Marakesh? Where's that?

Last weekend, I went to Marakesh with 10 people from my school and 20 or so Moroccan students studying in a nearby school for tourism. We were picked up only an hour late (quite early for Moroccan time) and packed onto the bus like fish in a can. Since there were not enough seats for several people, this was also quite Moroccan. However, since the driver got his own seat, it was also better than some cars I've seen driving around here.

We arrived without incident to Marakesh, saw some famous thing that I forget the name of and didn't really care about since all I wanted to do was to find a bathroom. From there, we were dropped off about a 10 minute walk to our hotel (a recurring theme it turns out), which I guess no one could find. All of the students stood around in the huge, famous square in Marakesh, Djemaa el Fna, which happens to be the biggest square in all of Africa. Clearly this was a great place for us all to stand around with our bags at 8pm on a Saturday night. Good thinking. I guess someone finally figured out where the hotel was and I can see why it was such a problem. Turns out that the "hotel" is a building squished between two others exactly like it in an alleyway in the souk within the old Medina. Basically, our hotel was located inside a giant flea market. And trust me, it looked like it. Whatever, it was a cool experience that I never would have had on my own because I would have been too scared to book a place like that. So, that was cool. I was not so into the fact that there were five people sleeping in our room, but what the hell...when in Marakesh.


After waiting for everyone to get ready for an hour and a half, we (the non-Moroccans) decided to leave for dinner without them, as we were STARVING. So, we walked into the square and were accosted by men hawking their restaurants. I guess restaurant is about as good a word to describe this as hotel was to describe where we slept. Really, it was a bunch of long tables with people cooking scary looking meat products nearby. However, they were running some really good specials on whole sheep heads (including the brain), which ran for only $15 or so. However, if you were not that hungry, you could order just a brain sandwich for about $2.50. We settled on shish kabobs of very identifiable chicken. Afterwards, we walked around the square, listening to music and taking in the sights. I had at least seven men try to pick my pocket in the most obvious of ways and I kind of felt bad for them and how lacking in any dexterity they had. Finally I had enough and told one of them in my stellar Arabic to go play in traffic. Really, I was surrounded by my two professors and the school manager. One of my profs has a black belt in Karate, so I really felt quite safe. Also, since I had nothing to steal, it was all pretty harmless. I was also molested by a monkey. Some random guy grabbed my hand and thrust a monkey onto my arm as he held me in place. This was NOT cool. The poor monkey was dressed up in the dumbest costume ever and was chained to the guy. I squirmed away, screaming at him while my friends laughed at how ridiculous it all was. Needless to say, there were no pictures taken of the occasion (they do this so you'll take a picture, then charge you a ton of money for the "privilege".)

Some of us went to a cafe for a coffee after the excitement and there we planned my wedding to one of my teachers. Just a heads up that we're engaged, in case you missed that. He has promised me that I will be allowed to work, as long as I work from home and call him to tell him when I leave the house so he does not worry about where I am if he comes home. He will pick out my hijab for me each day so I don't have to worry myself about what to wear. He also promises a housekeeper (since I'll be busy taking care of our children) and a summer home (a compromise since he's not letting me get a dog). The wedding is in October for all of you who want to attend.

Seriously, this was quite an interesting conversation for me since my teacher was serious about wanting his wife to stay home and make some babies. He, in my mind, is a very educated man (in the midst of getting his PhD in linguistics) and grew up in Meknes, a decent sized, progressive city. However, he did not understand why any woman who was married would possibly want to work outside of the house when she could be at home, cooking for him and reproducing. I clearly have a lot to learn about this culture!

The next day, we left Marakesh (I literally did not see anything besides the hotel, the square and the cafe in Marakesh) to go to Orica, a small town in the mountains. It was absolutely gorgeous and we got to climb to the top of the mountain to see a beautiful waterfall. Meanwhile, tempers flared and I was again reminded of how dumb it is to travel with such a big group of Moroccans, Europeans and Americans. Everyone wants to do what they want to do and there is no communication to be had. For once, I was not the one trying to figure everything out. My attitude was just to go with the flow (something I'm not really that used to) because I knew we EVENTUALLY had to get back to Rabat. And, I've figured out enough about this country to know that any complaining I did was not going to make a difference. I had nowhere to be, so I enjoyed the beautiful day and tried to find some patience.

