morocco experience. I’m REALLY happy with it. A lot of people came away from the country with a bad taste in their mouths – the trips were too touristy, the people were too pushy, the streets were too dirty, the food was too repetitive . . . on and on and on. Plus people were angry because of how difficult it is to attain substantial amounts of alcohol in a Muslim country during Ramadan. But I had an absolutely wonderful, positive, enlightening experience. And people may think I’m not as “cool” because I actually get excited about fire eaters or maybe I’m not as “refined” because I enjoy not-so-fancy food, but I don’t really care. I had all positive experiences.

You have a choice in all situations: Enjoy it or don’t.

I really enjoyed my time in Morocco.

(I learned how to post from my e-mail, so I’ll hopefully be posting a lot more frequently from now on. Which means no more 7+ page posts. LOVE YOU ALL!!!)