We finally left Orica after much discussion between leaders and someone determined that we did not have enough time to go to Casablanca before returning to Rabat. Duh. I was talking with another student and he has a good theory about Moroccan travel...there seems to be a whole lot of travel involved to get somewhere, only to allow for a few minutes to actually see or do anything in the destination. We sure sat on the bus a lot for the trip, but I can't say that we actually did very much in any of our destinations. I think his theory is pretty valid and I have to remember this for the next time I agree to travel with anyone around here.

We drove back to Rabat and on the way, got shaken down by the bus driver for each of us to pay 5 dirhams so he would take the faster, toll route. We paid, then found out that the driver was already given the money for the toll by the other leader and Iman was given back the money. Typical.

Once we got to the city limits of Rabat, the bus stopped next to three taxis and told the group that was from my school to get off and take a taxi the rest of the way. No joke. He was tired and wanted to go home and did not want to take us home first. I wish I were making this up, but alas, even I could not come up with this story. So, we forced him to give us money for the taxis and we got out and took cabs back to our houses. The taxis in Morocco are of two types: petit taxis and grand taxis. Petit taxis cannot leave the city they are registered in and are all painted colors specific to the city they have permits for. So, in Rabat all of the petit taxis are blue. Petit taxis can only take three passengers (which is a huge pain when you are traveling with four people and there is totally enough room to put three in the back and one in the front. And, on the other end of the spectrum, there are grand taxis, which scare the hell out of me. They are allowed to travel from city to city and pick up and drop off people at specific places within those cities. They're pretty cheap, considering, and can take six passengers. How this makes sense, I have no idea. The grand taxis are all old model Mercedes sedans and with the driver, having seven people in the car is ludicrous. There are two passengers who sit in the front with the driver (in a bucket seat) and four passengers in the back. Now, imagine taking one of these on a three or four hour trip. No freaking way! You can always buy up the extra seats if you don't want that many people, but that can get expensive. A grand taxi will wait around until its full before leaving, so there is no way of getting around the fact that you're going to either pay double or triple, or get squished.

At any rate, I arrived home in one piece and although I would never take this trip a second time, I think it was valuable to experience such extreme chaos just to remind me that I should enjoy those moments of peace in my life. Or, just to pat myself on the back for not flipping out and killing anyone. I'll take that as a positive too!

after two weeks in morocco

I just finished my second week of Arabic classes and am laying on my couch, listening to the call to prayer. I don't live that close to the mosque, but I usually wake up for the first call to prayer (right now, around 5am), then fall back to sleep. It's kind of soothing in a way. Granted, if I lived directly next to the mosque, I might not feel this way.

I have been on such a whirlwind adventure here in Morocco, that it seems I have little time to relax or write much about my experience. I miss everyone back home and want to hear what's going on in your lives, so please write and tell me what you are up to.

I was away last weekend with four other students, visiting three cities in central-eastern(ish) Morocco. I kind of felt like it was a mini UN tour, as we had several countries represented. There was one other American besides myself, along with an Italian man, and two other women, one from Switzerland, one from Germany. I'm sure we sounded funny with our mix of French, Arabic, English, German and Italian being spoken. I was confused myself most of the time about what language to speak, so I can only imagine what anyone listening to us was thinking.

The three cities we saw were Volubilis (Walili in Arabic), Moulay Idriss and Meknes. Volubilis is not really a city any more, but an area of ancient Roman ruins. It's a pretty cool place with original mosaics still intact and was declared a UNESCO World Heritage site 10 years ago. If you want to know more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volubilis you can read about it there.


Secondly, we went to Moulay Idriss, a town built on the site of a hill. This made for some steep stairs and more of a workout than anything I've been doing since arriving. So, I was grateful for the opportunity to exercise. The best part of the town (for me at least) was walking through the souk (open air market) to check out the wares of the local butchers. I've become obsessed with the dead animals hanging from their ankles and the random animal heads displayed proudly in front of butcher's stalls. Along with Nick, another student from the states, I've found some pretty interesting "delicacies" here. Apparently, the hoof of some animal (a cow, I think) is supposed to be quite tasty when cooked with cinnamon and sugar. I'm sure I'll have plenty of opportunity to try some. I'll also get to work on the pics of these places. I'm usually totally overstimulated and not thinking about photos when I'm there, but I have to share this with my friends and family!

After Moulay Idriss, we made it to our stop for the night, Meknes. I guess there is a lot to do and see there, but somehow, we only made it as far as a night club Saturday night and the souk for most of the day on Sunday. As for the nightlife in Morocco, I have to say that I'm surprised at how hard they can party for an Arabic country. Mohammed would be rolling over in his grave if he could see this! We went to some shisha bar, where they smoke hookahs (just tobacco!!) and listen to music. The bar was mostly full of men and their accompanying prostitutes. I apologize in advance for having no pictures of this, but even I could not figure out a way to "discretely" take a photo of this. I'm not sure how true it is, but I hear that men cannot go out to clubs like this with their girlfriends/wives, so they hang out with prostitutes. I, personally, think this is a lame excuse, but it was kind of fun to try to pick out who was a hooker and who was there for free.

After the first bar, we found a club with what I can only assume were more expensive prostitutes, since they definitely had more expensive liquor. However, for western standards, it was about equal to what one might pay in the states. We people watched and danced until the bar closed and Nick and I had fun placing bets on who would hit on Jasmina next. Jasmina is the woman from Switzerland and she has really blond hair. Of course, this attracts the men here like flies to honey and it's really amusing to watch them look her over like an exotic animal. She claims to have been offered 2,000 camels from some guy in Tunisia one time, as a marriage proposal, but I personally don't think she's worth more than 1,000. However, we escaped when the club closed (around 4am--just in time for us to make it back to the hotel for the first call to prayer!) without any animals exchanging hands.

The next day, we spent at the souk, with the guy from Italy kissing every baby he could get his hands on and buying shoes for every woman he's ever met in his life to bring home to Italy. (Can you tell this was not my favorite part?) I think part of my problem was that I was not feeling well, since we were apparently food poisoned at some point during our trip. It hit us all, at various times, and took a few days to clear from our systems. There's nothing like making your experience in a foreign country more "authentic" by eating the local produce that's been tainted by some sort of bacteria. Sweet.

I'm finally better from that and am off this weekend to check out Marakesh with some other students and a couple of our teachers. What will happen there is anyone's guess since from what I hear, Marakesh is pretty western and very touristy (i.e. full of debauchery) and I'm interested to see how our experience will differ when accompanied with some pretty strict Muslims.

Welcome to Morocco!!

Oh, where to begin? So much has happened since my arrival that it's still a jumble in my mind. I suppose I should start at the beginning.

My flights were pretty uneventful and I arrived to Casablanca on time, got all of my bags (amazing!!) and was met by Hicham and Hamouda at the airport. Luckily they recognized me since I did not really know what they looked like. For those of you who do not know, I have a friend in Somerville who I met shortly before leaving, named Hicham (also) and he has been very generous with his family. He instructed his brother (Hamouda) and his best friend (also Hicham) to meet me at the airport and take me to my hotel. They have gone above and beyond all of that and I have two new friends here in this foreign country.

Upon our arrival, they took me to my hotel, where we deposited my baggage. Then, they took me to eat. It was pretty late (around 11pm) and Casa was still wide awake. We went to an outdoor bazaar type of place where there were all kinds of dead animals hanging from their haunches or heels from the stalls. Hicham pointed out one stall in particular and I saw animal heads just dangling from a rope. Sure, it was pretty gross and I did not recognize what they were. Horses? Nope. They were camel heads. OK. Welcome to Morocco!! We ordered a kilo or so of ground up camel meat (not kidding) and took it to another stall and gave it to a guy who cooked it for us. It was served with grilled onions and tomatoes and loaves of bread. Holy shit, where the hell am I?!? So, we washed our hands and I had my first lesson on eating Moroccan style. Boy, is this the place for me! You get to eat everything with your hands!! I could hear my mom over my shoulder, "Katie, don't eat with your hands. Don't play with your food!" and I relished the fact that this was not only acceptable, but there was not a fork or knife in sight! Woo hoo! I must say that I love me some camel. Delicious.

H & H returned me to my hotel where I took a much needed shower and fell into a stupor. My god was I tired. Not only from the 40 hours of travel, but the mental power to have to switch between languages was stunning. I started off in English through London. Then, in Madrid for 6 hours was a switch to Spanish. Then, in Morocco, French. My brain was on overload and whirling with words, some of which I think I was making up and were not in any language. In addition, all around me swirled this new language, a mixture of French, Arabic and Moroccan...whew! All of that translation and listening is a workout for sure!

I awoke the next morning to get ready to meet H&H for lunch and a tour of Casa. I don't think I was jet lagged at all, perhaps because I had been up for so long the previous two days. Who knows, but I'm grateful. I had breakfast at the hotel, a buffet of every type of carbohydrate imaginable. Oh, heaven! Dr. Atkins would have a heart attack, but it was glorious. I was then met by my new friends and taken on a tour of Casa, we went to visit the famous mosque (the biggest in all of Africa) and I got some good photos of it. It's an amazing feat of architecture and amazingly beautiful. Breathtaking really. It almost makes a person want to go pray...almost mind you. We went to get a coffee at a cafe on the beach and watched people playing football and strolling on the sand. No one was swimming because that involves taking off clothes I guess. Not really sure.

We then went to eat lunch of deep fried whole fish, calamari and shrimp (good thing I started eating seafood recently) and of course, scooped it all up with bread. Ah, bread...how I love thee. They took me back to my hotel where we collected my bags because I had been invited to visit Hamouda's father and step mother in "the countryside". Cool. We drove about 110 kilometers to the middle of nowhere and ended up at this gorgeous house in the country. There were fields all around and talk of cows, sheep and dogs to see in the morning! I had dinner with Hamouda's father, Hamouda and Hicham and it was delicious.

That night, we slept at the house, all of the women in the living room and the men in bedrooms. Welcome to Morocco. In the morning, we had breakfast, then went to walk around the land to see the cows, sheep, dogs and the olive trees. Later in the day, we all gathered for couscous, the traditional Friday meal. I've never had such delicious couscous in my life and can tell now that I'm going to love Fridays! Shortly after lunch, we left to return to Casa, then onto Rabat. Tariq, Hicham's other brother, met us in Rabat and we began a long journey in a caravan of Tariq's truck and our car around Rabat, searching for my school, where I was to spend two nights. There are NO street signs in Rabat (or Casa) (just like in Costa Rica!) and no one knew where the school was. Up and down streets we drove, asking people for directions, until finally, the school director met us and showed us where to go. We unloaded my bags, then were off again, this time to Tariq's house for tea. It was the first time Hamouda had visited his brother even though it is only an hour's drive from Casa. Apparently, Hicham and Hamouda hate Rabat and never come here. It is very different from Casa, the streets are wider, there are fewer people and they are not out en force like in Casa. Still, the driving is nearly as erratic in Rabat as Casa and aiming for pedestrians seems to be the national sport around here. Think of the old video game Frogger....that is exactly what is is like here. You walk across a couple of lanes, look all around you, cross another, then run for your life. I can see where sprint drills would come in very handy around here.



After Tariq's house, I was brought back to my school and slept until the next morning when I was picked up for lunch by Hicham and Hamouda. We ate a delicious lunch at Tariq's house, prepared by his wife and her sister. The men and I sat around and talked (really, they talked and I picked up a few words of Moroccan). I mostly played with Tariq's son, Elias, who is adorable and a little hellion. So, clearly we got along well!

We went to an internet cafe after that, to check mail and talk to Hicham in the States, then off to get coffee with the group. We walked around a bazaar where I saw some beautiful pottery that I MUST buy to bring home, and then went off to dinner at an open air bazaar where we ate lamb, beef, french fries, tomatoes and onions and of course...bread. There were musicians strolling about, playing Moroccan music and people danced in their seats, children rushed around playing and the atmosphere was quite festive. Nonetheless, I was exhausted and begged for sleep. Soon enough, I was returned to the school for a much needed slumber.

The next day, I ventured out by myself for the first time since arriving and was able to get myself to an internet cafe with WiFi and drink a coffee. I went back to the school where I met some of my fellow students for the first time and we talked for a bit. I signed up for my classes and I will be taking the first week of class in the Moroccan dialect, then will study Modern Standard Arabic for the remainder of my time here. I hope that I can pick up the basics of the Moroccan dialect, so I can speak with the locals who do not speak French and be able to better get myself around this crazy place.

Hamouda and Hicham returned later in the day to bring me to meet my host family and for them to check them out to make sure I would be safe and to talk with the family. They really have gone above and beyond all expectations and I am now like their sister. I love them and am so glad I have two friends here to look after me. It was a great welcome to Morocco.